Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A cluster of light broke through the window of the Astral Express. It was framed in a pink glow, reaching up to meet an arch of blue and a small haze of dust. It changed colour as various lights shone through the dust. Waves of white, blue, gold, bronze, red all danced across the shining light of the stars, expanding and shrinking. Towards the far bottom of the cloud was the brightest star, perhaps long gone by now, perhaps still burning as brightly as it could be seen from this distance.

A black and white creature was shoved in front of Sunday’s face, cheerfully snorting at him. He turned, following the arms holding it up to Stelle’s smile. “You were ignoring me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

“Say hi to Bubbles.” Sunday blinked. “This is Bubbles.”

“… Hello Bubbles.”

“We’ve got Penaconian party food, come eat!” They quickly took Sunday’s arm and dragged him over to a table where wooden trays had been placed. “Did you buy everything in the aisle?”

“We’re leaving Penacony and I don’t know what food would be available at interstellar shops, so I wanted to make sure no one missed anything!”

“Of course.” Removing his gloves, Sunday took a plate and selection of food. “You take those off?”

“For a variety of reasons, yes.” Satisfied, Stelle returned their attention to the food and their endeavour to find Bubbles’ favourite. Although he’d taken a plate, all the tables in the party car were already in use. Two of them were hosting the food, one in use by Welt and Himeko, another by Dan Heng, and the last March and Pom-Pom. Himeko cleared her throat, making a small motion to Sunday as she headed over to talk with Dan Heng.

“I see you’ve been introduced to Bubbles.” Welt gave Sunday a smile as he sat down. “Yes, I have… Mr. Yang, why is there a warp trotter on the ship?”

“It’s complicated. They’re technically a video game character.” He only stared. “I did say it was complicated. I take it you enjoy the view. It is a good one for your first look.”

“Yes. I’ve seen plenty of pictures, and the conversations before meetings always manage to circulate around travel. With people like Mr. Alfalfa and Ms. Ellis, that tends to drift to the star system. Once, even Sir Whittaker could contribute to the topic – his holiday, as much of a tourist destination Penacony is, it’s not the same for those of us who live and work there. I believe he went to Starfly Bay. It’s a nature reserve on the nearest planet.”

“It sounds like a wonderful vacation spot. Where did you go for your time off?” Sunday’s wings shied into his hair. “I didn’t. I couldn’t travel without Gopher Wood when I was a child and once I turned eighteen, I had more responsibilities as the head of the Oak Family.”

“You were made Family Head the moment you were an adult?”

“Mhm. I’d already been doing most of the work alongside Gopher Wood. He called it a birthday gift. No visit to Robin, no day trip, no meal out, just a job I was already doing.”

“I’m sure we could do something for you. Even if it’s belated a few years.”

“Six years, two months, thirteen days, twelve hours, eighteen minutes. Sorry.” Welt gave him a sympathetic smile. “You didn’t do anything that needs apologising for.” Taking his plate, Sunday turned his attention to the others. Stelle was now playing with Bubbles and food over a mildly annoyed Dan Heng, while Himeko attempted to stifle her laughter, which only earned her an equally annoyed look from the victim of this.

“It’s not my first time seeing the stars. There’s a place atop The Reverie I went up to when I was a child. It’s out of the public access, so the only lighting is for the Dreamweavers. Turn it off, you can watch the stars, the satellites keeping us going… The ships leaving. The spire’s not even within the air bubble, so it’s just you and the night sky, none of Penacony’s bustle. A chance to say goodbye to people you couldn’t. Whether because you didn’t finish your work fast enough and didn’t get to the docks on time, or you’re just holding your sister back from the hospital bed and having to watch through the glass.” Sunday’s voice began to quiver as he came to the end, wings curling slightly. He looked up as he felt Welt’s hand on his. “Sunday –”

“Not nearly as beautiful as being among the stars themselves.”

“Sunday.” Welt spoke more firmly. “You’re part of The Astral Express. If something’s ever bothering you, you can talk to us. We’re all here for each other.” Sunday hummed, looking out the window. “Come with me. Let me show you something.”

Despite Sunday’s questioning, Welt refused to answer where they were going, simply taking him up a set of stairs hidden at the end of the Parlour Car. He opened a door, revealing a domed area atop the car. It didn’t have much in it, just some blankets, cushions, and a drinks cabinet. “It was Himeko’s idea, but with how hectic recent trailblazing missions have been, no one’s spent too much time up here.” Sunday’s wings flared out, and he gave a smile as he watched the stars around them. Walking around Sunday to the cabinet, Welt gave his own smile. “A drink? I’m not as experienced as a professional, but I’m sure I can mix whatever you ask for.” Sunday hummed, still focussed on the stars. Quickly, he turned around in realisation. “I can’t drink alcohol.”

“Is the reason you can’t something I should keep an eye out for?” Sunday hesitated. “No worries, I shouldn’t pry.”

“I take medication. I’ve already told Himeko what the prescription is, so it’s no concern. I… I have OCD.”

“If you need someone to talk to, you can come to me, and I know Himeko is the same.”

“Actually, I…” His wings pulled close. “Didn’t tell her what it’s for.”

“My offer still stands.” Sunday gave a small smile, before sitting down on the blankets and watching the stars. At some point, Welt brought over some drinks and sat beside him.

Himeko:

Did I see you taking Sunday to the viewing deck?

Welt Yang:

Yes.

We’re still up here.

About to come down.

Though, that might be easier said than done, as Sunday had fallen asleep with his head on Welt’s shoulder.

Welt Yang:

Alternatively.

He has fallen asleep and I don’t think I could carry him down the stairs alongside my cane. Could you help?

Himeko:

Awwww!!!

As it came to morning, the ship’s lights faded to a soft orange. Sunday groaned as he woke up. He remembered going up to the observation deck, but little beyond that. He buried his head in the pillow, attempting to block out the light. Someone must have taken him downstairs, because he wasn’t on the floor, definitely something soft underneath. As much as he wanted to stay there for longer, he’d have to make himself presentable before anyone came into the Parlour Car. His hair would be a mess, his feathers all over the place, he couldn’t let the others see him like that, especially not on the first day, no matter how tired he was. He stretched out the larger wings on his back, letting all three pairs flare out, thought they did end up hitting the walls around him. Where one had collided, a gentle hand moved it back to safety.

Sunday jolted upright, eyes wide as he stared blearily at Welt. A quick glance confirmed that he was indeed in the man’s room, sleeping on his bed. His wings flitted haphazardly; his mind raced. He said he was fine sleeping in the Parlour Car, he didn’t need this kind of courtesy. If Mr. Yang had felt the need to move his wing, did that mean he’d hit him rather than a bed post or table? When had he fallen asleep? What clothes was he even wearing? Had Mr. Yang –

Wings.

