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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She's a little surprised at the hand on her back, put it's gentle, not angry, not forceful. She looked up and to the side, eyes shining with tears she was barely holding back.

His nod was powerful, his chant, his hand there, steady and present. They aren't in private but she feels safe, wrapped in his chant.

She doesn't make a conscious decision to let down the final barrier, it just happens. Washed away by the chant and his present, by the candle light and the distant sound of others remembering in their sorrow.

She hadn't gotten to mourn, back then. She hadn't even been able to whisper the prayer of the dying- something she never withheld from her targets. No promise of being reborn in the shadows. Had anyone prayed at all? Had her sister been given to the fire as was right or had she just been dumped somewhere, her soul struggling to escape its earthly bounds?

She had been confined to her room for the day after, left alone with her shock until she had been pulled in front of priestess Elina and told she was leaving, that her whole life was changing, that she was going to the temple.

Then her whole life had changed, not on the whims of the priestess but by the power of the train that had pulled her away from her world and onto that platform.

And she had ran, not thinking, not feeling anything about her sister. She had met people, learned so much, seen so much.

When her sister never would. Sometimes it was easy to pretend, to think of her like the others, like Taiwin, like Junie and Leana, like Priestess Elina and Kant. People in her past, going about their lives now she was gone.

But that was not the truth. Her sister... She would never see her again. No matter if she left this train, no matter what direction life took her. The last time... Her frightened eyes, terrified but defiant as the distance had closed between them that final time.

She shuddered, a gasp as a sob wracked through her, her body tensing as it couldn't decide whether to suppress it or not. Tears spilled down her face, falling into the dirt of the shrine below her face. Pain bloomed in every part of her as she began to cry.

The need for some privacy in this is something no one has to voice, at least. As Buttercup starts to cry, the sutra on Koumyou's shoulders stirs, tendrils winding out into the air behind them and around the little shrine to form a tightly-woven shield. Sound from outside will still come through, but the cold air stops moving around so much.

And... the priest's not sure if it's a good idea or not, because he knows she follows a darkness god, but... well, that god sounds like a dick. Honestly. So, the tendrils glow. Not blinding, like they easily could be. Just a warm gold that matches the candle's light perfectly.

And still, he chants, and his hand remains.

It takes a moment for her to realise he is casting, when the light breaks through her tears and she glances up, to see the shield, the glowing tendrils of light.

It's strange, that he would do such things. Chant and use his magic to help her, one heartsick brat. But she guessed that was what their promise was, she's not sure how to feel, it's hard to feel anything but the overwhelming torrent of sadness.

Shielded in light, it's not the light of the light gods of her world but it's light nonetheless, but maybe that is right. She mourns a girl who betrayed the dark, who the dark god found wanting. It's probably not allowed and this light shields them from view.

She is still crying, his hand on her back and his chant in the air but there's only so much she can cry until she feels exhausted and wrung out, head hurting and face damp and sticky. She's never cried like this before, tears always banished before they can come close to leaking out of her eyes.

Her posture shifts slightly, she stays on the ground but she relaxes slightly, less a position of prayer and more curled up in a ball next to him, keeping herself small.

The priest finishes the heart sutra, and lowers his 'praying' hand. He doesn't have to wonder why Buttercup's stayed down; he's certainly exhausted himself that way a number of times on the train.

"It can be much like lancing a wound, before the infection can grow. It's good to let it out," Koumyou tells her quietly, "otherwise it just festers."

His voice was calming, grounding, cutting through the tears and the sorrow and making her remember to breathe, to look up at him through sticky, damp eyelashes.

Just like a wound, before an infection could grow. It felt like that yes, like her heart had been wounded and an infection had grown and grown over the last year, until it had become too painful to even breathe sometimes.

Now some of the poison had been drained, her chest didn't feel as tight.

"Yes... It do be being like that." She whispered, not trusting her own voice yet.

"It will almost certainly take more than one time to get it all out," Koumyou says gently, "but that's what people are usually trying to do when they 'get all leaky-eyed'. It's useful."

And not weird, is the implication he's trying to make here.

She looked at him with a complicated look. She definitely didn't want to do this more than once, she feels drained, her head hurts, she feels as if she has ran for a whole day, as if she has fought a thousand monsters.

"Some people do be having a lot of poison in them then..."

If this is what they were trying to do, when they got leaky eyed.

"Some very much do," Koumyou confirms, knowing he's among them. "The infection just won't go away for some of us. We drain the pressure inside the wound, but eventually it just builds back up again. Someday, it finally heals, but it still leaves a scar that aches."

The returning pressure might very well happen to Buttercup, here. Best she know what it is if the grief starts to choke her again in the future, and not just think it's some kind of flaw.

"It do be being like that for you." She tilted her head.

"You do be having an aching scar inside you?"

She knew he hurt, about many things.

Yet he was still one of the strongest people she knew.

"Many," the priest doesn't hesitate to confirm that, either. "And many pockets of infection still, too."

He knows she thinks he's strong, or at the very least highly competent to be such a high-ranking priest, with such a strong artifact entrusted to him. So, him having the same problems? Might help.

And it's entirely true, too.

She shifted slightly, so she was sat up a little bit more, rather than curled in a ball. Her knees were drawn to her chest and she moved her hands to rub at her eyes, drying her face and moving her hair out of the way.

It's a slightly depressing thought, that this feeling won't ever go away. But also... If Koumyou still felt like this...

He wasn't someone who was a stupid baby.

"Oh."

Now that Buttercup's not visibly upset, Koumyou lets the glowing tendrils of the sutra shielding them from sight... stop. The light fades, just to make it less startling, and then all the basketwork of magical paper just, stops existing.

"Yes," Koumyou agrees, and then tells her, "you can talk to me whenever you want, though. That's part of what I signed up for."

You know, being her adoptive dad now.

The world came back, the people in the shrine around them, the noises of the outside. The bubble of his light fading. But she didn't take his eyes off him as she nodded slowly.

"I do be thanking you..." He voice was quiet. It was strange, having him offer, having him consider listening to her something he should do.

She had agreed to this, but having someone... It was strange. "You can be talking to me too."

Koumyou nods at that, then tips his head a little to the side. By now, the eating and drinking and partying has begun somewhere within earshot, Koumyou can hear it very distantly.

So, when he rises to his feet, he offers a hand down. "How about we go find some food?"

Grieving doesn't have to be a constant thing, after all.

She looked up at him for a moment before she nodded and reached up for his hand. Food sounded good, she was hungry, as if she hadn't eaten for a while even if it hadn't been that long in reality.

"I would be liking that."

She stuck close to him, not wanting to lose him in the crowds.

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The Waking of Neran

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