adregem | 000 - voidtreckerexpress Universal Contact Post

“Nothing that detailed.” He shakes his head, then lifts a finger to his chin. “If I remember right, I asked it why it keeps avoiding the ministry if it believes it’s operating under standard void craft procedure.” His hand then makes a gesture, to point. “It’s answer was the same as Captain Halo’s- that they have no recollection of its existence, and that it’s been registered rogue with no data to back up the claim that we’re a mission craft.”

It feels like he had wasted his question at the time, but hindsight is fifty-fifty.

“At the very least, it doesn’t go against it’s own story. If they’re caught, we’ll all be caught with it as accomplices to void crimes and the train will probably be decommissioned.” Logical. And yet his ponderous thoughts drift elsewhere; not too far away that the conversation he’s having with Tidus is left to simmer more than it must.

“…You know, the train and the ministry have more in common than we think.” Roland looks at the wayward tomes, journals, and notebooks to the side of the bench unoccupied. How long have they all tried to make sense of it all, yet at each juncture, they always come up two or three steps too short.

“Whatever their individual agendas, this fake-out mission proves both train and ministry need us. The train for obvious reasons, and the ministry for what information we can provide to help them get one step closer to the Voidtrecker.” Radio signals aside. They were boarded before. They could do things that neither train nor passenger foresee.

He doesn’t say anything else after that, but his eyes close. The unspoken is a clarity only he might jump to, wherever it leads- that if they could somehow use themselves as an asset to one, they might just have a chance of bargaining for their freedom. Risky, but he did promise to do everything they could; to find a way.

"S'long as the Ministry sees it that way." That they're needed, that they could see them as working together better than just being separate. To have faith - they need people who'll have faith in them and not look in colours of black or white, or rules and that nonsense.

Hope. It's always what they're putting their energy in. Hoping for the best out of situation, others.

"When I talked to those guys, they made it clear they knew we weren't around here because we wanted to. What the train did and we did were two separate things - 'least, that's the idea I got," he admits. What and if it'll matter is another thing. But, every little helps.

He leans back finally, sighing as he straightens the crick he was making for himself in his spine. "They were a pain though too. Inigo wanted to give them the number for that mission planet they first got evacuated from that got attacked by those weird shapes, but they wouldn't open up! Pain in the asses."

Huff.

It wasn’t a definitive answer to Roland’s worries, but it was a start. It was enough that they weren’t branded the same as outright fugitives…though their inaction on the matter was questionable regardless. With enough time, the ministry could always prove him wrong of course, though the mention of Inigo’s encounter with them draws upon a lifetime of experience in a way even Roland did not expect.

So much so that his expression returns more lighthearted, finding humor in where his mind travels.

“Welcome to politics.” Not that Tidus needed an introduction to that mess, knowing what Roland does about him. But Roland loves playing upon a good irony, oh yes. “They were probably ordered to keep to themselves and stick to the script. “ He chuckles. “We probably won’t solve these mysteries right away, but I feel almost glad that the ministry is showing us these things. It’s weirdly familiar to me. Putting order in the chaotic void? Speaking vaguely, giving no promises? Not answering questions, then thanking us for compliance?”

The scoff he gives is a curious mix of nostalgia and disdain.

“I know the smell of red tape and bureaucracy anywhere. Calling them that is right on the money.” Whether or not this is a reassurance of knowing how to act around those types, or conversely, how to get them riled up, Roland leaves to the imagination. Even if it’s counterintuitive for someone who used to be in a position like his to say such things; then again, he had to fight to get answers and be taken seriously too.

Or perhaps it was all coping mechanism for fears he can’t voice? It’s easy to assume an image he knows by heart than to be victim to the great and vast unknown. The answer to that eludes Roland despite his sarcasm.

“Anyway-“ He digresses, turning back to Tidus. “I think you’ve just given me an interesting idea to explore, one of these days. In the meantime, should I just try my best to convince the train to tell us more about the ministry that we haven't asked already?” A pause. “Maybe this time I’ll say pretty please.”

Edited 2021-10-28 16:31 (UTC)

The quip and agreement for his assessment gets a scoff out of Tidus anyway, a point of humour that's agreeable than not. Continues to linger with plans of engaging the train, that neither of them are really optimistic for, but do out of habit.

"Sure. I'll try too - and we should probably talk, all of us. Figure out what we know and see what everyone's feeling." He messes with the back of his hair, imagining such a scenario, his nose crinkling some for it. "Man... I wish it felt like we could prepare. Sitting around and waiting's the worst."