Quickly, Sunday ran his hands over the top of his larger wings, forcing them down and together before they hit anything breakable. His smaller pairs settled, sporadically covering his face. He sat back against the wall, fingers already trying to fix his feathers. No. If he needed to remove any, he couldn’t leave feathers on someone else’s bed of all places. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt, his wings not wholly covering his chest. He let out a soft whimper as he tried to hide his face further. As if this morning could get any more embarrassing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Yang.”

“You’ve not done anything wrong.”

“I was fine with the Parlour Car, you didn’t have to give up your own space for me.”

“That was less my decision and more yours. You managed to have quite a tight grip in your sleep.” Oh. It could get more embarrassing. It hadn’t been twenty-four system hours. It might not have even been twelve. He could feel his skin burning and his wings pressing down were only making it worse. Shifting them slightly, he peaked out from between the feathers. Welt offered him a gentle smile. “Good morning, Sunday.” In all his years, Sunday had gotten rather good at reading expressions and tones. There wasn’t a hint of judgement, of awkwardness, of disgust, of… of anything.

Sunday finally relaxed a little, head wings returning to their normal position, even if shying away a touch. The larger set, however, remained, still trying to hide his chest. Welt gave only a flash of curiosity as his additional pairs seemingly disappeared, but Sunday noticed it. “Memoria. They don’t actually disappear, it just looks like that. They’re folded behind my ears. It’s similar with our main wings, but we have binders to keep them secure during the day. Similar to what I think some men wear to…” He trailed off. It was the only example he had for comparison with non-halovians, but any queer identity was easily a comparison Welt would know more about than himself. As he spoke, he could feel a weight in his head. Given the situation, it made sense he’d panicked without noticing it. At least Welt wasn’t angry, that meant he could take a few breaths to calm down. Welt hummed. “Apologies for removing your shirt. Himeko noticed the binder and we came to the conclusion that it was safest to remove it overnight.” That made sense. They wouldn’t have known all that much about halovian biology. Ah. They didn’t know much about halovian biology.

Quickly, Sunday reached for his ear wings. They still had jewellery in. They weren’t like earrings, instead of the simple stud through an earlobe, in the wing they replaced whole quills. The feathers with the decorations, while looking normal, were in fact entirely metal. And heavy. He sighed, straightening out the two flexible bars and slowly slipping the decorative quills from the others. Instantly, the weight was lifted. Welt looked at them with a moment of curiosity before offering to put them on the bedside table. Sunday stretched his wings around, trying to ease the strain on them. His eyes caught Welt’s own, staring at him, at the gaps in his wings, what shouldn’t be there, where –

“Did you sleep well?” Welt asked. “Yes.”

“They don’t hurt too much, do they?” He made a motion to the sides of Sunday’s head. They didn’t hurt so much, but there was a definite ache to them. Gently, he massaged them at the joint. “There’s still plenty of time before we eat. You can stay here, if you like.” Sunday glanced at the clock. “March insisted on lie-ins when we weren’t busy and it became a standard for us all.”

“Mm.” For a while – or, at least, it felt like a while, to him – Sunday merely stared at Welt. He should have been making some effort at conversation, but he didn’t have any ideas of where to start. His hands weaved through his hair, trying to neaten it without a brush. “Himeko brought a change of clothes through for you. On the dresser.” With how unexpected his joining of The Astral Express was, Sunday didn’t have more than the one set. He didn’t have anything, really. “The conductor keeps a wardrobe for anyone who needs it, you’re not taking someone else’s clothes.”

“Right.”

This all felt… not wrong, maybe wrong, definitely a little wrong, but it felt weirder than it felt wrong. It was just new. That was all. The Express Crew were at least not uncomfortable with his presence, they had allowed him on board, Welt and Himeko were treating him like a member of the crew, and Stelle was being their normal self. His thoughts were interrupted by an alert on his phone. Which was currently sat closer to Welt than Sunday. Even if he had told Welt already, that did not ease any of the awkwardness he felt in the moment. “The kitchen is at the end of the Parlour Car. There are snacks in the cupboard to the left and glasses in the one above the sink.” He only nodded, picking his phone up. If he was going to the common area, he was putting the decorative quills back in. The wings did look weird without them.

Somehow, the innocent gaze of the warp trotter perched on the counter was more judgemental than the genuinely confused stare from a very tired March, who, from her perspective, was watching Sunday walk in while screwing in his wing. And had suddenly spawned a lot more than he had the night before. “Good morning, March. Bubbles.”

“Did you have that many wings or am I more tired than I thought?”

“I have this many wings. I actually have more, but yes, the ones you can see are real.” She nodded, then made a vague motion to the side of his head. “The feather is part of the jewellery.”

“Oh! Does that mean you can have the feather be a different colour?”

“There are options for that, yes.” They remained quiet for some time. While Sunday attempted to disguise his reactions to the singular pill that he really should be used to by now, but Aeons was it disgusting, March was sufficiently distracted by her phone, Bubbles nuzzling her at her various noises of frustration. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m trying to find out what coffee machine Himeko bought, but I can’t get anything.”

“Is she asleep?”

“No, but every time she makes it, it’s way too bitter.” She leant to the side, pointing out the machine behind her. “That’s a Penacony company, that’s similar to the one we had in our kitchen.” She immediately lit up. “It is? How does it work?”

“There’s a panel on the back you can remove, then attach a component that will let you add extras. Milk, sugar, syrups. They should have come together, the company only started selling them separately this year. And before a Family meeting the month after that decision, Mr. Alfalfa complained about the profits decreasing as a result as though he wasn’t sat in a room with multiple people that publicly criticized his decision.” March raised her eyebrows. “Were you one of them?”

“Yes. Ms. Ellis’ maid attended alongside her and they asked permission to say “well, duh”, to him. I made smarter marketing decisions when I was a teenager, and it was his job.” Humming, March opened a drawer filled with assorted items. “It’ll be hidden somewhere in here – help me look!”

Helping her out resulted in Sunday having to rather rapidly catch the endless things coming from the drawer. “Aha!” She pulled out what was clearly the other part of the coffee machine. “You two had better be cleaning this up before have to cook!” Pom-Pom was stood in the doorway, glaring at them, and Welt was watching from behind with a smile. “Don’t think you get out of tidying just because it’s your first day on board!”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Good!” With a slight huff, Pom-Pom left. “Good morning, Mr. Yang!”

“Good morning, March. What are you looking for?”

“Part of the coffee machine so I can make a drink without having to ask Himeko. Sunday said he knows how these ones work.”

“Dan Heng and Stelle will assign you breakfast duty if they find out you were in here first.” March smiled proudly. “But for that, they have to know I was here!” She gasped. “Sunday, where did you sleep? Was it with one of them?”

“No.”

“Then I’m fine!”

With guidance from Sunday, March made herself one incredibly sweet coffee and quickly ran back to her room, truly doing everything to avoid having to make breakfast. “Mr. Yang, is it usual for the first person in the kitchen to cook for everyone?”

“Ah, no. According to Himeko, after I took you to the observation deck, the three of them determined they wanted pancakes, but none volunteered to be the one to make them.”

