Archive of Our Own

“No, you fool--- Listen!” The man, Gopher Wood, snapped. “It’s a necessity for this to be carried out exactly as we’ve planned. Do you hear me, you imbecile? No distractions. If he’s with someone…? Just take them too! Even if they’re the most boring person alive, we cannot have any witnesses--- and even the most unambitious people still have some dreams, don’t they?”

The Galaxy Ranger couldn’t see who that old geezer was talking to. He might’ve been on the phone, actually, but it mattered little--- all that actually mattered was… well, the matter which they were talking about.

He’d been suspicious of Penacony for a couple a' system years, back when one of his old partn’rs got a lead to some kinda disappearances case. Ended up not gettin’ resolved,  and his partn’r got distracted by somethin' else.

Bigger fish to fry, in a Galaxy Ranger’s life. ‘Sides, only a couple of people were connected t’ the case at all, and that was over a couple of decades.

But now he was on Penacony anyways for somethin' that wasn’t going so fast, so he might as well close another case.

At first, one a’ the only leads he got was some case down yonder at some genius’s pad, a space station. Ended up being unconnected, but then he found out by pure co-inky-dink that one of Penacony’s families were involved.

Not even some grunts hailing from nowhere special, no-sir-ee, the people involved were full-on family heads! Wild things out there, he’d say.

Apparently, the families in Penacony had been ‘dissapearing’ people to fuel their dream…or something. He wasn’t too sure. All he knew was that they needed people who dreamed big, and they prob’ly killed ‘em.

Which meant they were baddies, and he was s’posed to fight the baddies or somethin'--- pretty sure it was in his job description or whatever--- which meant that he had to fix the situation. Or try to.

Now, usually, he’d just rush in guns blazin’, but this was their turf, so he had to play by their rules if he didn’t have any backup. He prob’lly coulda called in that kid, Rappa, but he had other plans that were more… subtle.

Not to mention, the walls have eyes and ears… or somethin’, and who knows if the other family heads were involved.

He took out his phone to text a certain person t’ ask where she was, and as he got the reply and went to stop that recordin’ and make like a tree, he heard one last bit a’ the conversation between Gopher Wood and whatever grunt.

“Yes, yes, just to confirm--- the target is a man named Anaxagoras. He’s from Amphoreus, and since they just got opened up to the world by the Astral Express on their stop right after the previous Charmony Festival, some four or less years ago, he probably won’t be missed… at least,  not by anyone with any actual power over us, ha.”

So, Anaxa…gorgeous, or somethin’. Good t’ know.

That gopher can’t’ve planned this that much, probably. Not like it’s urgent to get this Anaxagorgeuos to safety right now or anythin’.

(Oh how wrong he was. If only he’d called Rappa immediately and arranged for a raid of this fucker’s place.)

----

“Haha! Yeah, I wonder… oh, oh! Do you think they call eachother petnames?”

“Hmmm… brother wasn’t always the type for nicknames, but then again… oh, I don’t know! He hasn’t called me a nickname since just after we were adopted into the Oak Family, but he’d probably be less formal with Anaxa, since there’s less pretenses… Is Anaxa the type for nicknames? Or petnames,” Robin added the last bit more as an afterthought than anything. Nicknames and petnames were basically the same in the context of their conversation.

Hyacine hmm ed, swirling around her strawberry milk tea boba--- when Robin had found out that she hadn’t had boba before (reasonable, she supposed, since Amphoreus had no plants for it or trade to import it), she’d absolutely insisted on treating her to some.

Hyacine found she was quite liking the flavour that she’d picked out, to her great happiness and relief--- it would be so awkward if she got one she didn’t like!

“Anaxa… no, not really..? I mean, he sometimes shortens my name whenever he’s shouting across the house, but that’s really just to be more understandable, I think…. Oh! Does calling someone ‘pathetic’ and ‘moron’ count? Because he’s done that more times than I can remember.”

“Hmm. I guess it counts, yeah. So… he’s like a… ‘tsundere’? Did I use that right?”

Hyacine laughed. “I wouldn’t know… Amphoreus has been trapped in the time loop for so long that those planets that language is from were probably never in our knowledge before the time loop started.”

