middleofsomewhere | No Place Like Home: The Return

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No Place Like Home: The Return

NO PLACE LIKE HOME: THE RETURN

a silence broken...

It's been a very difficult few days. Rocking and rolling into the void and out again. Watching their friends out of the window as they wander from world to world. Meanwhile those lost on worlds continue to wander unable to return to the train at all.

"All attempts at returning those who left have failed. This voidcraft cannot do it alone. It is lucky that unlike those that have left before them, I can still sense them.

But I cannot bring them back alone. This is perhaps too advanced for Voidtreckers, but you have done the improbable before. You say you wish to help. This is how you help."

Their SCA's light up with a message. Or rather, a series of instructions:

In the unlikely event a tether gets stranded on a liminal space platform or between their own world and the platform space, you should, in the first instance, contact the Void technicians who monitor their non-travelling self. However, in the case they cannot be reached or there is a mass displacement of tether, an anchoring procedure can be carried out.

Ideally, this will involve two fully tethered individuals to retrieve the lost tether. One should be a stationary anchor. They should be outside of their void craft, if possible, and in physical contact with it. The second should be a roaming anchor reaching to draw the tethers back. In situations of mass tether displacement the stationary anchor can hold mutiple roaming anchors but it is recommended to not exceed five. In this situation, it is recommended that anchors rotate between stationary and roaming.

To start an anchoring of this kind, those anchoring should activate their anchoring program. Those staying station should reach out to the tethers of those they plan to steady. This might cause some emotional upheaval, and they will need to stay steady, especially if connecting to more than one roaming tether. Roaming anchors then must hold the person they search for in their thoughts and move towards them. It is recommended that the lost tethers activate their emergency beacon to facilitate being found and returning but this is not a necessity.

Once the roaming anchor has found the lost tethers they must keep hold of them and guide them back towards their craft, the stationary tethers must draw them back, pulling them through.

There is an additional note at the end, in different font.

It is as Anan told you. Your minds should visualise it. Be strong Voidtreckers.

... a short-lived dream

The doors open and anyone who wishes to try this can leave onto the platform. It is empty, devoid of the figures they had seen before; and, beyond the fog, devoid of anything. But searching requires their SCAs, not a path, and as people get into teams, they can activate their anchors and begin.

For those who will roam, their minds become filled, visualising light, void, voices and chaos; their bodies feel less stable, like they might unravel if not careful. But for those who will stay, when they touch the Voidtrecker Express, they will feel more stable, grounded. The fog shifts, but the world moves around them without pulling them in.

Thinking of the person they wish to keep stable, a mental and emotional link will be established, and they will feel each other as the roaming anchor sets off to find their missing crew.

Outside the train...
For those that had left - either by choice or by strange happenings - they have found themselves back at their anchor point during Poi 26, regardless of where they were before. For those unfortunate enough not to have a world to return to, or those who were stuck between in the first place, they will find themselves alone, in a fog filled space where no matter how far they walk, nothing greets them.

All those in fog or back in their world receive the same message from their SCAs.

Hold fast. Press your evacuation button. Your friends come.

RETURNERS: FLEETING HAPPINESS

But it's likely before the message arrived, that something wrong has been noticed by those outside the void. More than the bizarre ability to travel between existences, an inability to move far from where they appear. Back at their anchor points, they may notice - in time - colours sometimes flash across the sky, streaking through clouds or making trails in a night sky. At first not much, something to be easily dismissed but it builds. People talk, wonder at what is happening.

For the colours aren't the only thing. Across worlds, in cities, kingdoms, villages, underworlds and space stations, people are dreaming. Bright colours, vivid dreams. Prophets spring from nowhere, people claim to know the future or to have seen the past. Some talk of places and worlds they could not have seen.

Perhaps at first it can be explained away, there are always such people. But more people talk, from urchin children to commanders, people dream and the colours dance.

ANCHORERS: A STEADY HAND

While the stationeries will feel grounded, they aren't blind to what's happening to their roamer. It's as if they're both linked, intimately, meshing together, and they will need to work to keep their feelings separate; hearing each other's thoughts, their feelings. Images of what the other thinks and memories shared between them.

And then there is the search for their teammates, amongst the multiple of realities. Existences move past the roamer, threatening to lose them in the mess, but they must persevere, keep their thoughts on the individual, their stationary anchor to help them. Until finally, they appear - in a world they perhaps know, don't, the kaleidoscope colours of the void faint above their heads.

