The Barrens

The Last Prophet managed to procure himself some deviled eggs, and was happy going to town on them.

Iyana had been looking out of the window until Charles addressed Gilbert about the location of his jaw. She glanced at the man, realising that he had been staring at her. She couldn't help but blush a little, smiling at the man who apparently represented death. She would have said something, made a joke perhaps. Instead, she gave a very unlady-like yawn.
"Sorry about that," She said sheepishly, "I suppose I had better get some sleep f I'm going to go trapezing around places I'm not supposed to go." She added. With that, she pulled off her dark glasses, carefully placing them on the table so that she could find them later before curling up slightly on herself, her eyes closed.

Charles's smile widened as he stared out of the window. it seemed fairly evident that his mind was not outside the window, however, but then, that strange look in his eyes might have been anywhere.
Gilbert glanced over at Iyana. Charles might have spoken with him, but he wouldn't disturb what he had seen. So the young man, perhaps not so young then, death... He curled up himself, attempting, self consciously to keep himself from directly touching the young lady in the seat next to him. He wrapped himself in his own arms, leaning back with a shiver. His own thoughts were so far distant in a matter of moments, as he closed tired eyes, that he never noticed when Charles sedately motioned for an attendant to bring blankets for his sleeping companions. He would remain awake, periodically watching the two sleepers, shifting his gaze outside again, or browsing the hall with his eyes, though he never once left his position, like a dog faithfully awaiting its master's return, although one got the impression that perhaps it was more like a guardian angel resting over a pair of children.
Gradually, the light which filtered through the windows would grow dark, the train cars lit by lamps. It was during these hours, the two still slumbering peacefully, that a figure passed by the booth, walking down the hall. Charles made no overt acknowledgement of the form, nor did it of him, but something occurred in the air between them as it went by, like lightning... Of course, it wasn't anything visible, just a feeling. The only people who might have been present to notice it were all nodded off into dreamland, however, and so the world continued to move, unaware.
Then, the light began to fade back into the world, and for the first time in some while, Charles shifted in his seat. He didn't speak loudly, just simply said to the other two, "We're almost there."

As something warm engulfed the young woman, her fingers automatically curling around the edge of the blanket an attendant had brought, somehow managing not to suffer a fear- or stress induced heart attack. She turned over in her sleep, her head moving to rest on Gilbert's shoulder. Her face seemed serene in sleep, younger than she seemed behind the glasses, strands of her hair falling over her features. But behind the eyelids, she was falling, falling, falling through rings of fire.

She didn't hear Charles speak, so deep her sleep engulfed her. She hadn't realised just how much the previous day's events had tired her.

Gilbert's eyes fluttered at the sound of another person's voice. He had been asleep for some while, swept up in a rather lovely dream. When he awoke, he found himself in another. It did not occur to him for a moment what exactly was going on, as the grog of sleep fell away from him like scales from his eyes. He saw Charles resting across from them with his head cocked in amusement. For a few seconds, Gilbert felt confusion. As he tried to turn to look at the girl, though, he found out why his companion looked so bemused. Turning wasn't really a possibility. His muscles were still awakening, and the obstruction of a body pressing down upon his shoulder inhibited movement.
The look of realization that sprung onto the young man's face was so incredibly comical that Charles couldn't help cracking a smile. It was surprise, a little bit of shock, caution, a kid-caught-with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar look, and most of all was the impression the the poor man was completely devoid of the knowledge as to what he should do. In such situations, a body is inclined not to move, lest the sleeper wake, sacrificing themselves for the comfort of the other, but the obvious discomfort which he was placed in at such an intimate proximity nearly had him squirming out of his skin. His eyes begged Charles for help, but all they got was quiet laughter in return.
Gilbert's situation was eased slightly by the distraction of one of the attendants popping his head into the booth and, keeping his voice either reverently or politely low, informed the passengers that the next stop would be the Hallowed Fields Station which would be followed by the Limbus Junction. Charles thanked the man who took a final appraisal of the booth before hopping along to his next task. "Cordial fellow," he remarked as he turned his eyes to a newspaper that the servant had brought with him and deposited on the table. Gilbert's mind, however, was still on the slight predicament of a sleeping lady resting upon him. Unable to rationalize any other course of action, and receiving no help whatsoever from Charles, he settled himself with merely remaining as still as possible, heavily conscious of the precious weight he bore.

