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Sunday is not expecting a warm welcome in the Astral Express – he is prepared for the worst, in all honesty. But the fact that Welt Yang had understood him and his predicament and willingly accompanied him in his merging back with the worst part of himself and did not turn down his request gives him hope. Perhaps, the rest of Nameless will be as open-minded as the older man.
So when he is confronted with the visage of the young, golden-eyed Trailblazer upon stepping foot on the train, to have him ultimately decide his fate – in his head, Sunday is already preparing for a counter-argument and a plea. His goal is not to justify, but to objectively explain his side in the hopes that the rest of the crew will hear him out as well. But Sunday knows his position is precarious at best, that he may not be allowed to board, and that he may have to pursue his next steps all by his lonesome. He committed a great sin, after all, even if it was for what he thought were the right reasons at the time.
(The road to hell is paved with good intentions as the old saying goes, and he fully understands what it means now.)
Sunday is not expecting that the vessel of the Cancer of All Worlds – Caelus – will be this forgiving. Gentle yet firm, like Welt Yang had been. Caelus reprimands him yes, and the golden-eyed Nameless isn't entirely too happy about the arrangement and he says so himself. But in the end he still relents, still accepts Sunday into their fold, faults and all. Wary and conscious, but open to trust – and it's more than Sunday could ask for.
Perhaps, this path of asceticism he chose to embark on would not be as bleak as he once thought it would be.
There is that familiar feeling in his chest that blooms and prepares to take flight once more – he knows it all too well, thinks he had lost it over the course of his rise as the new head of the Oak Family, and in his fall as a Herald of Order.
Hope is indeed that thing with feathers.
His days and nights blur into each other, and perhaps it's also because there's no real measure of the time that is passing by except for the occassional glances he gives the clock that's in the Astral Express' dining cabin whenever he joins the others for their well-timed meals.
He has found a comfortable place of solitary musing in a corner of the train's Party Car, spending most of his time gazing out the stars, pondering his current state of affairs. If not that, then he spends his time scribbling away his thoughts in his diary or reverting into the old habit of composing pieces of music to idle away the hours. He has not been formally offered a room yet, but the conductor was gracious enough to provide him the basics of comfort – a warm blanket to call his, several absurdly soft, luxurious pillows, and a sleeping bag. Welt Yang always drops by to greet him and spend precious minutes of conversation several times a day with him in what is now essentially Sunday's corner of the train to ask how he's acclimating. Himeko and Pom-Pom once visited him as well and had asked him for a little bit of time and patience as they try to arrange something to make him feel more at ease. Sunday doesn't want to impose on the crew any more than necessary, and he is still not sure about whether or not he will stay here permanently, so he is perfectly happy with his current arrangements – and he tells them so every opportunity he has.
He is not supposed to get attached – that is the point of choosing this simple life. And it is a fitting punishment for his sins, to never have a place to return to. To wander the cosmos and try to ease the suffering of others, offering his aid to those in need, taking nothing, leaving nothing, and never staying for long.
(Refraining from taking anything is easy, but wanting is a different beast entirely. Deep down in the depths of his heart, he longs for somewhere to call his own. Penacony had been that, and yet he had almost been it's ruin. Certain dark thoughts linger at the back of his mind and he always ends up wondering – will any place ever be a home, without his sister? Does he even deserve a home?
He wonders sometimes if he is even worthy of redemption.)
It's during one of these pensive moments, when he's too focused on capturing his thoughts and feelings in his diary lest the words sprout wings and fly away, that he notices the reflection of someone else examining him at the pane of glass that's right in front of him. He's a little startled for the first few seconds but he's able to compose himself in less than a heartbeat, offering a sincere smile to the person without turning around.
The golden-eyed Trailblazer – Caelus – just nods at him, as seen from his reflection in the glass. They stay like that for a minute, in quiet consideration, not really looking at each other but at their reflections in the glass instead. But then, Caelus steps forward and reaches out to give him something, breaking their stalemate. Sunday has no choice but to stand up from his seat and turn around to accept whatever it is Caelus is handing over to him, and he realizes it's a box. It's sturdy, the kind that you put several valuable items into and used as packaging for a gift, and it's covered in intricate patterns of golden stars, gears, and feathers.
