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To explore the stars, planets and other celestial bodies of the winding constellations was simply the path some decided to tread.
For those few who strode heedless into the peril of unexplored lands and rediscovering lost worlds are brave, but often for themselves. It’s rare to find any who bunch together and share the burden, but there is one group that goes by a most memorable name. The Nameless, Trailblazers, all names they turn their head to when it is shouted.
The Astral Express would never leave any of their members to fend by themselves, it’s an all or nothing expeditionary family. That is- well, apparently not for sick March.
March sat in one of the plush chairs along the corner of the main carriage, having meekly dragged it to the edge of the massive windows and sullenly lent her head on the frigid glass. Even with her sinuses doing their best imitation of an over-pressured pipe system, she managed to admire the flicker of nearby planets, the curving light that arced from the local sun around the more solid stellar bodies.
She groaned, at least two empty tissue boxes were half ripped open on the nearby table, she would forever swear that they were designed to be impossible to open when one was sick and tired. In fact, she was eyeing the last tissue- half pulled from the second box-, draped over the corner of the box. It was just as crumpled as the cardboard.
Where she would find another box, she had no clue. Pom-pom had quickly become scarce at the mere mention of a sickness aboard. The only two who didn’t seem to treat her like the plague itself were Mr. Yang and Stelle.
Welt had given her a pitying and understanding glance, nodding at her grumbled complaints while innocently shuffling his scarf to cover his lower nose while claiming it was cold and he was trying to read, instead of the obvious. Stelle had… well, for all her funny qualities, no sense of hygiene. Stelle didn’t care because she likely hadn’t ever fallen ill much, and seemed to lack any care for her poor, poor immune system. It must be a hellish workplace.
March mustered her strength to quickly sit upright, leaning forward to snatch at the tissue- she sneezed before managing to grab it.
She stared flatly at the distant opposite wall, unimpressed and unenthused as she wiped her freezing nose. March let herself fall backwards into the chair again, a small haze of dust kicked up as her arms thumped onto the chair’s side rests.
“Oh for- “
She sneezed again, twice more after that. The snap of her head felt like her skull was made of a bent gong and being used for percussion performance, this also caused her to rock forward in place- and now she was coughing. March gave up, wiping at the offending nose with her left cuff, quickly rolling the unclean edge up in a vain attempt to not leave it against her bare arm.
Being sick is, without argument, unfun. Especially when everyone apart from the germ-phobic conductor skittle off to some stupid planet instead of- of- being helpful? Jeez.
March was left leaned up to the glass again. Her throat was starting to seriously ache, not sandpaper but certainly something related to a desert. And it was cold, she didn’t exactly know if that was because she was sick or because it was actually chilly. In fact, she could’ve sworn it had become colder since her bout of sneezing and subsequent coughing.
A faint bubbling sound reached her ringing ears. Himeko must be- hang on just a minute.
She couldn’t see the small kitchenet from her awkwardly wedged in chair, distance and the plants in the room obscuring most of her vision aside from the centre of the long hall. March called out blearily.
“Who-Who’s putting the kettle on?”
Silence. Was it dim in the Express today? Wasn’t usually dim for any reason- the lights had flickered before, but never become lower before- she must be starting to lose it a little. She did feel slightly faint, not like fainting but certainly out of the moment.
Stop stressing… … … ♭
It took a long moment to register the thought, longer still to put her whisked mind to use and more properly wake up from her half haze.
“… Eve?”
Nothing. March leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling and whispering to herself.
“This is crazy, I’m crazy. I have some- super fever or something! I’ll wake up with Himeko leaning over the medical cot and telling me that I was dreaming this whole thing up.”
The sound of boiling water didn’t fade. Eventually a faint click and the calm slosh of poured liquid filling a cup, the splunking sound of a tea infuser being dunked in.
Her cold addled brain managed to pick out the scent of peppermint, somehow.
The situation in her eyes- no, that’s not how being alive works- the room, the room was becoming less distinct as the seconds crawled by. Truly, as soon as one gets sick, time itself begins to appreciate their surroundings instead of just hurrying along to better times.
One set of footsteps click across the star bathed floor, and although they must have passed right ahead of March, she sees nothing of them. She leans back in the chair, tilting her head to rest on the lip of the cushion in an attempt to follow the sounds’ progression behind her by ear.
The steps stop just behind and to her left.
A teacup clinks loudly in the sudden quiet, real ceramic contacting the wooden arm rest. Painted along the rim are familiarly shaded petals captured in ink as if being swirled through the air, pinks and blues all too close to her own. No doubt left in her mind, though- March did wonder,,, does a somewhat strong cold really constitute an Emenator.
Maybe not, but maybe I couldn’t just watch idly? ♭
She smiled, just a little. Leaning forward as to glance around the chair at Evernight. Her diminished voice was no less vibrant in tone.
“You’re right here, why are you thinking at us instead of talking?”
Evernight wasn’t much changed, the same dress. But she had forsaken the flower in her hair and the one over the right side of her collar- which was untucked. The only aspect of her that seemed to follow this pattern of disarray were the frayed ends of her hair.
“Your throat isn’t faring well, I pose the opposite question for you- my Dear-, why not take the easier option?”
March blinked at the endearment, tilting her head. It wasn’t uncommon from Evernight, but it lacked her usual inflection now. It wasn’t a flattened, playful drawl. Almost concerned, with only her to witness it no less.
“I- er- I don’t think it’s first nature for me-, are you alright?”
Evernight took her own que to blink, tilting her own head, considering.
“Yes. Though, given the… interconnection of our ‘situation’, would it not be expected I too be effected?”
She raised an eyebrow at Evernight’s body language, crushing the urge to point fun at the mirror copy of her own movement.
“I guess… but- you’re,, you? Can’t you just manifest not-messy?- hey- how are you even here? Let alone making tea~”
“Can’t you just enjoy my hospitality?~ ♭”
March laughed meekly, cradling the cup of tea in her freezing digits, all the while examining Evernight’s frayed appearance, it was made harder with the slight smile and flat stare pointing down at her.
“You’re hardly the host here- aren’t I the one with an entry ticket?”
“I have a ticket too, dear~ ♭”
One red cuffed hand dropped a sugar lump into her held tea without prompt.
“Since when- ? Thank you?”
Evernight smiled more genuinely, it wasn’t unusual in all honesty- at least, not to March-- Immediately interrupted by a shrill shout from the only other person aboard.
“Both of them!?”
One shocked conductor, one still processing March, and one unamused anomaly.