voidtreckernet | Video; Afternoon Catfish Day 23

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Video; Afternoon Catfish Day 23

Good afternoon, Voidtreckers. If I haven't met you yet, I'm Tony Stark. I have a few matters to discuss with all of you.

For those who are new to this train, please fill out the questionnaire that was attached to each ICP in the 'welcome packet'. Yes, these answers are kept strictly confidential and the only purpose for me collecting them is to find some kind of pattern in being brought here. For those who have been here longer, please check if you've completed all the questions as I've added a few. If this irritates you, blame Peter Parker.

Anyway, as requested, I'm going to be giving the Train Council a debriefing on my findings so far in the next few days. Spoiler alert, I've found very little patterns.

For anyone interested, I'll be posting a list of currently offered classes and at what time per week on the door going into the dining carriage. As of right now, there are yoga classes every morning at 8:30, people offering various types of sparring lessons, and I'll be starting school with a class on math and a class on science later this week. If you're interested, let me know so I can give you a pre-class test to see where your current level is.

Does anyone garden? I've been working on an update ventilation system since we have kids on the train and those who potential have compromised breathing. It occurred to me, we might benefit greatly if we started to add small gardens throughout the train. I'll create proper lighting. If someone can build some gardening boxes, that would also be appreciated. As of now I have a list of the items in the kitchen that can be planted for those who would enjoy such activities.

Lastly, is the damn book-demon idiot still occupying and being a pain in the ass in the garden carriage? You've got one hour to cut that out.

Feanor, come find me. We need to talk.

[ooc- The bold is OOC so people can skim this easier.]

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"Clearly, you don't know my wife. She has no tolerance for unjust."

Fëanor laughs but there's no joy in that. It's dark and bitter. A testament to so many fights but also a sign of knowledge. For the fruit of knowledge is so often bitter when one looks at one's past and for the first time sees all the mistakes made. Sees in the hard light of truth all the grand deeds and prideful words for what they really were.

"It is not self-hatred. It's awareness. I know what I did. I wouldn't have forgiven myself after that but then she is a lot kinder than I. Maybe, indeed, I'm not giving her enough credit. She did fight for me when all others had a long-time cave in or given up. She tried but had to admit defeat or fall with me. I'm glad that she decided to stay behind. Spared her at least the suffering I brought upon the rest of my family."

For all hatred, and grief and fury, how blind and deaf he was, he never wanted them to suffer.

He won't argue that point. It wasn't as cut and dry as that statement and they both knew it. Pepper was also an advocate of justice, but for whatever reason, she kept finding a reason to forgive him.

"What has she said specifically?" He wasn't sure which way to work this since he knew Feanor had gone terrible wrongs- just as Tony had. He was betting she was wanting peace of some kind but Feanor was right, he didn't know the woman. Did she know the guilt the man now suffered with?

Specifically? Now that he thinks of it. Nothing specifically. She was wary but she had all the right to be.

"Hm" is his whole response as the conversation replays in his mind and he finds it, to his astonishement, overwhelmingly ... positive. Cautious but positive.

"Well, she said she'd let me try," he adds.

That does counter what he said a moment ago so maybe Tony is not really wrong on that self-hatred. Though, no, he is wrong. It's nothing that easy. Fëanor is angry at himself but hatred it is not. More regret that he did not see through the deception.

“What a horrible woman! She wants you to try? The audacity! Feanor, you’re right. We must boot her off the very next stop.” His lip curled at one end watching his friend, hoping for a smile or at the very least, an eye roll. “You know there are times when you’re so verbose I’m convinced if I had an iron muzzle it wouldn’t stop you from talking. Now that I’m interested, you’re being coy. Talk to me. Despite my reputation, I really do know how to listen.”

He refilled Feanor’s drink. Alright, so maybe it wasn’t a bribe so much as a sign of friendship. He wouldn’t be sharing the good stuff with just anyone. “What can I do to help?”

Not an eye roll or a smile but a murderous glare is what Tony gets for his attempt to lighten the mood. For a long second before Fëanor realises that Tony is far from serious. Only then he does indeed smile a little. He raises his freshly refilled cup to his friend in a silent toast as acknowledgment.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to boot me off. My nephew surely does," he admits.