“Hmmm… do you think I could ask Ms. Acheron? I know that the terminology used was probably from a subculture she wasn’t familiar with, but… maybe it has a basic meaning?”

Robin laughed lightly as she spoke--- and a couple passerby turned their heads, not only surprised to see the intergalactic celebrity at a simple boba tea place, but also because of the alluring halovian nature of her voice.

“Probably? I don’t know… on another topic, actually, hehe…” Hyacine trailed off, seemingly not sure how to phrase whatever teasing words she was going to direct to the absent couple. Robin hummed, lightly prompting her for an answer. “I wonder low long it’ll take for them to tie the knot?”

Robin choked on her taro boba tea, and Hyacine reached over to thump her on the back, but she waved it off. “No, no, I’m alright! Haha--- but I suppose its true! They’re quite taken for one another, those two. Though, Mr. Gopher Wood… is resistant to most forms of personal relationships that Sunday and myself may be able to cultivate, but he… well, Sunday probably isn’t planning to invite him anyways, at this point.”

Robin sighed, taking another sip from her drink. “He’s… been going off the deep end. Mr. Gopher Wood, I mean. He’s not… well. Maybe he’s always been like this, but I--- we--- were just… too blind to see it. A-ah, but anyways!” She was quick to try and distract from the downer topic, but faltered when she realized she didn’t have anything else to bring up. It didn’t much matter, though, because someone was coming up to the table with one for her.

“Ladies, howdy. I got somethin’ I think y’all would want to hear about.”

As the two looked up their new visitor, Robin sighed. This seemed like something big--- and probably not good, either. She called the waiter over for more drinks for the two women, and took a shot in the dark at what Boothill might like, and just as Boothill began to explain the un-public-friendly context, the waiter arrived with the new drinks in tow.

“Mr. Boothill--- sorry to interrupt, but I’m guessing… that the public shouldn’t be part of this.” Boothill seemed to look around, surprised at the sheer amount of heads turned towards them.

Well, not only am I attracting a lot of attention (and doesn’t that suck! She just wants to hang out with her brother’s-lover’s kind assistant, but there were people sneaking up to them and taking photos that they’d sell to every creep out there!) , but Hyacine is clearly from Amphoreus, so given the whole mystery about it that really hasn't died down in the past few years since it opened up... and it’s not like Boothill blends into the Penacony crowd especially well, either. I suppose this would’ve been inevitable.

“I… have a place that I think we can go--- or, if Hyacine can pass as twenty, that is,” Robin spoke carefully, beginning to gather up hers and Boothill’s drinks (Hyacine had already taken her new drink thankfully). “I’m almost twenty-two! Really, just because I’m a bit short…”

“Anyways… come with me. I’m sure Siobhan wouldn’t mind lending out the party room to us… it’s soundproof, and it’s probably the only place in the whole of Penacony that doesn’t have ears in the walls. The Families turn a blind eye to backrooms in bars--- it usually ends up violating either an individual’s right to privacy or public indecency.”

“Aight, I’m game for it if y’all are.” Hyacine quickly agreed and stood, tucking in her chair as she went. “Lead the way, please!”

“Ah—just let me call my brother, first, to tell him where I’m going? I don’t want him to worry, and he’s rather anxious over these sorts of things.” Robin took out her phone in front of the two of them, and navigated easily to Sunday’s contact, as if muscle memory, before pressing Call.

The group listened as the calling sound rang out for almost half a minute, before an automated voice said, “ We’re sorry. This number is not currently available…”

“Yikers. He outta data, or?” Robin sighed, “Maybe he’s in a crowded place, but he should have priority over any other tourists… there are at least some benefits to being the heir apparent to the Oak Family.”

She swiped out of the call screen, navigating instead to her messages to text him that she’d be visiting Siobhan’s place—only for it not to be delivered. “Hot damn, don’t texts usually work even when calls don’t? Must be some crowded place.”

“Yeah, I guess… still, he’s going to probably be worried. At least I can say that I tried… but it’s more so that he’s going to get so worried, he won’t even be upset with me if I tell him I tried.”

“Well, anywho. The guy those snobs were targettin’ was someone named… uh… some darn long name, barely ‘member it. They said to take anyone who’s with ‘em, too. Any a’ you fine ladies know some fella named… uh, Anaxagorgeous?”