Iyana felt something stirring beneath her head, waking her. She realised that she was resting against someone. This realisation made her sit up, straight, stammering an apology. Her hand spidered across the table as she remembered where she had left her glasses. Sliding them onto the bridge of her nose, she looked next to her to see a rather stunned looking Gilbert. A flush spread across her face as she tried to say another apology.

Gilbert himself was having a certain amount of trouble finding words, having curled in on himself slightly. His jaw worked on a breathless sentence through which it seemed he was stuttering. In the end, all that came out was a dry throated croak, "It's-s-s okay."
Charles rather noisily flipped a page in the paper. "Looks like we're coming in on a festival day! I do hope Grey caught my telegram, otherwise this could be a bugger of a thing to get out of," he said it so cheerfully, with so little emotion displayed upon his face.
Gilbert did not look particularly enthused, and perhaps slightly horrified. "What festival?" his voice was still recovering.
"Day of the Dead," Charles scanned down the page, "Ridiculous, you'll never believe who won the regionals!"
"Wraith!" Gilbert nearly shouted in his frantic attitude.
"No, the Ermines of all things," he got back.
"Wraith!" death's avatar was not entirely ecstatic apparently.
"Charles," the paper came down and met the table with a slight slap.
"What?" Gilbert looked a bit confused at what was to him a change of subject.
"My name is Charles," that frighteningly blank stare met the young man's gaze.
Somehow, Gilbert looked taken aback by that. "I... I'm sorry..." he said, appearing self conscious.
Charles simply shook his head in dismissal. "Come now, let's get something to eat before we arrive," he waved an attendant forward prepared to order a meal.

Iyana glanced between the two men, her eyebrows knitted together. She stood up, wriggling past Gilbert. The atmosphere between the two was starting t oget strained and awkward. She was tempted to make a remark about the testosterone levels in the air, but figured that it was not a sensible thing to say. Especially since she didn't even know the biological makeup of the two beings.
"If you two don't mind, I'm going to go to the bathroom." She said before making her way down the aisle, brushing past several attendants in the process.

Gilbert looked taken aback by her departure, and almost made as if to get up and go with her, but a look from Charles kept him in his seat.
"That's fine then, the water closet is towards the back of the car," Charles said, "Would you like us to order something for you..." He trailed off as she departed.
"Charles, I, er," Gilbert began.
"No, you are right to question me. I was hesitant to say anything in front of the girl," he kept his voice low, confidential, "The less she knows going into this, the better."
"But the danger-" the young man's anxiety had him leaning forward with its intensity, nearly falling out of his seat.
"Is better left unknown. If she knew what she was walking into, heaven only knows what might happen to her demeanor, and if she walks in there with even a hint of a fear sent..." he shook his head, the look in his eyes said what his mouth wouldn't.
"She kept her head with that Hellraiser," Gilbert pointed out quietly.
"And she's about to find out what the gates of Hell itself look like. I'm just glad she rubbed all over you in her sleep. No one will be able to tell she's living through your rather unique sent," Charles breathed in deeply and sighed. He had rather obviously made his companion more than a little bit embarrassed. "My point is," he said, looking up with a whole new sort of emotion in his eyes, "The people which will be trying to stop her... These people scare me... While you two were asleep, they fired a warning shot off my bow. Once we arrive... I won't even be able to leave the train. If I were you, I wouldn't go past the station doors."
"What...?" Gilbert was shocked out of his reverie by the realization that the unflappable had been flapped. He had seen Charles concerned before, but not truly frightened. This... this was something altogether different. He trusted this man, despite all the reasons that he shouldn't. He trusted this fear.
"Grey will find her. She'll be safe," he did not sound sure in the least.
"S***, Charles," Gilbert gasped, "What the H*** are you getting us into."

