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[soulshard]

(art credit: x)

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[soulshard]

some kinda train to the afterlife + snowpiercer + spirited away jamjar setting

[quillandaxe]

[ Moenbryda's memory of how, exactly, she came to be on this train -- and how long it's been --- are somewhat fuzzy, but she can't say it's been boring. It isn't a normal place, that's for certain, with each car practically a different world unto itself as one passes through them: stepping into a forest one moment, then a blisteringly cold winter landscape the next. The control car is the only place she's never been to, impervious to attempts to access it. How the train links together seems to be dictated less by logic than by will, the layout changing from moment to moment.

Now and again, a droning voice over the speakers will call for the residents of the train to assemble and get rid of pests attempting to attack it. Standing on the train roof, trying to cut down many-limbed shadows clinging to the metal, all Moenbryda can see out there is an endless, howling black.

It's after one of those altercations that she finds her way to the dining car -- one of them, anyway. The servers are mute, vaguely humanoid shadows that flit from table to table, taking people's orders. Brushing some lingering snowmelt off her clothes, she plunks herself down solidly at the bar and unhooks her axe from her back so it buries itself with a solid thunk on the polished wooden floor. ]

Well, that was certainly exciting, wasn't it? [ She announces, to no one in particular. There are faces both new and familiar around, but first things first: she needs to get warmed up. ]

cha-cha slides in here real smooth

[sunseeker]

[ It isn't like traveling to the First -- at least then there had been a warning of sorts. Instead, she remembers simply waking up elsewhere. The rest is a of a blur; bright lights, pain, cuts, electrical shocks. Darkness. The nature of it eludes her, and though it is quite possible she might be able to discern the truth of it if she tried, she doesn't care to. Memory picks up bit more properly after that. Discarded in some back alley, left without the Blessing of Light or even the simple ability to manipulate aether. Powerless and helpless. She'd since been set up with temporary lodgings in some kind of warehouse by a mysterious benefactor, with a warning that she'll need to become self-sufficient soon.

Quite a tall order when she knows not what to do with herself, or what she could possibly offer in such a sorry state.

For the time being, she's taken to wandering the city as a distraction. The throbbing in her temples still hasn't entirely subsided, and so she traces a wall with her glove as she walks, counting on it to support her should she stumble. Her ears are flat against her head as she walks, flickering slightly at every foreign sound.

Gods, how she misses the other Scions. They might know what to do, or at least have some kind of direction for her. She's grown too used to being the solution, not the one thinking of one. ]