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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Devero considers his cup, and then shakes his head. He's had a few already. Best play it safe.

--Especially since Koumyou's words make him tear up. By the time the train had tethered him, he'd-- realized that Valdana was never going to claim him, was never going to bind herself to him that way. Their relationship as Madame and boy was enough-- him being bound to her without reciprocation was enough. Her owning him was enough.

He'd stopped daydreaming about his perfect claiming ceremony. Even if they'd had one, it would have been to her tastes, just like everything else about him, about them, that she'd arranged to her tastes.

His throat, he finds, is too tight to speak. All he can do is nod.

"Oh," Koumyou can't read Devero's mind, of course, but he's known him for over half a year now, and his past. And how much he'd loved... her.

And he's sharp and insightful, despite how he likes to act.

So it doesn't take much of a stretch to guess this is something about that old, secret, highly-abusive 'kinky' relationship. The priest sets the bottle and his own empty cup aside for now, and scoots away just a little--

But just to reach up and try to pull Devero down against himself, now.

"My sweet Devero."

Devero lets out a single wet, helpless laugh as Koumyou pulls him close, then buries himself in the priest's arms. He wraps his arms around the narrow waist and hides his face against the bony shoulder and weeps, letting the tide of pain sweep him under without a struggle.

"It's alright," Koumyou murmurs, wrapping him up close in blankets and his own thin arms. "I've got you."

Because he isn't fighting the grief, because he isn't berating himself for feeling it, the tide sweeps him away-- and then returns him again. He washes up in Koumyou's arms, damp-faced and shaky but feeling... better.

He extracts himself from his fiance's grip and smiles tiredly at him. "That's part of the reason I love you so much," he says, voice roughened a little from the crying spate. "Because you've always got me."

And Koumyou reaches up to wipe Devero's face carefully dry with the edge of a soft blanket.

"Someone should," the priest says gently, "you deserve love and support too, not just to give it."

Koumyou, you're just going to make him cry again. Indeed, his eyes well and overflow with fresh tears even as the priest wipes the older ones away.

"And you deserve security and love and comfort," he says, his dark eyes fixed on Koumyou's through the tears. He catches up Koumyou's left hand, holding in both of his own in the tiny space bwetween their bodies. He sweeps one thumb back and forth over the ring. "I'm going to give you that, every day we're together.' He presses the ring light. "This is my promise to you."

Does he, though? It's right there on Koumyou's face for a moment before he glances away to compose himself. He wants to trust Devero's judgement, too. Every time he's dodged his own angst tonight, it's been to try to trust in the other man.

His own throat's tight, so he just nods.

Just as Koumyou was able to pinpoint what it was that had so upset Devero a moment ago, so does Devero now have a very good idea of what that expression means. He releases the priest's hand to cradle his face between his palms.

"I love you, Koumyou Sanzo," he says. "All of you."

Koumyou's eyes stay downcast, but he nods again, just a little, in Devero's hands.

"I'm trying."

He's trying really hard not to argue, not to... not to wonder how long it will last before Devero dies a horrible death in front of him -- one that stays permanent -- or finds someone else instead, or...

"I'm trying really, really hard."

"I know," he murmurs. "I can tell. And I know how hard it is for you." It's Devero's turn to pull Koumyou against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. "All I ask is that you keep trying, my love."

Koumyou doesn't burst into tears or anything, he just sort of rests there for a few moments, listening to Devero's heartbeat distantly through all the layers of warm fabric.

Devero knows they both still have obstacles to overcome, on their way to health and happiness. He knows their heads are both full of lurking landmines, waiting to consume one or both of them with fire and pain. He knows what Koumyou is afraid of, and why.

And he's here. For the long run, as much as he has a say in it, he's here.

He doesn't try to put any of that to words, though. It's too big and too nebulous and too painful for this moment that's supposed to be one of joy. So Devero just holds him, occasionally stroking his back or his hair.

For as long as Koumyou needs, Devero holds him.

It takes a while, the fireworks may even be winding down by the time Koumyou can pull away and straighten back up, scooting in close again but without being burrowed into Devero's chest. His eyes are still dry.

He rests the side of his head on the other man's shoulder again, and sighs.

"I want it to be perfect for you," he says, and then, greatly, greatly daring, voice small, "and... f-for me, I guess."

Not because he thinks Devero will be offended by that or anything, it's just hard for him to even contemplate such a thing.

"I don't even know what that means, but I... I want to hope. I guess. That it's possible?"

Edited 2021-12-20 05:39 (UTC)

Devero immediately tucks Koumyou under his arm, still holding him close in this new position. He squeezes the priest's shoulder and smiles down at him, his expression so open and so tender.

"I want that too," he says softly. "I want that for you so much, Koumyou." For him to be able to hope? For him to have a perfect wedding?

For him to believe that he can have as well the happy ending that he wants for Devero?

Yes.

Koumyou does have to sniff at that, and lifts a hand to wipe at his eyes despite the fact that they're still dry.

"You're amazing, Devero."

Devero turns his head to kiss the top of Koumyou's. "And I'm all yours," he says. Continuing with a lilting, rhythmic air air: "O my moon, I will be your gravity; I'll keep you close, I'll never leave."

That earns a little laugh out of Koumyou, and he lifts his head to smile up at Devero. "That's so romantic?"

The gravity keeping the moon from spinning off into the darkness.

Devero grins sheepishly down at him. "I may have nicked it from that poetry book you gave me," he admits.

"I didn't read them first, you know," Koumyou sits up a little more, so he can lean up and give Devero's cheek a little kiss. "I didn't know there was even moon stuff in there!"

"I thought that was why you picked it out!" he says with a laugh. "Let's see, how does that one go?"

Eyes half-closing, he leans back and recites the entirety of the poem.

"O moon
Share with me your light, pierce my shrouded night
O my moon, I will be your gravity
I'll keep you close, I'll never leave
Moon o moon, are you here tonight?
Shine your light, set me free
Drive the darkness back, far away from me
I lift my eyes to you, the everbright

Out beyond my world, you walk the night
Surrounded by the silence
Do you think you are alone?
Out beyond my world, you turn your face
But I know no fear, for even without your light
O Everbright
I can feel you, I don't need sight

O moon, my moon
I will be your gravity
I'll keep you close, I'll never leave
Wander as you might, I stand solid
I am here
And I know, o moon,
That you'll always bring your light back to me."

Koumyou listens in stunned silence, and only once Devero has finished does he laugh, "I can't believe you memorized that!"

Probably? Koumyou sure won't know it if he misremembered any of it.

"I asked the train for two love poetry books from my world, one considered good and goofy and one considered good and serious," Koumyou explains, amused and impressed. "I guess that's from the serious one?

Devero squirms on the bench, face flaming red. "It's my favorite!" he says in defense of himself. Not that that absolves him of an iota of romantic dorkitude, because:

"...Because it reminds me of you."

He laughs too. "That poem is definitely from the serious one." He glances away shyly. "Do you want to hear my favorite poem from the other book?"

"You're so ridiculously sweet, Dev-chan," Koumyou tells him with absolute fondness. The question gets him to tap his own chin in 'thought'.

"I don't know, do I want my boyf-- fiance," oh look, there's heat in Koumyou's cheeks, "to recite love poetry to me?"

HMM. This is a conundrum.

"I mean, I could always go recite it to Yondu if you don't want to hear it," Devero says, his nonchalance belied by how red his face remains.

cw: abuse trauma

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