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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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No. I meant myself.
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[ He'd be scratching his head if he wasn't holding his tea, still. ]
Er, that's not really possible, though. Japan as a country has not existed since before Armageddon. Unless you meant something else?
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Where I'm from, that hasn't happened. We won't allow the planet to be ruined.
[Come on, Abel. Put it together.]
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[ Nope. He's definitely resisting this. ]
Well, if that were possible, I... Suppose it would be very noble of you.
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I'm not the type of person who's noble. Understand that.
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Why do you say that?
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[It's that simple. She may have a list of justifications, but Kunzite has never let her forget that they're meaningless, that the truth came before the reasons and excuses.]
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I see. So that's just the truth?
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So for now, let's finish this dinner, and go to Rome. You can show me its sights; I've never been there before.
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[ The heavy silence lingers, one moment longer, on his end-- Before he smiles again, as if it is the most natural thing in the world. ]
Oh, but you'll definitely love it there, you know. How do you feel about fountains?
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They give something to a city.
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Then you're really quite overdue for this visit. Rome is a city of fountains, the most extravagant water features in the world line its streets.
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You could have been a tour guide.
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[ And he is entirely too proud of this... Not completely truthful assessment of his own ability. ]
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I'll count on you, then. [She gives a somewhat sly smile.]
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[ The power of suggestion is, naturally, quite effective in any realm which Abel has created, and as the warm, yellow illumination in the cabin begins to fade, to turn to the far softer hue of natural light, the scene changes drastically.
It's a perfectly pleasant afternoon, though the sky is a bit grey, just this side of colorless, above the noisy, crowded plaza. Abel is still seated, perched on the edge of a very large, rather extravagant fountain, a map held up in front of his face and his suitcase by his feet. Both the train and the station are far behind them, and though Abel is a little exhausted from the trip, he's still as upbeat as ever. ]
Uh, which street did you say that was, again?
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[Forgive her brusqueness; she doesn't really mean it badly right now. Ami takes a look around, but it's all a jumble to her.]
Do you recognize any landmarks?
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[ If that's rude, Abel's standards are incredibly out of whack (actually, they are, but that's really beside the point). He seems wholly unperturbed by any hint of impoliteness, pausing in his studious inspection of the map to look around them, again. ]
Ah, I'm pretty sure... Piazza Navona is that way... And, uh, that means the Vatican is still quite some distance from here.
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Do you have a map?
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With a nod, Abel holds out the map to her. He'd only picked it up from a passing tourism representative a moment ago. ]
Oh! Yes, right here!
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It's that way, then.
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[ He stands, shielding his eyes from the sunshine as he peers curiously in the direction she indicates. ]
Then we have our bearings, again! So, what do you want to see, next?
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Let's go! Try to keep up, alright, guide?
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[ Oops, wait - is she leaving without him!? He grabs his suitcase and cuts the aimless rambling short. ]
H-Hey, don't run off! What if I get lost out here, all by myself?
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Isn't that just another reason for you to hurry up?
[His worry, not hers.]
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