middleofsomewhere | The Waking of Neran

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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Night One. The River.

The Senju does not seem to mind the cold. In ways, it looked to suit him. It almost seemed like he'd belong in a place just like this and he'd managed to find something much like his fur collar at the markets along with a few other items. Now, Tobirama observed the festivities in a deep blue coat with a white fur hood and collar feeling far more comfortable. A slight blue from the brisk cold touched his pale skin.

He finds himself curious about the celebrations and he's come to see that some larger parts of this festival was quite familiar to him. Observing, the Senju feels a deep solace within it all, sending off his candle into the night upon the water surrounded by so many that look like him and don't look like him but all have something, someone, someones to remember. He keeps many people in his mind. Friends, comrades, distant family -- his father. Issuing a quiet few words at the edge of the water, "in the end we were too alike, Butsuma. I wonder now if you find your death as noble as you found your sons."

Night One. The Shrines & After

Tobirama inhaled deeply as he sat on his heels at the shrine. He could honor his brothers, his family, the same way as he could back home but this will make due. Fingers diligently place offering upon the alter, lighting and placing the tall candles around. He's never been one to cry. Not then. Not now. It's been far too long, besides. Not sure if he ever knew how, truth be told, but he does feel that pang in his chest. The sorrow that's never left him. So much so it stained his cheeks as a ritual in remembrance. Every single day.

"Of all the people who came back, who was the last to survive, it should not have been me." It's quiet. Thoughtful. "I'll return to you all soon. The village is in good hands. An Uzumaki. He's grown since we last saw him, Hashirama. You would be proud." There is a long pause as the man let his head dip for but a moment before returning upward. "Sawa, Itama -- I can never forgive myself. I hope, as always, you two found peace. Your hearts were too pure for that world we lived." He spends quite some time there speaking, thinking, reflecting, getting a hold of the swath of emotions that bubble up before rising back to his feet.

One could approach the man as he leaves. He's looking particularly subdued. He may also be approached upon returning to the festivities and while Tobirama is far from the type to let loose, he has an impressive ability to drink and remain just as stone faced as he is sober. The dance and music nevertheless is soothing. Again, so similar to celebrations he knew.

( ooc: More than happy to take a wildcard but chances are I'll be hitting up random top levels bit by bit. Just needed to get this shit out, yanno? LOL. HMU on Disco or PM if you need to! )

It's sometime after his own rememberance that Yondu finds Tobirama sitting there, apparently weighted by his own burdens to have a conversation with ghosts. This Hashirama guy sounded like a wonderful person, someone to be admired, but damn if he didn't haunt them. And now at least he knew the significance of the Uzamaki name and how deep their history went.

If he knew about his father, Yondu would relate in a way. Yondu always mentions the stories of his slavery as a passing period of brutality. A pain suffered by many in his world in an age of violence and planetary genocide. An ecosystem formed by self-important conquerers. But that's because the true villains in that story, in his opinion, are his own parents. They sold him knowing exactly the type of people the Kree were, and the one positive he can definitely claim for himself is that he turned out better than them. He just hopes his parents lived long enough to see a face that looked like theirs plastered on wanted posters.

He stops behind him to drop his pack and pull out a thermos. He's sure Tobirama knows he's back there, so he doesn't worry all that much about surprising him when he comes up beside him as he's about to leave the shrine. He offers a silver rounded insulated cup, tea bag string hanging over the edge of it and the contents staining the warm water and has his own mug of darker liquid as he joins him.

He's become quite accustomed to the energy that Yondu emits, though different than chakra -- but more than that, the way Yondu walked and carried himself was equally as telling. Most people knew his abilities in tracking through his sensory skills but from the era he was, tracking was useful for more than war. Hunting and the like. Stories (or not) for another time. Nevertheless, Tobirama didn't seem surprised by the arrival just as expected.

With a slow breath out, the Senju turned his head over a shoulder. Red eyes looked over the man and his offering. A great part of him wished to stay here longer and the guides seemed to hold no time-limit or rush on the process for those that needed it. So, Tobirama unfolds a hand gesturing for Yondu to join him. A nod, wordlessly receiving the thermos and taking a sip of it's contents.

Yondu was a hunter, but still distractable enough that he could be crept up on. Tracking, he got, and was very good at when he was focussed on it. When his fin was active he was even better.

He does join him, and if he stoops again he'll just sit beside him with his legs folded under him.

"Sounds like an amazing guy, your brother. Ever' story I've heard has made 'im sound good to know. Even the bad ones."

Its a warm comfort. He'd already shared a few drinks with the other man but being one to so rarely if ever let loose so to speak the tea furthered any sobering that the cold and time did not. A slight chill force the man's shoulders up and fingers to grasp that fur around him. Exhale.

For some time, Tobirama considers his words carefully. Even after all these years, over a hundred it's been now, he remembers them vividly. The ones who never made it past their youth. How dedicated Kawarama was; how soft and loyal Itama was. Useless deaths. His fingers tense around that thermos for but a second before calming it with another sip.

"They all were," he finally chooses to speak it.

Yondu knows that offering a touch might be unwelcome, but he offered him a warm drink. That should work, right? Yondu didn't know family all that well, and his friends hadn't died, but he did understand his own brand of loss.

So he just shifts a little closer, holding his own drink, glancing over at Tobirama being as far from an ice fortress as one could imagine.

"If you wanna tell me about 'em... I wouldn't mind hearin' it. It sorta helped, knowin' other people'd remember my crew an' what happened to 'em. If it ain't too hard on ya, I'd like to know."

Tobirama Senju | Open

Night One. The Shrines & After

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The shrines

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the river

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Night one, river

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The River

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Wildcard, night one

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