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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?”
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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?
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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.”
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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."
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“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.
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"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?"
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“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.”
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"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...
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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.”
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"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.
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"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?"
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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.