Dreams of Fire

[Thalia]

She didn’t look up at first, under the presumption that the murmur of words was not aimed at her. People did not generally approach weirdos on the metro, which was of course a good survivalist strategy to practise against the flavourful company of public transport. For all the baseless trepidation pressing down on her mind like storm clouds, Thalia at least recognised her own oddity, curled up in her seat, alone, and gruesomely paint splattered. She didn’t expect the kindness of sympathy, even out of the dutiful obligation people sometimes felt for something so wretched sat right under their noses.

Eventually, it was the sensed proximity of someone leaned in close that roused her, and then the muddled words rang clear and she peered up to see a kid with a computer on her lap. A soft blink brought her face into focus. Thal rested her chin on her knee, still fiddling numbly with the laces on her shoes. It took a second to orientate, delayed by the strangest feeling of kinship. Like a little hum of light. Christ, I’m going crazy.

“Yeah.” Once the first word was out, it was like consciousness drifted back into her body. The chill of foreboding didn’t disappear, but it was no longer quite so crushing. “Yeah. Thanks.” She straightened a little, but ended up slumped back in seat rather than leaning on her knees. She glanced at her stained hands. “Rough day.” Night? What time was it? She rubbed her face, realised for the first time she was tired. Eager for the distraction, oblivious to whether she imposed on the kindness of a stranger, she managed to pluck out a friendly smile. “I’m Thalia, by the way. I paint. I guess that's obvious. But in case you were wondering.”


Edited by Thalia, Feb 5 2014, 06:02 PM.