TDM #2, arc 1.2: as she bends toward the sun

[lamentus]

❝I sing this to be free
I sing for you and me
I sing across the sky
To find a place of life
Where all of this is true
I bring this into you❞

BUFF

For those who are bonded to the Fathomless, they will, one night, wake up from a startling dream in which they remembered a memory they had forgotten, or had glossed over.

DEBUFF

Bonded of the Empty Machine will experience insatiable hunger this month, and will never feel satisfied no matter how much they eat.

At first, you feel a pull. In which direction, you do not know. When a portal of shimmering black and glittering stars appears in front of you, it only seems natural to step into it. On the journey, it is as if you see everything: ancient galaxies wheeling through space, cultures born and growing and leaving their planets, lights creeping over landmasses and them winking out all at once. You see the hungry arm of a black hole, an enigmatic smile under a mirrored mask, a fist clenched tight around an endless sword. Fangs shining in starlight, bandaged feet that have traveled so many miles and still remain sturdy, and code shattering under titanium will.

And then your feet touch solid ground again, and what you have seen is suddenly hard to recall, the merest of glimpses springing to mind when you try to think back.

All you know is that you witnessed something enormous, something you probably shouldn't have seen.

As you struggle to refocus your gaze, all you see for a long moment is white. White walls, white floor. Narrow white cots lined up against a wall, screens blinking above them in tones of soothing aqua and mint. You are in a medbay — a highly advanced one, given the lack of bulky machinery — but perhaps the most eye-catching thing about the room is a long window showing endless black and twinkling stars outside.

Before you can give voice to any thoughts, a small robot flutters toward you, and perches on the back of a chair. "Hello, Wayfarer!" the birdform chirps cheerfully. "I imagine you must have many questions; allow me to enlighten you! You have fallen victim to a quantum accident and have been pulled to another universe, but the Ascendants, in their generosity, intercepted your signal and brought you here so that you did not wind up in empty space. You are aboard the Theorem of the Astral Rose; our mission is to explore uncharted space and search for the Song!"

They pause, thinking, their little blue eye aglow, and then brighten.

"Oh! Introductions are in order! I am Starling's Lament in Flight, but you may call me Starling's Lament. I am one of the Hosts of this exploration vessel; we will do everything we can to ensure a safe voyage for you. Unfortunately, at this moment, we cannot send you home. The Ascendants have indicated that their search for the Song may play some key role in doing so." They whistle a merry tune. "Please enjoy your stay! The other Wayfarers are currently on planet Epsilon-355, you may join them at any time!"

And so, you take a shuttle down to the planet; an orb of a nearly unbroken gold landmass and pale pink clouds scudding across the surface. On the journey, the pilot Host recites for you why this planet was picked: it is a possible match for a planet mentioned in a story about the Last Pilgrim, one of the most enigmatic of the Edicts. If there are scraps of the Song to be found, it may be in the path they traveled there.

PLANET TYPE: arid world
ORBITAL CHARACTERISTICS: close orbit to native sun, no eccentricities in orbit
ROTATION PERIOD: 31 hour days, 405 day year
NATURAL RESOURCES: iron-rich silicate, limonite, titanium oxides, sodium, nickel
BREATHABLILITY INDEX: safe for humanoid respiration
WEATHER PATTERNS: occasional sandstorms, very little rain
LANDMASS: 98% of planet
AVERAGE TEMPERATURE: 31c
SURFACE GRAVITY: average
BIOSIGNATURES: indicates a narrow range of native life
ARTIFICIAL STRUCTURES: none found

REFLECT

On-planet, activity is bustling.

Research & Archives pinpointed a clue in the story that would make finding the Last Pilgrim's trail easier to find: a pathway of bones that the caravan traveled upon. It is unknown how long this pathway is, or even if it still exists, depending on how long ago that story came from.

