It's Not Uncommon For Worlds To Collide. Lines Get Crossed, Voids Meld, Portals Malfunction. And When

It's not uncommon for worlds to collide. Lines get crossed, voids meld, portals malfunction. And when gods and magic are far from few, it's easy to see why.

Still, when the Syndicate comes across five astronauts, tied together and floating rather calmly in the void, they're not any less surprised.

"Uh," Phil calls out, "hello?"

The astronauts––at least, they look like astronauts, though their yellow suits look too battered to actually work––turn to look. They blink, baffled.

"How are you standing like that?" one of them asks, ink-black eyes squinting. He clutches a dark purple egg to his chest.

"Like what?" Niki asks.

"You're just... standing," another astronaut says, this one mustachioed. "How are you just standing in the middle of the void?"

"We're walking somewhere," Connor says.

"Why, can't you guys walk?" Phil asks.

"Not to our knowledge," says a female astronaut. She's floating completely upside down, almost lying down mid-air, her head tilted back to look at the Syndicate. Her eyes are a solid color, like the one with black eyes, but hers are a bright silver. Between the two of them, they're extremely creepy. "And we rather like floating, to be honest."

Suddenly a look of recognition comes over Kristin, and She gasps. "Oh, you guys are the Boatem Hermits! You made it out!" She says.

"Yeah, we are. We did." An astronaut with a smooth American voice says slowly. "Wait, do we know you?"

"Not really. But I've seen you guys around. It's nice to see you're okay. I had complete faith in you guys."

"Thank you, lady we've never met!" another American astronaut pipes up cheerfully.

Phil leans towards Kristin. "Sorry, who are they?"

"Their world was crushed recently by the moon," Kristin explains. "I haven't had time to check up on them, but I wasn't too worried." She looks back at the astronauts––Boatem, apparently. "Are the others okay?"

At that the astronauts lapse into a somber silence. "We're not sure," the mustachioed one mutters. "We were all in a bit of a rush."

The rest hum in agreement, and then are silent again.

"Our world was destroyed too," Niki says. "I mean, not by the moon, but by a nuke."

"Ah, classic," the first American murmurs.

"I... guess? But we get it, not knowing if... if there's anything, or anyone left. It's kind of scary."

"Yeah. But I'm sure the rest of your friends got out fine," Phil pipes up. "I mean if we all did, then surely they did as well."

"This sheep also survived." Connor gestures to Rosie. "If a sheep can survive, so can the rest of your friends."

"That's... strangely very comforting," the black-eyed one says.

"Thanks."

"Well, I hope you all get to the next world soon. I'm afraid we have to keep moving, but I will see you guys around." Kristin turns to the Syndicate. "We should keep going."

"Will they be okay staying here?" Niki asks.

"Oh yeah, they'll be fine. They've been around for longer than you guys have."

"Oh yeah, we've been doing just swell here, all things considered!" the second American assures. Upon closer inspection there appears to be a sleeping cat in his helmet. That's... normal. "You can just toddle on your way, don't mind us. But thank you for your words of wisdom, random void passersby!"

"Sure thing dude," Connor says, giving a thumbs up. Rosie baas.

"Alright, well. Nice to meet you guys," Phil waves and chuckles as Kristin leads them away.

"Bye!" Niki does the same. The astronauts all wave and say their farewells, and soon they're merely another speck of dust in the endless black.

Distantly, the shrill shriek of the black-eyed astronaut rings out, "Wait, we don't even need suits!"