On her way to the water closet, Iyana passed by a figure. It was just a person, like any other, but had Iyana really tried to focus on them... Not even I could say what she would have really seen. The individual didn't say anything as it passed by, but there was something that passed through the air. There's a feeling you get when someone bumps into your shoulder as they pass you. This was the feeling that very well could have been interpreted from the exchange. Had she turned to catch a glimpse of that person, she wouldn't have been able to find them walking down the hall. Neither Charles nor Gilbert would ever know that they had been there in the first place. However, she might have seen a little note, a scrap of torn paper lying on the ground. She might have read the words, "Don't trust them."

Iyana almost slammed the door into the bathroom, not bothering to click on the lights as she pulled her glasses off. Her eyes stopped burning, her pupils relaxing to take in all possible light in the little room. She stared at herself in the mirror, seeing slightly bloodshot eyes and dark shadows. It hadn't been a good night. Not while she kept seeing Grey and that creature. She took the scarf off her shoulders, looking at the scar. She gritted her teeth, looking down from the mirror to splash water on her face. There was no point in getting upset over it.

After a quick glance in the mirror once more to sort her hair so that it looked less like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards, the reporter slid her glasses back into place, slipping back out into the corridor. That was when she saw the scrap of paper. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. Was it meant for her? Something told her it was, some sort of gut instinct. She looked towards the booth where Charles and Gilbert still sat, seemingly engaged in some sort of heated, confidential argument. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. She strode down the aisle, the attendants quickly getting out of her way as they recognised the look of a woman scorned. She put her hands on the table, the note still held in one, glaring at each anthropomorphic man in turn.
"What exactly are you two talking about and exactly what am I getting myself into with the pair of you?" She hissed, keeping her voice low but menacing.

The look in Gilbert's eyes was fright as she stormed up, confused and a little bit shocked, and a decent smattering of guilt. Charles, however retained perfect composure. He gestured for her to take the seat beside Gilbert who slid over in the booth to allow her access. Several plates sat on the table, along with glasses, the food had been demolished and the glasses were half empty. Indicating the setting Charles said, "I hope you don't mind, we ordered some food while you were gone. Gilbert here was a bit peeved with me that I wouldn't wait. We were just having it out a bit. Seems I need to learn some manners." He shifted slightly.
Gilbert looked irritated, "Charles, you know that wasn't what she was-"
The look Charles gave him said that he did know, and in a rather frightening way, it shut the young man's mouth. It was not an angry look, but rather one of a sort of fiendish smile, although his lips didn't move. "No it wasn't. I'm sorry. I won't tell you," he looked at Iyana as he spoke the words quite plainly, his expression placid once more, "And that is what you wanted to know. We were arguing about the fact that I'm withholding information from you, and from him. I will continue to do so." He caught a glimpse of the note. "Ahhh..." was all that came out of his mouth as he leaned back but afterwards, "If you feel that you can't trust me, the next station is coming up in a few moments. You can both leave if you wish. I don't bind you here in any way."
Gilbert fidgeted, extremely uncomfortable at the thought of not repaying his own personal debt, but also not able to sanction the use of Iyana like this.
"I don't need your help, either of you," he smiled slightly, "And there's no reason that you can't just walk away if you really feel you can't trust me. Frankly, it would be better if you did, if you can't. Because the most I will tell you is that if you come with me, you won't be able to come back... When I find Grey, we start running, he and I, and we don't stop. If you're not interested, leave."

