Chapter Text
Sunday isn’t used to traveling with the Nameless, and he certainly isn’t used to their daily routine. The dynamic between them is alien to him, and sometimes he can’t help but feel like he is intruding on a personal space. Being in a texting group labeled as the Astral Express Family contributes to this.
And right now, that family has a problem.
“Stelle is missing again,” says Dan Heng, blankly, matter-of-fact, with little to no concern eking out in his tone.
March sighs. Himeko and Welt have thoughtful expressions. Sunday blinks.
“Missing?” he echoes.
“She isn’t responding to her text messages.”
“I texted her, too,” says March. “Like, an hour ago. She hasn’t even read it.”
“Pom-Pom’s schedule is gonna get all messed up because of Passenger Stelle! Again!” yells the conductor.
“It’s alright.” Himeko takes charge of the situation, as always. “We’ll split up and look for her. Last I heard, she was going to check out a new restaurant.”
“Himeko and I will look around that area.” Welt states. “March, Dan Heng, Sunday; you three can take the next district over.”
“Understood.” Dan Heng finishes something on his phone and puts it away. Sunday feels a vibration in his pocket and checks his own phone.
Dan Heng
Stelle, we are disembarking the Express to look for you.
Let us know where you are.
Pom-Pom
If Pom-Pom’s schedule gets delayed again, you’re on dish duty for the next two weeks!
Sunday
We’ll be searching around the new restaurant as well as the next district over.
Himeko
Stay safe, everyone.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“Does Miss Stelle often…” Sunday takes a moment to grimace at the deplorable state of the alleyway he’s standing in front of. “…go missing?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Dan Heng replies. “Though it doesn’t usually go on for this long.”
They’ve been searching for a full hour now, branching out to different areas. Sunday can see March talking to complete strangers who frown, shake their heads sympathetically, and move on. Dan Heng’s arms are crossed as he thinks.
Sunday hears the scuttling of rats in the alley. He wrinkles his nose and glances over, glimpsing fleeing tails amidst puddles of questionable origin.
“March,” calls Dan Heng from behind him. “Any luck?”
Sunday doesn’t bother to listen to her reply. He’s focused on the puddles- even in the dim lighting, there’s a worrying darkness to them that can’t quite place. Broken glass litters the alley, and there are burn marks in the walls. Relatively fresh.
Against his better judgment, Sunday wanders into the alley. His footsteps scare away another rat (he bites back an audible retch), which runs out from behind a silver trash can.
To his horror, the trash can moves.
It’s very brief; a quick scrape, teetering, then it regains its balance. As if something- someone- is shifting around inside.
The only thing that goes through Sunday’s mind as he slowly picks up a crowbar is: There’s no way.
Gingerly, he hooks the crowbar through the handle of the trash can lid and lifts it up.
Stelle is snoring blissfully inside of the trash can, positively filthy. She’s curled up in the cramped space, knees to her chin, arms wrapped around herself, covered in trash.
Sunday stares. He blinks. He lets the lid slide onto the ground, then takes the blunt side of his crowbar and pokes Stelle’s shoulder.
“Huuuuuhhhh…?” She groans, stirring and rubbing her eyes, which…really wasn’t sanitary. Sunday finds it to be a miracle that he isn’t throwing up.
Finally, Stelle comes to. She looks at him, eyes lidded with fatigue, eyebrows knitted. A flicker of recognition, then a drawl of: “Suuuuuunnyyyyy…”
Sunday turns to the mouth of the alleyway. “Dan Heng?”
After a few moments, Dan Heng and March appear.
“We were looking for you!” The latter fusses. “We thought you’d gotten kidnapped or something like Stelle!”
Wordlessly, he gestures to the trash can. March is still confused, but Dan Heng seems to realize what’s going on, because he strides up next to Sunday, peers into the trash can, and his tense expression instantly collapses into exasperation.
There’s no anger- Sunday has noticed that Dan Heng never gets angry with his companions, at least not the red-faced screaming type of anger. He just looks tired.
“Stelle,” says Dan Heng. “What are you doing?”
March’s eyes practically pop out of her head.
“Eh?” mumbles Stelle, looking at him closely. “Ohhhh, hiiiii…”
“You-” He cuts himself off with a sigh. “Just get out of there. March, text the others.”
Stelle stays in the trash can, looking both drunk and defiant. Dan Heng stares her down for all of three seconds before sharply tapping his spear against the trash can, eliciting a loud clank. Stelle whines, unfurling herself from her cocoon and grabbing onto the edges of the trash can for leverage.
It is only then that they see the purple, mottled bruises blooming across her arm.
The shift in mood is instantaneous.
“Stelle, what happened?”
She stands up, and while her previous actions were strange enough, Sunday had merely thought it to be another harmless Stelle moment. But when Stelle is on her feet, bruised all over and dizzily swaying, it becomes clear that this is beyond just her.
Stelle tries to step towards them and instantly buckles. Dan Heng scrambles, catching her before she can slam into the concrete and broken glass. His hand instantly goes to check her vitals. March screams. Sunday backs away to give them space and accidentally splashes in an oily puddle.
