Work Text:
With one final decisive slash, their foe, an odd creature in black and orange which made the most horrible of sounds, evaporates into pieces of matter, its minions follow its footsteps to the grave. Sunday breathes a sigh of relief, letting the power of harmony slip free of his body as he hears the voice of the Trailblazer distantly in his ear congratulating them for a job well done.
This side of the Memory of Chaos was over and now they just have to wait for the other team to finish their’s.
He allows their team’s designated healer, a very concerned Hyacine, to look over him. Thanks to their powerful damage dealer, the enemies barely scratched him. And Hyacine gives him the Ok after prescribing him to get more sleep.
The Memory of Chaos arena is comfortable at least while they wait it out. And much to Sunday’s relief, it has not been the sight of Penacony’s theater in a long time, having moved onto the scenery of Amphoreus.
Lady Bronya gives him a sympathetic look as Sunday immediately collapses to the floor. He is glad the Trailblazer trusts him so much that they send him out so often. That being said, it can get exhausting. Very exhausting. Apparently, this tends to happen to a few people. And after a few shared fights with the IPC gambler, who correctly identified him as one of the unfortunate few, Sunday was invited to their group chat where they commiserate.
Despite the…odd beginning, Sunday is happy to be a part of it. And it’s where he learned lady Bronya was once in his very position, though she’s fortunately seen less often.
Sunday glances at the two from Amphoreus, Hyacine and Phainon. This is the third time, he’s been in the Memory of Chaos with Hyacine. A sign of a restless fate for her in the future, maybe Sunday will be the one to give her the invite. And Phainon who’s been on the Express a few times since his recent arrival though Sunday has missed him.
They’re talking, though from what Sunday can see, it feels…strained, awkward. They’re supposed to know each other, if Sunday recalls correctly. But then again it wouldn’t be the first time they run into a problem concerning a team member’s relationships. The general from Luofu, Feixiao was particularly vicious when she faced off against that Borisin. Miss Firefly was oddly quiet when they ran into the Swarm. Or that one time the Trailblazer decided it would be a good idea to put Dan Heng and that undying Stellaron Hunter together for some ungodly reason.
Sunday doesn’t pry. He understands the difficulties of one’s past.
The conversation dies, they leave each other’s company. Phainon seems anxious, fidgeting his foot up and down. His sword stays manifested and must be digging a mark into his hand with how tight he’s gripping.
Sunday politely clears his throat, whatever thoughts that were ailing Phainon disappear as he turns to Sunday, his face coloring itself in sheepishness. “Sorry, was I too loud?”
“No, nothing like that.” Sunday shakes his head, “You should probably relax and sit down. You should enjoy this short break before we have to head to the next floor.”
“Ah, right!” Phainon plops himself down on the floor, “Thanks for the advice.”
Still he looks worried about something, his body tense, ready to spring into action and his eyes going all over the place, unfocused. Sunday wonders if he acted this way too on his first trip through the Forgotten Hall. He doesn’t think so. He remembers vividly being more worried about Robin instead-
Ah. “Concerned about the other team?” Sunday throws out his guess and is quickly proven right by the distinct look of someone caught on Phainon’s face.
“It’s natural, don’t worry.” Sunday swiftly reassures, “But they'll be fine. No injury in the Memory of Chaos is permanent in the real world. And besides, the Trailblazer will surely lead them to a conclusive victory. You can at least trust them with that.”
With every word said, the tension bleeds bit by but out of Phainon, “Right- You’re right. I trust them. And Anxa’a strong. It’s just-“ Phainon groans into his hands.
Sunday understands without the word needed to be said. There is a difference between trust and truly believing. The creeping dread of what if (italic) that never truly leaves, only waiting and watching for the perfect time to strike. One cannot simply remove the doubt’s pressence. However, Sunday has learned to ignore it as time passes. Experience doesn’t exactly kill it but it can numb it.
Experience that Phainon does not have.
Sunday bites his lip. There is little to deliberate, “If you’d like. I can try to use Harmony on you to help you ease up.”
Phainon’s eyes widened, “Ah-! If it’s not a burden-“
Sunday shoots that one down, “No, it’s not. It’s the least I can do since you took care of all our enemies.”
Receiving a nod, Sunday approaches the sitting Phainon. He pulls upon the Harmonious Choir’s strings, his halo radiant in its rainbow light. Phainon’s eyes are drawn to it and Sunday can closely witness the way that pair of sky blue pupils unsharpen, the relaxing haze of Harmony enveloping his mind. The sword held tight in his hands disappearing into sparks in the wind.