Sunday wants to inquire if Caelus specifically chose the design for him, or if he had it customized with him in mind, but he keeps mum – it's never good to assume. Perhaps he just picked it up in a gift shop in one of his errands (he had noticed early on that Caelus went out a lot, for those).
“You shouldn't have, but thank you,” he says instead, and means it.
“A welcoming gift – I never really gave you one, so, here you go.” The golden-eyed Trailblazer explains. There's a small awkward smile on his lips as he puts his hands at the back of his head. He then moves up and down on his tiptoes excitedly, as if waiting for something.
It occurs to Sunday that Caelus probably wants him to open the box and see his reaction. He couldn't help the smile that graces his lips then.
There's no ribbon, so Sunday is easily able to remove the cover. He takes a peek inside and discovers a hodgepodge of knick knacks – several colorful gumballs in a plastic bag, an exotic canned soda (Mung Bean...? He needs to look that up in the Archives, if Dan Heng would allow him), a jade fountain pen and ink, and dried flowers that remind him of Robin – pure white like lilies, with a tinge of violet. He takes out the flowers and realizes they're tied by a hemp string to a neatly folded manuscript paper.
“The soda's from March, the fountain pen and ink are from Dan Heng. The flowers with the music sheet and the gumballs are from me,” Caelus points out. “You've never been to the places most of them are from as we visited them before you boarded, so we thought it would be nice if we bring some of their vibes to you instead.”
Caelus flashes him a warm, bright smile, as if they are old friends. “Hope you like them! It's ok if you throw away the Mung Bean soda – I won't tell March. And the gumballs are really awesome, flavor and function-wise, but uh, they do have some side effects.”
He sticks his tongue out at Sunday to get his point across – it's painted dark blue, with hints of green at the edges. Sunday raises a curious eyebrow at that - he's heard about these candies from children, and childish adults, in the Dreamscape.
Perhaps Caelus was expecting disgust, but Sunday's reaction is far from it, and so the Trailblazer laughs.
“Dan Heng hates them, but he's a known killjoy. They're awesome for bubbles. I have a supply in my room, feel free to take more. Welcome to the Astral Express, Sunday.”
And just like that, Caelus raises two fingers to his forehead as a playful salute and a gesture of goodbye before slinking away like he had arrived – silent and almost without warning, without judgement, and with an offer of easy camaraderie. Sunday doesn't know what to make of it – of him.
(That blooming flower in his chest opens up it's petals wider than before. For the first time in a long while, Sunday dares to hope for more.
Home, he thinks, doesn't seem so fleeting and out of his reach.)
Sunday settles into the routine of being a passenger on the Astral Express far too easily than he first expected. He thinks it's because of Caelus and Welt – both championed him essentially and vetoed his stay on the Express. After the first week, and that moment when Caelus formally welcomed him with a gift, Sunday finds himself increasingly getting involved in the day to day activities in the train. He has been added in the rotating chores list – window cleaning duty with Caelus at first, Archives file organization and hard drive defragging with Dan Heng next, then meal prep with Pom-Pom and March. He's been put in the roster of engine and parts inspection alongside Himeko and Welt as well. He has been invited to game nights (and Caelus jokingly advised him that it is not something he can refuse – even that Memokeeper, Black Swan, who is not always present in the train, isn't spared from this), movie nights, even book reading nights. What he has not done yet is to go on short errands outside of the Astral Express – something that perhaps the other Nameless still has reservations with, not yet knowing his dependability in the field (or perhaps, because they are still uncomfortable and wary of his abilities, especially when they were all caught up with exactly what a Halovian is capable of – telepathy has always been a sore subject, after all). Sunday thinks it's only a matter of when until he goes with them on errands in the worlds beyond this train – and he will ensure that he will not be a burden to anyone, when that time comes.