Hyacine, who thankfully hadn’t been drinking her milk tea, gasped. “Anaxagor… do you mean Anaxagoras?”

“Well hot damn, yeah, I think that might be the one they were talkin’ about. Yeah, they said to take him an’ anyone he’s with.”

Robin trembled. “He… Anaxa is…”

“Huh? You know him well enough for nicknames?” Boothill lowered his voice as he continued, “Aw fudge---”

“He’s on a date with my brother. Anaxa. He--- oh, Xipe…”

Boothill stopped in his tracks.

“Well, son of a mother fudger. That can’t be good.”

-----

“What do you think that man does for a living?” Sunday posed. He and Anaxa had been people-watching for some time now, as they walked through the beautiful streest of the Golden Hour.

“Given that fashion style? Finances. Perhaps from the IPC, perhaps not--- what, you can’t tell?” Anaxa replied, though not with any malice.

They’d only really been on a few actual dates--- for the past months they’d been seeing each other, the standard was movie nights, and sometimes when Robin or Hyacine, or sometimes both, wanted to join in, they’d prepare, in the morning that day, a fondue fountain. Just to make it a little more fun, a little more special.

“I don’t make a habit of judging people, you know…” Anaxa couldn’t hold back a laugh, barking it out loudly, at that denial. “ Really , now? So that man at the supermarket when we were there for crepe supplies, last time, when Hyacine and Robin made the pillow fort? Surely the Sunday of the Oak Family wasn’t judging him by that obscenely tall top hat? You mean to say that you weren’t questioning his wardrobe?”

“Well, that was an exception---” Sunday tried to deny it again, but he broke off and just smiled, holding back a soft laugh.

“In any case, regardless of whether or not you are one to judge--- and don’t try to deny it again , you know you are, you buffoon!” Sunday let the soft laugh escape, before he brushed his hand against Anaxa’s once, then a second time, before taking it in his own, and swinging it merrily.

“What is with you,” He said, more a statement than a question, and held Sunday’s hand to a mature amount of swinging between them, before going the full mile and intertwining their fingers.

Sunday’s breath stuttered, and when Anaxa looked over, he saw that the halovian was facing away from him, his wings covering his mouth and a slight blush visible where they weren’t covered by the wings.

“Really? That flusters you so much? I should have known better--- you’re such a coward!” He exclaimed, but he still took their walking to a stop and hooked a finger into Sunday’s collar, pulling the man closer and holding his face.

Sunday’s arms went, as they always did, around Anaxa’s midsection, and when he noticed what Anaxa was doing, he roughly shoved his head out of the scholar’s hold and into the area between said scholar’s neck and shoulder. “Anaxagoras! Really, do you have to--- augh!”

Anaxa returned the embrace, and pressed a light kiss to the top of Sunday’s head, to which the halovian only delved closer to Anaxa and his wings clutched more forcefully to the sides of his mouth. “You’re so ridiculous… You’re one of few people who can just call me Anaxa, you know. I don’t care.”

And yet his former students got all boisterous the last time I saw them, when I used ‘Anaxa’ without being told off…

Sunday grumbles into Anaxa’s neck, and the man can’t help but mess with Sunday’s hair--- it’s rather fluffy, and he quite enjoys being allowed to ruffle it up… virtually whenever he wants. Sunday once asked him to braid it, and it had been such a peaceful time… until Hyacine had knocked on his hotel room door to borrow some ingredients and immediately began to tease the two of them.

Anaxa takes and step backwards and joins their hands together again, as they face one other--- both of their hands, this time. “Alright, alright--- we can continue in a moment… I think we’re both getting hungry, anyways. Just…” Sunday looks back up from the ground and his wings go partially back to where they’d been usually.

“One more thing?” Sunday looks a little further up at that, about to ask what, as Anaxa knew he would, and Anaxa immediately dives forward to connect their mouths. “ Mmph! ”

Anaxa withdraws after just a moment, his eyes crinkled up and on the verge of laughter. “You’re so easily flustered--- it’s rather pathetic.”  When he lets go of one of Sunday’s hands so that they can continue walking, it finds itself in Sunday’s jacket, and Sunday sighs. “ You’re impossible.”

