<div style="background-color:#c6b588; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="background-color:#DFD5BC; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><img alt="" src="http://i.imgur.com/lDq9h9u.png" style="float:right; padding:6px;"/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #151515"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-family: Edwardian Script ITC;"><span style="font-weight: bold">F R A N C O I S</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #303030"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-family: Edwardian Script ITC;"><span style="font-weight: bold">Religion lied to you - the afterlife consists only of bothering me.</span></span></span></span><span style="color: #DFD5BC">_______________</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2e2e32"><div style="text-indent:1em;">The old woman appeared shocked, heartbroken even, but for what reason, Francois could not fathom. Was it her phone? It lay on the ground, omitting an automated message he couldn't quite identify the words of. He shrugged helplessly, just as much at a loss as her.</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"I don't know where we are," he said, waves of pity and anger washing over him with her cracked voice. An old woman like this, she shouldn't have to go through such a series of inexplicable, horrifying events. He held out a hand for her to take. "But I know who I am, my name is Francois, and I know that there is nothing wrong with you. At least, nothing life threatening. I would have felt it," he said with an apparent air, as if she should obviously know he could talk to dead people. He wondered what had happened to the young man in the train.</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">A different man clambered out of the train. Francois stared wordlessly at him, mouth hanging open. If not for their situation, he would have considered this man absolutely bonkers, talking out loud to himself, waving in the air. Francois cast a look in the direction he pointed, then turned his head and looked the opposite way. They seemed completely identical. His ears prickled. He couldn't pinpoint what had changed exactly, but something had. Was it quieter now?</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"Jamie?" Francois asked quietly. "Was that his name?" Normally, the spirits of the departed lingered, but he could not feel him here, and it unnerved him. He hadn't died <span style="font-style: italic">that</span> long ago. He should have been here. Instead, they had this very alive old homeless person. Francois wasn't sure it was that great of a trade. He looked the old woman in the eye. Her eyes, so familiar. Like his mother's, like his own, like Bea's. <span style="font-style: italic">I wonder what she's doing now. I wonder what time it is. What day it is. I wonder if they can feel it.</span></div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"Can you walk?" He asked the old woman. "If not, you can hold onto me. I don't think we want to lose that particular homeless guy." He shrugged again. "I guess this is Opposite Land. See, now we know where we are." He tried a weak smile. He didn't know her beyond his desire to help her. Anna marched past him with the blackhaired woman firmly in tow. Francois wrapped an arm around the old woman's shoulders. Given how he had clung onto her earlier, it didn't seem like such a breach of privacy.</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"Let's see where the world ends, then."</div></span></div></div><div style="background-color:#DFD5BC; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><a class="postlink" href="http://www.creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=6&amp;p=336350#p336350"><img alt="" src="http://i.imgur.com/Of2d2Yg.png" style="float:right; padding:6px;"/></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #151515"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-family: Edwardian Script ITC;"><span style="font-weight: bold">A N N A</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #303030"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-family: Edwardian Script ITC;"><span style="font-weight: bold">If you can't summon the flames directly from Hell, store bought is fine.</span></span></span></span><span style="color: #DFD5BC">_______________</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2e2e32"><div style="text-indent:1em;"><span style="font-weight: bold">"Where the Hell are we?"</span> The last woman spoke. Anna looked up. She had smooth black hair and paint spots on her left cheekbone. Her eyes were wide and framed by thick lashes that probably normally made them stand out attractively, but currently only served to really emphasize how uncertain she must have felt about the whole situation.</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"Not - not in Kansas anymore?" Anna replied uncertainly. She hoped maybe the reference would soothe this woman just as it baffled her.</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;"><span style="font-weight: bold">"I figured that," Iris replied to Anna, with a look of fear on her face. She had never been to Kansas before, but she was pretty sure it didn't look like this.</span></div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"I'm afraid it isn't a dream, though," Anna continued in response to the woman's earlier comment. She ground the heel of her suede boot into the unnatural, perfect pebbles. Everything about this was wrong in a way that both dulled her normal sense and heightened the feelings of unease she always got when attempting something slightly more magical than the usual business of mixing the right herbs in the right way.</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;"><span style="font-weight: bold">Iris frowned at the woman, wishing she was wrong and it was a nightmare. Then she could wake up safe in her bed, but she doubted that could happen.</span></div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"You can do - things, can't you?" Anna asked the stranger at length. She cocked her head to the side and squinted. Yes, there was definitely something there. Not as apparent as the old black woman, but something that made her thumbs prickle. Anna tried a smile.</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;"><span style="font-weight: bold">Iris nodded her head to Anna. "Yeah...I can move little stuff with my mind. What about you?" She asked her curiously.</span></div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"I'm Anna - a witch, but probably not what you think of when you hear the word." Anna chuckled in spite of everything. "Never had a wart in my life. It's a little complicated, but..." She didn't get any further before the vagrant interrupted. Anna startled and turned from the blackhaired woman to look at the old, filthy man instead. She furrowed her brow. <span style="font-style: italic">Jamie?</span> And what did this man know of everything that had happened?</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">Instinct took over as he turned his back on them and walked. Anna would <span style="font-style: italic">not</span> be stranded in this place, not when there finally seemed to be someone who knew where they were going. Anna impulsively grabbed the woman's hand - for safety, in case she was scared by the whole thing - and began walking briskly after the vagrant, passing Francois and the older woman, fully intent on getting some kind of answers.</div><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"'Scuse me, where are we, again?" She panted at the vagrant as she tried to catch up with him.</div><br/></span></div></div><br/><div style="background-color:#DFD5BC; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><ul><span style="color: #2e2e32"><span style="font-weight: bold">Notes:</span><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Tags:</span><a href="//www.creativefreedomrpg.com/memberlist.php?mode=viewprofile&amp;u=111849">@Sojourn</a>, with whom I did a collab in Anna's section. Bolded parts by her.</span></ul></div></div>