Did he mention his situation is even more complicated? He probably didn't. Fëanor sinks in his chair, staring into his glass for a moment. Talk. Eh, there is a lot to say, and a lot of ways in which he could say it. Tales has been told and songs sang about what he did. Not exactly flattering most of them. None of them is what he wants to say.

"I wish you've met the Maiar, Tony." Is what he says when he finally decides to break the silence.

"If the Valar are as those gods from your old stories, then the Maiar are their servants. Like, for a want of better comparison, angels. And they are more pleasant folk than the Powers. A lot more pleasant. Not all of them, of course. There was Maia of Aule I especially detested. Shifty fellow. Beautiful but somehow... hollow. Pity, he was a good smith. Nay, not even good, marvelous, a prodigy. Everyone expected I'd love him and yet I somehow could not stand him. Ah, and there’s the mighty herald of Manwe, pompous prick but extremely good with a sword. He hated my guts but still was willing to teach me. So I cannot say a bad word about him. Most of them are fine. You may want to ask Kano abut Osse one day."

He takes a sip from his cup and smiles to his memories. Those were the good times. Pity they were so short.

"So there was one Maia, interesting fellow, pyrotechnics specialist. You would have liked him. I know I did. He had this habit of asking questions. Not your usual questions, mind you. The deviously simple little questions. Of the kind that would bore into your mind and haunt you for years. You’d never expect one. You'd be talking about this or that. Something completely unrelated and then he’d just look at you with a gleam in his eye, wink and ask, or he'd say something.

So he said to me once Feanaro, you need to talk. I do talk, I said. Some say I talk too much. He just shook his head, clicked his tongue and said No, no, no. Not lecture, talk. I just laughed then. I thought nothing of it but I know now, he was right. I don’t talk. I act before I think."

He looks up and adds "And I don’t listen." Then he looks away again.

"I was always at odds with my brothers. Half-brothers they were, the two of them. My family situation was " he smiles but it's just a grimace, not an expression of joy" complicated. I always hated them. They tried to reach me. One more than the other. I would reject every attempt at reconciliation. My father, he would never intervene. Up to the point when I drew a sword at my brother in front of the whole court... and he said nothing."

He could have had brothers. He chose not to. And yet it never felt like a choice. Surely, it doesn't feel like one now. More like he was destined to fall. Like he could not possibly do different, couldn't choose different. Not in those circumstances. Not the way he was then.

"The Valar did actually have an opinion on my act. Which is funny considering half of what I did was their fault. Well, they didn't see it that way and they are the Valar, their word is the Law. So I got exiled."

There is more to that. Lies of the Enemy. The unrest among the Noldor. The whole situation just waiting to explode. Waiting for one appropriately called Spirit of Fire to light up the furnace.

"It's just got worse from there. My wife, Nerdanel, she didn't follow me into exile. My father did but not her. While I am grateful now that she didn't, you can imagine I wasn't particularly overjoyed about it then. We had disagreed on various things before. She won't shy from expressing her opinions and she is the wisest person I know, I can be stubborn even if I know I am wrong, so we clashed. But then I was simply furious. I felt betrayed. I was sure They turned her against me. I said many things. All of them hurtful. I didn't mean a single one of them and yet I said them. I was just so angry."

How does he explain himself without going into the whole history of his race? He's already talked long. Tony listened, as he promised, but Fëanor doesn't want to test the man's patience.

"I did many terrible things, Tony. To my own family, to others. I had led my people into exile and then I died leaving them stranded on the foreign shores to fend for themselves. After all that, I told myself, I was so sure of it, after all that, if we ever meet again she will hate me. She must. How can she not? Everyone else does. But now we met and she doesn't. She might even want to give me another chance ... and I don't know what to do with it. What if I ruin everything again?"

See, Olorin? He can talk. Sometimes. If he really tries.

Tony chuckled as he watched his friend figure out the joke. He wasn't about to admit that glare he'd gotten had been enough to raise his blood pressure. Yikes! He didn't want that look again.

It wasn't too great a surprise when the story starts to slip out that it's a long on. All those that cause the greatest pain and regret seemed to be. It was astounding that Feanor so readily acknowledged his character flaws and it was humbling he felt safe enough to do so.