“Stelle!” March cries, crouching near her. “Dan Heng, is she-?!”
“…She’s fine.” He says, adjusting his grip on Stelle. “Let’s take her back to the Express. Stelle, I need you to stand up with me.”
Stelle giggles. Sunday and March feel some relief. Dan Heng eases her up, slinging one arm around his shoulders. They slowly make their way back to the Express, the silence only broken by Stelle’s occasional ditzy gibberish.
Sunday
We’ve found Stelle.
March 7th
She’s really out of sorts…
We’re headed back to the Express now.
Welt
Is she injured?
March 7th
She's bruised…
Dan Heng said she’ll be fine, but prepare the infirmary so she can recover there.
Himeko
Understood. See you soon.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Stelle is cooperative when they lay her down in the infirmary bed; less so when Himeko tries to coax some information out of her. Sunday listens as he cleans his shoes at the counter.
“You’re covered in filth and bruises.” Himeko tuts, bringing up a chair next to the bed. “Did someone pick a fight with you?”
Stelle’s eyes lazily drift about before settling on Himeko, and she brightens slightly as if the woman’s only just walked in.
“Himekooooo…” She sings. March facepalms in the background.
Himeko exhales, smiling. “Yes, Stelle.”
“IIIIIII missed you guys!” Stelle’s uninjured arm pumps into the air, falling back down onto the bed as if it has been weighed down with bricks.
“Yes, we missed you too. What were you doing all the way out there?”
“Traaaash…”
“Looking for trash again?”
Stelle winces as Himeko cleans and bandages the cuts on her face. “Owie…”
“Can you tell us who you were fighting?”
“Hehe,” is Stelle’s intelligent response.
“There were signs of struggle in the alleyway. Burn marks from Stelle’s weapon, and broken glass.” Dan Heng chimes in. “My theory is that her attackers were scared off, but not before they could put her in this state.”
“Okay, but how?” March glances warily at her bedridden friend. “I thought concussions made you cranky, not dumb!”
Sunday inspects the grime on his cleaning cloth with a frown. “This doesn’t seem like normal dirt or oil.”
They turn to him. Welt takes the cloth and peers at it.
“Seems to be a…potion of some sort?” He guesses.
“Is that what the broken glass was?”
“Stelle,” says Welt. “Did they hit you with a potion?”
Stelle mimics an explosion with her hands. “Fwooooosh. Ka-pow-ow! Swing, swing…!”
She summons her baseball bat. Himeko gently pries it from her hands despite Stelle’s wails of protest. The same procedure is repeated for the Lance of Preservation and Jade Abacus of Allying Oath.
(“She’s not even supposed to have that,” mutters Dan Heng.)
The Watchmaker’s hat ends up on a coat hanger after Stelle throws it at Sunday whilst squeaking out off-key notes of Hope Is The Thing With Feathers. He can’t help but be miffed.
“Well,” Himeko doesn’t even bother hiding her amusement. “She definitely won.”
“Does this even count as a win?” March doubts. ”I bet she can’t even count to two!”
“She couldn’t count that high beforehand,” Dan Heng counters.
“I’m two,” says Stelle seriously.
Sunday gives the crew a questioning look, but it isn’t acknowledged. The only thing they can do now is investigate the potion’s origins and hope they either find the cure or find that it wears off on its own.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Bronya is speaking with Seele when it happens. Her phone buzzes. Assuming it to be a work-related matter, she takes it out.
“Excuse me,” she says to Seele before opening it up.
“Who is it?”
Bronya checks. “It’s…the Trailblazer.”
Curious, Seele peers over her shoulder. The message they are met with completely shatters their expectations.
Stelle
bornya
Bronya and Seele look at each other. Neither of them have a clue.
Bronya
Stelle?
Stelle
broma
Hiiiii
Bronya
Um…
Are you okay, Stelle?
Stelle
How ru
Seele and Bronya are at a loss for words.
“Is she…sick?” Seele suggests.
“I…don’t know.”
Bronya
All things considered, I’m doing good.
Seele is here, and she’s good, too.
Stelle
Zeeeee
Yayyyyyhhhhhsh
I lik
wen u
happyyyyy
Bronya
Thanks?
I like it when you’re happy, too.
Stelle
<3
Bronya
Are you feeling alright?
Stelle
Happeeeeeee
Bronya
…
That’s nice.
For several minutes, there is no response. They awkwardly finish their previous discussion of business and are about to part ways when one more message pops up.
Stelle
This is Dan Heng. Stelle isn’t feeling well right now. I apologize for her behavior.
Bronya
Oh
It’s fine.
Will she be okay?
Stelle
Yes. Thank you for your concern.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Dan Heng’s hands are both occupied; one is texting on Stelle’s phone, and the other is gently keeping Stelle lying flat on her back as she struggles in vain to get her phone back.
“Mineeee,” she whines. “I’m talkin’ t’ Bomya!”