Science & Engineering, meanwhile, concluded that the golden sand of this planet is wholly unlike the sand of other deserts, made up of not just silicon dioxide and fossilized marine life, but of many inert chemicals and minerals, a scattered rainbow of compositions. Epsilon-355 was, they concluded, at one point the closest planet to its sun, and that has sown a strange field upon it: the golden ash and viscera of a star's fiery tempest and the powdered remains of a destroyed moon. It is, quite literally, made from stardust and moondust. The glass that litters the sands was put there by chaotic lashings of star plasma, whips of heat so intense they penetrated through the atmosphere and raised burned lines of melted sand over its surface. Luckily, the orbit of the planet has since taken it too far away from its star to do such damage again.

After long-range scans, Wayfarers were able to find signs that pointed to a large deposit of inert biological material that lay to the north-west.

As you pack up your camp, the weather is clear, and the sky is bright. For most Wayfarers, adjusting to the 31-hour cycle of Epsilon-355 has been difficult, but midday naps and staggered sleeping schedules have made it easier. The sand has proven to be a constant irritant when the breeze picks up, but the creatures largely prefer to hide, and there have been no more sightings of the barren-racers. It seems they travel only alongside the sand-whales, and the sand-whales only emerge after a storm.

With all of your supplies stocked on people's backs and the hover-sleds the Hosts have brought for easier travel, you set off to the north-west.



After the storm, the glass outcroppings had been scrubbed clear, and they still remain that way. The path north-west takes you through something of a valley, bordered on both sides by sharp juts of the glass, enormous spikes just waiting to impale anybody who sets a foot wrong. As Wayfarers move through this valley, the reflections feel like they are watching you, but you can never quite catch any coherent image in them outside of your own selves.

Until, that is, you happen to glance at another, and see a vision of something you regret. A past action you took, a decision you made, a fate you changed. It's a static image, like a photograph reflected in the glass's surface, and it does not fade when somebody else looks at it.

They all remain like specters lining the path you are taking, watching your every move.

DEBUT

After two days of travel, you find them.

At first, the Wayfarers find the trail of bones mentioned in the scrap of story you're following. It is just as described: a pathway of enormous bones, presumably of the last titans the story refers to. They are neatly laid in a winding pathway over and between the rolling sand dunes, bleached white by sand and time. Most of them are meters long: humerus bones three meters long lining the path like a border, rib bones twice as tall as a person creating elegant fan shapes.

On the side of the path, greater remains may occasionally be seen. Enormous titanic skeletons half-buried in the sand, watching the pathway, like they simply laid down and died as eternal sentinels.



Astute observers notice that the skulls are all pointed in the same direction, and so, that is the direction you follow, until finally, you find life.

You hear them before you see them; music and laughter carrying through the light breeze. And when the Wayfarers crest a massive dune, you look down upon a valley where there winds a serpentine path, and upon it walks a long caravan of people. You catch up to them, and as you walk alongside them to get to the front of the line in hopes of finding a leader, they all greet you warmly, like old friends that simply have not met yet.

There is a brightly painted wooden wagon with a group of old women in the back, their faces stained with red ochre, their eyes blind, and their mouths laughing. A young boy wearing red pearls leads a metal hover-craft with a pilgrim painted on the side, and a pack of young children in aquatic water-suits run with him, giggling bubbles into the water in their helmets. Young women of dark skin and magnificent wings trail in a line behind a four-legged robot, singing helio-cycle poems and carrying bowls of vivid fruit. You identify what must be the lapho-beasts from the story: huge quadrepeds built like a gorilla with hooked beaks, the size of a three-storey building, plodding along at a sedate pace, their backs lined with rolled up tents, and barrels of grain and water that sloshes with every one of their thumping steps. A small group of tall entities with featureless faces and elegant robes walk along a pair of rock-skinned hexapods. A squat creature with a head shaped like a mushroom dances alongside them all, strumming music on a long instrument that emits color and light with every note. Everywhere you look, there is music, and laughter, and celebration.



It takes a while to get to the front, but there, you meet the ringleaders of this pilgrimage. The first is a tall robotic entity with limbs as thin and straight as sticks, a narrow rectangular face, a bright red woven cloak, and a hat that resembles a dǒulì, wide and conical. Her name is Elegance, and she introduces you to her wife, Rēza, a short woman who resembles an upright moth, with large furred wings and compound eyes, her antenna waving in the breeze. The scarf around her neck and mouth is of many colors, and looks charmingly handmade, a little rough around the edges.