He wanted to ask why Feanor rejected his brothers the way he did, but it wasn't important just yet. If he were to guess it had something to do with that half-brother comment. He might have looked just a little too amused at comment that he was stubborn. Otherwise he makes it to the very end before speaking again.

And it just wouldn't be Tony if it was an appropriate thing to say.

"Feel better? God, that must've been like constipation of the mouth for you for a few minutes there." He laughed at his own joke and then reached out and patted Feanor's hand that was on the table briefly. "That sounds terrifying. But, gotta point it out to you, you're already wrong. You aren't hated by everyone else. Your son Maedhros looks at you like you're his hero. Kano and Curufin love you. I like you, for some unknown reason. There's a train full of people and they voted your ass on the council. So either everyone on this train is insane- including your family- or you're not the same person you were back then. You'd better fight for her or she might find a handsome, devilish rogue she likes better."

Readily acknowledge his character flaws he does. That part is easy. He's been quite familiar with them for years now. The awareness never leaves him. Neither do the memories. Doing something about them is ... something else entirely.
But he laughs at Tony's joke. Sometimes the most absurdly irreverent thing is actually the most appropriate. Surely, laughter feels like a healthier, a better reaction to irreversible tragedies of the past than dark brooding. He'd done the latter far too often anyway.

"Quite an affliction, isn't it?" Tony asked him to talk at his own peril. He should have expected the story to be a lengthy one.

Fëanor smiles at the friendly gesture. Even more at "for some unknown reason". Well, some mysteries of the world may as well remain a mystery forever.
"Oh, I don't think they are insane. Far from it. I just hope I won't do anything undeserving of the trust I was given." This time.

And there goes Tony Stark to ruin everything. Though not everything. Maybe only the grim mood Fëanor is too eager to fall into. The man treats nothing seriously. Fëanor has to admit, even if only to himself, that he, on the other hand, treats too many things too seriously. So maybe its time he stopped. At least dialed down on the dark brooding.

"She is still my wife." There is a slightly mischievous smile curling his lips as he says that. Shall she choose to take him back or not is ultimately her decision. That does not mean he will tolerate interference from any third party. "And I am known for my rash actions, horrible temper, and proficiency with bladed weapons. It's something every handsome, devilish rogue, should any present himself, better keep in mind."

"It is, I believe I am permanently scarred now by the sheer amount of words you just used," Ton teased back. As much as he was joking around here, he was mulling over what he'd been told. His desire to fix it was strong, but the path on how to do so was very unclear.

"You won't. If you do, you have more people around who will smack you for it." Present company in particular. Although he hoped that promise went both ways. He could use someone willing to put him in his place if the need arose.

The response about his wife had Tony grinning devilishly and winked. "Maybe I should forget your wife and come after you, you sweet talker." He topped off both of their drinks and sighed. "I've wondered that myself, actually. After those inspectors, it seems like we should build some kind of protection around the train but.. when I did I sort of created a killer robot who massacred a whole bunch of people." He took a sip. "I've thought a lot about the trust people have given me here too. I don't want to let them down."

Edited 2020-01-07 23:41 (UTC)

"I think you'll live," Fëanor replies in a completely unfazed manner. "It could have been longer," he adds. "And in verse." He wraps his fingers around the cup and shakes his head as if he was seriously given thought to this option but decided to be generous and rejected it. "That would be severely incapacitating, however, and even I am not that cruel."

That is all. There's only so long he can joke about his past. Even as he does it, it's mainly for Tony's sake. No amount of lighthearted talk can ever change what happened, how it happened or his role in it.

Then Tony does it again. Fëanor chuckles. "Maybe you should," he blurts.

Then silence.

U-oh...

Tony can see as all color drains from Fëanor's face, his muscle tensing and fingers gripping the cup even firmer. Then there's a brief flash of expression that cannot be described other than panic. It's a moment, barely a heartbeat, it's gone in an instant.

He said it without thinking and now he worries he went a little too far with his comment. He'd hate to offend Tony by suggesting anything undecent.

He'd ... hate?

It's not difficult to feel at ease in the other's man company. That's for sure. At ease some much that he let his guard down? So much he now cares what he would think? It seems impossible. Yet there it is. Clear as day, the evidence.