Anaxa allows himself to tuck a loose strand of Sunday’s hair in, only flustering the man more, before le begins lightly humming a tune that Hyacine had gotten stuck into his head.

Sunday leads the two of them down a winding route around Penacony, but eventually they do stop at a place— that’s advertising their chicken wings right on the front banner.

“I was aware that many birds occasionally eat their offspring, but Sunday, as a sophisticated, civilized intelligent being, I assumed---” Before Anaxa can go on with his teasing, which Sunday has likely already heard in some form repeated many a time over his life, Sunday shoves a gloved hand over Anaxa’s mouth to shut him up.

Anaxa toys for a good moment with licking the hand, but that would be obscenely unsanitary and might just weird out the single man who can tolerate him for hours and hours on end, so he ultimately puts the idea to rest, and allows Sunday to drag him along by the hand and order for the both of them.

Anaxa, of course, finds himself teasing Sunday again about the chicken wings as they continue their long walk through the Golden Hour, and by the fifteenth cannibalism-related remark, Sunday has probably managed to at least partially tune him out, so he stops--- much to Sunday’s relief.

Eventually, they are done with the chicken wings (Anaxa is responsible for only one or two; he asks Sunday if he is really that eager to consume his brethren and gets his nose pinched in return), and Sunday throws out the bucket with ease, and they both wipe their hands on some napkins they taken from the chicken wing place.

Sunday somehow finds the courage to reach and arm around Anaxa and have them continue walking in some bizarre sort of side-hug, which Anaxa returns after a moment.

“Hmm? Finally taking the initiative, about time,” Anaxa says briefly resting his head on top of Sunday’s shoulder before immediately realizing how uncomfortable it is to walk like that and bringing his head back up.

“I’m only a little chilly, that’s all.” Anaxa stares him in the eyes skeptically until he nearly runs into a pole, and then focuses back on the road. “Damn pole--- why is Penacony’s architecture so obtrusive and unorganized? Is it some reflection of the Family governing it, perhaps?”

“Shush, you. Always so contrarian. Can’t you ever coexist harmoniously?”

“Of course you’d say that, considering the pedestal you place that Harmony of yours on. Can’t you see that it is no different from any of us?”

“Can’t you allow yourself a moment of rest? I saw you grading those papers, back in your hotel room--- aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?” It is, perhaps, something that would make Gopher Wood clutch his pearls, the child he groomed raised to be so obedient scolding someone at all harshly, even if it is actually rather softly.

Gopher Wood can rest easy, though, because no other pedestrian is close enough to catch what they’re saying, and Anaxa seems to have been distracted by something in a shop window. “Sorry, I--- speak louder, you’re so quiet! I could hardly tell what you were saying.”

Sunday levels Anaxa with an unimpressed look at the blatant misdirection, but he repeats himself without any further remarks. “Simply that you should treat a vacation as a vacation , and not spend time grading students’ essays and whatever other assignments you had on your desk. If nothing else, at least grade them somewhere where you’re actually interacting with the world around you--- didn’t you all come to see the sights?”

Anaxa shakes his head, “it’s nothing much. Only a couple more--- nothing more than another hour--- and I won’t have anything I could possibly do instead of… ugh, socialize. But thank you for that grand speech of yours.”

“It was that long,” was it? “Hmm.” Sunday sees some chairs and tables out at the park just up ahead, and he quickens his pace slightly, something than Anaxa follows suit it doing and spares no energy to complain about. “Really, isn’t the whole point of vacation to… slow down, see the sights, etcetera etcetera, other inspirational things? And yet you’re forcing me to speed up, how hypocritical.”

Once they reach the benches, Sunday grabs Anaxa lightly just above the elbows and guides him into sitting on one, facing opposite the way they came. “What are you even doing?”

“Nothing, nothing! Just… close your eyes and wait for… ninety seconds, yes, that’ll do. I’m going to do something, just don’t--- don’t peek! It’s a surprise!” Anaxa sighs, but closes his eyes and starts anyways. “Fine then. One… two…”

He hears slightly heeled boots rush of in the way they came, and wonders what idiocy that buffoon would get up to this time.

