Chapter Text
Legs had never seen a train in-person before. The closest he had gotten to seeing one were diagrams he found in books that Cleo brought , or the occasional illustration from a novel in Anchor's only bookstore.
It was a lot larger in person. And louder.
The shrieking whistle at the front of the train rattled Legs' eardrums, even from within the compartment he and Viking were in, near the middle of the long train. He sat pressed against the wall of the compartment, leaning his head against the cool window. Raindrops speckled the glass as the train began to move, slowly picking up speed.
Viking was sat across from him, closer to the door of the compartment. His bag was set closer to the wall, and he had a notebook on his lap, open to rough sketches of something Legs didn't recognize.
An engineer, then? Some kind of inventor?
What did this guy do?
It was a normal enough question to ask.
"What'd you get your certification in?"
Viking looked up, his eyes landing on Legs. An almost sheepish look crossed his face. "I… don't have one."
Legs frowned. "…But you said you had a job."
"I'm… in training."
"For what?"
"Doesn't matter." he said quickly.
Legs' frown deepened. "Why are you being so cagey?"
"Look, it's like how you can't talk about where we're going, I can't talk about what I do." Viking summed up.
"So you're government," he nodded. "Right."
"Wh- no!" Viking frantically shook his head. "No, no, I'm not government. That's-" he paused. "Well- Kind of?- No, no I'm not the government."
Legs gave him a deadpan look. "…Do you want to try that again or…"
"I shouldn't even be talking to you about this. This is ridiculous, you're not supposed to know this."
"Technically I still don't. I just know you're definitely, one-hundred percent from the government with how you're reacting to this."
Viking groaned. "Please stop saying I'm from the government."
"Then what do you do, if you aren't from the go-"
"I'm training to be a Storm Raven Rider, okay?!" He immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that."
A Storm Raven Rider.
Viking was going to be a Storm Raven Rider.
Legs had only seen a Storm Raven once—a light grey one up in the clouds above Anchor a few weeks after he arrived. It was the only thing anyone would talk about for weeks after.
"…So you are government, then." Legs nodded. "Right."
"I'm not—I'm not having this conversation with you."
"Fine, if that is not the government, what would you call it?" Legs crossed his arms, giving him a look.
Viking paused. "I… I would call it Civil Defense."
"So the government."
"Please stop saying that."
"Civil Defense is literally the government's job."
"I'm done talking to you now."
He shrugged, turning his attention back out the window. Lush trees and greenery were a blur outside, rushing past them in rich tones as they continued on the journey. It was hard to see most details in the midnight moonlight, but Legs could catch glimpses here and there.
It brought a kind of peace that Legs wasn't used to, going at a speed like this and letting the scenery pass him by. The most he'd ever travelled in his life was with Cleo after Thistle Hill had been blown up, stuffed into one of the caravans for a week straight as they traversed the wide expanse of desert that sat between the Storm Republic and the Summer Kingdom.
They'd only been on the train for ten minutes, and he figured they'd probably covered a good chunk of the distance on that trip.
Viking didn't tell him how long it'd be to the Crucible—Legs didn't actually know how far it was. Perspective was a funny thing, and while everyone could see the Quiet Machine from Anchor, it still felt an entire world away.
And maybe it was. Maybe they'd never even make it. Maybe something horrific would happen to the train and they'd all die before reaching the large subterrainan city.
Trains were complex machines. Machines failed all the time. Anything was possible.
Oddly enough, none of these thoughts disturbed Legs as much as he thought. Or as much as they knowingly should.
He opened up his bag, rifling through the contents in search of his notebook—which he had left in there days ago and was still there when he was packing—only to find something that he hadn't put in there.
Two small drawstring bags sat tucked amongst his clothes, near the top of the bag. He vaguely recognized it as one of the many bags of tea that they kept stuffed in the Tea Roulette Cabinet.
…Did Mae sneak tea into his bag?
He picked up both of the bags, weighing them in his hands. One of them was about the right weight for the tea leaves, but the second one was a lot heavier.
…That's not tea.
Legs hesitated before untying the drawstring of the heavier bag, pulling it open and looking inside.
In the bag, miraculously not crushed from all the moving around, were two dumplings. Modak, if the nutty smell had anything to say about it.
He didn't even know Mae had made any recently.
A small smile graced Legs' lips as he closed the bag again, carefully tucking them back inside and nestling it among the clothes.
…Maybe this could be alright.