Speak to each other, keep each other focused, certain, and find who you came to save.

BOTH: HOLDING ON

Searching for individuals, the anchorers will find themselves at a character's anchor point; if they haven't moved far from here or another world, it will be easy to locate them. Now is the time to convince them to come back, and then the eventual work of doing so.

It can be in agreement, or force. Taking a hold of the person, the anchorer can pull them into the mass of chaos. Just like when they helped the guests return to their worlds from the false Diagad, all parties become battered by images, voices. Voices like sirens; 'Just stay,' the voices encourage. 'Just let go and drift into the chaos. It will be easier.'

But they must be strong, move towards their anchor and towards the craft. The crossing doesn't take too long, perhaps ten minutes each way, and once they get to the craft the person they are rescuing glows gold and vanishes. The anchors will know instinctively that they are safe on the train.

And indeed, the rescued will find themselves within the luggage carriage - exhausted, but safe.

TRAIN: AN INEVITABLE RETURN

Exhaustion is something all parties will experience, once everyone is returned to the train and the adrenaline wears off. Those who anchored will be hit with a total exhaustion, leaving them unable to do much more than eat and sleep for a few days. Those rescued won't be as bad, but if they decide to join in with the efforts, they'll too face the soul-tiring experience that other anchorers are.

There's likely to be efforts, to help soothe people over this time. And as people return to their life on the train, they will see the marks of the last few days for those who stayed behind. Broken ceramics, books out of order in the library; the ICPs in the standard coach, storage, sports and games carriages broken, and some damage to furniture.

But for the scars brought on by this event, surely, they will heal - eventually.

OOC NOTES

OOC post. Ask questions here. New second part OOC post here.

First phase of the event took place during Poi 22 to 25; the second phase takes place during Poi 26 to 28 (20-25th February).

VISITING WORLDS: While during Poi 26, it will be possible to go back to wherever they were, or other spaces. However, they will have increasing difficulty doing this, and will feel themselves getting more lost if they try world hopping too much over the next 3 (void) days. It's like something is trying to pull them back, or pull them, but into nowhere.

SCAs: The SCA's comms will not be active at this time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Devero tucks him that much closer and holds him that much tighter. He also holds his tongue until the wave of agitation passes; he doesn't actually want to be snapping at Koumyou, after all.

"Do you remember," he says finally, his voice more even, "back when I'd just boarded the train, when you and I were just getting to know each other? You told me about muichimotsu-- that's what you're talking about, when you say you're weren't 'strong enough', right?"

"It's part of what I meant when Kouryuu's death was involved," Koumyou says, muffled both by Devero and by his own tears. "This time it's more about... I know surviving is far harder than dying is."

Edited 2022-04-20 05:26 (UTC)

Devero nods, chin moving against the top of Koumyou's head. "So you couldn't stand to be the one who survived that, then?"

"And I couldn't watch you die. Either of you."

One of them would have been enough, but both?

"I didn't mean to get hit like that. I didn't know what the attack would be, I just knew there would probably be one fired at you two."

And of the lot of them, Koumyou was the one equipped to counter most of the possibilities. All, had his sutra not been fully engaged all over the battleground and high over it.

He wouldn't have liked to see anything happen to Yondu, either. But once Yondu had been carried off by a chunk of the mountain, he'd known he could only protect those two. That Yondu hadn't also ended up in luggage was one of the earliest things he'd checked upon waking back up on the train.

Devero digests that for a moment, silent and thoughtful. He doesn't question Koumyou's choice to sacrifice himself for his adoptive daughter, and he-- realizes he doesn't really question in it regards to himself, either. He feels like he should, but he doesn't believe it. Not anymore.

Finally, he shifts a little, tucking Koumyou's head in closer under his chin. "I don't see what you could have done differently," he says, his voice so soft.

"In hindsight, I could have freed up a sutra tendril for a second," Koumyou murmurs, down against Devero, collar bone, "but that's just hindsight."

And honestly, there was only so much processing he could have done in that instant, already running all those tendrils to chase and herd Ukoku's and try to keep the Muten from entering the game at all.

Ukoku had simply had the mental bandwidth for one more tendril than he had.

"And hindsight's 20-20," Devero says. "We all know exactly what we should have done in a sticky situation in hindsight." His sigh ruffles Koumyou's hair. "You were controlling so many of them already. Took us ages to gather them all up enough to move your sutra anywhere."

"I..."