And what they always do - but now there's something to actually wait for.

It’s a sentiment easily and readily echoed. He takes a look at all his books, his notes, everything he could dig up in the short amount of time he’s had since the train returned to cruising speed, and the worry grows deeper, taking root in his heart.

It’s enough of a pull downwards that he can’t help but voice out what the would have usually kept all to himself.

“We’re trying, though. There was never any lack of trying. From anyone. But at the end of the day, doing our best is all we can do. The closest we can get to being prepared.” Gently, he takes one of the tomes and studies it well, not quite reading anything; just feeling it it in his grip. It’s funny to think that for all his documentation, he is still leagues away from an actual answer; still has nothing but wayward thoughts and conjectures put unto paper to busy his hand and remind him of what he knows best.

When Roland sets the notebook down, he’s decided on something for the time being, an act of camaraderie born out of determination than anything else. He stands from the bench and collects everything in both arms. Then, he turns to Tidus with a small smile on his face.

“Hey. Can you come with me for a sec?”

Edited 2021-10-30 14:22 (UTC)

Roland's right. Trying is all they do, over and over. Try, hope and wait, left to the whims of others to help them produce any real results. Items gathered in Roland's arms, Tidus considers his own next move - halted when the man then speaks, and Tidus looks up at him proper.

"Huh? -- sure." He stands with the agreement, faced and waiting. Curiosity evident, but needing to ask where they're going, so long as Roland's willing to lead.

He nods and leads the way without missing a step, but then-

-he chuckles, a lightness bearing ease that lifts his brows up. “Ah. Let’s take the trans…gates. The fuzzy ones.” He’s not going to bother learning how to really say that; what’s important is he knows how to use them now. And this is precisely where his feet take them, the books in his arms disappearing in a flurry of gold for the time being to free up his hands. They arrive at the nearest device and his finger goes straight for the ones connecting them to the Library.

“These really are useful. Evermore could use something like this to get around. Last I remember, we were expanding territory, and for some reason you can’t magically teleport places. Weird, right?”

Because if you can use magic in trip doors, then why can’t you use magic to travel small distances!

He digresses.

“Ready?”

'Transgates', 'the fuzzy ones'. Tidus recalls why Roland's calling them that, wished he'd picked a better word to hear it brought up again, but nevermind. The nearest gate takes them to games (which Tidus would be able to tell Roland, if he didn't know himself - Tidus likes himself some time in the games car), quiet with people elsewhere, likely heading to the dining car or their own rooms.

Tidus stands to the side with the offer to take them wherever Roland wants them to go on his tongue, but the man knows how to operate the machine that much; so he gives a light answer to his thought - "Buy some to take back" - before the question of readiness, giving a nod.

"Any time."

When the transgate is activated, a blue hue comes into the centre swirling like a whirlpool, the ring of the device widening for them to step through with ease. The library awaiting them as picked before any watery depths, leaving tingles across the body once they step through.

And Tidus will, waiting on Roland's lead as to where he wants to go next. Upstairs, to his favourite sections?

“Here.”

They don’t walk far.

It’s a familiar sight even; Roland’s usual spot where he’s most likely found on the day to day, pouring over texts, one page to the next. Where three types of higgledies once ambushed him, made a mess of papers and things, though it’s now one of his most treasured memories. It’s most certainly not labeled as his place, or his seat, but there’s almost never a time when Roland is occupying another carrel so he confidently points to it with his eyes. He moves across the floor and softly lays down the books that reappear from his arms band, like puzzle pieces fitting snug in place. Sure enough, everything on top of its surface, from folders to pens, belong to Roland.

He meets Tidus’s eye again, one hand on his hip.

“Journals. Ideas. Theories. I may not have returned some books I was still reading back in place, so apologies for that. But they’re all arranged here.”

That’s all he says about it - about this strange trip to the library - before he walks back to the portals. He’s already tinkering with them by the time Tidus catches up behind him.

“Okay, sleeper cabins, sleeper cabins…”

Their next destination, it seemed.

Edited 2021-10-30 16:55 (UTC)

The shelving encompasses Roland, all that he is. A man that never switches off, always has to get out his thought on this and that, every note and thought making their mark. If Roland was to leave, he wouldn't be erased from the train - not in here anyway. We're always trying, as he'd said.

