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onepassingnight2011-05-09 03:38 am
badbulletshield.livejournal.com) wrote in onepassingnight2011-05-09 03:38 am
[Adrenaline Drive] - [Act 1]
[ Beneath the strange light of this world's two moons - one round and white, the other small, misshapen, and red - the steel lines of twin train tracks glisten, running parallel over the horizon. The land in all directions around is all high, rolling hills, grassy and dotted with thick, clustered shrubs but sparse of trees. The peace here is absolute - but for barely a handful of seconds.
On those tracks, a train is rumbling along at breakneck speed, bright light spilling from the windows and thick, black smoke issuing from the stack. Inside, the soft, classical decor is awash in a warm, yellow glow that seems not to emit just from the sconces on the walls, the lamps on tables, but from the very substance of the train, itself.
In spite of the rather cheery effect this luminescence lends to the bigger picture, however, if one were to poke around behind the doors of the luxurious private cars, here, they might find the place a shambles. Lamps broken, furniture scattered about, glass from the windows littering the floor, and perhaps even a few droplets of something that looks suspiciously like blood dried into the carpets - it's total chaos everywhere. Or, everywhere except the dining car, which remains mysteriously intact.
In fact, the train's sole other occupant is currently holed up, there, in the midst of an exorbitant meal. He's a young-looking man with long, silver hair and thick, round spectacles, dressed in what appears to be some odd cut of cassock. He seems unfazed by the speed of the train (though in reality he is almost perpetually stricken with motion sickness), let alone the tacky, white tiger-print wallpaper plastered to the interior of this particular car. On the contrary, he's just terribly engrossed in his present bit of business-- ]
Oh yes, I think I'd like to try this one, next! [ He says, holding up his menu with a free hand, making some vague indication toward an item from the desserts section.
He's mistaken the sound of strange footsteps for those of his waitress (or waiter), it seems. Oops. ]
On those tracks, a train is rumbling along at breakneck speed, bright light spilling from the windows and thick, black smoke issuing from the stack. Inside, the soft, classical decor is awash in a warm, yellow glow that seems not to emit just from the sconces on the walls, the lamps on tables, but from the very substance of the train, itself.
In spite of the rather cheery effect this luminescence lends to the bigger picture, however, if one were to poke around behind the doors of the luxurious private cars, here, they might find the place a shambles. Lamps broken, furniture scattered about, glass from the windows littering the floor, and perhaps even a few droplets of something that looks suspiciously like blood dried into the carpets - it's total chaos everywhere. Or, everywhere except the dining car, which remains mysteriously intact.
In fact, the train's sole other occupant is currently holed up, there, in the midst of an exorbitant meal. He's a young-looking man with long, silver hair and thick, round spectacles, dressed in what appears to be some odd cut of cassock. He seems unfazed by the speed of the train (though in reality he is almost perpetually stricken with motion sickness), let alone the tacky, white tiger-print wallpaper plastered to the interior of this particular car. On the contrary, he's just terribly engrossed in his present bit of business-- ]
Oh yes, I think I'd like to try this one, next! [ He says, holding up his menu with a free hand, making some vague indication toward an item from the desserts section.
He's mistaken the sound of strange footsteps for those of his waitress (or waiter), it seems. Oops. ]
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[Minato isn't very familiar with Western religion, but he has passing familiarity enough to realize that this is pretty out of the ordinary for a priest. Still, after working for Kanzeon Bosatsu forging her signature and making popcorn, it's given him a different perspective on what to expect from religious figures. He doesn't bat an eye; he's just genuinely curious.]
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[ It's a question he has to answer with some regularity (and often it is tinged with more than a passing incredulity), and Abel is quick to answer, just as easily as he greeted this relative stranger. ]
A traveling priest in the service of the Vatican, at that.
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[ Sigh. His troubles are great and many and worthy of a melodramatic interlude, here. ...Not that it doesn't take him but another handful of seconds to perk right back up. ]
But it's worth every bit of the trouble, in the end. Yes, I definitely think so.
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[This dream is making him strangely nostalgic. It all just feels so faintly familiar... Abel himself is definitely unique, though.]
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[ A pause, and he takes a more than generous bite out of the extravagant-looking tart on his own plate. ]
So, what is it that you do? I suppose you must be a student, at this age?
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[He doesn't seem perturbed by this, merely returning to his dessert.]
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D-Does that... Mean you're a gh-ghost?
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[ There's more than a bit of incredulity in his voice, though it isn't so much skepticism as simple confusion. He isn't dreaming now... Is he? ]
I'm sorry this took so long :|;;;
[It's because he's incurably direct.]
it's quite all right. :D
Ah - I beg your pardon? [ Another quick look around the cabin doesn't seem to convince him. ] But how can that be? Everything feels real!
<33
You can pretend I never told you, if that's better, [he offers helpfully, pushing his dessert plate forward across the table so he can fold his arms across the cleared space.]
o3o
Is it really possible that he's been dreaming this whole time? If so, he actually isn't sure whether he'd like to give that up to awareness of reality - this place isn't so bad, by comparison. Here he has all the food he can eat, and plenty of good conversation. In the waking world, he's starving, exhausted, stranded, and though his company is good, he can't imagine they're either of them liable to be in the mood for a chat once he wakes.
No, it's probably best, after all, not to question what is real and what is not.
He wouldn't like to wake up with a headache, either. ]
You wouldn't be offended if I didn't want to wake up, just yet, would you?
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... No, I wouldn't be offended. I-- understand. [Subtly, he seems to withdraw, not to put distance between them but rather to look inward. This is truly another thing he understands.] Even if I could, I don't know if I would return to life. [It's a complicated topic for him, one that's come up again and again. He's thought about this before, many times.]
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[ Hopeful. Abel is not at all certain whether he'd like the answer to that, but he asks, anyway, because he hopes it isn't entirely in vain. ]
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It's hard to live knowing how much you have to lose.
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But no matter how much you've lost, there is still goodness in the world, if you look for it. No one can take hope away from you. It has to be given up.