“I know how to make pancakes.”

“There’s no need to. Let them have their fun.”

With the morning progressing, everyone entered in various stages of awake. Welt had settled at one of the tables with his sketch book and Sunday was tucked in the corner of a couch with his phone. The first person to arrive was Stelle, still in their pyjamas. Spotting Sunday, they quickly ran up to him. “Have you seen Bubbles?”

“They’re in the kitchen.”

“Curse you, Bubbles the Warp Trotter!” They perched just outside the kitchen, cooing at Bubbles in a rather unsuccessful attempt to bring them over. Himeko entered next, clearly having just woken up, offering a wave to Sunday and Welt and simply stepping over Stelle to get into the kitchen. “Anyone else need a drink?”

“No thank you.”

“Nope.”

“How are you not hungover?” Dan Heng’s voice came from the doorway. “Are you?”

“Quite.” He dropped onto the couch, pressing his hands against his head, muttering a morning to everyone. “Dan Heng! Maybe you want to get a glass of water from the kitchen! And bring me Bubbles!”

“Do you really want me to cook while hungover?”

“Could I pay you to?”

“No.”

“How many credits?”

“None.”

“The amount you lost on the bet?” Sunday gave Welt a questioning look, only receiving a shrug. “If you’re too hungover to cook, are you officially pulling out of the pancake battle?”

“Yes.”

“So, if I go in to get Bubbles, you won’t tell March?”

“I won’t.” Stelle hummed, thinking for a while.

They made their decision, stepping into the kitchen as the door to the car opened. “Stelle, you’re cooking!”

“You saw nothing!” With Bubbles in their arms, they sprinted across the entire car, before pacing back to March with a suspicious glare. “Why do you have your mug?”

“I… left it in my room yesterday!”

“I saw it when we were checking if we had pancake ingredients.” Stelle whipped around. “Sunday! Mr. Yang! You were here before me, did March go in the kitchen?” They glared at both of them. Sunday’s wings flitted. Welt wasn’t answering, but was he supposed to say something? Almost reading his mind, Welt cleared his throat. “They’re just messing around, Sunday. Stelle. Be gentle, he’s still settling in.”

“Himeko… If we can’t decide, can you make the pancakes?” She sighed. “Until the caffeine kicks in, not alone.” Himeko looked towards Welt. With a subtle flick of his head, he pointed her gaze towards Sunday. “Sunday, would you mind?”

“Of course.”

As he stepped into the kitchen, Sunday’s wings folded back and disappeared. He fiddled around in his pockets for a moment, finding a hair tie and pulled his hair into a small, if rough, bun. “Which kind of pancakes are they used to?”

“Crêpes.” Himeko made quick work in the kitchen, knowing the placement of everything much better than Sunday. It didn’t take long for them to be stood over the stove, watching the batter cook. “Sunday, would you mind cutting the fruit?” He nodded, drying his hands after washing away some egg whites that got caught on him. “The knives are in that drawer.” He pulled his hand back as he opened the drawer. “If the knives don’t come with covers, they should be in a knife block.”

“We don’t have one.”

“Then you should buy a knife block.”

“I’ll bring it up to Pom-Pom.” As Himeko continued at the stove, she looked over to Sunday occasionally. There was something in his eyes, a caution, an unease, flickering glances filled with hesitation. “They don’t care if your cuts don’t look professional, it’s just home cooking.” He hummed, but didn’t change much. Himeko couldn’t exactly pry into his psyche, even more so given he had only just come aboard The Astral Express, it wouldn’t be a great first conversation. But there was still something there, still something bothering him. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” He answered quickly and seemed to make the realisation with Himeko. “It – it’s nothing.”

“Sunday?” He only turned away from Himeko. “Would you prefer if we switched?”

“Yes.” The knife went down quickly and his wings flicked slightly.

“Ahh, we should have these more often!” Enthusiastically, March nodded along with Stelle. While the pancakes were being made, two other creatures had come into the car. The cat cake made a beeline for Sunday, growling at him. As Sunday sidestepped around them, they turned, stalking his movement. “Stelle, could you bring them away from Sunday?”

“Trash Can, come here baby. You can’t hunt Sunday, you’d lose. Pspsps.”

“The cat cake. Is called. Trash Can.” Sunday looked at Welt in hopes of an answer. “They are Stelle’s cat.”

Conversation carried through the car as they ate. Sunday had taken a seat with Welt, snippets of discussion occasionally reaching his ear. They didn’t care that he was here with them. They were acting as normal, like he was any other guest without history. Why were they acting like this? They should hate him, dislike him at least a little bit. Not trust him to cook for them, not allow their pets to run up to him. What were they doing? What were they saying when he wasn’t there? They had to be planning something. Dan Heng was even eyeing him. No one would be this casual with the situation.

“Sunday?” His wings were fluttering nervously, halo shifting, a spike occasionally hitting his neck, a slight tremble in his hands while the rest of his body was frozen, a heavy beating in his chest. “Sunday, are you alright?” Welt had shifted his chair, partially hiding Sunday from the rest of the crew. Across the car, Dan Heng whispered to March and Stelle and motioned them to stay at their table. Right. Sunday had been asked a question. “Apologies, I was distracted thinking about something, what did you need?” He gave his most put-together, practiced smile, with a slight nod of his head. Despite his efforts, Welt clearly didn’t believe him, looking over him with a concerned gaze, but he at least didn’t push the topic further.

After eating, the crew dispersed to their various activities, largely returning to their own rooms. For most of the morning, Sunday simply sat in the corner of the parlour car, reading on his phone. The others sometimes came through, though only offering a moment of greeting. Occasionally, Pom-Pom would stop to speak about something with one of them. That was what Sunday expected. He shouldn’t be too involved in anything.

Sunday Oak has been added to the group chat

Pom-Pom:

Attention Astral Express!

We are about to dock at the Asdana Belt Centre, we will be here for 20 system hours, so please do come back to sleep on board and not in a hotel! While we have plenty of time, this is a maintenance stop, so please finish the lists I gave you before enjoying the activities available to you!

So that’s what the conductor was talking to everyone about. Despite their actions earlier, they didn’t trust him yet. He was still a risk to the ship, they wouldn’t let him know the details of it. “Mr. Oak.” Pom-Pom had walked up to him while he was reading. “I expect you to leave as well. There’s a large shopping centre; I’ve asked Mr. Yang to assign a budget from The Express funds for you.”

“There’s no need for that, you don’t have to –”

“You came here with nothing and you’re a member of The Astral Express. It’s my duty as your conductor.”

“I can make purchases myself.”

“How many credits do you have access to?”

“I can… get more.”

“Do you even have enough for a charging cable?” He looked away from the conductor, wings shielding his face slightly. Of course, that put into his vision the bright pink charger he’d borrowed from March. Pom-Pom continued to stare at Sunday. “Fine.” Pom-Pom huffed and handed over a card before heading to the engine.