They tell you that this caravan has been traveling for thirty days, and they are not far from their objective. The unknown temple, they believe, lays little more than a week's travel away. Everybody you see has come here from local systems, hoping to find something in the Last Pilgrim's footsteps. Thousands of pilgrimages have been doing the same, one after the other, for eons.

Everybody, they say, finds something different. Something you did not know you needed until that very moment.

If you ask them if the Song is to be found there, Rēza laughs, and says they do not know. But perhaps, if you need it that badly, it will be what you find?

Elegance and Rēza are happy to have you travel with the caravan, and encourage you to meet with everyone. They also think it would only be appropriate for you to help with the caravan's various ventures: the story-tellers are trying to compose an epic poem to mark their trip, and the hunters are catching local flora and fauna to stretch out their rations. Or, you can join the sand skimmers, racing on their boards with brightly colored sails taking them through the dunes, scouting ahead for an oasis to seek more water.



Medical, perhaps, might be asked to help with desert-given injuries, sand rashes or injuries from the bone pathway. Engineers might be approached to help with the sand stuck in the joints of mechanical entities. Research & Archives might be pulled into hearty discussions about the story set on this planet.

FIRESIDE

When dusk begins to fall, the caravan draws to a stop, and they begin to make camp.

The Wayfarers do the same, setting up your tents and supplies. The carvan sets up in a series of circles, some small and contained to family groups, others large to hold dozens of people. Silverthorn is gathered for small fires in the middle of the circles, and many set about making dinner. Soon, the smells of smoke and dried meat fill in the air, stews bubbling with vegetables and foraged Firelight Brush roots, Speckled Runners turning slowly on spits to roast. Grain is pulled from barrels and pounded into powder on wide, flat rocks, mixed with scant water supplies to make a bread that is nonetheless fluffy and pale yellow once its dark crust has been broken open.

The caravan gladly shares their supplies with the Wayfarers with no expectation of the same in return, though it would certainly be polite. The lapho-beasts lay down so that their burdens may be taken off their backs, and slumber noisily next to the circles, curled almost entirely around some smaller ones.



Once dinner is served, the caravan turns to the members of the Theorem's crew, and begs: tell us a story.

You see, they have been traveling for a month, and they have already told each other all the stories they know. Stories from their own lives, stories that they were once told about others. Here, in this desert, the only currency worth anything is stories, and they are all eager for new ones. Is that not the domain of the Last Pilgrim? Is it not an honor in their name, to share stories of progress, of journeys, and of learning?

Children crowd around you eagerly, old men and women with sparks in their eyes lean in close, and the light-making music-playing creature of before hushes everyone, readying the crowd to listen to whatever story you choose to tell.

Or perhaps you are more content to listen as other circles share the stories they have told already, finding new details to highlight or new questions to ask. Either way, a lot of tales are being told around these fireplaces, and it would be wise to listen to them.

GLIMPSE

You spend the next week traveling.

It's not easy. On one day there is another sandstorm, and the caravan has to hunker down and wait it out. The following day is spent avoid the sand-whales and the barren-skimmers, but luckily, they don't go near the path of bones. You make friends with people in the caravan, you share stories over spiced drinks and good bread. You help where you can, and in return, the caravan shares everything they have with you.

You learn that they are here chasing a story: a rumor that visiting the temple at the end of this pilgrimage will grant them something they want. It does not cure illness or bestow riches, they say, but it gives you something you never knew you needed until that very moment. Some of the caravan have nothing besides the clothes on their backs, and some of them are wealthy, and some of them are seeking meaning. Some of them are from Alliance space, others are not.