Perhaps this easier adjustment period is a testament not of his adaptability, but of the fact that the Nameless, regardless of their myriad backgrounds, were the perfect examples of accepting hosts. The way he was welcomed into their fold, a villain who had almost ended a world – sometimes it bothers Sunday, when he thinks about it, for he knows that he will not have been that forgiving. He would have unleashed his wrath on someone who dared defy his Dream of Order – and he did exactly that on Penacony, to Aventurine and Caelus. He had used his gifts to hurt others, to achieve his own selfish ends.
He had pondered this with Welt Yang once, and he was struck by his answer – that part of Trailblazing is to lead others down the best path. Not necessarily the only right path perhaps, but the road that when traveled, would benefit every one of them in the cosmos in the long run. A path for the common good, while staying true to who you are. That was Mr. Yang's vision, and his conviction, at least. Welt Yang had also given him the example of a child who does something ethically wrong – as a parent, you need to guide the child to the right path without being too indulgent. You explain to the best of your abilities what they did wrong and why, what they should do instead, and most importantly, you explain the consequences. You never focus on the punishment – if you do, the child would instead learn to live in fear, and will do the right thing not out of the goodness of their heart, but because they don't want to face the consequences. And so you let you let them fail, that they may learn. But you never abandon the child, and instead wait in the shadows to catch them and guide them back into the light, in case they trip and need a gentle hand to help them to stand up once more.
In hindsight, he should have known Welt Yang's worldview, and perhaps the rest of the Nameless, would be like that. Sunday had fallen so spectacularly and yet, it wasn't the rest of the Oak Family who caught him, who mended his wings and tried to correct his trajectory in the hopes that he'd fly off into the right direction on his own. It was his sister who did most of the work, and himself in a way, and Welt Yang. And now, the rest of the Nameless are picking up the pieces of his shattered soul and is helping in putting him back together, in their own ways.
(That feeling in his chest – it still hurt sometimes, especially when he thinks about what he had almost done to the Nameless in that decisive battle in Penacony. He thinks of himself at times like a flower that blooms from adversity – and Sunday hopes that perhaps one day, he'd be worthy of this family.
Maybe not yet right now, but someday.)
It's one of those seemingly endless quiet nights where he has ample free time to just focus on either documenting the events of his day in his diary, or to make music. Sunday hums as he jots down notes on his new manuscript paper, using his new fountain pen and ink.
He had messaged Caelus earlier in the week about wanting to do something for the crew of the Astral Express, and they settled on Sunday preparing a mini concert for them. He always had a love of and a knack for composing music from as long as he could remember, and the thought that he would be able to perform once more, as a soloist this time and in front of a brand new audience, fills Sunday with both anticipation and dread. And so he finds himself composing new music lately in preparation, or revisiting some renowned classics.
During these moments, he finds himself being accompanied more and more by the most unlikely companion as well – Caelus. Based on his observations, Caelus seems to be friendly with everyone aboard the train, most especially their guard (Sunday doesn't pry, but it is quite obvious anyway, what Caleus and Dan Heng share), and so Sunday takes it all in stride. He is careful though, of not stepping on boundaries – he feels the intense and assessing glances from their archivist in the shadows of the train at times, and he wants to assure Dan Heng that he's not going to do anything untowards to what he calls his star.
Right now, Caelus is lazily lounging on the chair across from him in his corner of the Astral Express, looking out at the passing stars outside of the window. When Sunday asked him earlier what he was doing, Caelus simply replied, I'm just curious about that tune you're humming – and that was that. He didn't say anything else, so Sunday lets him be. Their silence isn't awkward, and it feels nice to just have someone beside him, spending time with him, bonding with him. It makes Sunday feel less alone.