Iyana gritted her teeth before doing something that she only did when she absolutely had to make a point. She pulled off her glasses, letting the two men see her black, broken pupils, her eyes a flickering flame of fury. She noticed Charles' eyes flickering towards the note in her hand. The fist clenched, crumpling the piece of paper.
"I still owe Grey a debt. I will fulfill this debt, but you're just using me! I heard you say that neither of you can enter this realm! How can I expect to enter and exit while knowing next to nothing of what I'm facing?! I don't go into the field without knowing what's there!"

"Grey knows-" Charles began to speak, but found himself astounded to be cut off by Gilbert. The young man stood, and chopped Charles undoubtedly useless reply short.
"He wants you to walk into a realm of dead people who don't know that they are dead and merely awaiting the dictate of some higher power to proclaim them a place in the universe on a day when the spirits of the dead are particularly restless. A grand festival shall be taking place, in which it will be a simple matter to hide any number of monstrous individuals in a crowd that is otherwise generally quite human," it all came out in a single breath and in a manner that was incredibly forceful for him, "What is more, is that the people who Charles and Grey work for are not happy with them helping me in the crypt and are therefor sending some unsavory persons to pick them up. The reason he doesn't want you to know is that they don't know about you yet, and he thinks that if you don't know who or what they are, then you will be protected from their rather invasive methods of scanning the minds of those around them... Before hand, he was going to give you a rather confusing set of directions which would hopefully occupy your mind, so that you wouldn't think too loudly about either Grey or him, and you might sneak through."
Charles hissed slightly between his teeth. Gilbert only gave him a stern sort of glance.
"The fact that you have been left some kind of warning note seems to rather clearly indicate that you've been discovered, however, and it would be ludicrous to keep up the facade," a wave of his hand blotted out the harsh light with a wall of shadowy fire, dimming the entire train car. There were collective gasps that could be heard, followed by silence. More than a few eyes were on the scene now transpiring. Gilbert's eyes were locked on Iyana.
"And I don't care what is safe or not," looking straight into her broken eyes he spoke, "If you're going out there to find Grey, then I'm going with you."

Iyana listened to Gilbert's tirade before sliding her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. For a moment, she said nothing, but then nodded.
"Thank you, Gilbert, for telling me. I still plan on going." She said sincerely, moving to sit down. She refused to look at Charles, feeling betrayed by the man for witholding important information from her. "However," She added to the anthropomorphic personification of death, "I'm perfectly capable of going in on my own."

"As I tried to emphasize more than once," Charles looked irritated and sounded worse. If indeed Iyana felt betrayed at a lack of informational flow, then Charles was most certainly feeling a similar emotion at Gilbert's indiscretion.
Down the isle, the conductor began calling that the train had come to a stop at the Hallowed Fields Station. Charles looked at the two as if he almost wanted them to climb off of the train now. Gilbert was just as resolute as Iyana that he would not leave, and even more so because she had chosen to stay. "I don't care about the danger to myself. I would feel infinitely better if I went with you," Gilbert was a bit earnest.
"Except you aren't just endangering yourself, Idiot," Charles's voice was downright angry as he whipped himself up out of the booth and stormed down the isle. There were persons moving along the passageway, an elderly couple, a waiter or two, a young family, but all of them moved to the side, cowering as Charles passed by, as if they could feel him beforehand, sweeping away from his path of travel.
Gilbert watched him go. "The anger has been there the whole time," he said quietly, "He's angry that he can't save Grey himself."

Iyana kept her head high as Charles chose to leave the train before turning her attention to Gilbert. She took on an air of what she hoped was authority.
"Get off the train." She ordered. Her tone left no room for argument. "I can do this on my own, so get your backside off this train before I kick it off."

"But I... I... erh," Gilbert was shocked into a stutter at the harshness of her tone, not expecting such ferocity, "I was at least supposed to see you to the station. Even Charles said that would be alright." His hands were shaking as he spoke, and he sounded infinitely less confident than Iyana. "I..." but then his argumentative bent fell away, "No, you're right." It was obvious that he was dejected, but evidently the rationalization had finally come to him. With that, he rose out of his seat and sedately moved out into the hall, progressing not unlike the tail end of a funeral procession.

