Before It Happens

Chapter VIII

    By the time the trio pulled into the station, Ash was sulking with his arms crossed, staring out the window and not speaking a word. Killian was still listening to whatever Seraph was willing to say, and the sound of a few sets of feet walking past the still-closed door to the cabin they sat in.

    Seraph was first to stand up, movement overlaid by the sound of softly rustling cotton and her shoes, clicking on the floor. She gently opened the door and stepped into the aisle. “Come.”

    Killian stood, and Ash followed with some reluctance, hands tucked in his pockets, fingers curled around his phone. The only connection he had to the rest of his team- to the rest of the world. It was one of the most valuable things to him, presently. That, and the person in front of him. They stepped off the train, and just looking around, Ash could see a distinct difference in Nueva’s construction, to the construction of Marn.

    The train itself had pulled into an open, outdoor platform. The bricks were a lifeless white, but the rest of the platform told a different story. The path was bordered by bright flowers of all shapes and sizes, types Ash was sure existed in the natural world, but he had never seen before. Just barely discernible through a light fog, Ash could see a single, wide, long street, leading almost infinitely forward and slightly upwards, angling towards the heavens.

    On either side of the road were rows of buildings, tall and no less than three stories each. Even there, plants clung to every inch of them, growing up and down the sides. Ornate symbols and metalwork covered every inch of what he could make out, and lining the street were bicycles and skateboards and scooters. There were, however, no cars to be accounted for. In fact, it appeared that nothing in the town had been manufactured en masse. Even Seraph’s dress could pass off as something homemade.

    It made sense, really. Only if one were to disregard that the context in which it made no sense, made no sense itself. In short, it made sense. Seraph had spoken of heaven and organic and this and that and being above the rest. It only made sense that Nueva would be such a natural, beautiful, home-made town. Seraph looked at them and said softly, “Just walk confidently. We have not received visitors in some time, but if you act as natives would, then you might not be questioned.”

    “We’re secrets?” Killian asked.

    “Not exactly contraband. Visitors are not frowned upon, just... feared. Nueva can be a very untrusting place, in general. You must learn to love other people for who they are, it is the only way to make it here. You love to receive love. It starts in no particular place.” And as she spoke, her eyes danced from Killian’s face, to Ash’s. “First we will find you some clothes to make you fit more into our image. What will it be,” She asked, “Black or white? Black is for witches, white is for... for those without magic.”

    “Why do we get to chose?” Ash interjected. “Why not just dress us in white?”

    “It is far too confusing to explain now. Had you asked on the train, I might have been able to. I will just put you both in black. That way, you will fit in more.”

    They just nodded at this point, following her down the colorful path and towards the street. “Do be careful,” Seraph said, “There is only one paved road here, but it can be disorienting. Keep an eye on me, and you will be okay.” She instructed, continuing forward.

    The first building they passed looked like a living place. Whatever it was, the entire front of it was covered in glass, crystal, and metal spheres of all shapes and sizes and colors. “Wh-” Killian began.   

    “It is impolite to question others’ aesthetic choices.” Seraph said. “We do not judge others by how they dress or decorate themselves or their houses here. It is only cause for more turmoil.”