A week later, Elegance and Rēza call the Wayfarers to the front of the caravan. You will have first honor of cresting the next row of sand dunes to catch the first glimpse of the temple. And as you scramble up the dune and peak its crest, you see it in the distance:



A long, almost mountain-like range of sand dunes, taller than any you've seen so far. Beyond them, the pale purple sky is lit up with fractal reflections in every color; atmospheric blue and x'enuda pink, the same orange as the optics of a robot family in the caravan, the gentle gold of the Theorem's shield.

Whatever is beyond that dune-range, it is giving up a spectacular light show.

They say it will take another day to get there, but for today, you will stop at an oasis.



The presence of water has allowed tall canyons to form around its exterior, so you must descend downward to find the shady oasis. The water is a perfect aqua blue, so clear you can see the very bottoms of the shallow pools. Here, there is life different from the tough, scrubby plants you encountered among the dunes: plant-life whose roots are able to draw in water from the pools, crowded around the edges of them in small clusters of orange and red leaves, white flowers peeking out among them.

First, the caravan must take enough water to fuel itself. But after that, anybody is free to take a dip, to bathe themselves or merely to enjoy the cool water.

If you do, you'll find yourself curiously refreshed, like you've just gotten the first decent night's sleep in a while. It may even cure minor wounds, and ease the aches of travel.

Tomorrow, you will finally find the temple that the Last Pilgrim visited.

(CODE)

Comments

jiaoqiu | honkai: star rail

[flavourtown]

d e b u t

[ The story had said that pilgrimages could be found here, and yet, when they find signs of life -- when laughter and music hit the range of his hearing for the first time -- Jiaoqiu finds himself surprised nonetheless. He has not spent extensive time in deserts, but this one was harsh, ill-suited for those who had no protection against the sun and the sandstorms. It did not seem like a planet that one wanted to spend extensive time upon, let alone go looking for anything profound.

But here they are.

Jiaoqiu walks next to what he can only assume is a lapho-beast, its cavernous breathing loud to his hearing. His Support pack and cooking cauldron are strapped to his back, alongside bunches of drying native leaves hanging off straps. He told himself he could do this, but-- it's a struggle. His damaged shoulder and chest muscles have been complaining for hours, and though he pulls up a polite, unruffled smile for anybody that passes near, he cannot hide the droop of his vulpine ears and tail, the pallor of his skin despite the heat. And yet, he's too stubborn to put the cauldron on a hover-sled, so he just tells himself to deal with it.

As he falls in alongside another Wayfarer, a pack of kids run past, laughing, kicking up sand in their wake. Jiaoqiu half-raises a hand to protect his blind eyes, before remembering the white blindfold he wears. Useful as eye protection, if nothing else. ]

Remarkable that they're managing to maintain such good spirits, isn't it? [ He sounds somewhere between amused, weary, and wistful. ] We've been here for a month, too, and I'm about ready to build my own spaceship just to get away from all this sand.

f i r e s i d e

[ When they settle down for the night, Jiaoqiu has to take ten minutes just to recover. His muscles are still screaming when he picks himself up, but he's got a job to do.

He makes his way around the camp, talking with various pilgrims. They all have different supplies that they brought with them -- grains of various kinds, small amounts of meats and vegetables and fruits kept in stasis chests -- but many of them, like the Wayfarers, have largely been relying on what can be found on the planet itself. Jiaoqiu has been doing the same, finding ways to cook the local animals and plants, taste-testing everything that's edible.

And so, inspired by a comment a Wayfarer had made last week, Jiaoqiu winds up cooking a dish with the cactus (called Silverthorn, according to a pilgrim). Set up at a campfire, with a small group to his left trading songs and people to his right laughing over a ribald joke a mechanical entity had just made, Jiaoqiu starts dishing out food on wooden and ceramic plates. The cactus flesh has only been lightly cooked, grilled alongside tomatoes and lime juice. Alongside it are fluffy scrambled eggs, grilled Speckled Runner meat kebabs, and wedges of the citrus fruit that can be found under one of the tougher scrub plants.