Hesitantly, Sunday reaches out a hand. Drawing closer and closer to Phainon’s face. No resistance. He puts his hand over Phainon’s eyes. When he pulls away, they were closed. Phainon lets out a weighted breath.
“Thank you.”
A smile finds itself on Sunday’s face, “No problem.”
They run through the rest of the floors, the team not changing, until they run into a roadblock on the twelfth floor. Challenging it again and again yields no results and with a heavy heart, the Trailblazer gives up and thanks everyone for their time.
As they leave the Forgotten Hall, Hyacine walks up to him, “Sunday right? Thank you for helping him.” She doesn’t need to mention who ‘he’ is. “He’s been too stressed lately and I’m glad that he got to rest for a while.”
There’s care in a voice, a care that has not been allowed to act. Sunday adjusts the two’s relationship in his mind, clearly strained but not bad.
“It’s you again.” Phainon greets him with a bright grin upon seeing him in the same team for Apocalyptic Shadow.
“I’ll be in your care.” Sunday greets back more politely and they soon get in line for the battle.
Thankfully for Sunday’s energy, they only have to go through four battles for this one. Phainon is deadly and destructively radiant as he mows down their enemies. Sunday’s pretty sure this is the fastest he’s ever seen cleared. Soon enough, they’re transported to the abandoned train station, waiting for the the other side to finish their final battle.
Sunday lies on one of the chairs there, closing his eyes and trying not to let the feeling of being back in Penacony bother him. He never brought it up with the Trailblazer and he deeply regrets it each time.
This area is bare of people aside from Elegy and the people of the Dreamflux Reef aren’t too embroiled in the complex web of politics that is the Family to sell him out should one of them catch him. But the fear of being caught isn’t what bothers Sunday. Just being back in Penacony is enough. Memories of the Festival, all bad, come back centerforth of his mind. Robin’s death, his own, Ena and his near ascension to Aeonhood. He tries to associate the place with good thoughts, the indescribable joy he felt upon seeing his sister alive and well but his mind doesn’t allow it.
“You ok?”
Sunday’s eyes snap open, meeting a face that’s quickly becoming familiar. He shakes his head as if that would throw off his dizzying thoughts, “I’m fine- It’s just-“ Sunday briefly pauses but finds himself unable to be anything other than honest at the sight of Phainon’s genuine worry, “-I have some complicated memories with this place.”
Phainon accepts his answer easily, taking a seat next to him, “Are you sure? I can ask the Trailblazer-“
“No!” Sunday rushes to shoot that idea down, “I don’t want to bother them. I’m fine, really, I can handle it.”
Phainon seems reluctant but drops the issue. They sit in agonizing silence for exactly ten seconds before the other opens his mouth again. “…I get it, you know? Complicated feeling about the past and all…” Phainon trails off.
“…Your companions from Amphoreus” Sunday continues for him. A look of shock overtakes Phainon’s face before shifting into bashfulness.
“You noticed, huh?” Sunday nods wordlessly. It’s not hard to. Even today, the pale girl with a scythe from the other team clearly wanted to talk to him but refrained at the last moment.
“They seem…to care for you a lot.” Sunday carefully says, his mind bringing up Hyacine thanking him.
“They do.” A small smile appears on Phainon’s lip. “I’m grateful for it. It’s just…It’s hard to look them in the eyes after I’ve seen them die.”
Sunday almost stops breathing, his teeth grit against each other in uncomfortable reminder before he can compose himself. Those words bring him back. To seeing Robin’s dead body, lying in her dream pool. The realization that she died right under his watchful eyes, the knowledge that the eternal dream he was to grant will not include her. Seeing her again only worsened everything. Because he then knew she could be taken away again. It made him desperate to ascend and save her from that fate.
Robin’s still alive, he has to remind himself often. He just won’t be able to see her again.
“…That I understand. But, take it from me, it’s best to enjoy the chance rather than worry about the past.”
His eyes are caught in Phainon’s gaze, stuck within its warm depth, before a weak smile manages to steal his attention away. “Ahaha. Yeah, you’re right. Complicated feelings, huh?”
“Complicated feelings.” Sunday agrees.
The next time Sunday sees Phainon is thankfully more peaceful, he spots the other on the Astral Express getting lectured by PomPom. Phainon catches sight of him too, sending Sunday a plea for help.
“Conductor, I’m sure Phainon’s learned his lesson. Please forgive him.” Sunday interjects PomPom’s rant. They huff but grants mercy upon Phainon, leaving alone after a small scold. Something about dirtying the Expressms spotless floors.