Koumyou hadn't given any thought, really, to what must have happened in the direct aftermath. He'd only just realized Devero had taken the Seiten when he'd stepped onto his world to find him and the one on his shoulders had started to feel strange. Not weaker, not stronger, not fake, not real.

Just, out of sync with itself, with him. Like one singer within a massive chorus had shifted tone just a hair, and only through a soul-deep familiarity had he known the difference.

But Devero had had it with him, and that meant he had indeed collected it all up and its literally countless tendrils, and--

How had he even done that? How had it fit in the tent?

"..."

He's distracted, because thinking about Devero doing all of that while having to endure the company of Koumyou's lifeless, sightless body, bled out and pale, laying right there on the muddy shore of the Yangzi river where he'd once found his newborn son is--

It's a lot.

It's a lot.

The most he'd let out since waking up in the luggage car had been the few tears he'd had escape on him just earlier in this conversation, tucked safely away in their cabin together. Now, the compartmentalization that he couldn't stop himself from keeping up finally cracks, and suddenly Devero has his arms full of violently-sobbing priest.

Certainly, Devero couldn't explain how he'd done it. The task had seemed endless, interminable, until suddenly the sutra had been a messy, mud and blood-streaked heap on the bank of the river. He hadn't bothered to spend any time mulling over it, just hefted the bundle and taken Buttercup and gotten the fuck away from the sight of the fight.

He's not thinking about that right now, though. The only thing on his mind is his Sanzo, who's habitual reserve has apparently just fractured. Devero holds him close as he sobs, lips moving against platinum hair as he murmurs to Koumyou that "I'm here, you're here, we're together. It's all right. We're together."

Koumyou's not weeping for himself, even. It's for Dev. And Buttercup. But especially soft, kind Devero who isn't used to so much death like Koumyou and the girl are.

"I'm so sorry," he rasps in between sobs, "I never wanted to put you through that--"

"I know, I know," he says thickly, starting to stroke one hand up and down Koumyou's back. "You did what you had to."

It doesn't end for a while, not until the exhaustion deep in Koumyou's bones wins. Not until he just doesn't have the energy to sustain such an intense reaction anymore.

So eventually, the storm... doesn't pass, but it at least retreats, and leaves a tear-soggy Koumyou curled tight against Devero.

"I don't blame you," Devero murmurs into the quiet as the storm withdraws. "And I hope you don't blame yourself, for doing what you had to. All right?"

"I don't know if I do or not," Koumyou says quietly, muffled against Devero's shirt, "I just... always end up hurting you."

He's no better at... well, anything, than nervous little Houmei had been.

"I shouldn't have brought you guys to my world. I should have known better."

Had he forgotten how dangerous his own world is? How dangerous being near him in particular is?

"What we did on your world was important," Devero protests gently. "Those folks at Kinzan needed to be honored. And what happened to you, what he did to you-- that... that hurt, yes, but you didn't do it to me."

No, Koumyou had died for him, and he's going to be processing that for a while yet. But that difference is important. He doesn't think he's conveying it well, but it seems so obvious to him.

"I'm sorry," Koumyou croaks out again, throat tight enough that he can barely say it, even if he doesn't have the energy to keep sobbing.

He's sorry for dying, for messing up, for not killing Ukoku years and years ago. For failing. For always failing.

And right now, for feeling like he's making this about him, when Devero is the one who'd had to be left behind. Devero's the one who had to watch, this time. The very thing that had broken Koumyou, doing that so many times-- and none of those he'd lost had been as important to him as Devero is.

If this had happened in reverse, Koumyou also wouldn't have made it off that world, he's sure of it. He may have been led away by Buttercup, nudged into helping recover the wounded Yondu down the mountain, but a big part of him would have just been... gone.

And he doesn't know if it would have recovered entirely just because it hadn't turned out to be permanent.

"I know," Devero says again. He squirms a little, trying to open enough space between them to cradle Koumyou's face, if he can. If Koumyou will let him.

(If Koumyou doesn't, Devero just wraps hiss arms around him again and resumes cradling his Sanzo close.)

Would he be as sanguine about Koumyou's sacrifice as he seems right now, if Koumyou's death had truly been permanent? No, of course not; Koumyou had felt all of his despair and grief during the retrieval.

But Koumyou's death wasn't permanent. His tether to the train had held. Koumyou had saved him from having to experience dying, had saved Buttercup as well, and now they're back on the train. For Devero's forward-focused, resilient heart, that's all that matters.