Curufinwë Fëanáro is capable of caring.

About someone else who is not himself. Or his immediate family.

Shocking.

How did that even happen?

Tony laughs, picturing how 'awful' that speech would've been as a poem or song. God help them all! "You know there is a man on board who specifically seeks out ways of making routine things more difficult for the fun of it. You may have seen him shortly after we arrived- Wei Yang? He was walking around wearing a blindfold for a few reasons, but one was to add to the challenge of learning the lay of the land, so to speak. Maybe sometime you should challenge him to speak only in verse."

He took a sip and chuckled again at Feanor's flirt back. He didn't think hardly anything about the response besides he found it amusing. However, as he set his drink down, he noticed the strong but strange reaction Feanor was having.

"What's happening? Are you alright?" He asked, unsure what would make the other man pale of all things! "Is it anxiety?" Over what, he had no clue. He reached out and put a hand lightly on Feanor's arm.

Fëanor exhales. "It's fine," he says. "I'm fine. I truly am. You have nothing to worry about." He even manages to smile. This is not Valinor. Things are simpler here. And that is an incredibly reassuring thought.

About that verse though...

"That would be Wei Ying. I saw him wearing that blindfold earlier but I assumed he was injured."

Fëanor understands a need for a challenge but why make things harder in such unproductive ways? Not that he's particularly keen on investigating that particular mystery. The man can be as odd as he wants if that makes his time on the train easier to bear. Unless he'd start being disruptive or a nuisance to others, Fëanor won't say a word. Even if he'll judge him for it.

He looks at Tony with barely a hint of a smirk. Speaking of challenges. "You wouldn't like to participate in such a contest?" he asks.

Tony was reluctant to let whatever that was go. Feanor had clearly gotten upset by something, but the inventor was well aware of how stubborn the elf could be. If he didn't want to share what happened, he wouldn't. "If you're sure.." He was far from convinced.

He snaps his fingers as the name that had eluded him was mentioned. "Yes, Wei. That's it. He has eighteen trillion names like your family does. Actually it was sort of medical. Something about the Void was bothering him." He had yet to understand how the Void could be 'loud' but he knew a loon when he saw one. Fortunately for Wei Ying, Tony liked that particular loon.

He hadn't thought about doing it himself. It could be interesting if given the right context. "I could be talked into it. I tried the kid's 'the floor is lava' game but that ended up being too stupid for me. There was no winners or real objectives, just standing on furniture for no reason."

"Oh? So it was the Void? I'm not surprised then." Contrary to Tony, Fëanor knows exactly what is so bothering in the Void. He can still hear it sometimes. He has touched his first planned project for that very reason. Even if he has all the tools and materials now.

"That's interesting though that it happened to him. I thought they were humans." Then he realises he must have sounded rather cryptic and adds. "The Void sings." He explains then stops, lacking good words to describe it. "It's like a choir of voices. Multitudes upon multitudes. They do not sing in unison, there are no words to it and yet there's a theme, some semblance of sense, of purpose. It's not really discordant and it doesn't feel evil. Just... different. It's beautiful and deeply unsettling at the same time." Another pause. There was a time when they could hear it all over the train. Not only in the passageways between carriages.
"Last time we all heard it, all the Eldar, when the Inspectors came." Fëanor is still unsure if the dread was caused by the Inspectors themselves or was it really the Void seeping in.

"Standing on furniture?" Fëanor laughs more freely at the sole concept of this silly little game. "I can see it's exactly the kind of absurdity my sons would like. Not Nelyo or Kano, no, but the younger? They'd jump straight into it." Especially, the twins. "I'm surprised Curufin didn't want to take part in it."
Though probably he shouldn't. Not nearly dangerous enough for his thrill-seeking son.

Was Feanor joining the loon club? Wow, yes, yes he was. He raised an eyebrow when Feanor began but that shifted to a general, concentrated frown as he listened. "It.. sings?" While he was skeptical of what he was hearing, he had more faith in Feanor than to simply dismiss this information, particularly with their multiple conversations on elven magic.

"How does it sound compared to the music you've described your magic as?" He wondered what Joss had been experiencing back then. He'd heard voices and been so upset. It still broke his heart to think of the boy suffering.

