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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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[Freedom never lasts long before the pressures crowd in. Or perhaps she's alert to the dream world and that this will disappear come her morning.]
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[ She must simply lead a busy life, he assumes. Or perhaps she's a university student on leave? Either way, it amounts to about the same. ]
If we stick to the most essential sights, though, I'm sure you won't walk away too disappointed!
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... Why is she the one directing this when he's the one who's been here before?]
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Look, there he goes, again. It's well past breakfast time, right? And those waitresses have the cutest uniforms...
Wait. Crap. Where did his tour guide go!? He can barely see through the crowd, but he runs to catch up in what is hopefully the right direction. ]
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If she were an airheaded priest, where would she hide...? She retraces her steps first.]
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A touch overzealous, he jumps to the edge of the nearest plaza fountain to get a better look out over the crowd-- And for just a couple of seconds, this seems like a really good plan! He even manages to spot her, and lifts an arm to wave. ]
Oh! Over here--
[ Except that's the arm still holding his suitcase, and, easily overbalanced, he trips on his own toes and goes over the side with a scream and an enormous splash. And the crowd clears conveniently away from the immediate disaster area. ]
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Just get up. You're embarrassing.
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Ah, thank you.
[ He takes the offered hand up, dragging his soaking wet suitcase out of the fountain with him (and half the water in the fountain, while he's at it). ]
It's nice that you came back for me, though.
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[She'll make that very clear. Even if she had that sort of motive mixed up in there somewhere, it's hard to recognize in herself, as she as is now.]
I just didn't feel like leaving you here alone.
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[ And he may have his suspicions, as well. It isn't as if he is new to the city, after all -- and though there's no way she could know that the very discreet earpiece he's wearing is well within range to call for help, there's no reason to assume he is completely without acquaintances, in this place, either.
Wringing out the parted skirt of his cassock, he pauses briefly to shake a little more water out of his luggage before straightening up, positively beaming at her. ]
Uh, and this time I'll make sure to keep up!
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