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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The angel is completely focused on his hunt, not to be stopped by any man, creature, or otherwise. But he does have the mind to, at least, take a gander at their surroundings every so often, to take in the environment, the people, the sights, they sounds. It's all part of the experience, after all, even if he has a favorite.

"Oh, it's all quite exquisite. Do you remember places like these on Earth?"

It has been a while, but, save for the cave, it reminds him of villages, of fairs. Suppose the pattern is speckled throughout most of humanity's development, and there's a real sense of life and community.

It's in the middle of this thought that he stops, sniffing the air, and is once again back to the hunt.

"Where is that delightful aroma coming from?"

Crowley decides he'll throw the angel a bone this time. His eyes dart to the side of the path where a few carts line it. There, steam is rising above a small crowd of people. He nudges Aziraphale with his elbow, then nods in it's direction.

"Over there, dove." he replies, "Shall we try it?"

Admittedly, he is just as eager to try a new culture's cuisine. There seems to be plenty here to enjoy, after all.

You know, if it wasn’t for the way this had all come about - and the lack of choice and freedom involved in the whole thing - maybe Aziraphale wouldn’t have been totally opposed to the idea to explore worlds beyond the Earth he had come to know (or the ethereal and occult planes). Why, he would have likely felt curious from the start, seeing as his knowledge of a species would then be found to be quite lacking, in the whole grand scheme of things. It would be just the sort of thing he would be happy enough to explore. In fact, if he was given the chance to return to Earth, would he, perhaps, miss it all, if just a little bit?

Such matters are hardly appropriate to ponder when there are other pressing matters to tend to, such as chasing down the delectable aroma permeating the air, politely slinking through the crowds, demon in tow.

“Excuse me. Pardon. Just trying to scootch on over- here we are. “

The angel eyes the meals being prepared by what are clearly worked, experienced hands, managing to pull the intoxicating scent from large pieces of meat. The angel takes it all in, feeling a speckling of hunger, but of the ethereal kind.

“Oh, dear boy, isn’t that just positively hypnotising?”

It could be argued that Earth was Crowley's favorite place because Aziraphale had been stationed on it. There was certainly more to it than that, but Crowley also was ready to leave it all behind to save Aziraphale and himself from succumbing a terrible fate.

He lets himself be dragged along to hunt for a meal, smiling to himself in amusement. Crowley offers the crowds a few quiet apologies of his own, and once he finds himself in front of the cart, stares curiously. He doesn't respond to the angel’s question, not directly. Instead, he catches the eye of the workers and points to the food as its being prepared.

"Two, please."

Aziraphale takes the chance to take in another whiff of the delicious scent, which he finds to be as important to the whole process of enjoying a meal as tasting. There’s a few elements he can’t quite distinguish, and he’s happy to puzzle it out.

“It’s all so rich. I do wonder what spices they use...”

He’s entirely lost to the experience, happily and gladly, although he doesn’t let go of the demon’s arm just yet.

"I don't think they'll be spices you recognize." he replies lazily. Maybe they would by taste, but certainly not by name.

The vendor hands Crowley two skewers of meat, wrapped in a sprt of parchment paper to catch any grease. Crowley pays with thanks, then offers the angel one as he turns them to leave the line.

The angels eyes brighten, eyeing the dish as he blindly follows the serpent. He turns it over a few times.

"Is this beef? Perhaps pork..."

Crowley gives it a sniff, it smells interestingly between the two, which is likely because it is neither. "It's not from Earth, angel... it's something else." he sighs.

Crowley finds a place for them to take a seat near an open fire. Citizens are chatting merrily nearby. He offers the seat to Aziraphale first and then seats himself beside him as usual.

"Fascinating..." The angel eyes the food with every ounce of interest in his eyes, which seems to overpower his peckishness at least for a moment, examining the delicacy rather closely as Crowley finds them a seat.

Pulling his gaze away from it, he looks around at all the people. There seems to be a rather 'cozy' ambiance all around, a kind of feeling of community that he hasn't seen in a couple of decades, though that might have to do with his living in central London.

"I do rather hope nothing happens to bother the people of this place." The words leave him before he considers the preemptiveness - though hopefully not damning - that they carry.

"Don't think that's why we're here... seems safe, for now." he replies, waiting for his meat to cool enough for him to taste it. He'll likely enjoy watching Aziraphale taste his own, first, so it's a fair trade.

"I'm thankful enough for the holiday."

“Hm, yes.” The angel responds, although with the kind of tone of someone who’s just making vaguely agreeable sounds. He would happily go with the idea that everything is perfectly safe - maybe it is, despite the business mentioned on the network before the train stopped - but its hard not to keep your guard up after a handful of times where trouble just seemed to find them.

Still, he’s glad to turn his attention back to the food, taking in it’s aroma again.

“It certainly looks like a pleasant enough place. Very…cozy.”

Crowley blinks, watching Aziraphale attentively. He cannot believe the angel hasn't dove right into the food he'd been so desperate to try moments ago, and his expression shows it.

Or maybe he is just that hungry to watch.

"Yes, yes, very cozy." he mutters, staring at the food in the angel’s hands. "How is your food?" he asks suddenly, as if he hadn’t realized the angel didn't yet take a taste. He's waiting, okay? How dare you deprive him of this experience.

The angel is distracted, clearly, but that’s not to discount the fact that the ambience where a meal takes place is just as an important part of the experience as, say, the cutlery with which is it presented, or lack of it. Still, the demon is successful in pulling the angel’s focus back towards the meal, and he examines it with hungry eyes once more.

Turning it to find what looks like the perfect first bite, he goes in with an exquisite care that barely staves off the curiosity. His eyes close, of course, to properly take in the flavours of the meal, specially when exploring what could be entirely new ones like nothing he’s ever tried on earth.

He takes his time chewing, savouring, finding that the meat, much as he assessed by the smell, feels familiar, but different enough that he can’t quite mark it as something he’s eaten before. And the spices, unique, expertly applied with rude but experienced hands. Theres a rugged appeal to it all, but definitely well practiced.

The angel hums in delight, opening his eyes, and looking upon the food with new eyes.

“Astonishing. So simple, and yet… I don't believe I’ve had anything quite like it. Close, perhaps, but there’s something different to it. I can’t quite put my finger on it. What do you think?” He asks, as he looks over to the demon.

Crowley had taken a moment to gaze upon the art that lined the halls of the museum on this world, but watching the angel eat was art in and of itself. Crowley needn't ever taste food himself as long as he could watch Aziraphale taste it. The way he loses himself to it, every fraction of an expression change, every sound, the way he holds his food, perfection.

"Wonderful." he answers, having not taken a bite. His own skewer sits untouched in his hands, his gaze still locked heavily on the angel.

Aziraphale glances at the skewer in Crowley hands, apparently not quite taking note of the demon's entirely focused gaze.

"But you haven't tried it yet. Don't let it go cold, that would be a waste."

Following his own advice, the angel takes another careful but freer bite, delighted by the experience.

"Oh, this does make it all a little easier, doesn't it?"

Crowley hums as if he hears the message, but doesn't move to taste his until he's watched the angel take a second bite.

"I suppose so," he mutters, finally drifting his gaze to the food in his hands. He lifts it to his lips at takes a bite, tasting for a moment. It's nice, certainly unique, but Crowley never entirely has the same sort of reaction to food that Aziraphale does.

"At least when we visit a place like this, it feels like we've just run off together for a little holiday." he says. He'll still miss Earth. His car... but he was willing to give all of that up for Aziraphale anyway, so it isn't so bad.

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The Waking of Neran

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