The crew had collected on the dock, talking amongst themselves. Sunday had stepped to the side slightly, largely just waiting for them to finish. “They have a waterpark?” Ecstatically, March called over from the map. “We’ve got to go!”

“That’s why I had to split you two up. You have jobs to do!”

“There seems to be a lot around the waterpark as well.”

“Dan Heng, you are risking your trusted alone title.”

“After we’ve finished the conductor’s requests.”

“Well saved.”

“There’s a food court inside the waterpark, we should meet up in there!” As the three came to an agreement, Himeko cast a knowing gaze towards Sunday. She must have looked up some information after last night’s events. But Sunday didn’t want to interrupt their fun. She watched him for a moment before it became clear Sunday wouldn’t be saying anything. “Halovians can’t swim.”

“It’s not a big deal, it’s not important.”

“Sunday, they want to meet up in a waterpark.” Sunday shied away as eyes found their way to him. “Why not? Is it something we could work around?” Posed Dan Heng. “We’ve no natural waterproofing, so water gets trapped between our feathers and because we have multiple pairs of wings, it’s not uncommon for the water to add over a hundred kilograms of weight. It’s not really considered safe for us to go beyond hip height. But, if you want to meet up in the waterpark, I don’t mind that.”

“Then we’re going!” Stelle clapped their hands together. Pom-Pom put their hands on their hips, glaring at Stelle. “You’d better not run away from Himeko to get there sooner.”

“What? I’d never!” The crew members dispersed, Dan Heng and March going together; Pom-Pom glaring Stelle down to ensure they went with Himeko. With a sigh, Sunday took out the card Pom-Pom gave him. This was their money, he couldn’t go around like it was his own. Pom-Pom cleared their throat, watching him carefully. “You agreed.” Welt was still here and gave him a warm smile. “Sunday, you aren’t going to bankrupt us, we’ve made sure.”

Sunday made little conversation while they went around the centre’s shopping region. Welt seemed to have his own tasks, so Sunday largely stuck by him, though trying to keep a reasonable distance. “You don’t have to go to the waterpark with them. No one will be mad if you choose to go back to The Express.”

“They wanted to meet up there, so we’re meeting up there.” Welt sighed. “Why don’t you want to use the money Pom-Pom game you?” His wings shrunk against him slightly. He didn’t expect to be asked outright. “It’s your money, you shouldn’t be spending it on me.”

“It’s our decision. You’re going to be aboard for a while, you deserve to at least be comfortable. We are, you should be no different.”

“You can’t be too comfortable if I’m the closest to all your knives.” Instantly, his wings folded over his face. He stumbled over his words, trying to come up with some explanation. But how did you explain? There was never the right collection of words to excuse something like that. He’d never found it. Never found what he was expected to say to defend himself. “Sunday.” Welt was watching him with a sympathetic expression. “I’ll admit that I did a little research after what you told me. I know it’s hardly to the depths of your personal understanding, but I do know a little. You don’t have to explain that away, I know you didn’t mean what you said.”

“No, it’s not that, there’s far more to it than just that –” Sunday took a controlled breath. “Can we pretend that didn’t happen?”

“Only if you hold your agreement with the conductor.” Silent, Sunday stared at Welt.

The waterpark was massive, easily a quarter of the centre’s ground. Even if it had taken most of their time completing Pom-Pom’s list, Welt had successfully convinced Sunday to get changed into something more casual when they brought the supplies to The Express. It wasn’t that he never wore casual clothing, simply that he never wore any around people. Embarrassingly, he’d stuck rather close to Welt’s side until they arrived at the waterpark.

Himeko’s bright red hair was visible through the haze of other visitors. Quickly, she caught their attention and motioned to a table. The area was away from the edge of the water, easy enough to keep everything dry. Evidently, Dan Heng and March were still busy, as there were only two towels on the chairs beside. As they walked up, water splashed over the two of them. “It was Stelle.”

“What?!” Stelle turned around to stare at Himeko, dropping whatever they were playing with farther from the edge. “Don’t believe her!” While Stelle continued to defend themself, Sunday flicked his wings, trying to shake the water off. “I’m sorry, Sunday. I was aiming for Welt. You can use my towel to dry off.”

“Ah, so it wasn’t Stelle.”

“… Shit.”

It was more peaceful than Sunday had expected, attending a popular waterpark with the crew of The Astral Express, even if there was the incessant feeling he was being watched. They’d been there for the better part of the morning, Stelle and Himeko having discovered every corner of the park, Welt having come up with countless topics of conversation, likely trying to make sure Sunday didn’t feel too left out, and March and Dan Heng still nowhere to be seen. Potentially, they’d gotten lost somewhere in the centre while collecting supplies and with everyone’s phones in the lockers, they couldn’t contact each other. Their phones should be in the locker. The band with the key was still in his hand and the key was still attached. “Dan Heng and March are late.” He didn’t think he’d put it down at any point, but he couldn’t be wholly sure of that, there were moments where he was a little distracted, someone could pick it up without him noticing, and there was still. Someone. Watching. “I’ll check my phone. They might have messaged us about an issue.”

“Thank you, Sunday.” Himeko gave him a gentle smile.

Everything that was supposed to be in the locker was still in the locker, but there were no messages on the group chat. Should he check Welt’s phone? If they’d gotten lost, they probably wouldn’t want to admit that to Sunday, it was plausible they messaged him privately. It would show up on the lockscreen, but so would other notifications he definitely wasn’t supposed to see. His hand hovered. They were all quite close to each other, and Welt didn’t say anything when Sunday left, what was the expectation? Even if he did, he’d have to go back to his phone to respond and then they’d ask how he found out they needed help. But if he went back and said there was nothing, but they had messaged Welt, then he’d essentially lied to Himeko and Welt about it. And on top of everything he was now certain someone was watching him because someone sat at a table had followed him into the changing rooms and was just stood at the side, they hadn’t gone to a locker, they hadn’t gone to a changing room, they were just watching him. It wasn’t an alien concept to him, he was the head of the Oak Family and Robin’s sister, but normally he’d at least have someone around whose job it was to get them to leave, usually Robin’s bodyguard. He’d never been completely alone. Why today of all days?

“You’re Sunday, right? Robin’s brother?” He slammed the locker shut. “Yes.”

“Didn’t think you’d ever come out here.”

“No, it’s not a common trip.” With the locker locked and confirmed seven times now that this person knew where his stuff was, he quickly backed away. They were in the way of the door, he’d have to walk around the entire changing room to get out and back to the others. As much as he’d hate to bring them into this, he could not handle this person on his own. He needed help. “Who were you sat with? He you two’s dad or what?”

“No, he’s a – Mr. Y-he’s not that old – he’s a… colleague. And Robin’s not here.”

“She out in the pools?”

“She’s not here.”

“You better’ve let her wear a bikini, she’s got the body for it, amirite?” The man laughed as he elbowed Sunday. “Please stop talking about my sister like that.”

