starwardexplorer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
starwardexplorer) wrote2024-09-11 04:52 pm
starwardexplorer) wrote2024-09-11 04:52 pm
Entry tags:
ashes and wine
[ The beautiful dream is well and truly over, shattered beyond repair, and as much as Himeko believes they did the right thing, it will always be a bittersweet victory for her for so many reasons.
That evening, she'd reached for Welt's hand instinctively, remembering too late that they were back in reality, that the person who had returned her affections in Sunday's smoke-and-mirror dreamscape had been little more than a construct, a figment of her own imagination crafted to keep her complacent. She made some excuse about lint on his sleeve when he jolted a little at her touch, then retreated. Himeko is the Express' navigator--this is her train now--and she can't abide the thought of her crewmates pitying her for inability to put her childish wishes to bed.
She hurries through the passenger cars, heels clicking softly on the carpeted floors. The door connecting to the dining car glides open, and she freezes in the warm, ambient light for a few seconds before slowly approaching the bar and taking a seat. Her elbows rest on the mahogany bar, and she folds her fingers together, resting her chin on dainty knuckles. ]
New passengers typically have to present their passes to the conductor upon boarding, but in this case... I'll allow it. [ A brief pause. ] We all drank in your honor, you know. I don't suppose you'd pour a drink for me now?
That evening, she'd reached for Welt's hand instinctively, remembering too late that they were back in reality, that the person who had returned her affections in Sunday's smoke-and-mirror dreamscape had been little more than a construct, a figment of her own imagination crafted to keep her complacent. She made some excuse about lint on his sleeve when he jolted a little at her touch, then retreated. Himeko is the Express' navigator--this is her train now--and she can't abide the thought of her crewmates pitying her for inability to put her childish wishes to bed.
She hurries through the passenger cars, heels clicking softly on the carpeted floors. The door connecting to the dining car glides open, and she freezes in the warm, ambient light for a few seconds before slowly approaching the bar and taking a seat. Her elbows rest on the mahogany bar, and she folds her fingers together, resting her chin on dainty knuckles. ]
New passengers typically have to present their passes to the conductor upon boarding, but in this case... I'll allow it. [ A brief pause. ] We all drank in your honor, you know. I don't suppose you'd pour a drink for me now?
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...For a little while, anyway.
It seems that fickle fate his more in store for a wretch like him. Or, more likely, Gallagher isn't as ready to leave this world as he puts on. It's reasonable when you put it that way. Death must be as difficult to dreams, memories, and constructs as it is to those made of other, more natural means.
So, if some stubborn, human part of him doesn't want to go, so be it. Time is a vast, endless plane, so he should be allowed to explore it for a moment more. )
Would you believe me if you said I lost my ticket? Carried away by a strong gust of wind. ( It's all humor, nothing weighed down by solemnity in the voice of a living-dead man as his hands find their way to a glimmering glass tumbler. He tosses it, catches it, judges the weight of tangible reality and decides not to pursue that train of thought. He drops in a few ice cubes instead. )
What'll it be?
( Can he gathering the emotions from the world around him and wring their contents out in a cocktail? A strip of film from March 7th's camera, a prize won from a gacha machine Stelle poured too many coins into... they'd flow smoothly on the back of a scorned tongue, but nothing happens when he touches them.
Real liquor it is. )
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