middleofsomewhere | The Waking of Neran

"Good morning Voidtreckers and passengers. Today is day twenty one of the month of Orchestra. We will be arriving in System #78961112094711 later today and the dressing carriage is open for your use."

It is indeed, with thick winter coats, hats, scarves and gloves in all sizes. There are also some bags suitable for carrying food, for anyone who wants to add to the festival food with more food!

They have the morning to prepare before another announcement.

"Shortly arriving in System #78961112094711. The weather is extremely cold, voidtreckers and passengers should wrap up warm and wear their SCA's at all times. Arriving in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."
The train shakes as they leave the void and they will see dark skies with glowing flecks of light falling down around them. It's only a glimpse before there is rock to both sides as they enter the landing area.

The Waking of Neran

... ARRIVAL TO OSIGA

THE VOIDTRECKER EXPRESS PULLS INTO AN OPEN HIGH-STACKED PARKING STATION, FILLED ALREADY BY A VARIETY OF VEHICLES. Darkness and the cold spills into where they pull in, lights and signs around to guide the Voidtreckers who exit the craft where they need to go, elevator and teleporting systems available to choose from.

For those turn their gaze to where the cold comes, they will see a view of the world: a landscape of mountains lit in burning bright blue. Like Christmas and city lights, they can be seen in the far distance, and the sky too glows with a shimmering, falling blue. It looks like a slow rain, while farther up, the twinkling of actual stars can be glimpsed.

This will be their view of the world for three Osiga days - 210 hours, give or take.

The lower floor widens into a train-like station, shuttles ready to take them into Osiga proper in short five minute rides. They just need to figure out they need to scan their SCAs at the turnstiles, which will beep with approval, and send a map to their SCA of the grotto.

With a handy dot to their hotel.

... THE IRUE GROTTO

HOTEL. THE EXTERIOR OF THE HOTEL IS STONY, A WALL OF UNEVEN ROCK WITH SLITS FOR WINDOWS CLIMBING UPWARD. It gives off a sparse, cold impression, but the interior is anything but. Inside the floors are smoother, a carpet in the middle of a lobby, and the walls are decorated with colourful paints and endless rugs and furs. There's seating, a roaring fire in one corner, and lighting set to a cosy mood.

There's stairs that can be taken, but also elevators. The bedrooms are much the same as the lobby, with paints and furs all around - the furs especially covering the beds, along with hand stitched quilts. In the centre is a fire pit, set with heatstones than wood or coal, and extras in a container by a wall with safety instructions of how to move them (with tongs and gloves).

Outside the rest of the grotto can be seen, a mish-mash of layers closer to a labyrinth. There's curtains for privacy, and also a screen to help blot out the sound.

FOOD & SIGHTS.

NOW, THE IRUE GROTTO CAN BE EXPLORED. The grotto is easy to get lost in, with stone stairs and archways doubling as bridges to lead to different levels, but always with something to see. Museums and art galleries fill most of the lower layers down, a few shops between of traditional trinkets and garments for those who come out interested in taking a piece of Osiga back with them. There are also day classes, with candle-making a big one on the first night.

Water runs through constructed streams, small but always in travel. They fall off into small waterfalls, eventually gathering into pools that always ensure drink is around. But there's also drinking spaces around, wall coves where servers mind the drinks, and people gather around on crouched seating. Privacy isn't a big deal in Osiga; visitors welcomed into conversation freely. The drinks favour the strong, spicy and sweet. Their traditional drinks are a fiery whisky and a sweet creamy milk drink flavoured by spices that taste very much like cinnamon and nutmeg. It is strongly alcoholic though there is a non alcoholic version as well. There are other drinks available of course from other planets but visitors are encouraged in a good natured way to try the good stuff.

And let's not forget the food. Most traditional Osigian dishes are spicy yet sweet, fatty, and largely meat. There are also food baskets all over, filled with wrapped snacks free for taking, or to add your own. Never let your neighbour go hungry. What will you find, dipping your hand in: a treat, or a mistake?

SORS PARKS, OPEN SKIES. THE FARTHER FROM THE HOTELS AND STATION VISITORS GO, THE MORE THE SKY BECOMES VISIBLE, AND WITH IT THE FALLING SNOW. Except this isn't snow, and those who venture out will figure this soon enough. There are sors parks up ahead, hard to miss for how they glow a brilliant blue, tall erratic sculptures shaped like an abstract mess. They're cold, even colder than the rest of the grotto, and near every entrance are wooden racks with coats and scarfs hanging from pegs, a bucket of heatstones to stick in pockets.

Keeping company is better than not. Anyone who goes in alone will find the chill uncomfortable to those who have someone else nearby, SCAs working stronger together. Paths somehow stay free from being covered in the icy mess, and every few yards are grit bins with small bags to put the contents in, instructions as to what to do.

And that's to throw them at the sculptures, into the air, and watch as the hardened ice disperses into a fizzle of lights. The sight is considered beautiful, and especially fun for kids and couples.

