date: february 10th, 2349 – dusk.
location: eel train station.
with: @brntide
Her hands are wrought, accompanied by a steady ache under her broken skin, and she wrings them out a little as she looks out to Fool’s Prospect. It was still, the backdrop to the quiet train station she’s been tucked away in for a while now. It’s such a stark contrast to how it was when they had their way with it, tensions high and smiles a little too crude when stepping off but a week before. The people inside, a small glimpse at them just confirms what she already knew went down: stricken faces of hurt and fear. Whatever went down in the passenger cars, she doesn’t want to know about it. Instead, she spent her time cataloging their winnings, seeing if anything was actually of worth and could be used or sold.
But even that became too much, she has to deal with questions of the loot, the worth, who gets what, and then there’s the Hellion Issue ( as she’s silently been referring to it ). She wonders what’s the fucking point of the group if some people live so selfishly and vicariously through their little heists and robberies? Wonders if they’ll do the math, just like she had, and realize that there was little to gain from such a life. Quarter cracks her knuckles, a nervous habit at the tingling feeling of guilt racing up her arms, goosebumps coming on her shoulder. How was she any better? It made no difference, couldn’t change the past or the present. She and Odyssey were tied into one, a thread tied as delicately as a veiled threat.
Her musings are interrupted with the squeal of a whistle, and the ever steady approaching sound of wheels on the train tracks. A part of her freezes, taken back to old hats covering her eyes, dusty clothes and scarves hiding her identity, and the tearing down of posters of her bounty that were posted to every other town’s notice board. The other part of her calmly stands up, moving the auburn scarf around her neck to cover the bottom part of her face, and she moves from the bench to near the rusty staircase of the station, listening to the echoing train as it moves closer and closer to Eel. She turns to move down the stairs, away from the eventual crowd of the night train but stops herself short, seeing another figure approach the train.
Brontide.Â
Ironic is the idea of possibly leaving with the train when facing the one person who left and made it back alive. Quarter thinks, fleetingly, about if they could have gone together. That night was the only time the thought of abandoning ship really stuck with her, bittersweet memories clouding her vision as she makes her way down the rusty staircase of the station towards them. “I know the view’s nice but it’s about to get real crowded,” she finally says, ignoring months of silence between them, words left unsaid and feelings never bubbling past the surface. What she doesn’t ignore is the pain in her heart, a reverberation of the past year without Brontide on her side, her smile ever warm and comforting to Quarter’s anxieties. “Don’t think anyone from the Faith is on that train but if you wanna risk that, go ahead.” You can defend yourself is left unsaid, they both know just how capable the enforcer is.Â
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