-----

67…68…69…

He hears Sunday approach him again, but he keeps his eyes closed. Sunday said ninety seconds, after all.

“I’m back!” He seems a bit out of breath, and Anaxa wonders how far back he must’ve run. “You can open your eyes now, Anaxag--- ahem, Anaxa.”

“You said ninety seconds, did you not? I’ll be waiting for ninety seconds.” Anaxa hears something along the lines of ugh and you’re and impossible man , but he ignores it, and counts for about ten more seconds, before opening his eyes. “90.”

Sunday immediately shoves something into his face, and he’s so surprised that he can’t tell what it even is at first, except for the squishy feeling. And then he pulls it down onto his lap, and inhales surprisedly.

“Is this…?”

“I… I saw you looking at it in the window a few minutes ago, and considering what you told me about your sister, I just thought… ah, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to---  if you’d rather not have it then that’s---.” Sunday doesn’t get the chance to finish whatever he’s saying, because Anaxa pushes the plushie off to the side and grabs Sunday by the front of his coat, pulling him down into and hug.

“I--- thank you. It’s very thoughtful.” Sunday chuckles slightly, and readjusts himself before relaxing into Anaxa’s hold. “You’re welcome.”

-----

They end up just sitting there, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, for a few peaceful minutes.

Eventually, though, they do have to get up and continue their date--- they’ve looped all the way around the Golden Hour, and once they cross the bridge up ahead, they’ll be just about where they started, and then they can go back to the hotel room and continue just… cuddling.

“How did you even get it so quickly? It was quite a ways back, and I saw quite the line inside the store.” Anaxa is the first one to break their silence, having walked most of the way from the bench to the base of the bridge in almost total silence, and certainly with no actual words.

“Ah… it has a rather simple answer, I’m afraid. I’m the heir apparent to the Oak Family, and well known in my own right. Quite a few people offered me their places in line, and the cashier just accepted that I was in a rush and billed it to the Family.”

“So, nepotism?”

“…Essentially, yes.”

As they step up onto the bridge, Sunday takes note of all of the various locks fastened to the sides of the railing. “Such a shame we didn’t bring a lock of our own. It’s quite common for couples have their names engraved on one, then fasten it to the railing and throw away the key. I’d have loved to partake in the tradition.”

Anaxa’s hand comes up to card through Sunday’s hair… rather awkwardly, in fact, considering the two are still walking (if at a snail’s pace). “There’s always tomorrow. There’s no rush; we have all the time in the world to leave our mark on it, you buffoon.”

“Ah, I suppose.”

“Don’t the locks violate some sort of code, though? I’d imagine that they’d be classified as something like vandalism or graffiti--- is the great Sunday of the Oak Family wanting to commit a crime ?”

“No, no--- it’s endorsed… at least partially, by the Family. And it’s not like there’s a lack of room, or that the bridge might need to support extra weight; it’s a dream, you needn’t explain everything away with logic. This bridge used to just be the length of a car, or so I’ve heard.”

“ Really ? How fascinating. Tell me more?”

The two stop at the peak of the bridge, and Anaxa follows Sunday’s gaze upwards. “The stars are fake, why are you directing your gaze towards them?”

“Simply because it’s fake doesn’t mean it can’t still be a beautiful sight. That’s another common practice on this bridge; stargazing and looking at the views bordering the creek it crosses. Though… I admit that the real stars are far more beautiful, if only because of what they stand for; a world beyond our homes, ever-reaching… A truly entrancing thought.”

Anaxa pulled Sunday just a bit closer to him, and then rested his head on the halovian’s shoulder. “Careful now; you’re almost sounding like that Knight of Beauty, Argenti, or whatever his name was.”

Sunday laughed airily, and the two soon found themselves walking again, almost at the start. “There’s so many alleyways, whatever are they for?” Anaxa inquired.

“I’m not too sure myself… though I’d wager aesthetics, more than anything. After all, garbage is disposed of remotely, and they don’t have much other practical use as opposed to a typical stairwell.”

“All of you Penaconians, so extra…” Anaxa paced forth rather brazenly, and raised his arms at either side like a mad scientist. “Is this aesthetically pleasing to you, buffoon?”