“You can introduce me to her now, right? Now that we’re friends?”

“We are not friends.” His voice shook. That Sunday had to sort out before he next spoke. “Sunday!” Why was she here? How was she here? No. No, that was March’s voice. “Did you and Mr. Yang just get here too? I’m glad we’re not late.”

“No, we’ve been here a while, I was just checking something.”

“Aww, really?” She planted her hands firmly on her hips, standing between Sunday and the stranger. “Pretty sight, you are.”

“We’re not talking to you, please leave us alone.” Her tone dropped instantly, losing all the bubble it normally had, before immediately picking up again. “Come on, Sunday! I don’t want to miss all the fun.”

“Hold on, lassie, he promised he’d –” He was interrupted by a fist hitting him square on his nose. “And if you don’t get the message, I’ll go in between your legs next.” Finally, he left, muttering and grumbling to himself, but not without making an audible call out to March. “Fucking bitch.”

Sunday cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

“Oh, it was nothing, he deserved it. Besides, that’ll probably stop him from going after Robin as well.” As they walked back, she leant in front of Sunday. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Well then!” She perked up. “What do you think? Do I look cute? Dan Heng didn’t say anything.” Sunday hadn’t actually paid attention to what she was wearing until she mentioned it. A blue and pink bikini with long frills and scale patterns. “Do I look like a mermaid?”

“I suppose you do.”

“Yay! Now, let’s go have fun.”

Chapter Text

The Astral Express hummed to a stop as it docked at the Xianzhou Luofu. The moment the door was safe to open, Stelle ran off, dragging Dan Heng with them, and muttering something about Aurum Alley. “Sunday!” March leant in front of him. “Himeko asked me to do something while we’re here, do you want to join me? I can show you around the Luofu, since it’s your first time here.”

“Um… Sure.”

“Wonderful! I’ll go get my sword, I added some decorations to the sheath I think Yanqing will like.” As she left, Sunday stared. “She has a sword?”

“She has two, actually.” Himeko corrected. “I think my swords are a much more reasonable choice of weapon than your giant space laser and your black hole that you carry around like a key chain.” Welt and Himeko looked at each other. “She’s got a point.”

“Of course I do!” None of that quelled Sunday’s stare. “We really went easy on you with just the train.”

“I… I can imagine.”

“Come on, Sunday! While we can still get something to eat.”

As they walked through various floors, March was careful to pick up snacks and drinks from each stall. “Ooh! Immortal’s Delight! You’ll love it. And we definitely need some Tuskpir Wraps.”

“As much as I appreciate this, didn’t you say Himeko asked you to do something?”

“Yeah, but we’re on our way. Yanqing still needs time to pack, he said he’d had a busy week and completely forgot.”

“March, what are we doing?” Sunday had a vague idea, being that whatever the activity was, it required them to be off the ship with no access to anything on board for a little over two weeks. The conductor had announced in the morning that everyone needed to have bags packed to cover the time period, but little beyond that. “Oh, right!” She held up her hand as she explained. “We’re friends of the Luofu. General Jing Yuan got invited to a festival on a planet they trade with, but they don’t have any ports fit for landing ships of their size, and Jing Yuan can’t leave the ship. We’ll fit perfectly fine, though, so he asked if we could give Yanqing a lift there. And! We get to enjoy the festival as guests of the Luofu.” Her phone buzzed. “Oh! That’ll be Yanqing.”

March pulled Sunday through the Exalting Sanctum and to a large building tucked away at the edge. Pushing open the door, she waltzed in. “Yanqing!” A teenager shot up. He was wearing a white hoodie with a light blue jacket over the top, and black joggers, each with various swallow silhouettes. His boots were a light blue tie dye. “Wow, Yanqing. I didn’t expect to see you in a different outfit.”

“I don’t wear my uniform everywhere.” He picked up the swords beside him, holding them in his arms. “Was there anything else you needed to do or are we headed straight to The Astral Express?”

“Yanqing.” Jing Yuan looked up from his paperwork. “I thought we agreed you were only taking Yanzhou.” He slowly turned around to face the general. “But if I leave them, Yunli’ll –”

“Yunli won’t break into your room and steal your swords while you’re gone.”

“She did when I was at the alchemy commission!”

“Put them back on their racks.” He glared at Jing Yuan. “If I come back and these are on the Zhuming, you’re paying General Huaiyan for the shipping cost.”

“They leave in two days, she won’t have time to do anything.”

“She only had an hour last time.” Huffing, Yanqing made to return the majority of his swords. “I understand you aren’t experienced with many long-life species. Don’t let him trick you, he’s not old enough to drink alcohol.”

“That’s not fair! I get to drink with – … I’m not finishing that sentence.”

“Was it ending with ‘General Feixiao’?” Yanqing stared. “No?”

“Yanqing, look! I found these charms on Penacony.” She held up her sword to him, showing an origami bird chain attached to the sheath. “They let you customize them!”

“Is that you? That’s amazing!”

“Aren’t they lovely? I forgot introductions! Sunday, this is Yanqing. Yanqing, this is Sunday, he boarded The Astral Express after we left the Luofu.”

“Glad to meet you, Sunday.” Yanqing offered him a smile. The sword in his hand was quite similar to March’s, perhaps they trained together. While March continued to catch up with Yanqing, he was watching a collection of tables. In one swift motion, Yanqing spun around, separating sword from scabbard and flipping over himself to kick the blade towards a walkway. It danced around a man, taking something from their hands, and flew back to the tables, meeting Yanqing’s hand as an icy glitter dissipated at his feet. He held a bag to the woman sat at the table next to him. “Yours, I believe, Madame Ping.”

“Thank you, Yanqing. I don’t know what I’d’ve done if he got away.”

“Not at all, I’m just doing my job.” He turned to two people in armour. Intensely glaring, he marched over to them. “How could you let something be stolen right in front of you?!”

“Oh, right!” March perked up. “Yanqing’s the youngest Cloud Knight Lieutenant and the general’s retainer.”

“Absolutely you’ll hear about this from your superiors! And you’ll be lucky if it’s not in a suspension report. Hold on a moment.” He held up a hand, shushing the cloud knights in front of him. “Sunday as in Sunday Oak? Figurehead of The Land of Dreams, brother of singer Robin Oak?”

“Yes. She’s not with us, though.”

“Guinaifen’s going to be so jealous. I’m not even working right now; I’m about to leave the ship. You can’t get away with slacking just because you’re near the Seat of Divine Foresight, everyone within that building has duties inside it and we can’t cover yours while doing our own.”

The first person to approach Yanqing when he boarded was the conductor. “Young man! I expect you to treat this ship as you would your own.”

“Yes, conductor!” Yanqing straightened, saluting Pom-Pom. “Stelle and their guests… always leaving stuff. You’d better not.”

“I won’t, conductor.”

“Good on you. Knew Cloud Knights would be respectful.”