He chuckled at the idea of Feanor's fully grown sons wanting to play a game like that. "Maybe we can create an adult version that would actually be fun."

"I don't know if it's the property of the Void itself or is it a presence. Something there. Some kind of beings."

His mind goes to the Ainur. Not the Powers of Arda. All the other ones. Those that did not descend into the world even if they took part in the music of creation. He knows so little about them. Is it possible it's them?

"It's not the same. Our Song often has words but it doesn't have to. The Void, how it sounds. There are no words that I recognize." Not even on a level of not knowing the exact meaning but sensing the idea behind it. "Yet there is some regularity to it. It is not random. As if there was a mind, or rather minds, behind it yet I cannot comprehend it. It's..." He pauses. There's only one word he can use. But it's wrong and right at the same time. He doesn't like it. "Alien. It's not hostile but it's not friendly either. If anything it seems indifferent."

Fëanor can fully understand why someone might consider the eerie voices scary. They are.

"I wonder if we can communicate with it. There has to be some frequency that could penetrate through these walls and let us send signals to this thing." That's a good plan. Let's just find a way to get this thing's attention when they can't defend themselves against it.

"Have you spoken with any of the people from the future like Luke or Cal? They harness something known as the Force and can sense things. It seems similar to magic. Maybe we should see if they can get some kind of sense from it too?"

"Usually, I'd be first to suggest communication but I don't like the fact we have no defense against even mundane threats."

A question returns, one he tried to banish from his mind for months. What if the void that the Void Train travels through is the Eternal Darkness? They just don't see it as dark. This cacophony of lights is so blinding it could as well be darkness.

What if the Enemy is out there. He's definitely someone whose attention he wouldn't like to attract.

So it takes him before he responds to Tony's question.

"No, I have not. Not yet at least. It might be wise to gather all that are able to sense the void and compare our observations."

"Alright, but can I be there when you admit to a bunch of twenty year old idiots that you hear the Void singing to you?" Tony asked with a laugh. "Please? And I might need pictures."

As much as he was joking about this, he was thinking of it in a more serious nature internally. If he and others from his home world were here, that meant Thanos was somewhere out there too. He wondered if even with all of their power they could take on that force.

It was much easier to joke than to deal with whatever fears were coming up over that thought.

"Are you really asking me to draw you Void voices, Tony?" Look, he finds it hilarious too.

Light devouring spiders or whip-wielding fire demons were not the only horrors that lurked in the darkness surrounding the realms of Arda. Laughing in the face of danger has a long tradition in his family. So does getting into one on one duels with undefeatable foes and similar acts of irrationally stupid courage. Glorious deeds worthy of song, guaranteed to get you killed. You, and anyone you ever loved and cared for.

"Still, kids or not, we should talk to them."

Did he just say we?

"I wasn't actually, but now I am. Are you unfamiliar with photos?" Despite their jabbing back and forth, that question, at least, was said in a Tony version of respectful tone. He was legitimately asking if he needed to introduce this to his friend or not.

The edge of his lip curled upward a bit at the 'we'. What would the kids call this? A bromance? Whatever it was, it was clearly present here.

"You say when and we'll give it a try."

Fëanor nods. "I am. For anything more than the fact that they exist," he admits.

"I heard them mentioned but not much more than that." He heard but ultimately judged it would be useless for him so he didn't express any interest. Elves have perfect memory. There are paintings and tapestries but they are art forms not means of preservation.

It looks he might have dismissed the concept all too quickly.

Tony frowned thoughtfully, considering this.

"I bet Peter has some pictures on his phone or I have some on my computer. Next time you're bored, I'll show you what's the big deal about them. It's fun to capture memories that way and be able to show others."

He suspected as much. The elves have their ways of sharing memories with each other. Tony has heard Maglor sing so he should have some idea what are those ways and how vivid can those memories be. It is only natural that humans who don't have the ability to communicate as elves directly from mind to mind would develop other ways to achieve the same end.

So he smiles.

"I'd love to."

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Video; Afternoon Catfish Day 23

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them noldorin lectures... I am so terribly sorry for this mighty infodump

Yay! Feanor talking is a beautiful thing

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wrap?