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Phainon remembers and perhaps, that is the worst part. He remembers being the man before it all, something simple and terrifying but real. He remembers the hues of gold and purple and bright crimson red. He remembers meeting them the first time, the only time. He remembers meeting them again and again and again. But those were no longer the first. He remembers thinking he’s known them all his life and he remembers knowing them all his life. And life and life and life.
He remembers and perhaps, that is the worst part.
The astral express is nothing like home. It is sleek and bathed in the artificial lights in its ceiling. The crew is loud and young and brazen in their choices. They live as if destiny isn’t woven in the very fabric of their being and sometimes it takes Phainon a moment to remember that it isn’t anymore.
He thinks he sees Aglaea sometimes, in Himeko. She is steady and careful where Aglaea is sharp and cunning. But even still, he thinks they would’ve gotten along. Himeko’s hair haunts him sometimes, she leaves behind ghosts that she doesn’t even know about. Phainon only almost calls out Mydei’s name once when he caught the bright crimson in his peripheral. The trailblazer might have heard it but he doesn’t let his gaze linger too long.
Caelus and Dan Heng are the only ones who know and even then, they don’t fully understand the truth. They have memories of memories now, while only Phainon remembers.
Phainon tries not to see Cyrene in March 7th and she knows he’s trying. It’s just…difficult. She shows him her photo wall and confides in him that it's nice to know how some of the more—candid—photos found their way there. He thinks Cyrene would’ve loved to meet her even if they are different even if they are the same.
Sunday is quiet, he hovers around and talks to Welt mostly. Phainon seldom meets his eyes but when they do, it always feels like a moment of understanding. I come from a doomed world and you almost doomed yours. And both of us are walking away from it and trying to figure out where we go from here. Phainon thinks he would like to get to know Sunday better.
Phainon wonders if Mydei would’ve liked to join him if he was given a chance. He likely wouldn’t have. At the end of the day, life after life he always returned home no matter how far he strayed. He thinks of home and he thinks of here and wonders when the futility of holding onto a broken world will finally eat him up.
He wonders who he’ll be at the other end. He’s already gone though rebirth after rebirth another one no longer seems so daunting.