“Thank you, conductor.” With a nod, Pom-Pom headed towards the Engine Car. “We’re a little stuck for rooms at the moment.” March explained. “Himeko and Pom-Pom haven’t discussed travel yet, so I’m not sure if you’ll be with us overnight or not.”

“They’re working on a flight plan.” Welt added from his table. “Himeko said we’ll depart and she’ll inform us of details when Dan Heng and Stelle get back. We’ve told them to be quick.”

“Attention Astral Express! All passengers, please return to your seats. The Astral Express is about to make the jump.”

“I won’t fall over, I won’t fall over, I won’t fall over…” Seeing March stood in the centre, Yanqing quickly joined her. “Five…”

“Sunday! Why don’t you try, too?”

“Dan Heng, the radio’s about to fall!”

“Four…”

“Got it.”

“You can just sit down, it’s not a rite of passage.”

“Three…”

“Thank you, Mr. Yang.”

“Yanqing, if this is your first time warping, you really shouldn’t stand up.”

“I will blame myself for repercussions!”

“I was working in the databank before we got here –”

“Two…”

“I won’t fall over.”

“– there are loose records and disks –”

“One…”

“– did anyone check if they were secured?”

“Go!”

The stars shifted, spinning around the train, almost hypnotic in their – the cars jolted. March and Yanqing both stumbled before falling over each other. Even Sunday wobbled, suddenly grabbing whoever was closest to stay upright. A crash came from the passenger car. Dan Heng and Himeko stared at each other. “I assume that’s a no.”

“I’ll help you clear up.”

“Are you alright, Sunday?” Of course it was Welt. “Yes.” He quickly rested his hands in his lap. As Dan Heng and Himeko left to sort the data bank out, Pom-Pom’s voice came over the Tannoy again. “The solar system is a designated no warp zone, so we have an hour’s travel until we reach Thorpec, and we may be in holding for some time before docking. You will be alerted when you have to return to docking stations.” With a confused look, Yanqing turned to Welt, though Sunday was the one to speak. “A no warp zone is an area around a destination where ships can’t warp into, usually designated because of the high density of ships to prevent crashes. The orbital paths from the Asdana Belt Crossing to Penacony Interior Service Docks is a Temporary Control Warp Zone.”

“I didn’t know you knew that much about space travel.”

“Part of set up for festivals is designating the free warp closing and opening times and control of entry. I don’t know what the docking stations are, though, that’s often ship dependent.”

“You two don’t need to worry about that. That’s for Himeko, Dan Heng, and myself. The way The Astral Express is constructed, we need manual stabilization in each car when we dock.”

“Hey, March!” Stelle called out. “Get over here, Evelyn Tucci’s starting.” Sunday recognised that name. Wasn’t Robin on interview with her soon? It was planned as a standard interview, but she’d been rather excited to tell Sunday that she would be announcing her next album on it; releasing one of the songs. Stelle and March gasped, looking over at Sunday. Ah, yes, it was a Saturday today, wasn’t it? “The interview was organised before the Charmony Festival, I do know she’s on there.” Quickly, Stelle connected their phone to the table, Robin’s interview projecting onto the side of the Parlour Car.

“… would’ve loved to have him on, but Sunday just doesn’t like public speaking or interviews. Prefers to know what he’s going to say in advance, you know. And, with the format, if he was here, he’d spend the entire time eating the cakes, he wouldn’t say a thing.”

GalacticBaseballer sent a message “Sunday’s here and he just said ‘fair, I would’.” Robin laughed, leaning back in her seat. “Do we kn-”

“It’s Stelle, we both know Stelle. If they say Sunday’s with them, Sunday’s with them.” She waved at the camera. “Hi Sunday! Enjoy your weekend. Actually, while you’re listening – can I swear here?”

“Of course.”

“Sunday.” Robin manoeuvred around the microphones to crouch right in front of the camera. “I know how your brain works, I grew up with you. I know what you’re thinking. I don’t care, and I won’t. Answer my fucking calls.” She smiled sweetly, sitting back down. “I’m done.”

“While we’re on the topic of your brother, don’t you have some news involving him?”

“I do! This we’ve been working on for a while, and I’m really happy we can finally get it out. New album! With someone very special! My next album, ‘Dove’ consists of sixteen songs in the Halovian language, it’s the only time I’ve done this. We have an even mix of originals and covers. Each of the covers I have done with Sunday. You are in for a treat, Sunday has such a beautiful voice…”

Eyes were drawn to Sunday. “You sing?”

“On this occasion.”

“Did you know about this?”

“Stelle, he was involved in the production, I imagine he did.”

“I sung half the songs.”

“Eight songs?”

“I think something I didn’t expect is that – well, obviously the Halovian language is our first, we’re both Halovians, but Sunday lives and works on Penacony, works with Halovians; I don’t, so I don’t speak our language all that much in my day-to-day life. As I learned, my pronunciation has actually changed, and you can hear the difference when we’re singing. Sunday’s pronunciation is better than mine and there are moments with – what are they? – loanwords, where Sunday will keep with his normal accent, but mine shifts back to, well this, my accent when I speak the Inter-Planetary standard.”

“Sunday might not be here, but we can still talk about him. He is half of this album, after all. So, eight covers, first things first, do you have a favourite, does Sunday have a favourite?”

“Sunday’s is ‘L’on’, he loved it. We could only do one music video together, we didn’t have all that much time with everything else going on in our lives at the time, so I let him pick, because it was the only one he’d be in. ‘L’on’. But, equally, I mean, could’ve changed since we last spoke about it, it has been a while, we recorded all of them before my last tour. Mine is… oohhh… Of the covers, ‘Love Sick’, or maybe ‘Hana Ni Natte’. Sunday has the best trill anyone can have, I think – he’s probably still watching, Sunday, take the compliment! All Halovians have a syrinx, what birds use to make bird calls, but not all of us can make calls. I can’t, I’ve pointed it out before, that the trills in my songs aren’t me, my good friend and fellow singer, Monarch, provided them, and I can’t ever thank them enough for that. Sunday can. He tried to teach me when we were younger, but it’s one of those things you do so naturally that you don’t know how you’re doing it and hence can’t explain to your younger sister. I kept stopping in the middle of recording and asking him if he could hold the trill for more of the note. Enough so that the producers had to step in and remind me that we only had the studio for a limited time. But it was so worth it! ‘Usseewa’ is a close second, I’m honestly still surprised he went through with it straight off. The way we did it, we sort of did a sight-reading run through, but not really because we both already knew the songs, with the original vocals, to get a feel for it. Sunday just comes up and goes right ahead. ‘Cyberpunk Dead Boy’ too. I need to stop saying names of songs, I’m revealing too much. All of the covers, Sunday was wonderful.”

Stelle had rather rapidly made their way to Sunday, beginning their own interview. “I want to hear you sing!”

“There’s a whole album coming out in a month, you can wait until then. One of the covers will play later in the interview, as well.”

“We have a karaoke machine, what if we used that for the music, would you sing one of them then?”

“Stelle.”