In the middle of dishing up, Jiaoqiu hears the pilgrims entreat a nearby Wayfarer for a story. He thanks his lucky stars that he's busy-- he doesn't really have many nice stories to share. Instead, he slants an amused smile at the unlucky Wayfarer. ]

Well? Go on; our hosts have been more than generous enough to merit a small story or two.

g l i m p s e

[ Apparently they'd been treated to quite the sight: Jiaoqiu hadn't been able to share in it himself, but he'd nonetheless enjoyed the appreciative gasps, and the explanation of the fractured light above the sand dunes, marking where this mysterious temple was.

Mostly, he's just desperate to get himself into the water. Sand has been clogging his fur for weeks, it's horrid.

Still, he waits patiently while the pilgrimage takes the water it needs. Only once he has been assured that they're finished does he carefully make his way down to the oasis, one hand on the rock wall to guide himself. Most of the other Wayfarers are helping the pilgrimage store water, but Jiaoqiu still finds one rock pool set far apart from the others, hoping for some privacy. It's the only reason he feels okay enough to untie his blindfold, sightless orange eyes staring down into the water. He strips down to just his pants, boots and jacket and shirt laid neatly on the dry rock alongside the pool.

He knows he must look a dreadful sight; that's why he aimed for privacy. Jiaoqiu has taken great pains to not talk about his recent history. The enormous claw marks over his chest are likely still a livid red despite months of healing, and the bitemark that covers his shoulder, upper pectoral, and back is still black from the damage of borisin toxin. Where his veins are closest to the skin, they're red and burned looking; the effects of the poison he'd drank. He'd lost a lot of weight during his stay in hospital, though he's starting to put it back on. He eases himself down into the waist-high pool with a sigh, brings his tail around, and starts fingercombing the sand out of it.

When he hears a footstep, his shoulders slump, though he makes no effort to hide himself. It's too late, anyway. ]

My apologies; I know I'm putting something of a damper on this no-doubt beautiful scenery. There's other pools, if you don't wish to be disturbed.

glimpse

[stellerly]

{ooc: up to you if this is their first meeting here or if you'd like to handwave the initial greeting/reconnecting! I'll try to be vague about it. if this doesn't work at all, of course, also please let me know ♥ }


[ Stelle's just climbing out of one of the many pools, herself, when she catches a glimpse of Jiaoqiu moving carefully but decisively through the narrow canyon, and she waves broadly at him, hand stretched high before she remembers exactly how stupid that is and immediately slips on a rock and lands back in the water. Thank the Aeons clumsiness is an indication of protag material or something, though she swears the water is steaming off of her flush of shame.

Regardless, she's lost sight of him once she climbs out of the water again and some combination of nosiness, curiosity, and concern causes her to pick up his trail and follow to wherever it is he was heading. The guilt only increases when she catches up enough to really see him, to see his shoulders slump, and pushes down the cowardice that would allow her to slip away quietly. ]

Sorry, no, I was... it's just me, Stelle. I just wanted to make sure you were... okay.

[ Her cringe is... probably audible. ]

minor amphoreus spoilers!

[flavourtown]

[ When Jiaoqiu had run into Stelle earlier, he'd been-- well, shocked is not quite the correct word, but surprised might certainly be more accurate. When he'd first set foot on the Theorem a couple of months ago, various others from his universe had been there -- a man from Penacony, a mechanical entity from Belobog, a person (impossibly) from Amphoreus, among others -- and he'd adjusted fairly quickly.

He just hadn't expected more people to be added to the Wayfarer ranks. So her enthusiastic greeting earlier had almost had him stumbling as he walked, half-surprised at her being here, half-surprised she's even alive after going up against Irontomb.

They'd parted, and ever since then, Jiaoqiu's mind has been on the operation against Irontomb. As far as he knows, it had been a success. The vaccine had been deployed effectively, and the emerging Lord Ravager had been destroyed. Still, it's not the end of the fight. Not even close. And with the sample of golden blood that had been provided to the Xianzhou Alliance...

Well, needless to say, he's deep in thought, and maybe that's why he startles when he hears Stelle's voice again. He doesn't relish the fact that he's currently providing an eyeful of all of his damage, but despite the way his ears droop, he doesn't move to cover up. Just keeps finger-combing his tail, getting the sand out.