Sunday muses now that perhaps it is just Caelus' way of showing he cares, to not make Sunday feel left out, to let him know he's got a shoulder to lean on – and he appreciates the sentiment, of course. He notes that Caelus is like that with everyone else – offering his time and presence, even if it just means sitting with them in silence. Caelus does it with March, usually sitting with the young woman when she is browsing photos in her ever-present camera, arms thrown around her shoulders affectionately and knowing by instinct when his friend would like his opinion on her pictures. He is like that with Dan Heng as well, usually with his head on the guard's shoulders as they sit close to each other in the Parlor Car, Caelus playing on his mobile phone while Dan Heng is reading a book. When Black Swan deigns to show herself, Sunday usually sees Caelus sitting in front of her by the Party Car's bar, consulting her about his fortune – or at least that is what it looks like. Caelus is even giving some of his limited time to Shush, their robot bartender, listening to his awful jokes and giving his feedback on how to improve them. So to Sunday, it just makes sense that he's now included in this circle of quality time with Caelus, no matter if it's just full of companionable silence for now.
Companionable silence he is loathe to break, with a question still left unanswered.
Still, he thinks, if he doesn't ask now, then when? Sunday has a feeling he may never have the opportunity to, again. He has this foreboding sense that their next destination will be full of strife once more, and that perhaps, he will not get the chance to have Caelus all by himself, like he does right now.
And so he voices out the only question that he wants an answer to, ever since setting foot on the Astral Express.
“Why?”
(Why are you not mad?
Why did you let me board?
Why welcome me at all?)
As a Halovian, one would think Sunday would be able to answer his own question – but he has learned a long time ago that there is an etiquette to follow in using his abilities, and it's distasteful to abandon those except in dire circumstances; he'd rather ask than forcefully probe. The latter only leads to alienation, and to ruin.
Caelus turns his head towards him and raises his eyebrows, as if he did not comprehend the question at all. But then, he merely shrugs his shoulders at Sunday as he answers, showing he did undestand him after all.
“I believe in second chances.”
Sunday considers Caelus' answer. He is just about to say something else, but Caelus beats him to it.
“There's nothing wrong with dreaming – personally, I think the start of our death will be the day we stop dreaming. But at some point, you just have to wake up and make your dream a reality. That's exactly what you did, and I disliked you for it, but I admire you at the same time for your conviction.”
Caelus sits up straighter and flashes Sunday a friendly smile, regardless of his admission that at some point, the Trailblazer despised him. “Then you literally got rammed by a train in the Dreamscape, to highlight the fact that your take on Order is probably not the best one. What do you do then? If someone punches me in the face and tells me my idea of a utopia sucks, I'll get angry. I'll want to punch back. But at the same time, I'll think about it too. Why didn't my idea work? Why isn't it acceptable? And you, well, you did all of those things.”
The golden-eyed Trailblazer shifts his position in his chair so he's fully facing Sunday, posture the perfect picture of leisure, but there's a seriousness in his eyes that betrays his lackadaisical manner. It is quite fascinating, to tell the truth – Caelus, Sunday is finding out, is a host of contradictions.
“There's no shame in admitting you're wrong, that takes courage. And better to fail, get back up and reflect on what you did, than fail and repeat the same thing over and over thinking everyone else got it wrong and that they should be the ones who should bend to your will. And that's my answer to your why.”
Caelus leans closer to him then, and reaches out – but his hand stays where it is, without Sunday's permission at least. When Sunday just nods, not sure what the other man is up to, Caelus just pokes a finger at his chest where his heart is supposed to be.
“This matters too, you know. And in the end, you kept it while choosing to stray from your initial path to right your wrongs. We all deserve that chance to change, don't you think?”
Caelus leans back against the chair and lets out a chuckle. “Look at me, talking to you about morality – Dr. Ratio would be proud! Even I'm amazed at myself!”
He's back to careless grinning once more, and Sunday thinks – no, says – his first thought out loud. “You are too kind.”
(And that is the truth. Sunday hopes that Caelus will never burn himself out for those not worthy.)
Caelus just laughs louder at that. “Eh, maybe I am, but I can still kick your ass!”