“You aren’t supposed to be on your phone,” is his clipped reply. “It interferes with the healing process of your concussion.”
“Gimme.”
“No. Go to sleep.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The Astral Express watches over Stelle in shifts. Yesterday’s victim was Dan Heng. Today, it’s March.
“Stop singing about the months of the year!” She yells.
“April, May, June, July-”
”Ugggghhhh, you’re driving me crazy!”
“November, Deeeeeecember-!“ Stelle abruptly halts her atrocious singing and stares March dead in the eyes.
“What now? Nothing to say for yourself?” March puts the medical supplies back in their proper places, closing the cabinets behind her before turning to scowl at her friend.
“Food,” says Stelle.
“You- you want food?”
“Hnnnnngeeee…”
“A please would be nice!”
Stelle sniffles. March sighs. “Fine, I’ll go get you a snack. But don’t try anything funny while I’m gone!”
The moment she leaves the room, Stelle snatches her phone from where March had carelessly placed it on the bedside table.
“Hehe, funny…”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Stelle
Pepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepepep
(Max character limit exceeded)
Arlan
???
Stelle?
Stelle
(Max character limit exceeded)
Pep
Eeeeeeee
Arlan
Uh…
[Attachment: Peppy.jpg]
Is this what you want?
Stelle
Yeeeeeeeeeeee
Pep
[Attachment: PomPomheart.sticker]
Thnk u Alran
Arlan
You’re welcome…
Get better soon.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“Stelle!” screeches March. “What are you doing?!”
“Peppyyyyy,” coos Stelle, showing March the picture.
“Aw, that’s cute- NO! Bad!” March pulls at her hair in frustration before poking Stelle’s cheek. “Now I have to explain everything to Arlan!”
“Puppy Peppy,” says Stelle.
“You are so…! Ugh, nevermind. Here, I brought you a snack.” March places the tray on her friend’s lap before taking her phone and putting it somewhere she wouldn’t be able to reach. “And I am not feeding you!”
Stelle looks at the tray and silverware. She giggles and tries to scoop up the hot comfort food with her hands.
“Stelle, NO!”
Unfortunately for the Astral Express Crew, dealing with Stelle doesn’t get any better, nor have they made much progress investigating the cause of her condition.
The next babysitting victim is Welt, and Stelle’s next victim is Yanqing.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Stelle
Qi
Cheese
Yanqing
Teacher Stelle?
Stelle
Yachoo
Akskskdkfjgj
Yanqing
?
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“Stelle,” says Welt firmly. “What did we say about being on your phone?”
“Waaaaah,” Stelle mumbles incoherently, weakly grasping at Welt’s arm that is holding her phone out of her reach.
“Who did you text this time? …Yanqing?” He sighs, quickly typing up a response.
Stelle
Sorry, Yanqing. This is Welt. Stelle is out of sorts right now.
Yanqing
Was she attacked?!
Stelle
Yes, but she isn’t seriously injured.
It’s simply the side effects of a potion she was attacked with.
She’ll be alright.
Yanqing
Who attacked her?
Stelle
We don’t know.
Right now, we’re focusing our efforts on Stelle and the potion.
Yanqing
If I can assist in any way, let me know.
Stelle
Thank you.
Welt looks back at Stelle, who has flopped onto her side to pout.
“Stelle?”
She hiccups.
Welt walks around the bed so he can see her face. Stelle rubs at her eyes, tears streaming down and making a puddle on her pillow. Her eyes are still cloudy, movements lethargic.
“Stelle? Are you alright?” Welt asks, worried. “Does something hurt?”
She sniffs. “No.”
“Then what is it?”
For a while, she doesn’t respond, zoning in and out. Welt pulls up a chair and removes Stelle’s bandages. Her cuts have fully healed, and her bruises are nearly gone.
Himeko had tried to get Stelle to walk around for exercise last night, but the potion seemed to have turned her legs to jelly. She’d fallen several times, giggling and crying all the way, and after Pom-Pom suffered a bad case of being-used-as-a-cushion-itis, they’d decided that prolonged bed rest was necessary.
Welt is jolted out of his thoughts when finally, Stelle speaks to him.
“‘M bored.” She mutters. “Where ev’body go?”
Ah, he understands now. A small pang of guilt washes over him.
“They’re looking for a way to help you, Stelle.” He replies.
“I wanna help…”
“Unfortunately, you can’t even walk right now.”
Stelle balls her hands into fists. “Miz-ter Yang?”
“Yes, Stelle?”
“I wan’my phone.”
He looks at her. She looks back; still woozy, still pouting, still sad.
He sighs and hands her phone over. “Just a few more minutes, then. Screentime isn’t good for your concussion.”
A sloppy smile spreads across her face. She hums happily as she opens up her phone and immediately goes to terrorize someone through texting again. Welt decides it’s fine, just this once.
Stelle
Mimi
Jing Yuan
[Attachment: Mimi.jpg]
Stelle
Yay
Jing Yuan
Get better soon, Stelle.
[Attachment: JingYuancheerful.sticker]