<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/>After observing those around the train car, Vivienne began to fall into an uneasy sleep, her head dipping to her chest. Half thought-out plans filtered through her mind, with images of the blonde woman she had followed, the train, and her mystery novel converging together into a strange, convoluted lucid dream. What she didn't realize was that she was leaving her mind open and vulnerable to the Creature and events that were about to unfold.<br/><br/>Pain and fear swept over Vivienne's opened mind so suddenly her body shut down from the force of the vehement tidal wave. Her eyes opened wide then rolled back in her head, body as stiff as a corpse. If it wasn't for the disturbing gurgling noises coming from the back of her throat, she could have easily been considered dead. Her shoulders and stomach burned and screamed for release, mind begging for an escape as she was, for an instant, trapped in Hell. She was an antenna, a concentrate of all the sudden emotional chaos erupting in the tiny train car, and she was losing control. <br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">No,</span> was all Vivienne's weak mind could manage. Even her subconscious was flickering on and off like the fluorescent tube lights in her fourth grade classroom. Oh god, a memory. Vivienne clung to it like a drowning person, imagining every detail of the room. There had been a chalkboard, with the teacher's desk to the left. A place to put your coats and shoes was on the back wall. The paint had been a cheery yellow, with the alphabet along the top of the wall. Her force of focus jammed her mind, causing the pain in her body to roll away like maggots escaping for the ground. <br/><br/>Vivienne jolted upward, released. The fear was easier to contain and control, as long as she kept her head. She stood fully, looking around the train car. Her head felt as though it was full of cotton, walls fighting to keep the pain, fear, and panic out. If she could see her own face she would notice blood-shot eyes and the distinct etchings of terror on a human face.<br/><br/>As her eyes came to the front of the car, Vivienne could see a dark shimmer of hatred and pestilent gluttony. Its tendrils reached for her, its sharp points reaching to burrow into her soul. Vivienne braced herself for attack, but it didn't come as the tendrils suddenly changed focus to a man by the door, a man with ripped clothing and wounds over his shoulders and stomach. It was the man Vivienne had seen in the blonde woman's mind, and the pain had come from him. That same woman stepped toward the...thing and spoke. Vivienne let out a shriek as the woman was tossed in the air by nothingness, thrown with force towards the train car doors like a rag-doll. This appeared to be in her favour as she grabbed the man and they stumbled, almost drunkenly, through it.<br/><br/>A demon on the train? The woman, who was now in the next car, was howling, her hair wild, eyes wild, like a cornered animal. Vivienne didn't take the time to consider her personal philosophical ideology on whether demons were in existence or not; all she knew was she needed to get the hell off the train car, or she might die. Her seat near the middle door of the train had been a fair choice as she spun and ran, and in her haste, slammed her shoulder into the half-open door to the next car. Blocking the mental pain, she fell on to the floor before staggering up, running toward the woman and man.<br/><br/>Even in a moment of confusion and pain, when the world was spinning, Vivienne's first instinct was to help. She grabbed the man by the face, her small, chubby hands on either of his cheeks. "Look into my eyes," she commanded, fighting to keep control of her currently shaking legs, "look into my eyes." <br/><br/>This transfer of emotion was a choice, controlled, thin streams of energy with purpose. Panic and Chaos were harder to defend against and control, as they came with spikes and random attacks from all sides. She was prepared for it to come this time, as Vivienne took part of the man's pain; not all, just as much as she could bear herself in her weakened, frightened state. The shoulder she had bruised on the door throbbed, now taking on twice the pain. She wanted to help the woman as well, but in the moment was afraid to look away.<br/><br/>It helped that the man's eyes looked so much like her son's. It gave Vivienne a small spark of peace.<br/><br/></span></div></div>