Dreams of Fire

[Jon Little Bird]

Jon caught a second glimpse at the two girls before the train got too crowded. Something tickled his memory, he wasn't sure what. He put it out of his mind and regarded his new acquaintance.

Having easily gotten the man's attention, Jon deduced the man -- Dane Gregory -- probably wasn't an immediate threat to the young women he'd been watching. In fact, Jon's approach seemed to have put them out of the man's mind for the time being.

Crisp, polite and pleasant though he seemed, Dane still felt...out of place. And this was an unusual sentiment to stir in Jon's mind, for being out of place in his particular environment was something Jon had a particular knack for. Perhaps it was simply Dane's refined manner. Quite a refreshing quality, and an unlikely one to find on the metro transit during rush hour.

The question took Jon back a bit. Traveling? I haven't said anything about traveling.
Then he chuckled to himself. Of course the man knew he was traveling by virtue of Jon being on the train. For Jon to equate the term "traveling" with a long-distance destination was telling of his distinctly American way of thinking. He had to be careful not to fall too deeply into those sorts of thought patterns -- they could be dangerous.

"For me, it's the airport today,"
Jon said to the man. "And then onto the Persian Gulf. I heard the weather is quite mild this time of year."
If the man was a spy, so what? It wasn't like the CCD didn't already know of his whereabouts and travel itinerary. At least, it was safe to assume they already knew he was headed right to the source of the flame.

[Dane Gregory]

His own hair was thin and wavy, although cut short as it was kept the style to a neat and well-tended grooming. Dane held grooming to a high regard in general. His nails were trim and short. His jaw smooth and moisturized. His neck was free of rogue hairs. Even his knuckles had the appearance of recent lotioning. The tips of black gloves stuck from his other pocket - lambskin by their hue. Yes, he took good care of his body. Even his smile was pearly white.

He smiled across at Jon. Imagery exploded in his mind, inspired by Jon's destination. An airport was a cliche mark for a demonstration of Dane's sort. They were host to the unimaginative and lazy marksmen. A train, however? The tunnels such as the one currently occupied were inescapable wormholes burrowed hundreds of meters below the surface. Death and carnage were well and good, but fear of the unknown, fear of whether or not you return from the black holes of the earth, that was terrifying.

"It has been cold,"
Dane replied, quite frankly. "Then again, it is winter. What else might we expect but cold?"
He largely spoke to himself, but he pulled the gloves from his pocket and slipped slender, musical fingers into each divine, black wrapping. They were untarnished thanks to a chemical anti-stain treatment modified for leather materials. It worked as perfectly as the salesman said it would.

He slipped them on and laced his fingers together so to push each glove until they fit snug as a second skin. Then he folded his hands on his waist and watched the girls, thinking about black hair falling across black gloves.

Or maybe tawny brown hair falling across black gloves.

[Katya]

Katya chuckled softly at the losing her cool remark. Red was definitely a color to indicate losing your cool. Anger prompted much, and red was definitely a sign of anger. But Thalia didn't look angry. Katya wondered what the other woman would have that would make her lose her cool, she had clearly regained her composure now.

"Crap, I'm going to have a lot of cleaning up to do when I get back. Hey , do you know what stop we just passed?"

As if answering her question the loud speaker crackled their current destination. Katya smiled, "There ya go."
She pointed up where the sound resonated from. The speakers weren't over head, but she'd get the point.

The doors swooshed open and people hurried in to their nearly empty car. A certain void seemed to emanate from the creepy man watching then. Katya tried not to stir in her seat, she didn't like the way he watched.

Katya tried to forget him and turned her full attention on Thalia. "Tea sounds lovely."
Katya flipped open the lid on her laptop, The clock ticked brightly at her. She had time, maybe. But all Nathaniel would do is yell and Katya would get a good laugh out of it seeing his face turn nearly as red as the paint covering her new friend. "There is a cafe, near here that serves an great unique blend of teas.