If the priest does look up, he'll find Devero's dark eyes looking intently into his. "--And I forgive you, my love. Thank you for protecting us."

Koumyou allows the space; it's getting a little suffocating down here anyway, and he's finding it's harder to ignore that sort of thing now. For some strange reason.

He gazes up at Devero, his expression utterly shattered and vulnerable, his eyes glassy from all the crying. At Devero's words, he lets those eyes slip shut.

"I... would marry you every single day of existence itself, if I could," he whispers, "I... I don't want to be apart, at all."

Get ready to be CLUNG to for a good long while, Devero.

"I love you so much. And... and hearing it in return as I went was... it did make it a little less horrible, in a way."

More horrible, in other ways.

At least the last time Ukoku had accidentally killed him, it had been pretty fast. He'd barely heard all the screaming from Kouryuu before everything had gone dark. This time had not been fast at all.

Edited 2022-05-09 08:00 (UTC)

"Oh," he breathes, taking in the sheer fragile vulnerability on his Sanzo's face. He bends his head the tiny amount necessary to brush his lips over one closed eyelid, then the other.

"I don't want to be apart either," he says. "When I thought that-- when I wasn't sure if your tether had held--" He can't articulate it, not really. That yawning chasm of grief and uncertainty had swallowed everything by the time Koumyou had found him.

"I am so, so grateful that it did," he says instead, his voice rough. He brushes a strand of pale, damp hair away from Koumyou's face and leans in to kiss him again, this time between his eyes.

Koumyou leaves his eyes closed, and relaxes, too tired and wrung out. There's no smiling, but at least he's melted into place by Devero's easy affection.

"I didn't think it would hold. Between the situation, and the Muten being involved... either one could have meant it wouldn't. With both..."

But if anyone had to die permanently of the three of them, the math had been simple to Koumyou Sanzo. He couldn't watch it happen again, and... besides, he'd already died before.

"I worried about that too," Devero admits. His voice is very quiet, as if maybe he's afraid that saying out loud will make it happen retroactively. "I was r-really-- really worried."

His eyes are half-closed and fill suddenly with hot tears as the weight of that fear looms close to him again. He inhales shakily and bends his head again, until his forehead thunks into Koumyou's. "But you're here. Vice and virtue, you're still here."

"We're both here," Koumyou agrees, just as quietly, and presses right back up against Devero's forehead in return, "we're both alive. Together."

The relief is so profound it's looped back around to terror all over again. Because this is good, and it can't last. Any second now, something will change.

"I'm so terrified," Koumyou admits in a ragged whisper, "I just need you to be safe."

Safe from Ukoku, safe from Valdana, safe from the whims of fate that say that love is always death.

Safe from Koumyou, then. He isn't going to act on that final thought, there, but he can't help it from happening in his head. If Devero had a normal person to have a normal relationship with, he would be so much safer.

A thick stream of tears are leaking out of Koumyou's closed eyes again. He doesn't have the energy to sob, consciousness already a flickering, tenuous thing. The need to rest is going to assert itself one way or another.

Safe from Ukoku, safe from Valdana-- Koumyou's mind loops off from there, but Devero's doesn't. It stops somewhere it's stopped many, many times since Madame had found them together on Devero's world: Valdana is dead.

Valdana will never hurt him, or anyone else, ever again.

Koumyou did that for him, something he'd never had the strength to be able to do for himself. (Funny, how quickly he's forgotten that before Koumyou, he'd never been able to even acknowledge that she was hurting him, much less be able to do anything to escape her abuse.)

He brings one hand around to cradle Koumyou's cheek, thumb wiping away tears. "You keep me safe," he breathes, his voice hitching a little.

And Koumyou's been braced for Devero to be disappointed, or angry, or something else with him over having murdered Valdana. He's still braced for that, even if it's taking a back seat for now to the whole dying ordeal.

"I try to," he whispers, pressing just slightly into that hand on his cheek.

And then consciousness... slips away. Between the (ongoing) emotional turmoil of his death, and all of the Anchoring, he's just tapped the fuck out right now.

At least his pulse is fine. His breathing is fine. He's only rag-dolled to the normal, albeit deep, sleeping extent where the body still avoids hurting itself and doesn't just crumple in place.

Yet Devero can't help but panic a little when Koumyou slips away from him like that. "Koumyou?" he asks softly, frowning down at his Sanzo. When there's no immediate response, he paps the priest's cheek and says it louder. "Koumyou?!"

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