“My savior” Phainon laughs after PomPom leaves.
Sunday shakes his head, “It’s no problem. I assume you’re here for the Trailblazer, they’ve just left for the Luofu.”
“Oh- that’s- I guess I’ll wait for them then.”
Sunday purses his lips at the downtrodden expression that appeared on Phainon’s face, “If it’s urgent, I can ask PomPom to drive us there. The Luofu will welcome any passenger of the Astral Express.”
Phainon dismisses his offer with a shake of his hands, “Oh no, it’s nothing that urgent. I don’t mind waiting.”
“Very well. Would you like to have some refreshments as you do?”
Phainon’s eyes shine, “If you don’t mind. Uh… Actually the Trailblazer said they had some books about the universe somewhere on board for me to read, if you happen to know where they are…”
As it so happens, Sunday knows exactly what Phainon’s referring to. He leaves a piping hot cup of tea for the guest before going to pick them. He finds them easily located in his own room.
With a light thud, a pile of books are placed on the table in front of Phainon. “These ones are about certain factions to look out for. This is a guide to some common species across the universe. The blue cover with the large star in the middle is a map and short infographic about the major star system. They’re good reads to get someone informed, though if you want something more in depth, there’s better books for that.”
Phainon thanks him for the books, flipping over the one at the top of the pile. Sunday sits down next to him. The Express was empty save for the two of them and the conductor, miss Himeko and Welt having business regarding their next destination and the young trio off in the Luofu’s ship for some show. Sunday offered to stay back, in case of any incidents, though the empty Express could be a little daunting to brave alone. In that sense, Sunday’s glad for Phainon’s pressence and that the other hasn’t asked him to leave.
They read in comfortable silence. Whatever Phainon’s reading has him completely engaged, his eyes locked onto the pages and his posture honestly a bit bad with how close he’s leaning, part of Sunday wants to tell him to fix it but he thinks that might be too impolite.
An hour or so pass with no sign of the Trailblazer. It might be affecting Phainon with the glances he keeps throwing Sunday’s way. Sunday tries to not be visibly flustered by it as he turns over, “I apologize for my companion’s tardiness. I can call them right now if-“
“Oh, you don’t need to do that” Phainon lets out a nervous laugh, “You said they’re on the Luofu, right?” Phainon struggles with the pronunciation.
Sunday makes a small noise of agreement. A sense of timidness seems to overtake Phainon, suddenly he can’t look straight at him. After a while, Phainon speaks again, “…What’s it like? The books don’t include a lot of pictures but it sounds like quite the place.”
“It’s…” Sunday struggles to find the words. It’s not like the Xianzhou is all that unique of a place, the Alliance’s true strength lies in their vast network and military force, not architecture. But to somebody who, according to what little Sunday’s heard, didn’t even know about the existence of a wider universe beyond his planet until now, Phainon likely wouldn’t see it that way. An idea hits Sunday, pulling out his phone and opening its gallery, “…It’s probably better if I showed you.”
Sunday’s heard of the wild adventures the Astral Express had on the Xianzhou Luofu before. A Stellaron, a Lord Ravager wreaking havoc, something about ghosts(?) and some political drama. His own experience is not as exciting with most of his visits being him sticking by Welt’s side, very aware of his unfortunate reputation after the Festival. But he does have pictures that March sent him, they’re beautiful, the pink haired girl has quite the talent for photography.
Soon enough, Sunday finds his phone out of his hands and in the ones of Phainon, the other’s enchanted and Sunday uses the opportunity to retell some tales he’s heard from the others of the Astral Express. Sunday’s always been better at listening than he is talking and he’s of the belief Robin has a far more beautiful voice than his. But from the way Phainon keeps his full attention on Sunday, it must’ve not mattered either way.
Half way through the story of the tournament, Phainon’s bright eyed look faded away and in lieu of it a somber expression, “It’s really like a whole planet on a spaceship, huh? I guess I never truly understood what that meant until now.” Phainon says more to himself, he seems tired.
Sunday’s sure he shouldn’t answer but “…Amphoreus has no space travel, correct? I can’t imagine what learning all of this must feel like.”
Phainon sucks in a shocked breath, as if remembering he wasn’t alone. After a moment, he replies, “Yeah, miss Black Swan lended us a few ships in exchange for research on Amphoreus. Before that if anyone tried to traverse the sky they'd be shot down by Aquila. It’s weird, I thought I’d be trapped there forever but now that I’m free I just want to go back.”
Why don’t you? Sunday doesn’t ask, there’s so many reasons he’s seen on why someone would be separated from home, there’s no need to find out about one more. And furthermore, Sunday understands. And it hurts.
