It's beautiful. And baffling, and more than a little frightening... Vanyel has no idea what to make of it. 

:...I think I'd better try talking to someone: 

:Er, all right - I guess we've got to try something: 

Vanyel is getting the sense that, wherever they are, it's a very, very long way from home, and he doubts anyone here knows about Mindspeech, let alone the Companions of Valdemar. They're about to get a big surprise. 

...There are other worlds. He knew that already. There are other worlds and why would there be only two. And if there are worlds that are flat, with glowing trees instead of a sun, why not 'worlds' where there's no world part at all, just - odd houses, floating in the void between stars... 

Yfandes addresses the older man who seems to have found his balance relatively quickly, and is watching her and Vanyel cautiously. 

:Hello: she tries. :Can you understand this? My name is Yfandes and this is Vanyel: 

All right. Focus. He can do this. 

"I - what - which of you - was it the fucking horse who said that. Are you kidding." 

:My name is Yfandes and I'm a Companion, not a horse, but I see the confusion: 

"...Right. And how did you get on this ship, exactly." 

:...Ship? There's not– nevermind. We're sorry about that. It was an accident: 

That is not in any way an explanation. Not even slightly. 

:...Long story. Magical accident, in a war. Er, do you have magic here -: 

Vanyel is way too tired to deal with this right now. He groans and lies down on the floor. 

"Do we - what - copeng, someone slip you some of the hard stuff -? Or me, more like." 

This is way too much absurdity, too fast. He can't absorb it. A single concrete problem to focus on is a relief. 

"Your friend, is he hurt? You need a medic?" 

She can't understand the words, of course, and it's hard even for a Companion to make sense of it by Thoughtsensing when someone is as confused as this man seems to be.

:That would probably be good. ...Did you see anyone else. We were - there was someone else with us, looks like this -: She flashes the man a mental image of Telumë. 

"Medic!" Miller stands up, looks around the cramped shuttle. "Do we got a medic on board?" Almost certainly not. It's a crumbling rustbucket en route to the asshole of the solar system - or was it 'the armpit of the solar system', he's not sure now... 

Oh no this is so embarrassing. 

:'Fandes, please tell him I'm not dying. I'll be fine, I just - need a minute...: 

:He needs a week's rest in a warm bed, more than anything else: Yfandes informs Miller. :We had a rough fight, back there. ...A blanket and some water to drink would do for now, I think: 

Miller is a cop. ...Used to be a cop. He's an ex-cop. Anyway. There may not be a medic on board, and the 'crew' such as it is sure isn't stepping in to help, but he knows how to get a shuttle full of people to listen. Someone has a blanket. Well, technically their sweater/shawl garment. It'll do. 

And somehow, even though it shouldn't come as any surprise at all, Miller is slightly surprised when his Mormon seatmate and new acquaintance gets down on the filthy floor and sheds his jacket so he can fold it up and tuck it under the mysterious probably-not-dying man's head. 

:That's very kind of you: Yfandes sends, with warmth. There's no room for her to nuzzle up against Vanyel in the aisle between seats, so she settles herself at his feet. :I'm Yfandes: 

Unlike the other man, he doesn't even blink. "You're very welcome. Ee-Fan-dez, is that - is that right?" 

It's close enough. :Yes. Er - may I ask, where are we?: 

(He is reminding himself over and over again that all people are children of God, no matter what they look like.)

"Of course. We are on a shuttle headed from Ceres to Eros." 

....That really doesn't help. 

:What - does this world have a name...?: 

"This - world -?" The Mormon frowns. "Are you referring to Earth, or our solar system?"