WEEK 1

[strangerpeople]

WEEK 1

[The train wouldn't stop. Not until very early the next morning. The few who might have been awake would be able to exit the train, entering the cool twilight of the dawn. The star is dark, and few stars can be seen in the sky as a cold breeze begins to blow from the mountain beyond. You can see some chunks of rock floating idly nearby, far away from the station that it won't hit trains, but near enough that one can see they are larger than the train they just disembarked.

Lastly, laid out in front of them, the first port of call: Menahoven. The mountain: The Throat of the World.

But which world? Who knows. Not any of yours. Maybe it doesn't matter. Not when you are so far from home. Not when you have no way to get off this rock without the aid of the trains-and they will not let you pass.

It looks like you're stuck here until the Conductor decides to leave. In the meantime, everyone will need to get comfortable.


There are fifteen strangers left in this place.]

Comments

[higanbana]

Is that so?

[Ris looks up over her forkful of food.]

I admit I am unfamiliar with what those stakes represent, but as far as I am concerned, both the gold and the stakes seem to be of little use to me. If you would like them, they are yours, Lady Beatrice.

[awitchdidit]

Eh? That's hundreds of thousands of yen in a currency that's negotiable anywhere. You'd just hand it over like that?

[higanbana]

[Ris' expression doesn't change a bit.]

Ah, "yen?" I admit, I did not take you as being of Japanese origin, Lady Beatrice.

[As for the gold, though:]

I recognize that, but money serves me little purpose. No records of me exist.

If I were to invest that bar of gold, I would require assistance from some kind of financial entity. What kind of reasonable bank would work with someone who, legally, does not exist?

Even if I were to attempt to forge my own path once we complete this journey, that would be a wonderful way to get myself arrested, if not outright returned to whence I came. I will pass.

[awitchdidit]

I've been living in Japan for quite a while. A guest of someone who's fond of European things.

And that's a very practical outlook, but I think you're underestimating the amount of legal leeway a great deal of money gets you. Identities are bought and sold all the time.

However, I'm not about to tell you to take the word of a Witch. I suggest you keep the gold, though. Put it in a purse and use it as a bludgeoning weapon, if nothing else.

[higanbana]

Is that so... it is a fascinating life you lead, my Lady.

[Ris listens to the rest of what Beatrice has to say. She sets down her fork and stands, heading over to the dining table where the gold ingot sits.]

...If you insist. I suppose having more weapons at my disposal is, undeniably, a boon.

[awitchdidit]

I knew you were a smart girl.

The Stakes, however, I think I will ask for. Those are the vessels for several friends of mine.

[higanbana]

If they are friends of yours, then it is only right that they return to you. I was granted as much myself earlier this week.

Go ahead and take them.

[awitchdidit]

Oh? Were you one of the ones with a pet aboard?

[Beatrice steps over to the ice picks, which are apparently Stakes, and picks them up carefully.]

Hello, girls. Welcome to the Space Orient Express.

[higanbana]

No.

[She reaches into a pocket to produce something made of gleaming steel, with a design of a butterfly etched into it.

Taking a step back from Beatrice, for safety's sake, she flips open the balisong, then flips it closed once more.]

My knife. It... is really the only thing that has ever truly belonged to me. So it may not truly live... but it has as much value to me as if it did.

[awitchdidit]

[Beatrice grins. She knew she liked this girl.]

Ahaha, beautiful! I see my gold is in good company as a means of self-defense. I've never seen a knife like that before...

[higanbana]

[Okay, that actually earns a smile.]

Ehehe. I admit, I do feel more comfortable with the knife, but I'm sure I can grow accustomed to the gold, too, in time. It will certainly have a certain sense of style to it.

[Two Messed Up Blondes Cheerfully Discuss Murder]

It's called a balisong, or a butterfly knife. So the design is a bit on the nose.

[awitchdidit]

Oho! I'm sorry I haven't heard of it. Golden butterflies are my magical signature, when I'm on top of my game. I'm quite fond of transforming into them as well.

[higanbana]

Oh, is that so? Then such a knife would be absolutely perfect for you, my Lady! Ehehe, perhaps even one with golden butterflies inlaid in the handle. That would suit you best, it seems.

[awitchdidit]

Ahaha, I like the idea. Perhaps if I can't animate these servants, I'll look into acquiring one.

[She takes a seat, planning to stick around for a while at this point, and laying out the Stakes individually for a quick inspection.]

Hm. You're an apprentice to a Witch now. Have you considered enchanting your blade?

[higanbana]

Perhaps you should look into one in general, should we manage to escape. It is a fun accessory to play with.

[Flip, flip.]

Hm? I cannot say that I have. How so "enchanting?"

[awitchdidit]

[Beatrice gestures to her Stakes.]

There are a few ways, but take these Stakes, for example. Each of them holds an otherworldly being which can, normally, animate them to fight on my behalf - a demon under my contract. That's my means of enchanting.

[She holds one up.]

This isn't merely a pointy spike. It's an earthly form for Asmodeus, Thirty-Second Demon of the Lesser Key and Mistress of the Sin of Lust. Despite the fact that she can't get a boyfriend, mind you.

[higanbana]

Ah, more communing with demons... I see, I see. Ehe, it's a beautiful irony that she cannot find a lover, though, is it not?

Still... I cannot say I find myself all too enamored with the idea of messing in the affairs of demons. It would be fascinating to behold, but the idea of putting anything else under my contract is... a little disconcerting to me, if I'm honest.

[She glances upward, thoughtfully.]

Perhaps a more simple sort of enchantment is more befitting of me. A poison coat I don't have to perpetually reapply, perhaps...?

[She is, as ever, practical about at least this.]