“Come on!” Thankfully for Sunday, Stelle dropped their line of questioning, scuttling back to their seat. “Before you get too comfortable,” Welt spoke up. “Have you packed everything you want to take into the hotel?”

“Why aren’t you asking anyone else if they’ve packed? What about Sunday?”

“We know he’s packed because his bag is with March’s.”

“How do you know they’re March’s, they could be mine.”

“If you want the pink bags, you will have to tear them from my cold, dead hands.”

“Fine, they’re hers.” They stuck out their tongue before picking up their phone and heading to the far car. “I’ll help them.” March followed, leaving only Welt, Sunday and Yanqing in the Parlour Car. “I think it’s really cool you did an album together.” His phone pinged. “Oh, sorry, this is work related.”

“The Party Car ground floor will be empty.”

“Thank you, Mr. Yang.”

Once it was just them, Welt spoke to Sunday. “The album is called Dove, I see.”

“Yes. She names the albums, it’s still her career.”

“I’m sure she does.” Welt gave him a soft smile. In hindsight, Sunday should’ve predicted they’d find out about that fairly quickly. It wasn’t like Robin was a new or obscure singer and they all knew her personally now. Luckily, Welt seemed to notice his awkwardness about the topic. “How common is it to speak multiple languages on Penacony?”

“We, Intellitrons, and the Pepeshi all have our own languages, but, because of the planet’s history, the IPC’s Inter-Planetary Standard is our official language. IPS is spoken and written the most because there used to be bans on speaking the languages which were only lifted about forty years ago. When she was alive, our mother would take care to raise us with the Halovian language first, IPS second. Gopher Wood would have me beside him to translate during any announcements because I was fluent. I was the first formal interpreter of the language for The Family.” His wings flared with mild pride. “The idea was that seeing a younger person speaking any of our original languages would encourage the younger generations to learn and speak their languages. IPS is still considered more formal, but there is work to fix that.”

The docking platform was grand, colourful streamers strung across every inch of the structure, people in work uniforms darting around, chatter filling the air, mechanisms shifting behind them. Stelle, March, and Yanqing gasped in unison as they walked along the dock. Sunday was stood beside the door, attempting to keep any eye on them while Welt, Himeko, and Dan Heng secured The Express. The atmosphere was nothing new to him, you got rather used to it after growing up on the Planet of Festivities and a little too much work running celebrations got you knowing a little too many details about whatever would have gone on behind the scenes to set everything up. Such as what type of streamer should be used in ports and docking stations, especially docking stations where ship platforms would be moved to a concealed location like this one. “Sunday?”

“Those are ballroom streamers, they aren’t approved for use in docking lanes, you have to use metal ones. They don’t fall apart and land in engines or gears.”

“I imagine that’s a rare enough occasion they decided it was fine to use standard streamers.”

“If anything does happen, they’re in heavy legal trouble.” Welt nodded down the dock, where Dan Heng had joined the rest of the crew. Himeko was further up the platform, presumably looking at the landing gear, as she was sat over the edge. “Is the conductor not joining us?”

“They tend not to.”

“Even when The Express will be in a concealed dock?”

“Even then.”

Up ahead, someone in Hi-Vis was talking with a clearly struggling Yanqing. Sunday quickly moved to stand next to him. “Party of seven, six guests, one ticket holder, Yanqing, for the Xianzhou Luofu. Minimum docking length of 95 IP metres. Heavy dock required, single boiler engine, external generator required in station.”

“I love it when Penaconians come here, you make my job so much easier.”

Don’t think in front of Halovians.

Sunday froze for a moment. “You’re welcome.” Dan Heng only stared. “How do you know that already?”

“I remembered from when we had to dock The Astral Express. It’s not one you forget easily.”

“We’ll check your ship’s secure, Mx!” The dock worker called down to Himeko. “You can get checked in!”

“Do you get paid for that?”

“That depends on you, Mx.” As Himeko walked past, she handed over some credits. “Oh, that’s far too much.”

“It’s a complicated ship. It’s what you deserve for this one.”

The reception was louder than the docking area, if possible. Dan Heng had become distracted by a rather distinctive cyborg cowboy and ninja. “Are the Astral –”

“That happened because someone forking stole my ticket, I still have it this time, I’m not that shirt!” Boothill made a motion around his neck. “Everyone thinks I’m a muddle-fudging prude.”

“How did you get tickets?”

“The Galaxy Rangers were invited! We have an Aeon, you think the nice ladies in charge of all this shirt just wouldn’t fudging invite us?” With a large smile, Rappa patted Boothill’s shoulder. “Silvergun Shura made a valiant effort to ensure our places against all other ninjas who cared to come!”

“Bagsied ’em first. There’s supposed to be three other rangers here, but I don’t fudging know who, I was… Distracted.”

“He was giving his weapons systems their well-earned maintenance at the time of the ticket release. A young ninja in training took the opportunity to practice their stealth and left with a great prize.” Sunday gave Dan Heng a questioning look. “A child stole his – a child stole your arm?”

“Rappa, I know they’re our friends, but I think we need to have a talk about what information is shared with who again.”

“Not at all. This was the highlight of my week, and it is my ninja duty to tell everyone.”

“But it’s bloody not, though.”

“Do you question the way of the ninja?” Boothill could only stare at her. “Baseball Bat Ninja! I have –”

“Forking stop!”

“No!”

“We have to check in!”

“So do we, actually.” Yanqing spoke up. “Well, you can look around for longer, but I’ve been working for sixteen hours straight and I’m tired, so I might fall asleep before you all check in and since you’re my guests, I need to verify that you’re with me.”

“Boothill!” Stelle chased after him. “How well does that bagsy thing work?”

“Very, gets you a free holiday.”

“This is a single, it’s for you. These three are doubles, for your guests.”

“Don’t they get separate rooms?” While Yanqing continued talking with the receptionist, a young child came up to the group with a tray in their hand. Seeing Sunday, they quickly reached for a section and passed a pin to him resembling the insignia of Harmony.

Halovian. Don’t think.

Underneath the chatter of work was a constant chorus of repetition, a desperation to not be noticed, to not be heard, broken only by an empty nothing.

“Is that alright with you, Sunday?” Himeko had asked him the question. There couldn’t be much they’d have to check with him; he’d heard the receptionist mention double rooms with Yanqing. Stelle had latched onto Dan Heng’s arm and March was muttering something about morning coffee. It was the room placement. Which would put him with… He glanced towards Welt. “Yes, that’s fine.” With a nod, Yanqing handed out keycards. “I think we’re all on separate floors. Does The Astral Express do communal breakfasts? Should I join you?”

“We’ve got your number, we can discuss that each morning dependant on what we all want to do.”

“Give it to me.” Sunday held his hand out, taking the keycard. He’d let Welt make a few attempts, but by now, he just wanted to get inside. He spun the card between his fingers before flicking it against the reader. “How does that work?”