Jiaoqiu smiles; his typical go-to, the polite, too-smooth expression that gives away precisely nothing. ]

Your concern is noted, and appreciated. I'm fine; just full of sand. The water's quite cool, if you'd like to partake.

[stellerly]

[ This is one of those moments Stelle realizes she has very little to offer. Impulsive as a general rule, she hadn't really thought much farther than catching up to Jiaoqiu because he's a familiar face, someone she knows, if not well, and that makes him someone on the short list of people she will... well, drop everything for. Whether they've asked or not.

So there she stands, soaking wet already in her cargo pants rolled up to her knees and her vaguely white shirt, boots and socks in one hand, and decides you know what? Yeah, more water sounds great. ]

Well, if you're offering!

[ She hadn't missed that smile, she knows what it means, in that she knows it's meant to mean nothing. Honestly, she wouldn't know what to do with someone who wasn't hiding something from her, anymore, but she's not too worried about it. He hadn't told her off, which she wouldn't have blamed him for, so she might as well overstay her welcome.

Stelle finds her way to a smooth enough rock to sit on, to dip her legs into the water, more in front of Jiaoqiu than behind. She knows he can't see her, but it just feels... especially awkward to sit behind someone, regardless. ]

So... what do you think we're going to find tomorrow?

[ Her tone is sincere, even if her timing is suspect of “trying to awkwardly fill the silence.” ]

[flavourtown]

At this supposed temple? I have no idea.

[ He hadn't seen the lightshow over the dunes, but he'd been told it was spectacular. He deeply suspects Stelle is asking just to be extremely casual, but he appreciates it nonetheless ⸻ the last thing he wants to do is actually talk about why his torso looks like he'd been through a meat-grinder.

Now free of sand, he releases his tail, and finds his way backward until he can sink down onto a shelf of rock below the waterline, a natural seat that puts his head and shoulders above the water but everything else below. He halfway wishes this was a heated pool, but beggars can't be choosers. ]

I would be interested to know in the... chronology of it all. Is the Last Pilgrim a relatively new god, if they were visiting the temple of an older god? Is it a temple to another Edict, or something else?

[ Jiaoqiu's thoughts drift to Stelle, and the stellaron in her chest. She obviously hasn't exploded due to lack of connection to the Aeons, but what side-effects might she experience, if any? ]

glimpse.

[handfast]

[ it's sheer dumb luck that hak wanders in the same direction as jiaoqiu for his ministrations, he has no ghastly scars of his own that require privacy, no dislike of people that would chase him far away, just a general wanderlust that comes with being in new and unfamiliar territory.

maybe he should have wandered elsewhere though. the voice gains his attention first, his shoulders stiffening, and the rest of his body follows when his eyes catch up to his ears. still, beyond a sharp inhale of breath there's little other (audible) reaction. ]

Don't know what you're talking about.

[ there's a forced sort of nonchalance to the words, but they are earnest despite the lull that comes between apology and answer. after that comes the sound of rustling cloth: another person disrobing nearby.

and then, more idle conversation. ]

You take on something too much for you to handle?

[flavourtown]

[ The deliberate nonchalance is both obvious and-- well, somewhat reassuring, perhaps. Jiaoqiu might actually have preferred if the other person had gone ew you're ruining my view, I'll go somewhere else, but this option is... fine? He'll have company, but if that company doesn't care, then alright.

Except then comes a question.

Jiaoqiu's laugh is a mild puff of air. ]

Something like that. Except I prevailed in the end.

[ He's managed to dislodge most of the sand from his tail, but he keeps going nonetheless, wanting it all gone. The water is pleasantly cool, and he's already feeling the ache of the journey start to ease. He'd likely stay in here even if he didn't need to wash, but he desperately does.

He tilts his head, curious. ]

I don't recognize your voice. Either we haven't met before now, or you're new.

[handfast]

[ a light scoff, followed by an (unseen) close of his eyes. ]

Yeah, I'm one of the new kidnappees.