There's a playful smirk at the corner of Caelus' lips, but there's also a glimpse of something darker in his eyes – a warning of sorts. Sunday understands it then – kindness can be soft, kindness can be gentle, but it can also be firm when needed.
He returns the smile with one of his own, and a promise.
“Worry not - the choices we make define our true selves. I chose to change, as you said. I will not back out in pursuing this path, to trailblaze with you. I'll do my best to ensure we all arrive at our pit stops safe and sound, one way or another.”
Caleus grins at that. "I'll hold you to that.”
A second passes, and even if it seemed impossible, Caelus' smile widens just a fraction more as his eyes burn with a different emotion. Sunday thinks he might be misreading those pools of molten gold, but that emotion looks like a hint of fierce devotion. It's the kind of look Caelus reserves for the people that matter to him, and it makes Sunday's heart skip a beat.
"So you've decided to be a Nameless now? Good. We take care of our own."
Sunday thinks, he may have changed admittedly, but his end goal of building a better tomorrow for everyone, truly did not. And perhaps, with this new found ally, he will finally reach the sun on his second flight without melting his wings.
And he hopes that they will all reach the end of their journeys, without Caelus going supernova. The Stellaron vessel also deserves to see his own dreams come true, without dying first for them. His chest constricts at the thought of Caelus, broken and bloodied, fighting for a future he will never see. Sunday wants to believe that won't happen – that they will all have better endings.
Caelus makes Sunday want to believe, in that, and in all other possibilities – and isn't that something? To have someone else to believe in, as much as they believe in you.
The day of his planned “performance” eventually arrives – all with help from Caelus.
The Trailblazer was somehow able to get a piano onboard the Astral Express' Party Car, and when Sunday, astonished, asked how, Caelus just winked playfully at him as he uttered mysteriously, “Good ol' IPC technology, some elbow grease, and a little help from my friends.”
And with that, the golden-eyed young man had left him in peace to give him time to prepare, promising to come back to the Party Car with the rest of the crew in tow.
Sunday is already behind the piano, ready to play, when the rest of the crew gathers around him several minutes later. The looks on Pom-Pom, Himeko, March, and Dan Heng's faces are of curiosity, while Mr. Yang gives him an encouraging nod. Caelus leads their crew into their designated seats around the makeshift stage, exactly like an experienced usher. The thought makes Sunday smile minutely in quiet amusement.
“What's this all about?” March asks, looking between Sunday and Caelus. She's sitting besides Pom-Pom who is staring openly at the piano in wonder, perhaps amazed as well at how Caelus managed to put it where it is currently.
“I think it's quite obvious that we're here for a show.” Dan Heng replies dryly while sitting on his seat like a proper gentleman.
Himeko softly chuckles at that, before blessing Sunday with a grateful smile. “If it is what I think it is, well – what a delight. It's been a while since I've been to a concert of any kind.”
“And an honor, to have you play for us.” Welt adds. He takes his seat besides Himeko, fixing his glasses in anticipation.
Caelus, now sitting besides Dan Heng, gives Sunday a thumbs up, before clapping his hands together. The lights in the Party Car dim and the background music from the phonograph fades away. Black Swan chooses that moment to appear, emerging right at the bar seat in front of Shush without any ceremony. Sunday nods his head in her direction briefly in acknowledgement before flexing his fingers and putting them on the piano keys right in front of him.
And the rest, well – it comes to him naturally then. The notes, the harmony, the joy of making music.
It is the first time since his fall that he feels ready to spread out his wings once more.
It is the first time since his failed takeover of Penacony that he feels a renewed sense of purpose, that he is doing something that he truly believes in.
It is the first time in a long while that he allows himself to just be, the first time in a long while that he truly feels free - to be just a pianist lost in a blissful melody, performing for his chosen family.
In the shelter of this peculiar train traveling across the stars, he finally feels like he could just be himself – not a destined messiah, a prophet of Order, a sacrificial lamb.
He is finally just Sunday.