Follow, follow. "I mean, my buddies would practically shout over the radio during car trips, sometimes. It's practically a tradition. But either way, honestly."

"I've never done a real road trip before, all my jaunts have been pretty small. Of course I've taken flights, but that's different." 

Audrey opens the back of the car and tosses in her backpack.

Cocoa is right behind her, having just completed his walkaround of the SUV. He tosses his duffle in and dusts off his hands. "There we go." 

He walks around and gets in the driver's side, and digs in the console.

"I'm used to sitting in the back seat," says Audrey. "You can ride shotgun, Trys."

"Sure. Yeah, me neither, not like the kind you see in American movies. America's fucking huge, though. I did go on a boat trip to Scotland and see some places up there but it was almost a solo thing, or well, a ridealong. And Scapa Flow's not as impressive as I thought it'd be, history nerd that I am."

Her backpack goes there, too.

"I've got Hold Your Color by Pendulum, a couple Rankin Family albums Silver Starlight gave me, and someone left a Best of Queen CD in the rental. Or we could pick up one of those little FM transmitters on our way out and play songs from our phones on the radio. Or just listen to the radio if you know a good channel."

She suggests a channel. "They mostly do rock and pop, keep the ads to a minimum."

"I guess I can deal."

"Works for me!"

She takes the right back seat behind Cocoa.

She takes shotgun. "We can change it after a while?" Shrug.

"Have you two got any favorite books? Hobbies you'd like to ramble interminably about? I know things about naval history, especially world war two."

Cocoa gets the garage door opener and turns on the radio. "We generally avoid military history. Because of the seniors. They're veterans. Everyone got on their seatbelt?"

She does have her seatbelt on, and taps it.

"-Ah."

But how would it remain secret...

...Well, there's plenty of weird and confusion in the history. Depending on what exactly is possible at the higher levels it's not that much of a stretch. And it sort of seems like the really old sects would just - stay out of 'mortal affairs'...

This is not an especially productive line of thought. She's silent and frowning.

Cocoa pulls out. 

"It's different, in the sects. They have strict rules about noninterference. But the seniors in the group are different. They're loose cultivators. And young for their power. Secrecy has to be preserved, but between memory-sealing formations and the chaos of war..." 

Cocoa shakes his head. "I don't know exactly how much they were involved, but I've pieced a few things together. Eight Tails fought against Japanese cultivators in the pacific war. Silver Starlight was a british agent. Red went into seclusion after her experiences in World War One. Silver Starlight resents her for not breaking her seclusion to participate in World War Two."

"...I don't think I have anything - appropriate - to say about this. I'm feeling real awkward suddenly."

"It's natural."

"What about nonmilitary history? Or really old stuff, like the Romans? My sect never had a problem with any of it."

"Oh, if you catch Silver Starlight in the right mood she'll happily reminisce about Acadian colonial life and all the things that have changed in the last five hundred years. You should ask her to teach you to light fires with flint and steel, she really loved it when I asked her."

"I'm just - really into boats, especially shooty ones. I don't know as much as I'd like about ancient history, though." Headshake. "Maybe! I don't know, like, camping stuff. I know boats."

"I'm sure Starlight's sailed. She grew up on a coast after all."

"She said something about getting seasick, I think, actually. I grew up in Wales and I barely speak Welsh."

"That would explain why she doesn't talk much about boats..."

"She gets seasick? Really?"

"Um, oops? It didn't sound like a dire secret, but now I'm wondering..."

"It's just that Battle Queen Body should correct for inner ear problems like that. It's part of the tolerance for extreme acceleration you develop at that stage."

"Just psychological, maybe?"