[ deadpan; he doesn't actually believe this but it's hard to know what to believe when everything he's witnessed here has been so far from his usual realm of familiarity. he'd almost prefer being eaten whole by a dragon spirit again, almost.

once disrobed, he dips one hand in the water, then slowly works on washing down his torso. ]

You won though, huh? Guess I shouldn't get on your bad side.

[ not that he has any plans to but life never quite goes the way he expects. ]

[flavourtown]

[ Jiaoqiu doesn't bother to rebuke his specific choice of word: it's apt. They have essentially been kidnapped, or at the very least, redirected from where they had once been and saddled with jobs on a mission they never really agreed to. ]

In the interest of introductions, then, I am Jiaoqiu, from the Xianzhou Yaoqing. I'm a chef in the Support Division.

[ Said with the most polite of tones and smiles, so smooth and unruffled you'd think there was absolutely nothing behind it. Certainly not embarrassement at being seen like this. ]

And trust me, I'm not much of a fighter. I don't even have my usual weapon, here. Apparently that's something common among us kidnapees ⸻ we turn up without our magic, or our weapons, or our higher senses. It's awfully inconvenient.

[handfast]

[ that's a whole lot of words that mean nothing to him, even if he can (in theory) respect the weight behind the title. ]

Hak. [ short and sweet, no title, no surname. ] I'm [ a brief pause as he tries to figure out the most apt description ] a bodyguard. [ another pause. ] Was a bodyguard. Not sure what I'll be here.

[ he'll adapt either way regardless. he has to, if he wants even a slim chance of finding some way back. but jiaoqiu's explanation does go some way in clarifying why he'd woken up with nothing, even if it's not wholly satisfactory. ]

You'd think they want us to have all those if we're gonna be out here [ with a gesture around them ] surveying the land.

DEBUT >>

[justamobster]

[He watches the children pass, the way their laughter skims over the sand instead of sinking into it, and he can’t quite stop the small smile that tugs at his mouth. Ladon has always liked having kids around. It shows in the way he keeps an eye on them — protective, but careful not to crowd them. The desert is all sharp edges and slow exhaustion, a place that punishes anyone who lingers and mocks anyone who hopes. At first, that made him angry. Angry that the adults would drag children through a place like this at all. Now, though, he finds himself grateful for them, for their effervescent energy and unearned optimism, for the shrieks of laughter echoing down a path made of bones.

He’s been keeping half an eye on one of the newer faces in the caravan, and that distraction nearly has him collide with the man in the blindfold. He’s just about to ask about the eye protection when the man speaks instead, gesturing to the children weaving through the crowd. Ladon exhales, a quiet huff of appreciation following the kids as they race ahead. ]

Kids're always more resilient than we give 'em credit for. Includin' me. Good t'see how well they handle travel in such a rough place, yeah?

Got bad news 'bout the sand, though. Even if we left tomorrow, it's gonna come with us. Always does.

[flavourtown]

What, in much the same way that you can never fully get rid of glitter?

[ Jiaoqiu's lips tug up into an amused little smile, though it's wry, and mildly horrified at the notion that it might take him days to fully rid himself of the sand. It's already everywhere.

This man isn't wrong about the kids, though. Jiaoqiu can hear that some of them have immersive water helmets, presumably an aquatic species, and he would have thought that a dry planet like this would be hell on a person that's used to being in water, but they seem to be dealing just fine with the aid of their environmental suits. As another group of two or maybe three of them run past, Jiaoqiu frowns thoughtfully. ]

That will almost certainly be us, inevitably. Most planets aren't habitable for oxygen-breathing carbon-based creatures. Sooner or later we'll be taken to a planet with acid rain, or a helium based atmosphere, or something incompatible with most of the crew.

[justamobster]

Or confetti. Still findin' pieces from New Year four years ago at my club.

[ He gives the thought of melting in acid rain and a squeaky voice a quiet grunt. Very little would be more humiliating than turning into a high-pitched mobster puddle on some weird planet. ]

Here's hopin' we get some humdingers first, yeah? Could go for a beach planet right now. Or a sea of high-quality whisky. Or a kitten planet.