Because Sunday remembers the day he and Robin were sent to Penacony courtesy of Gopher Wood, remembers her leaving for the world and was left watching her shadow fade. Unlike Phainon, he has studied other planets and their customs, had seen them through the lens of a dream bubble and the depths of another’s memory. But he was never meant to leave Penacony, he can’t. Not as the head of the Oak family who had to make sure everything within the grand dream was running properly. Not as the Festival drew nearer and nearer, every second spent was a second closer to becoming something beyond.
Sunday finds his next words surprisingly easily. He’s used to offering people salvation and hope but that’s not what Phainon needs. And Sunday knows because that’s not what he needed.
He takes an untouched book from the bottom pile. Admittedly Sunday hasn’t read this one, had seen the title and immediately shoved it away. Still, he finds what he’s looking for easily.
He flips to a certain page, on it is a picture, one very familiar to Sunday. How could it not? When it is the sight he used to see everyday. “This is Penacony. More precisely Penacony’s Golden Hour. It can be said it is the very core of the planet, people come from far and wide just to experience Penacony’s dream. I was raised to protect this grand dream no matter what. And yet here I am, off traveling the universe. To be honest…” The admission does not come out easily but Sunday forces through, “…it’s likely better that I’m not there. Penacony’s currently in quite a lot of trouble due to my actions. And yet here I am. Frankly, it feels like I'm running away but… One thing I’ve found about the universe is that it’s good at making you feel insignificant. Here in the stars, I’m nobody whatsoever. It’s scary whenever I think about it. But also relieving. To know there’s nothing I must do. That Penacony will be fine without me.”
Sunday doesn’t allow Phainon time to say anything, flipping to the next page, “Ah the delicacies of Penacony. Soulglad is one of Penacony’s claims to fame. It comes in every flavor under the sun. Well- except for mung bean-”
A small chuckle follows Sunday’s words, he finds Phainon’s eyes clear of any lingering exhaustion as they peer into his, “Why not mung bean?”
Sunday frowns instinctively, “The Iris Family called it an affront to the tongue. They rallied hard against it. I suspect they involved the Nightingales somehow too since every origami bird in sight attacked viciously whenever they smelt the beverage.” Sunday had lost precious sleep trying to repair the whole situation.
No empathy for his troubles comes from Phainon who has a mischievous shine to his eyes, “Origami birds?” He exclaimed with great interest.
Sunday turned the page until he reached the creature’s sections, “Origami birds, yes. They are exactly what you’d expect. Made of paper and all. Living only in the Dreamscape, a lot of species are only native to Penacony actually.”
“Like your’s?” The question slips out of Phainon, “You know with the whole-“ Phainon gestures to the side of his face. Sunday’s wings ruffle indignantly, he coughs.
“Halovians. While we aren’t exactly native, most do come from Penacony.”
Phainon hums, “Say…can you fly with those? I’ve tried looking for information but I found nothing.”
“That’s-“ Whatever rejection Sunday had on his tongue dies as Phainon expectantly stared at him, he turns away, his face feeling hot, “No-“ The next confession was somehow the hardest thing to speak aloud, “-Please do not laugh. I’ve…tried once when I was younger…it did not end well…I said do not laugh-!”
Phainon covers his hand over his mouth, trying and failing to muffle the damning laughter, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry- Pft- It’s cute! I didn’t expect it of you.“
Sunday turns away, unable to face the mockery at his expense, “Hmph- I suppose you can find the rest on your own.”
“Hey! I’m sorry, ok!”
Sunday takes a peek. Granting mercy after deeming Phainon’s apologetic expression acceptable, “Very well. I suppose it isn’t a surprise you didn’t find anything. Info on halovians isn’t common…But I do have some resources”
One look at Phainon’s puppy-like expression and Sunday finds himself walking to his room to find said resources. Sunday watches as Phainon reads, answering the question Phainon has to the best of his abilities. It is nice to be able to talk to someone about Penacony without the looming weight of his actions haunting him and the empty train cabin isn’t so daunting with company.
He steps into the Forgotten Hall once more. Sunday spots the white hair immediately and its owner spots him.
The halovian is greeted by a bright smile, “It’s you again!”
Sunday’s wings hide his cheeks, “It’s you. I’ll be in your care once more.”
The jeers from the Masked Fool doesn’t reach his ears, neither does the choked gasp from Gallagher. All he can hear is the soft laughter coming from Phainon as the other beams back, “Of course! I’ll keep you safe!”