<div style="background-color:#443266; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="background-color:#C3C3E5; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><span style="color: #443266"><img alt="" src="http://orig09.deviantart.net/715f/f/2016/072/4/f/rsz_1woman_308590_960_720_by_lordwizardhat-d9v0ayw.png" style="float:left; padding:6px;"/>★<span style="font-family: Edwardian Script ITC;"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;">V I V I E N N E</span></span>  ★<br/><br/>Of course he didn't know where they were. It was a foolish question to ask, but Vivienne had spouted it out anyway in her haste to make sense of anything that was happening. He was just like her, a passenger on a train that made a wrong turn and ended up in some sort of hell. He was handling it so much better than her, it seemed. No vomit, weak legs, or even tears. she could feel his inner being churning with negative emotions, but he remained stoic. Perhaps it was because he was a young man. They were meant to be brave. No one would laugh or ridicule if a woman in her fifties cried for safety. Instead, they would pity her. Vivienne could feel the emotion extending from the man, along with an outstretched hand. Pity was one of the stranger emotions, with the ability to be either positive or negative, depending on its driving force. This seemed genuine, driven by empathy. Vivienne took the hand he offered, shutting out his emotions as she did so. As comforting as the pity was, the anger and helplessness didn't calm her state of mind.<br/><br/>"Francois," Vivienne muttered. There was an answer and an identity. A pleasant greeting, if circumstances had been different. His next few words were cryptic, like they were part of an inside joke or reference she didn't quite understand. <span style="font-style: italic">He would have felt it</span>. Could he feel others, like she could? She didn't think there was anyone in the world who could feel like she did, and even if there were, the likelihood that they were on the same train, at the same time, in the same car, was surely impossible. Then again, being attacked by a demon was something impossible as well.<br/><br/>Vivienne's initial panic ebbed as her mind began to grip the reality of what was happening. She was able to stand firmly, her legs no longer paralyzed. Francois' assurance that there was nothing wrong with her had also helped. She trusted him, more than any other man she'd met on public transit before. Not that that was saying much. Vivienne still needed his hand to keep her steady, her body still operating like someone who had just woken from a deep sleep.<br/><br/>Starting with a slight throb in her temples, Vivienne realized she had exercised her power far more than she had in many, many years. The amount of raw emotional energy that had come from around her was beginning to be too much to handle. She drew a deep breath, faintly surprised by the clarity of the air around her, and closed her eyes. It wasn't an emptying of the mind, but a cleansing. She needed just a moments, a few breaths to align herself again, and rebuild the barricades that had begun crumbling. She had learned the trick as a young girl, after learning about meditation, and the art of emptying one's mind. When she felt nothing, she couldn't feel the people around her. The emptiness was comforting. Her eyes opened again, and she could feel that her body had relaxed and regained some of the composure she had lost. Her mind was no longer screaming, but instead simply buzzing with emotional feedback. <br/><br/>Still, she couldn't bring herself to let go of Francois' hand.<br/><br/>Able to think now, Vivienne realized that her cell phone was still droning the automated message. She looked down at the screen, reluctant to press the hang up button. If she did, it would be like admitting defeat, knowing she couldn't contact her daughter. She had no signal. Wasn't it possible to make emergency calls, even with no signal? Reluctantly, she ended the call and returned to the phone's lock screen. She was prepared to attempt the call before she was interrupted by a new arrival.<br/><br/>Attention in the train car turned to the man who had just entered, with the appearance of someone who had been living on the streets for quite some time. He looked about Vivienne's age, but with the homeless, it was always hard to tell. Had he been on the train with them? Vivienne blinked, thinking back to the collection of faces she had seen when it had been an ordinary train journey. He hadn't been there, or she didn't remember. The metallic groan of the train car as the man patted its side made the hairs on Vivienne's neck stand on end.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">An awful lot? Of train cars?</span> Vivienne thought, attempting to fix her appearance by straightening her cardigan and checking her hair with her hands. So they weren't the first to arrive here, and it sounded like they wouldn't be the last. But why? The small glimpse Vivienne had seen of outside appeared completely untouched, with no other train cars in sight, or any particular landmarks, for that matter. <br/><br/>The man's question startled Vivienne. Whose name? He was acting as if everyone was supposed to know. They were all strangers who didn't even know each others' names, let alone this mystery person. <br/><br/>Even as he had asked, the man didn't bother waiting for responses, playing with different names to find the proper fit. He was deranged, insane. If he hadn't come from the train car, did that mean he was from wherever they were now? <br/><br/>Jamie. There was a clerk at Vivienne's local grocery store named Jamie, and she had a cousin of the same name. She felt that neither were the Jamie he was talking about. He was speaking like she had come as expected, a good friend of this Jamie's, to come pick him up and bring him home. She was tempted to speak, but stopped when she heard Francois' quiet voice.<br/><br/>How did Francois know Jamie, when he hadn't even realized that was his name? She didn't have time to consider it further before the man gave a series of vague instructions and exited the train car. It wasn't long before he returned, beckoning them all to follow him. Vivienne turned to Francois, eyes wide. So far, he was the only handle on reality she had. His gaze matched with hers, and Vivienne was once again taken aback by the look of familiarity he projected. The likeness to her son had faded, but was still present.<br/><br/>"I can walk now," Vivienne said, her tone evening out with each word. "I'm sorry, I lost myself." Her smile was as weak as his. "Now we know," she echoed, her eyes focusing on the exit from the train car. She created a list in her mind. It was quite bare, with only two items:<br/><br/>-Follow the man<br/>-Get answers<br/><br/>but the list was enough to drive her forward. It was something to make sense of, easy to understand. She could focus all of her energy on these two simple tasks, and shut everything unpleasant out. It was possible, even in Opposite Land.<br/><br/>Francois' arm was comforting as they left the train car behind in exchange for following a possibly insane homeless person over a seemingly endless beach.<br/><br/>Opposite Land, indeed.<br/></span></div></div>