Sunday opens his mouth for a cheeky reply about how a certain someone definitely was, but it clicks closed as a shiver goes down his back.

The mood, or vibe , if you will, immediately shifts.

There’s someone watching me… watching us .

He looks covertly to this left, and sees nothing, but on his right, he sees some person dressed suspiciously slinking forward. He hears footsteps behind himself, and Anaxa stiffens as if he hears the same.

All of a sudden, a rift opens up behind Anaxa. What? Those are only supposed to be used by the Family, to transport festival items and large, inconvienient furnishing. No one has access to it outside of the family. What’s going---

His thoughts are cut off, and he sees someone undistinguishable shove Anaxa right into the rift. His eyes widen, and he leaps forward to grab at Anaxa’s hand---

And then they’re both falling down

down

down

down

and he looks further down

and he sees a large vat

of boiling water.

-----

“Are—are you sure this person will help? I mean, you literally just said that she’s one of the higher-ups at the IPC, and they actually tried to colonise Amphoreus!?” Hyacine half-spoke normally, half-shouted at Robin as they ran to where the IPC higher-up in question had last been seen. Boothill followed closely behind at a (relatively, for him) leisurely pace.

“It’s our only choice! I don’t care if Penacony has to sell out—and sure, maybe that’s selfish of me! But for my brother--- and for yours--- it’s worth it to put ourselves in their debt!”

Robin’s heels click-clacked on the ground as she ran, and she silently thanked the Aeons for all of the fun she’d had pretending to be that one comic book character, Cat Woman (or something?) as a child, because otherwise she’d have probably already twisted her ankle and broken it on the way to where they had just arrived.

Hyacine had the messiest stop, skidding a little and almost tripping back over herself, and she looked up sheepishly--- before remembering the seriousness of the situation and immediately losing all embarrassment. There are more important things than your pride, Hyacine.

There was a rather beautiful lady in front of them, who seemed to have been calmly eating before the trio had arrived to rain on her parade. Her pet chittered away at her side in surprise and probably fear, and the woman reached out to stroke its head in reassurance.

Hyacine had seen her likeness before--- this woman was Topaz, a dept collector and Stoneheart of the IPC.

Little Grayie--- who had only been on two actual expeditions before Amphoreus--- had happily told her stories of the Astral Express’s various exploits, and having been so experienced, they could remember each adventure with clarity that Dan Heng couldn’t manage.

Topaz of the Ten Stonehearts was, according to Little Grayie, the kindest of them all… She was a bit skeptical of that, herself, considering she tried to con a planet into being her company’s property, but apparently the others were known for much more brutal approaches, and this Topaz hadn’t actually put in her all to taking ownership of Belobog.

The woman herself finally cleared her throat and spoke after a long moment of staring between the four (well, five if you counted Topaz’s pet, who was such a cute thing! Hyacine was almost tempted to ask to pet it. Almost).

“So, is there something you need, or…?” Robin immediately took a deep breath to calm herself, before making her way around Topaz’s table--- Topaz’s pet sniffed at her curiously--- and, to both of her companions’ surprise, fell down onto her knees in a position to beg.

Topaz seemed shocked by this turn of events as well, as she choked on the tea she had been sipping just a moment ago.

“My--- my brother’s --- and his lover’s --- lives are in danger. Normally people can’t… die, in the Sweet Dream. But when the Family themselves are involved…”

Robin broke off with a shudder, perhaps with a slight sob, and then forced herself to continue.

“We need--- we need help to save them, and you…”

Robin hazarded a glance upward, meeting the eyes of the absolutely flabbergasted Topaz who seemed to be doing a poor job at putting a cold and calculated mask on.

“You… may just be our only viable option for help, Lady Topaz.”

-----

Numby sniffed at the air. These foolish humans and their ignorant ways! If only this young lady was bowing to me, the rightful God! But she is bowing to my human servant, who dutifully feeds and nurtures me. Alas, some of this mortal world are only destined for ignorance.

-----

Everything is scorching cold for just a second--- like when you run a hand under very hot water as you fill up a bathtub, and then it feels cold at first.

After that second has passed, the chilling relief is no more.

