Dreams of Fire

[Thalia]

She was a great believer in fate, so the sound of the loudspeaker answering her question seconds after she'd asked it prompted an amused smile. Tea hadn't been an invitation so much as an outer musing, but she nonetheless brightened when it seemed Katya was keen to tag along - and not only that but knew of a nice place to go. If Kat had somewhere to be (as she'd already said she had) then the obligation did not dampen Thalia's enthusiam for the company, and she bore no sense of responsibility for the shirk of duty. "Brilliant!"

Suddenly the train lurched. Thalia pitched with the movement, then jolted back in her seat. Blackness descended for an eyeblink, and then the lights dimmed to the sick glow of emergency lighting. The hum of the engines had died, she realised, leaving a hollow vaccum of silence. Huh. Murmurs of panic quickly punctuated the second of stunned quiet, and people began checking their Wallets and moving from their seats. Thalia glanced curiously at their fragile metal casing, inquisitive as to the nature of their sudden stop, but not apparently disturbed. She glanced at Kat. "Okay?" The words were swallowed by the gutteral Russian voice stuttering an explanation over the loudspeaker, but her intention was clear enough and the confidence of her smile brushed off any sense of worry. Thalia was fragile to look at, porcelain delicate and fine-boned; so very easy seeming to crush, but very little ever peturbed her. The self-assuredness of her manner travelled out like little ripples; the way she phrased the question, she expected Kat to be fine.

She evaluated the unexpected stop with little concern. The darkness had not struck fear into her gut, and the idea of being so deep beneath the earth weighed no heavy burden. She was comfortable down here, riding the current of the metro; which was probably why it had been her unconscious escape in the first place. It was a pleasantly oblivious place to drift, but now the situation forced her to take heed of the strangers around them, and her eyes roamed with the detatched curiosity of a bystander. A couple of passengers had taken it upon themselves to don the mantle of chivalry. A token gesture. But she watched nonetheless.

The lights drained all colour from faces, dulled all vibrancy. Like they were all underwater. Even the paint on her hands darkened, no longer the velvet of blood but mottled like the creep of rot. She absorbed the nuances laid bare by panic and sepia lights with the collective nature of an artist's brain, until the profile of one man flickered a cold shiver in her stomach, and she pulled her gaze away before any more detail than his ethnicity could register. With a pale touch of concern, she wondered how long they were going to be stuck down here. And on how delicate an edge her mental state really rested.

Her legs drew back up, and she watched the distorted reflections in the inky windows instead of the flesh and blood faces, until someone sat beside her. One of the good samaritans, but not the one she'd been afraid to look at. The relief of that flushed out a little of the stiffness that had snuck back into her limbs. The planes of his features were sharp, his eyes colourless. "Do we look in need of comfort, sir knight?" A gentle tide of sarcasm mocked his concern, but it was a friendly tease, and though the question appeared to have been directed solely at her she included Kat into the conversation naturally. Her grin held the effervescent quality of the ever-optimistic; the unique hardiness of the whimsical. They were both fine, and if he were really tugged by altruistic means his concern was better served elsewhere. She doubted his intention, but she didn't judge it. He was welcome. "I'm Thalia. This is Katya."