“No idea, it just does. It’s what we did in The Reverie.” The room was fairly standard, a bathroom, an open cupboard, double bed with a small table either side, a window covered by a thin cloth of a curtain. There was probably more, but something had taken Sunday’s attention the moment the door closed. A dead silence.

It wasn’t like he tried to pry into the minds of The Nameless, but with the restricted size of the carriages, their thoughts often made their way into his mind, nothing different to being in a crowded room, or an office space. Nothing like with other Halovians, it was only one way, there was no communication, but an idea of what everyone was like.

Dan Heng was either piecing something together about the databank or definitely more personal memories that Sunday doubted he’d told other members of The Express, and he definitely shouldn’t know about. He’d learned a few tactics from Gopher Wood about how to block mental connections, really to help keep on track during meetings or press conferences, but very useful for not learning too much about Dan Heng’s past without his permission.

Stelle typically had enough thoughts running through their head at the same time that Sunday couldn’t pick out details, which wasn’t too much of a bother. Something about rubbish bins always cropped up, though.

Himeko was often assessing an aspect of the mechanisms or the navigation system. Largely, nothing Sunday understood, he wasn’t an engineer, after all. The conductor, much the same.

March spent much of her time judging her photography, which looked the best, who she needed more pictures of, what angles looked best for everyone, how could she ever sneak up on Sunday and get a candid photo of him? She probably didn’t know Halovians could read minds at short distances. Made such a thing fairly hard.

Mr. Yang was the hardest to assess. He seemed more aware about Halovian abilities, but Sunday could never tell if it bothered him. He was focused on his art, the other members, just reading, there was always something. He was never silent.

“Sunday?” He was staring. “Just not used to being a guest.” He knew how to lie, Welt wouldn’t pick up on that. He wouldn’t. Sunday was probably just tired, or Welt was stood further from him than he thought. He let out a breath, dropping onto the bed, wings flaring out. He hadn’t been able to properly rest them for ages, not even allowed to open them in the cell and folding them in aboard The Express to keep them from touching the floor. Aeons, they were heavy. Something slipped from his pocket. He heard a soft chuckle behind him. He looked at Welt from underneath his wing. “What’s so funny?”

“Not funny, just unexpected.”

“Right.”

“Rather unique ID.” Sunday sat up. “It’s standard for anyone who works in the dreamscape. If anything happens to your body while you’re in there, you won’t know, so emergency services need quick access to your medical information, and others need to know which dreamscape they’re in to inform them.” A small patch at the bottom of the card was glistening. “It’s memoria, it’s supposed to change dependant on where you are. Never seen one outside of Penacony. I expected it to completely disappear, I guess there’s more memoria attached to it than I thought.” The backside was mostly medical information. Blood type, current prescriptions, a brief medical history, organ donor status, next of kin. Gopher Wood. He’d never had Robin on there, she was rarely on Penacony once her career took off and he didn’t want to ever worry her.

Sunday gripped the card in his hand. He shouldn’t have Gopher Wood on there anymore. He was never returning to Penacony, even on his death bed. He hadn’t heard anything about Gopher Wood since the Embryo of Philosophy fell. There was no way Gopher Wood would want anything to do with him after that, after he betrayed everything Gopher Wood had worked for, for their entire lives, just because Robin had said one thing to him, and he didn’t even fail after taking over, he just gave up, again because of Robin, of course Gopher Wood wouldn’t want to check on him, no one would want to associate with their child after they pulled something like that, it was an outright rejection of his own family, of the man who saved his life and his sister’s.

A hand took his own, opening his palm and shifting the card. “Is your hand alright?” Sunday quickly pulled his hand away from Welt. “I’m fine.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Welt sighed. He had only been with The Express for a short time, so Welt could hardly expect Sunday to answer every question. “Are you going to talk to Robin?”

“Later, she’ll still be in the interview.”

“Sunday.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to talk to her. She’s busy.”

“Promise me you’ll talk to her before we leave the planet? Just once.”

“She’s –”

“She is not better off without you in her life, and nor are you. And I imagine part of you knows that, else you would have been able to say goodbye.” Sunday’s eyes narrowed. He looked away as he picked up his bag, aiming to sort out his wash kit first. Leaning against the desk, Welt sighed again. Sunday had shared a few stories, but there was definitely a lot they were missing.

“Have you seen the facilities? I’ll have to show Yanqing around tomorrow.” March handed a brochure over. “That’s fairly standard, especially for a hotel of this size.”

“We have a bad record with hotels.” Dan Heng added. “Think you’ll survive sharing with Stelle for the festival?”

“They’re not too bad, I’ll live.”

“How dare you! I’m a great roommate; you know that very well!” They continued chatting as they walked around the hotel. Sunday was walking behind the rest of the group, mostly just taking in the layout. Majority of the conversation was their history with hotels, some of which Stelle didn’t even know, which Sunday couldn’t contribute much to. Honestly, he could barely focus on it. Everyone else in the hotel was discussing the brand-new album Robin had announced, how they couldn’t believe she’d gotten her brother to sing with her, what did Dove mean to her? What would these songs be? Did you hear ‘Love Sick’? Did you hear Sunday? Why has he never sung before? Does Dove mean anything to him? Aren’t they originally from The Core? Is it something to do with that? Didn’t he step down from The Family, is he joining Robin now? Is it a secret announcement about a new band? Isn’t dove some kind of slang for gay one Penacony? Does Robin have a girlfriend? Does Sunday have a boyfriend? I don’t know the language but it’s a love song right?

Every single other conversation mentioned the album at some point, constant speculations about everything and anything Robin had mentioned in one short interview. He couldn’t count how many times he’d told Robin he was more concerned how she’d handle this, the press all focussed on her. He’d be fine, he wasn’t even getting the rough of it, she had to keep answering the questions about it. About Dove. He was going to be fine. And now he’d lied to her. Maybe he would have been fine if nothing changed, if it was before the Charmony Festival, if he didn’t uproot their entire livelihoods. Dove. Everything was about Dove with no genuine care as to what that may mean to either of them, fans only caring if they could guess correctly before Robin told them, if it meant what they wanted it to mean.

“Keep up, Sunday! You’ll get lost.” He took in a breath. He could handle it. “I’m heading back. I’ll… talk later.” He got looks from everyone. “Well, see you later, then!”

Dropping onto the bed, Sunday leant against the headboard. He tucked his legs up, resting his chin on his knees. He shouldn’t cry over this, he was an adult now. If Robin could keep everything together in public, in interview, on a press tour, he could keep it together with The Astral Express.

“Let me make it abundantly clear.” Welt hadn’t asked for this. “Just because you know a couple of facts about my life.” He’d only asked if Sunday was okay. “Does not clear you to speculate about Robin’s naming decisions to the same level as her fans.” Sunday caught his immediate thought when hearing the name. “It has nothing to do with what you’re thinking.” He wasn’t going to address the tears. “It’s not named after a bird, the album is named after our mother, Mr. Yang. Dove was our mother.”