Tidus wonders if it's a reminder for that, an emphasis. And he wants to ask the meaning, but doesn't even realise that Roland's walked back to the transgate until he turns his head to look at the guy, a word on his mouth. Then he's scrambling back over, curiosity now something new - or, really, still yet to be answered.

"Where're we going?" He heard about cabins, but- "You forgot something?"

The books? Is Roland leading him around to help him take back his library books?

“2C. Do you remember where I’m staying?”

It’s barely a chide, though it could be taken as such if they weren’t more strangers than friends. Instead, Roland sounds weirdly hopeful, weird only for the time and place he says these things; even moreso, to the person he’s saying them to. The gates whirl to life again, and they’re connected to the sleeper cabins in record time, Roland’s body slowly getting used to the fuzz of traveling this way.

The walk to the front of his cabin door is relatively quiet on his end. There’s no bothering to fill that silence with anything but the sound of steps against the floor of the train cars, until they reach their destination. He takes his ticket and unlocks the entryway, where he steps to the side somewhat to give Tidus view of the line of double-decker beds. For now, the sleeper cabin remains devoid of his roommates.

It’s as clear as the carrel in the library where Roland has nested; the bottom row, to the left, with carefully folded sheets, a pillow, and some familiar objects on display where there are surfaces to be had. The robot figurine, remaining bottles of lotion and perfume, haircare products and a purple blanket that runs across a clean spread.

“There’s a journal under my pillow, and more books and notes in the cubby. The riven and the memoris too. It’s not a lot of space, but it’ll be organized. At the very least, you won’t wonder where anything is.”

He turns to Tidus now, a curious mix of resolute and sentimental gleaming through brown eyes.

“I only keep personal effects inside my arms band, now. Weapons, supplies. Books and journals cycle either through my cabin or in the library. I don’t take them with me anymore.”

It’s at that point, Roland thinks, he doesn’t have to explain any further, though he’s ready to say it out loud if needed. He smiles, almost happy that he’s gotten this far.

“Questions?”

Edited 2021-10-31 09:05 (UTC)

The answer isn't the real one Tidus was looking for, but neither was his question really what he was asking. He takes it though, goes along with Roland to find out the real answer, to where this really leads - to what point Roland is trying to make.

But that's already been answered, in truth. From the library, to now the room that Roland shows. Tidus lingers on the view of the robot, the memories in them; the reminder of the space shared by four people striking whenever he sees it, for the space he gets away with, with Inigo. That peek of personality that comes through even by clean and simplicity of a tidied space.

It's neither concern nor confusion that Tidus regards Roland with, some semblance of understanding. But he can't help joke, as fond as it is:

"Planning on going somewhere?"

You always ready to?

“Hah. I wish. I’d take you all with me, if I could.”

Evermore could always use more friendly faces, after all. And though Roland chuckles in response, nothing about his actions or his words points to saying something just because. He very quickly shifts his tone, quiet but certain, eyes fixed on parts of the room where he feels like he can see the phantoms of past missions; of ghosts that have come and gone, or memories that have been cemented through time in the void.

Oh, yes. The purpose of this was quite clear, but bears repeating nevertheless. At least, it seemed he and Tidus continued to stay on the same page when it came down to the wire.

“…We’re at a disadvantage, whichever way we spin it. And the only surefire contingency I can ever really plan for is myself.” He inhales deeply. “The ministry is slowly showing us that it can do a lot more than it’s letting on. We don’t know what’ll surprise us next. Maybe it’ll be my turn to get a special interview with them. Maybe I won’t come back the same. I don’t know.”

Roland shakes his head. There is no fear or apprehension to be had, despite what passes his lips. Instead, there is peace. Serenity. Or, perhaps it’s plainer than that; acceptance, one he is accustomed to by now.

“When I was in the other world, helping Evan build his new kingdom, I was confident I could help him through his struggles. They were mine, once upon a time, too. But here? It’s different. This isn’t a budding nation looking for a foothold. This isn’t a country that needs a king, or a president. But it needs talented, dedicated folks nonetheless. As for me, I’m best when I play to my strengths. This is one big part of it-“ Roland’s hand makes for a gesture to the space before them, to his bed, to his notes and journals and things.

“-I’ve always lived life transparent. It was part of the job to be an open book, and to stand by the truth. So here I am, some…million void miles away from home, still trying to make a difference so I can save as many of you as I can. In what little way, I can.”

Finally, his eyes are able to meet Tidus’s gaze staunchly and sure.