... ANAN & THE MINISTRY

It's maybe an hour or so after their arrival when a message comes through the comms on their SCA's.

boop beep boop beep / boop boop boop/ boop boop/ beep//
beep beep / boop beep//
beep beep beep boop/ boop boop boop/ beep beep/ boop beep beep / boop / beep boop beep/ beep/ boop beep boop beep/ boop beep boop/ beep/ beep boop beep/ beep beep beep//

"It didn't close the hack. I think your Voidtrecker Express likes me." Anan sounds almost triumphant. "Glad you all came. I'm at the drinking space next to the Irue Museam of Osigan Art."

For those that wish to go and meet her, they can.

... THE WAKING OF NERAN

NIGHT ONE: REMEMBERING. It's hard to tell when 'night' begins when the world is in darkness and there are more hours in the day then they are perhaps used to. But things begin to wind down a little, the art houses and museums close and the day activities are wrapped up.

People begin making their way to the main streets where the parade will go. Some people may have made candles throughout the day but there are also long candles for sale and 'fire' bearers carrying large torches to light the candles. The main lights are all turned off, plunging the streets into darkness lit only by the candles and the faint distant glow of sors.

The parade itself has large lit floats, literally floating above the ground, the lights are in intricate shapes. There are light dancers- people dressed completely in black to blend in to the night, with ribbons of light doing feats of acrobatics to music- instruments and volcaless voices weaving melodies.

After the parade passes by people move to the streams, where their floating candles that can be lit and sent on their way. There are designated areas for the tall candles to be placed- almost shrine like with areas to pray or think or sing- the helpful guides will assist anyone and are very open to the different ways people from various worlds and cultures may wish to remember their dead.

Afterwards people are encouraged to drink, eat, spend time with the living and swap stories of the dead. Dance and sing. It is upbeat, joyous and the tears are meant to be cathartic.

NIGHT TWO: PERSEVERING. After another day of activities- or resting and recovering from the excess of the night before the grotto again is ready in anticipation. The side of the grotto open to the sky is packed with people, ledges and railings packed with people. Even the buildings on this side of the grotto have opened their doors to allow people up on their roofs to watch the firework display.

Sparklers are sold, as are snacks and drinks and a voice comes through speakers throughout the space.

"NERAN! On this night you fight!" The crowd cheers. "Hear our dedication, return to us! For tonight is a night of COURAGE!"

The crowd cheers again and the fireworks begin. Loud and colourful, beautiful shapes, almost like dances in the sky. It's loud and it's busy but the atmosphere is great, throughout the night within the crowd there are marriage proposals, declarations of new jobs, decisions to travel the void. Bravery and courage abound- helped probably by the strong whisky that is flowing freely.

NIGHT THREE: UNITY. The festival continues, though it's a slightly later start on day three for many who are nursing hangovers, having a well earned sleep in preparation for the final night or just frantically trying to remember what declarations they had made the night before.

But the activities are still happening throughout the grotto- though the guides might advise any obvious voidtravellers that they may wish to nap before 'night' time, especially if they are not used to day/night cycles this long. The final night doesn't stop til sunrise after all and no one wants to miss the sun rising!

As the time comes for the party to start every square and every street is packed, music blares through speakers. Traditional Osigan music mixed with styles and music from other planets in the galexy. The traditional Osigan music has many layers, deep bass instruments that seem to make the ground itself rumble.

There is dancing, led by guides and locals. They are big circle dances, loud energetic and done in unity. There are callers who keep everyone in time and remind them of the steps but it is mostly an exercise in organised chaos.

But very fun organised chaos. There's extra chairs and benches set around for people who would rather watch or need a break from the endless swirl of dancers. There's plenty of water in large barrels for people to help themselves and other drinks are available to buy.

The party goes on for hours but eventually the music stops and there is an announcement that they have an hour left until sunrise. People begin moving out to find the best spots to watch. Up high on the cliffs people spread out rugs and blankets and settle, waiting.

The atmosphere is one of anticipation, people passing around drinks and snacks. Then there is a hush, a cry as for the first time in a month the first ray of light streaks across the sky.

Neran has awoken. The sun has returned once more.

OOC NOTES

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Seen through as if he was made of glass. With a quiet exhale, Tobirama settled in not all too far from the other man. All correct observations. So much so it gets a small chuckle from him, "some part of it, yes."

He's always been at his best when he works to help someone achieve their dreams. Tobirama was never the leader who leads all type. A leader, yes, in some measure. A brilliant tactician and strategist. A figurehead required more than that, though. It was something Madara never understood. It may well be the reason that he himself failed.

But the follow up took him for surprise, eyes meandering over to Yondu again. People don't... "I have never been asked that." It's not defensive, but just, surprised actually. In all his years not one person has ever asked him about his markings. "But no, they're mine alone."

"Well... I reckon 'cause askin' someone why they're dolled up's got a 50/50 chance of gettin' ya a handprint across the face. I dunno, seemed like there was somethin' ceremonial to it. I noticed the once when it was fresh. I hadn't known ya all that long, so I couldn't tell what level of casual you were bein'." That time he'd greeted him formally, as random as that was. But now he knows him a little bit better, and at this point those lines could be permanent fixtures in his face.