The heat rips at Sunday’s skin--- he tries , he tries so hard--- to shove his arms through the water--- to get to Anaxa--- Sunday doesn’t know how to swim--- but what does that even matter ---!

what does that even matter.

He falls onto his knees, on cold, hard tile, and he swears his knees are scraped, but he doesn’t care, because his arms are burning , and its all he can feel , and even if it isn’t happening anymore he feels the phantom pains ---

He hears Gopher Wood speak behind him.

He turns to his father, because Gopher Wood is a selfish, narcissistic, self-absorbed piece of shit, but he just fell into a vat of boiling water, and damn it all he’s scared out of his Aeons-damned mind--- !

When he sees Gopher Wood, though, he isn’t all there. The man is fading in and out, and after a moment of trying to focus on it, so is his voice. He’s talking to someone who isn’t there, and he’s faced away from Sunday.

“And isn’t that just swell! One person, just every couple system decades, to support an entire dream, a paradise for millions--- nay, billions! Well--- yes, yes, perhaps more frequently if the population of the Sweet Dream increases to that extent, but--- ”

The closest thing he has to a father disappears in a burst of flame, and Sunday, about to reach out, about to grab his attention, has to jump back to avoid getting licked by the fire.

He hears Gopher Wood again, behind him, further away. “It’s increased the demanded frequency to two or three times every system decade. That said, we’ve managed to slow it down and increase the quality, using this wonderful method! These sacrifices for the greater good—they enter the fuel pit unclean, and they burn up just a little of the Sweet Dream with them, and they burn out fast, all due to their damned spottedness… none of them truly believe in paradise! But to cleanse them all--- oh, it’s so easy, it’s so simple! How do you cleanse contaminated water?”

His last question echoes a bit, and the vestige of him disappears, burning, from Sunday’s sight. He looks around, wondering if he’ll show up again, but to his surprise, it isn’t Gopher Wood that shows up.

“No--- no, no, you have to be lying! Topaz, you liar! I refuse to believe it! That--- that sad, deformed sack of meat in the autopsy room is nothing but a fake! My brother can’t be--- he can’t be---!”

The vestige of Robin falls to her knees and cradles her head, sobbing, and Sunday reaches out again, like a fool, but that’s his sister, and she seems to be distressed about something, though he can’t quite parse what it is…

“…Sunday?”

He spins, and comes face to face with Anaxa, looking slightly down towards him. “Anaxa…?” He breaths out, and when Anaxa reaches out, he grabs at the front of his coat and pulls the two of them together. “ Sun—su--- s--- ,” he gasps, and recoils in apparent pain at something, some kind of burn, maybe? , “I’m not--- dove, I’m not long for this world---”

Sunday doesn’t process the words, and pulls Anaxa impossibly closer still. “Anaxa, where are we? What’s going---”

Anaxa cradles his head once more, and presses a kiss to the top of it. “Anaxa, what’s happening? Anaxa---” He chokes in agony and bites into his sleeve as the one he was embracing--- the man he loved--- bursts into flames.

He doesn’t bother backing off, doesn’t bother jumping away, and it’s the horror that will haunt him for the rest of his life--- however short that time may be--- when he finds that before the ashes fly away, his beloved is limp, disfigured, dead weight resting on him.

The sudden weight shoved against him forces him down to the ground, and he finds himself hyperventilating in what looks to be a hotel lobby--- except there is only one door, and a single child manning it.

He drags himself up, swearing and stumbling, but the bellboy at the exit door seems to see nothing odd in it. He makes his way over there slowly, and he reads the nametag--- Mikhael --- and forces out a sentence, after a sob.

“Mik-Mikhael, is it? What’s going---”

“I’m afraid I don’t know either.” The boy cuts through his words like he doesn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, like he’s used to it. “I’ve been here for a while. I’m supposed to be the one to tell you goodbye, and to show you out.”

He does as he says he will, and opens the door, curtsying politely and Sunday ambles past. And then--- and then the situation comes back to him.

The suspicious people. The rift.

The date with Anaxa immediately before. Robin sprucing him up so that he’d look his very best, as if Anaxa would care otherwise.

Falling. The boiling vat.

“How do you cleanse contaminated water?”

He hears Gopher Wood’s voice again, and laughs. “That’s a silly question, Father…

You boil it.”