“Everything I’ve shown you is free for the taking. It’s communal property now. If something happens to the guy behind the books, take what’s been written and share it with the rest. They’re no ramblings of a mad genius, but they’re a start.” They could help. In the end, that’s all I really want to do.

And as if he isn’t already preaching to the choir, he has to add, like a plea from one honest guy to the next; from one friend to another.

“Please.”

It's like facing the concerns that have been dragging themselves through Tidus's body since arriving back on the train. Nevermind the part of being packed in like sardines, but everything, even before that; coming back to face with the inspectors, interviews given, the unknown way the ministry operates, the information given and trades allowed.

This is what they've been waiting for, but even so, Tidus has no idea how to look forward with confidence or certainty. He doesn't feel he can. Only, he has to - it's a reality that has to be faced, no matter how ready he is.

And looking at Roland now, at any other time, he'd chalk the man's concerns up to worrying too much. But there's a severity, a weight under the surface, and Tidus's lips pinch as his brows knot along with it, and he wants to reassure it. The both of them, for the unknown coming next.

"Hey, you know I'll keep trying. You too, alright? I... I'll add to it, if you think it's a good idea. Stuff I remember. I'm no fancy writer, but- maybe it doesn't matter who we are. Just what we want, and what we've gotta do to help it happen."

Nevermind that he's no longer a sports star, no longer a guardian, a guy stuck in between life and death with no way of moving forward.

"We won't leave nothing behind." And there's more he wants to say, but his thoughts pull on something else, his gaze shifting away, head bowing, as he then admits after a long beat. "...Those guys. They took the radio and added a way for us to contact them. Just a signal," he clarifies. "But-- they said they'll try and reach us through it, if the train won't let them message us."

He tries to read through this, knows the choreographed hesitations well enough that Roland can’t ignore it this time. Nevermind that his interest is piqued with the radio tinkered with; a way to ask for help, or at least, to receive some when the time comes. (Nevermind, too, that even the idea of help is beyond their agency, that they have to wait to be contacted first.)

“Of course I’ll keep trying. Never said I’d stop.” I never will. But that’s why-

-a hand, serious and warm, rests upon Tidus’s shoulder. The dip in Roland’s brow speaks volumes.

“Please, Tidus. Promise me.”

Don’t let this be for nothing.

"I promise!" It's quick, flustered to a degree; not wanting to be misunderstood, lips slightly parted as he works his brain around Roland's request, the hand on his shoulder.

"That's what I mean - I won't let the info go away. Yours or mine, or anything we learn. We'll put it all down, stick it in the library. On paper, or on a tablet." A promise, reassurance, though it wasn't clear the first time round. Tidus looks at Roland with the awkwardness of a guy not used to such a weight or responsibility, not sure what to do with it, but trying his best.

"But you have to promise the same too, alright? Any one of us can disappear. We'll let people know - we won't let anything disappear if we do."

And he returns the gesture, reaching out to pat Roland on the arm.

"Okay?"

The heaviness in his shoulders melt instantly. Roland smiles, the curve of his mouth finally reaching his eyes. Then, he lets go.

“Thank you, pro. That means a lot to me.”

For whatever awkwardness Tidus affords Roland to witness, Roland rewards it with quiet confidence for both of their sakes. And while it was more of his liege’s place to inspire with flowery words and praises, Roland tries to take a page out of the young king’s book. There seemed no better time.

“We’ll get it done. You and I both know that nothing is impossible when people from all walks of life work together, side by side.”

(It still sounds better out of Evan’s mouth than his.)

The master of shoving issues aside in an instant returns to full force, gesturing for them to walk out of the cabin and back into the void train’s interior hallway. As if nothing ever happened, as if they had no pact seconds ago, Roland is back to his usual countenance, arms over his chest, chucking sensibly with a hint of humor.

“Say, if you meant what you said, I should get you something. You ever write with a fountain pen before?” There’s no more on his agenda, so Roland merely wanders where their feet take them, one direction or another. It no longer mattered. “I could add it to my list. If it helps any, I am seriously considering studying void law. If we do end up towed and put to trial, it’s good to have an experienced lawyer to help us get away clean. As if this old thing’s going to stick it’s neck out for us, heh.”

Edited 2021-11-01 17:07 (UTC)

It might be better in the long run for them to go on as if nothing was said, when those parting words to their talk is a level of camaraderie between from one guy older than him that makes him want to start dismissing the whole affair. This cuts to the chase, and Tidus tries to rid himself of the tingles of it; yes, let's just walk down this hallway. This is fine. This is good!