Katya looked up when the car jolted forward. A new man now sat with the creepy man, he looked Native American. Not that she'd see anyone like him except for on the television. They seemed in conversation, it made Katya relax visibly. At least the creepy man's attention was elsewhere now.

[Ascendancy]

GM NOTE


Due to unexpected technical and signaling glitches at the metro central command station, the train comes to a halt in mid-tunnel about 60 m underground and about 2.5 kilometers between stops. Lights dim to emergency backup power only.

To continue for an unknown length of time.

[Jon Little Bird]

The climate of the metro car was held at a comfortable 22 degrees Celsius, so Jon took silent note of the seemingly out of place and random action of Dane suddenly putting on a pair of black leather gloves. Why now, and why with such apparent reverence? The snug pull of each finger in, ensuring a perfect fit, was as if the simple act of putting on gloves was done lovingly. How odd. And he was looking in the direction of those girls again. The vibe sent creeping tendrils of ice down Jon's spine.

The windows outside darkened as the train sped into a tunnel."Nice gloves,"
Jon said. "Do you by chance have a local glover? I have had the most difficult time finding gloves that fit my hands well."
That was at least true. it seemed nothing fit his short hands and rounded fingertips.

Jon felt a strange sensation in his gut. What was that? Suddenly there was a lurch, and the lights cut out. A woman screamed and there was a thudding noise, books or something falling to the ground. Jon was rocked, but not violently so. He came to realize the odd sensation was that of the train slowing, and it had now stopped entirely.

Emergency lighting flickered on overhead. Jon couldn't see outside the windows. So the train had lost power. Perfect -- if it didn't come on shortly, he would miss his flight. He reached for his Wallet, and it flickered to life. Why wasn't there a signal? They must be too deep underground for his particular carrier. Fantastic.

Jon stood and peered around the car."Is anyone hurt?"
he called out. He took off his spectacles, but the low light conditions didn't seem to help his vision either way. He'd have to walk around to better assess the situation. So he started to check on the other passengers.

[Dane Gregory]

Dane looked to his hands. The gloves he selected to be his own were better than 'nice.' They were superb. The leather was hand-sewn. The stitching itself threaded as its own work of art. The wool within was supple as warm skin. And they fit his graceful fingers perfectly. While there were excellent glovers in Paris, there were yet more prestigious brands here in Moscow. Dane did not appreciate the reminder of this deficiency from Jon.

"Thank you, but these are from Paris."
He replied tightly.

He studied Jon's appearance as an extension of his taste. Within a few quick assessments, Dane was already feeling better about himself. He laid his hands in his lap and relaxed.

Then the traincar lurched. They couldn't be at the next stop already? Had he underestimated the distance?

There was nothing but darkness beyond the windows. No light of the next station yawned before them. And the train rolled to a complete stop. How interesting.

Jon fumbled with his Wallet, and as he didn't connect to the metro signal, Dane marveled at the luck of being stuck on a train far underground without a single connection to the outside world.

Speakers buzzed with an announcement from the driver. He spoke with a guttural, harsh Moscow accent. "Attention passengers, this is your driver speaking. Central command station is experiencing technical difficulties. We will resume service when they return on line."

Dane was in no hurry to be anywhere, so he was perfectly content with the event. He was surrounded by butterflies, who would be disturbed by such a predicament?

Jon did have a surprisingly novel idea for a mediocre mind. Dane rose to his feet and followed. While the American took one side of the car, Dane padded his way gently along the other. His gentle voice broke the dim light with warm rays of comfort as he asked those whom he passed if there was anything he might do for them. Until he came upon the young woman with tawny brown hair. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, and smudges of colorless paint darkened her porcelain skin.

"And you miss, is there anything I might do for you?"
He sat next to her, and attempted to do so at what should be considered a comfortable respect for personal space, but the dim light and sudden eruption of conversation hinted that he should sit close enough that she might hear and observe him clearly. It was a guess either way.

[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."