Iyana watched Gilbert as he headed down the aisle. She felt slightly guilty about sending him away like that, but she sat down again. After pulling her hair into a high ponytail, she pulled her various pieces of recording equipment from her pockets, checking it over and replacing them carefully into their assigned places. She wanted to catch every single piece of this adventure on camera. As a final check, Iyana pulled out the handgun, making sure she had extra clips and that the safety was on.
"Rock and roll," She murmured to herself.

Gilbert stepped off of the train only moments before it began to move, picking up speed at a phenomenal rate before vanishing completely. On the station platform, the crowd was thinning rapidly, as people moved off. There stood Charles waiting for him. He moved towards the man slowly, with a slight reluctance in his step.
"Did it work?" the passive man hollered over the noise.
"Yeah... I think so," Gilbert ducked his head a bit, he spoke absently and his gaze followed the path the train had taken only a minute or so hence.
"What's the matter?" Charles's brow furled slightly.
"I'm just a little worried is all," Gilbert smiled, the emotion he denoted shown through it radiantly.
"She'll be fine!" Charles put an arm around his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, "And you did brilliantly by the way. Do you think she suspected anything at all?"
"No... I-I don't think so," he looked a bit guilty at that.
"Hey, have a little faith. She can take care of herself, and the more she thinks she's doing on her own, the safer she'll be," Charles smiled a genuine smile, "And Grey will be there to help her."
"How will she be able to find him?" Gilbert wondered.
"Oh, right, when I stormed off, I took the opportunity to 'forget' the sack with all the supplies in it. She's a snoop, so it won't take her long to go sorting all through it with any luck, and she'll find the telegram hid in the false pocket, and hopefully she'll be able to find the little cafe all on her lonesome," he elaborated in such an excited way.
"You're leaving a lot to chance," Gilbert looked back again.
"I'm leaving nothing to chance," Charles smiled back a smaller but nonetheless conspiratorial smile, "I'm banking everything on her curiosity and skill, and her own lack of esteem for my person. She should be hungry, and that dissolved meal combined with the mentions of food should make her more susceptible to the idea of some food joint. She's focused on Grey and how SHE is going to find him, and she's probably feeling a bit of guilt over you. Not to mention that she probably thinks of this whole thing as some amazing story for her to break to the world. Hopefully, all those factors combined will keep her mind away from any focused thoughts that they will be able to track, except maybe that she wishes to find Grey, but she doesn't know anything from there. The bases are covered."
Gilbert nodded slowly, "So what do we do now?"
Charles smiled again and led him towards the ticket office.

Iyana felt her wound starting to throb again everytime she breathed. She had to find something for the pain. It wouldn't be advisable to go into the field without 100% concentration on the task of finding Grey. Spying Charles' bag still sitting on the seat, she decided to have a rifle through it and see if she could find the painkillers he had given her earlier.

Papers, food (which she ignored, sshe was still too angry to feel any hunger), wait... Concealed pocket? Her journalistic and somewhat childish curiosity took over there, pulling out a much folded piece of paper with an address in what would seem to be Limbo. Probably where Charles was going to meet Grey, she thought to herself, pocketing the paper and finding the painkillers. She washed a couple down with a swig of water before settling down to await the next station.

The train was passing over a wide open field that ran flat from one horizon to the other, but off, far in the distance, one could just see the protrusion which leaped from the ground and into the sky. A city, a man-made mountain stretched up, reaching for the heavens. Heaven's Gate, the city was formally called. It rested upon Ascension in the fields of a zone which had been titled by some Limbo. The city rested on the ancient prison, now submerged which had a much more daunting moniker, Purgatorium. In all, it was impressive, even if it still lay too far away to select any specific details from the magnificent structures and astounding landscape.