"There is a void law, if it helps." A law that the inspectors made mention of and Tidus never questioned, 'cause what does law mean to him? "So, uh, you can try finding it, I guess. And what's the difference between a fountain pen and another pen?"

He would say that he has been writing other things, though that kind of writing isn't the same as they're talking about now. A writing for a different sort of protection, of aid.

...would a guy like Roland be good at making talismans? Being as in love with writing as he is...

No direction is too near or far for a wandering mind and idle feet, so eventually, he figures the kitchen or dining car might be best for now. Then again, who knows what he’s really thinking, behind the facade of calm he sports; a glint in his eye that sparkles for only a brief moment in the seconds that tick as Tidus mentions void law.

That it actually exists is enough to get somebody like Roland ready to get to work even without the volumes of texts in his hands yet.

“That definitely does help, thanks.” Roland answers, an edge of interest and amusement evident in his demeanor. “And I’m assuming they told you what that law was, or should we detour to the library right this second to find out if the train can throw us a bone about it?”

There’s a slight chance no keyword will actually give them anything at the store, but it’s an idea as good as any at this point. His hand makes for a gesture to add, quickly like an afterthought; “Fountain pens use more ink in the compartment so every stroke releases thicker lines. They’re great for writing and signing things. I’ll get you one, I’m sure it’ll come in handy one day.”

Asking Tidus of all people if he paid attention to laws. Pshaw. There's a sliver of a memory coming back to him when the inspectors brought it up, but Tidus shakes his head, both to that thought and to the suggestion of where to head to, not bothered.

"Go for it. They said about how long they'd be able to hold us - but all laws are long, right? You'd be happier reading it yourself."

Than whatever Tidus could recall of the meeting, and what little he received (and what more there was likely to be). Maybe there was something already in the library, or would be - but then, a guy like Roland would surely already know about it, right?

So if that's the way Roland wants to go now, Tidus will follow, with the reminder, "Armoury should be the closest gate" if they want to take the short way. Then as they go on, remarking on pens: "You know, if you're particular about pens-" or even think seriously that a certain type of pen could ever be handy, "--you should learn what I am, with Wei Wuxian? He's been teaching me brush strokes, for talismans. Bet you'd be a pro at that."

A more serious student at it than him, for sure.

"There's mention of void law and void organization, sure. Lots of books we've already collected imply an organizational body. Halo herself confirmed it. But I haven't read a single resource that tells us more; who they are, what the process is, who actually runs the circus..." Or was it a collective to make a decision about how to organize the chaos of the void? Whatever the case, he knows an answer must be there, somewhere in the mess of the unknown. "Let's take the scenic route," he offers quietly, having traveled the shortcut long enough to know he's still a fan of walking when he's thinking.

"Anyway. Where I come from, laws are definitely long, but they're also made to be specific. Right now, 'void law' is pretty generic. Let's see if we can't push our luck to find something more our alley."

Gone were the days where Roland's only concern was to figure out how to read from stone tablets in a library. Where would they even begin? It's a gamble he's willing to take as they pass further in, and it just so happens that remembering Goldpaw of all places seems to suit their conversation anyway.

"Brush strokes for talismans, huh? Is that a type of magic? I know a place that had similar practices." Not that he's ever dabbled. "You should show me some of your work. You have one on you?"

Everything Roland said made sense for the man himself, and he could acknowledge it, knowing he wouldn't be getting finger-deep into any laws himself. Unless he gets dragged into it by a bossy old man...!!

Nonetheless, he hums to the suggestion of a scenic route, putting his hands behind his head and stretching, a lethargy about him that might be done some good by walking anyway. There was plenty of space for that in the room, but you were never moving to anywhere, and for the bore that the hallways of the carriages usually were, at least they would lead to doors that could be moved through.

It's been moments since returning, but he feels himself already returning to the lull of being on the train. He huffs at the request.

"I've got nothing to show, 'less you wanna see a bunch of paper where I'm practising the same strokes over and over. It's finicky! You have to get it just right; it has to be precise yet natural." Insert the dulled tone to it. "It's magic, but it's all in the strokes too, y'know? Seriously, you should chat with Wei Wuxian. I got talking to him about it because you can make them to protect spaces. Even you can use a lil' magic."

Go for it, old man. Be the cool guy you long to be.

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