[Katya]

The lights dimmed and the train lurched to a stop. Katya had to grab her laptop else it would have flow to the floor. She nodded to Thalia when she was asked if she was okay. This wasn't the first time the metro had had technical difficulties.

Katya flipped open her laptop, the signal was weak and her algorthims ran with out stopping. That was a good thing, but she wasn't sure how long she'd be down here and her battery was getting low. She hadn't intended to be out with out a plug for long, and now it looked like she would be out longer. Katya paused the program and shut down. There was no point ruining a perfectly good machine due to this debacle.

Completely absorbed by her laptop she failed to see two men get up and start down the aisle towards them. Katya nearly jumped out of her seat when the creepy man spoke to Thalia.

Katya wished Thalia hadn't given her name to him, but what was done was done. "We're fine,"
she hid her fear well she thought. She wasn't afraid of the darkness, but there was something about this man and the dim lights made that affect even worse. Katya tried to smile.

"Unless you have a pot of tea in your jacket, kind sire."
Her voice was tinged with sarcasm and her smiled turned real.

[Dane Gregory]

Her response was sarcasm. Dane was sure of it. Although it was quite unexpected. Her manners and volume of speech suggested a more polite individual, but then again he was not in London anymore, things were different in the east. He would need to relearn much about human behavior.

He did enjoy the reference to knighthood. Being called a "sir" had a very pleasant ring to it, but the aftertaste bit like vinegar. Dane's grandfather had been an Earl and were it not for the loss of fiefdom, grandiose titles would have been his someday. It was a historical price they paid, he supposed, exchanging the ancient ways for security and continued wealth. Titles did nothing for a bankrupt family. He would rather have wealth than prestige, because one can accumulate the other over time but not the other way around. That didn't mean Thalia and Katya need know the difference, however.

Upon the introduction to butterfly number two, he stretched an arm across the aisle and offered his hand along with a deep nod of the head. "Tis a pleasure, young lady. My name is Dane Gregory, Lord Dane Gregory."
he said. He studied her face afterward, intending to decipher whether she bought the lie and whether she was serious about tea, was making fun of his accent, or he was yet privy to another bout of sarcasm. He went with the last.

"I'm afraid I am out of tea, today,"
he said, patting his chest down as he did, until his hand paused on his breast pocket, and enlightenment crossed his expression. His fingers delved in briefly and plucked out, to the amazement of all, two lemon-flavoured sweets with chewy centres wrapped in shiny yellow paper.

"Sherbet lemon?"
He asked, offering one to each girl.


Edited by Dane Gregory, Apr 3 2014, 05:24 AM.

[Katya]

Katya fought a giggle that tried to emerge as he stretched across the aisle. She took his hand and shook firmly with a smile. Sarcasm made her less afraid, and he seemed to take things well, at least he didn't look too offended by her comment. "You must come from a pretty old family to claim such an arcahic term as lord. There are no lords in the CCD anymore."
. Katya smiled brightly at him.

She watched as he patted down his chest searching for tea. She smiled at Thalia. "And I was so looking forward to tea.
Katya gave Dane a fake frown of disappointment. She hadn't expected he'd have a kettle in that overcoat of his, but he played the game well and Katya smiled. He was less creepy than she had originally thought.

Dane offered them candy. She grinned. "My mother told me never to take candy from strangers.
The smile faded as she continued, "I'm fine, thank you though."


Katya looked up the train car and back down. It seemed quiet considering they were below the earth in a dark tunnel in an increasingly chilly train car. "I wish they'd hurry up with this.


She wasn't really in any hurry to get where she was going. But it would continue to get colder the longer they stayed down here. Accustom to the weather as she was but still it was never pleasant being bone cold especially deep under the earth where the sun was never seen.

To take her mind off the chill she asked Dane. "What brings your lordly self to the deep dark tunnels of Moscow. Surely Great Britan misses your presence.



Edited by Katya, Apr 3 2014, 07:54 AM.