Chapter Text
The first night on the new world - the first night without their own world - is quieter than Lucretia might have expected.
The captain had ‘parked’ the ship in midair, several hundred feet above the ground. “Out of range of any arrows and most spells.” He had explained, maybe more to himself than to anyone else, and it was the last thing any of them had said for hours.
Evening finds them all on the main deck of the Star Blaster. They hadn't seen anything even vaguely threatening during their flyover, but Magnus is walking the side of the ship regardless, peering overboard once in awhile, hands in his pockets and slight frown on his face. The rest of them sit around a small fire, enchanted so it won’t singe the floorboards. Merle is tending to something in a small pot, but the boiling liquid and the crackling fire are the only sounds to be heard.
Lucretia wonders if this is normal, in the wake of a traumatic event. This silence. Of course - with the obvious exception of Lup and Taako - they don't really know one another, they had only all met for the first time several weeks ago. Even so, she thought there would be talking. Confused, and frightened, and maybe angry talking, but conversation all the same. And crying, definitely crying. They had just lost everything, and everyone.
But there’s only silence.
She thinks of her own family, and wonders why she herself isn’t crying. She thinks of her father’s cooking and his crooked smile, her mother’s paintings and her soft embrace, her sister’s beautiful singing voice. She had just been cast in an important musical production, and had asked Lucretia that very morning if she would come to her first performance.
“I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll only be gone two months. Save me a spot in the front row for opening night!”
She frowns, and props open the journal sitting on her lap. Why isn’t she crying? Disbelief? Of course. Denial? Probably. Shock? Undeniably. The tears will come later, she figures, as she starts to write. She wants to record as much as she can to remember her family before that happens.
The quiet stretches on until finally, finally, someone breaks it. Barry clears his throat, and looks around at them, almost nervously. “So...do you think anyone else might have made it out?”
Lucretia keeps writing, as much as she can - she has to - but she listens to her companions as well.
“Don’t be an idiot, Barold.” Taako is sitting beside him, leaning back on his hands and staring into the fire. His reply seems almost automatic, but the natural scorn that was often present in his voice is missing, and he sounds tired. Lup, on Taako’s other side, reaches over and places her hand over his without looking, not breaking her own staring contest with the flames.
“We have the only ship that was built with the capability to move between planes.” Davenport supplies, more helpfully, but with a similar defeated tone.
“Right...right.” Barry nods, looking down at his lap. “I was just hoping...well, you know, our families...”
“We know.” Merle adds some kind of dried plant to his pot. “But there’s no use beating around the bush, kid. All we can do is hope they didn’t suffer and accept that they’re gone.”
Gone.
Lucretia stops writing - she had been in the middle of a paragraph about the family vacation they took to the sea when she was ten. She and her sister had collected shells on the beach. There was a particularly beautiful blue one which had sat on a shelf in their parents’ kitchen in all the years following. Looking at it always brought back such fond memories for her, but -
But it was gone now.
They were gone now.
She drops her pen as she lets out a sudden sob, startling herself as much as those around her.
So maybe that was the reason for the silence. Because speaking would lead to acknowledging that it had really happened. Speaking led to harsh, inescapable truth. It was all really, truly, gone.
She’s crying now, sobbing and shaking and holding her hands to her face. The world may have ended, but hers was only finally catching up and falling to pieces as the word echoed in her mind. Gone, gone, gone.
Suddenly, there are arms wrapped around her. Big, burly arms, not exactly comforting - nothing was going to console her now - but slightly grounding all the same. She looks up at who she already knows must be Magnus with bleary eyes. It’s a small shock to see he’s crying too, but a split second later she decides there’s no reason for that surprise. Why shouldn’t he be crying as well? She’s not the only one who lost her entire life. They should all be devastated, right?
She glances around at the others. Merle is glaring pointedly at his work, blinking fiercely and stirring more vigorously than was likely necessary. Davenport had left the fire, he was now standing at the railing and fiddling with his Stone of Far Speech, despite the fact he knew better than any of them it was useless now. Lup and Taako haven’t moved, with the exception that they might be gripping each other’s hands a little tighter than before. And Barry, knees brought up to his chest and arms wrapped around them, looks as inconsolable as she feels as he sobs.
It seems that Magnus notices too. “Bring it in, Bluejeans.” He wipes a red sleeve across his face before gesturing for Barry to come over.
A moment later there is another near stranger wrapping his arms around Lucretia, and in any other imagined circumstance, this would be the nightmare scenario. But she had never imagined the end of the world, so instead she just hugs him back, resting her head on his shoulder as the tears continue.
She isn’t sure how long the three of them sit there, choked sobs quieting but never really stopping, but eventually Merle approaches them with three small, steaming mugs. He holds them out. “This’ll help.”
Magnus disentangles himself from the hug first, accepting the drink without question or comment. Soon the seven of them are once again sitting around the fire in silence - or near silence, the occasional sniffle or sob goes without comment - sipping from mugs. Lucretia doesn't know what it is, but it's warm and somehow soothing so she isn’t going to question it.
After awhile, Barry is the one to speak first again. “My grandmother used to make something similar to this.” He smiles softly, the expression contrasting with his red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. “I was going to visit her once we got home.”
“I was going get a dog...well, another one.” Magnus says after a moment, smiling a little as well. “Can never have too many, right?”
“My sister was going to be the lead in a musical...I was going to see it.” Lucretia finds herself saying, sharing in the conversation without really thinking about it. It felt a bit therapeutic, actually. “She was really good.”
“I was going to get fifteen dollars from Greg Grimmaldis...guess he’s off the hook.” Lup grumbles, and surprised laughter from several of the others follows her comment. Lucretia finds herself included, the ridiculousness of the statement so unexpected that she can’t help it. It feels good to laugh, though, and Lup gives her a grin across the fire, raising her mug slightly in acknowledgement.
The conversation continues, somehow more relaxed than it had ever been between them before. There are important things to discuss, confusing and frightening things, but it can wait one night. Soon, Lucretia feels composed enough to retrieve her journal and pen, giving one last shaky sigh before returning to the story of her family and shells and the sea. The quiet conversation of the people around her is welcome and - dare she say, unexpectedly comforting - background noise to her memories as she writes them down.
She has her coworkers. And she has her journals.
She’ll be alright.