Somewhere a few booths down the isle, a woman had rather loudly called one of the servants, evidently she was quite impatient to reach the destination, having just boarded from the Hallowed Fields station, she had been travelling some time before and was quite ready to be at her journey's end. She was not afraid to vocalize upon the subject. She rather intrusively requested the time, only to repeat it back to the man several times in an unsatisfied way, as though she could make the answer change by force of will or repetition of unrest. She was unsuccessful in anything but a general broadcast that the trip to the next station would take at least several hours more and finished with a resounding herald that she would retreat to her cabin where she could at least lie down properly to sleep off what would undoubtedly be an otherwise very inconveniencing ride. The titters which followed her out of the car forced her nose all that much higher into the air and quickened her pace ever so slightly.

Waiters came to clear away the remainder of the food as politely as possible, treating Iyana like a queen in the process. Even despite her escorts both having departed, the men were extra careful to see to every need, with excessive bowing and other such pleasantries. One of them took the extra blanket away, leaving one folded in case she might want it, offering to bring her pillows and the like. Another asked if she would like to have her bag stowed, indicating the sack and pointing to one of the concealed compartments in which he might secret the items until she should desire them.

Iyana thanked both the waiters, feeling glad for the pillow as she curled up under the blanket once more. If it was going to be several hours until the next station, she might as well get some sleep. The bag, however, stayed with her. She wasn't willing to let it out of her sight, not yet. After all, it carried extra ammunition. She didn't know what she might encounter in Limbo. With her glasses on the table and the blinds drawn against the outside light, Iyana managed to drift off to sleep again, her hand on the stock of her pistol. As the waves of rest rolled over her, she wondered what would await her, and what Limbo would be like.

Somewhere during her sleep, it became dark once again, as the train passed through a barrier of night, and for the first time it took on that characteristic rocking of a train, and the familiar sound of rolling over tracks underneath. The booths were dimly lit, some more brightly, by small electric lamps which were attended to by the servants. Somewhere in that gloomy light, a silent figure had moved into the booth with Iyana, sitting opposite her. It neither spoke nor made a sound, and just when or how it had appeared were not at all distinct. The motions of the train caused it to sway occasionally as it merely watched Iyana where she slept. At one point, one of the attendants drifted past to check if there was anything needed, but the figure waved him on, and he left without more than a word.

Iyana was awoken by the change of movement in the train carriage. Still bundled in her blanket, she reached out a hand to find her glasses. As soon as they were seated securely over her eyes, she looked around. It took a lot of effort for the journalist to not let out a very unprofessional squeal as the dark person entered her field of vision.
"Who are you?" She demanded, her hand resting on the stock of her pistol once more, ready to draw and fire should he prove himself to be hostile. After all, she was heading for Limbo, a place with a lot of dead people and therefore probably a lot of danger too. Having a complete stranger watching her sleep was definitely not on the list of things that was making her feel safe.

"A friend," the voice which came from the shadowed individual's direction was distinctly and surprisingly feminine. One of a pair of delicate hands came up to push a pair of glasses which just caught the light and reflected like twin moons for a moment up onto the bridge of her nose. "A very concerned friend," she continued in a kind though slightly austere manner, "It would seem that you have fallen in with a group of miscreants, terrorists that is. Your well being is in danger." Reaching down into a jacket pocket, for she wore a suit jacket, she drew forth a business card. As she set it upon the table, she leaned just slightly into the light. her middle aged features were soft and attractive, but possessed of a hard edge, and pulled, like her hair, back into an extreme bun that seemed to pinch her expression into one of a frightening quality. Thin, elegant fingers slid the card towards Iyana. "My name is Amanda Neering. I represent a corporate conglomerate called Sieve. It has come to our attention that you have encountered two rather dangerous persons, a James Grey and Friedrick Charles, and that it is possible that they have attempted to recruit you into a series of rather unsavory activities..." She trailed off, as if waiting for a reply.