He'd almost asked him then, but got wrapped up in discussing the inner workings of the train. "Sometimes I outright tell what my scars are. 'Cause I hate bein' in places where people jump to conclusions."

Yondu pulls off a glove by the fingers rather than at the wrist so he can get it back on more easily later. It's for handling the food without fumbling or getting it all over them. "I won't tell nobody or nothin'. I'll even not sniff ya to see what it's made out of." Yeah, he'll just fun at himself.

It was neither here nor there regarding whether he cared that people asked him. It was just that no one ever had and it struck him, after all this time, that finally someone did. He thinks, though Hashirama had also never asked, that his elder brother knew. Others, he suspected, because it may have been considered invasive. As Yondu mentioned.

"Let them jump to conclusions," he observes the other for a moment. Adjusts the fur collar around him as the wind picked up for but a moment. Fingers kept their grip there a little while longer before they returned from whence they came: his arms surprisingly not crossed over his chest for once but laying comfortably in his lap. "your actions will speak loudly enough. Besides, people will always talk whether you inform them otherwise or not."

This is how he operates, at least. "But these?" A pinky pointed toward them, "there is ceremony to it. I've thought of making them permanent many times, but." And it would make sense that he would. A pragmatic and dutiful person like him having time to put this on and take it off every single day? "but the ritual gives me time to remember why."

A beat, and a snort. "You really would blend well with the Inuzuka clan but unfortunately its just ink." Ink that holds fast given he's a water user, lmao. "but they are scars of remembrance." He'll point to each one as he speaks, "for my brother Kawarama," one cheek, "and Itama," the other cheek, "and the life I took in recompense," chin.

"Sometimes I don't like it 'cause it lets the people what did it get away with too much." Though he's never voiced that before, never really thought of why it bothered him. Just always knew that he hated when people assumed it was from a fight and not from the Kree. But that was the problem, wasn't it? It meant the Kree got away with yet another atrocity, even if it was only one victim. And at that point, outside of what they made him do, he had been innocent.

It's just a beat of thoughtfulness he's shaken out of when he notices that Tobirama's posture is less guarded, for a moment? "I guess it says somethin' that the life you took mattered to you, too." Enough to wear on his face along with his brothers. Whatever way it was memorializing, whether it conquest or regret (unlikely, that seemed) or a debt paid it had mattered enough to note. Not just another dead body on a pile of dead bodies. Often a thing that kind of happens with people taught to kill real young.

"I know it was a long time ago and it don't matter much, but I'm sorry about your brothers. I haven't known many blood families that cared that much about each other."

Were the topic not so somber he'd tell him that obviously the Inuzuka clan must be the most handsome one with Senjus taking up a close second or something, but he's busy taking that information given to him to heart.

"More than a fair reason," he nods. Giving voice to a truth was important when the injustice was so grave, and while he understood that they themselves worked in the ubiquitous shadows and places that treaded finely on that line between right and wrong (some more than others), there was a line. A time for clarity. An importance to communication and knowledge.

The thing was... most of the lives he had taken were... "We must divorce ourselves from our emotions on the battlefield. This was how I thought. Through law, rationality, critical thinking, we can achieve peace. As if I could organize something like freedom." He almost chuckled to himself.

He'd never... been so honest with someone. Nor open. Not since Hashirama, really. And sometimes there wasn't a need for words exchanged between them. He understood Tobirama in a way no one else did. Reasonably, he supposed, they grew up with one another. "In those warring times, more often I worked as spy and infiltrator. Still, lives were taken. An unavoidable event. But on that day I was hungry." He sighed. "I knew the rift it would cause. That it was Madara's brother, his last brother left alive, but I didn't care."

Now actually hungry in a less metaphorical sense. What is this food? He'll pick at it a little, eyes avoiding the other man for a moment as words continued. "In the end, it did nothing for my grief. Caused more problems than it solved, but it's a debt that was paid. So I remember it."

What feels like a lifetime ago, but was only five months for him, Yondu met a raccoon. A little bastard animal embued by illicit science with the ability to talk, and this pent up old man, having carried the weight of the world in the absence of a like mind, unraveled right in front of him. He's practically done so in front of Tobirama as well.

So as far as Yondu sees it, maybe giving him that hunk of his past, that collection of sins to redistribute the weight of their relationship to something less tilted, has paid off. Tobirama's opening up to him, and he's kept the friend that he so desperately wanted.

As Tobirama talks the sharp-toothed alien gnaws into a piece of the fried blubber. Death out of love is something they've both indulged in a great length. Yondu's was both vengeful and preventative. He wonders if killing Madara's brother might have been the same, along with being a moment of rage.

"I always said that to my boy, to be hard on the inside. But I wasn't bein' honest with how I fought for a long time. I shoulda been."

Nevermind that, though.

"A lotta lessons and memories in one little streak of ink." Dripping down his chin from his mouth, like a trickle of Terran blood from too fierce a bite.

The Waking of Neran

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