[ GRAVEYARD ]

[sheriffexe]

GRAVEYARD

So, you're dead. Shame, that. But on the other hand, it's actually kind of nice. When you "wake" in some odd version of it, you'll find yourself lying on a rather plush bed. It's cozy and warm and just soft enough to tempt anyone back into sleep. The room is equally nice, if small, and when you turn and open the curtains to look out the window, you will see... wait, is that the town? It is, actually. The town is laid out quite simply across the window and no matter how many times you may bang or wave through the window, no one seems to notice you. If you're smart enough to give up the venture and leave the small bedroom, you will notice that, of course, you are on the train. The train that, is actually pretty fancy. Moving through it, past the sleeping cabins and through to the main carts, you will find a dining car with fine dishware and meals of all kinds made at a push of a button or a request given to the air. They'll appear, freshly made and ready to eat at the table of your choice with any drink you could want. There truly doesn't seem to be any limits when it comes to the luxury of the meal. There is also a bathhouse car with private bathrooms and saunas to fit up to four. Even one rather large room containing a small pool/hot tub of sorts is available for just about anyone to take a dip. It's kind of outlandish, honestly. Then the lounge car, with its library and plush armchairs and couches. A pool table, a darts board, even a small area dedicated to painting. There's a bar too, fully stocked and ready for anyone who needs a drink. All it would require is a request from the bartender who... looks surprisingly familiar? The Sheriff is there, much cleaner cut than his counterpart outside of the train. He looks up mildly at any arrivals, giving them a nod of greeting before going back to organizing bottles or setting cigars out for a smoke. He doesn't seem to be surprised at all by anyone who appears. Just... ready to serve them, whatever they may wish. It all sort of seems okay for a moment, until you realize you're just here to wait for the game to end. Awkward.

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Comments

[tightly]

[ As soon as she feels like leaving her private room - which, for the record, won't be especially often - she situates herself much like she had done in the inn, way back when. With a book and a plush seat for one, she sits by herself, alternating between reading and staring out the window.

People are free to come up and talk to her, but that doesn't necessarily mean they'll be acknowledged.

(I'm sorry in advance.) ]

[a_sin_for_him]

[Well, well, well. Look at that.]

[Lust honestly bears the woman little ill will. Someone was going to kill her, and Chane had done so in an arguably kind and dignified fashion. As she'd told Ezio, she could even admire it, if she hadn't been on the receiving end of it.]

[But she does have a question. So she approaches.]

Don't worry, I'm not here for any vengeance or to curse you out for what you did to me. It's the nature of the game, we make our choices and do what we feel we must. And we all get what's coming, sooner or later. Myself included. But....as you did rip me away from the first and only modicum of happiness I have ever had in my miserable slave's existence...

I think you owe me why. Why me?

[She's also mildly curious as to how Chane wound up here, but she isn't interested in much of a conversation, and she wants to know what she died for.]

I can fetch you pen and paper, if need be.

[tightly]

[ Lust is correct, even if she states it in a rather inelegant way. However, Chane isn't one to be moved by such an artless guilting. Although there's an open book laid across her lap, her gaze is steadfastly fixed at the train car window, never once acknowledging Lust's presence as she speaks.

She doesn't need pen or paper, because she has no intention of answering.

She has no intention of answering, because she cannot provide an answer Lust will like.

So, saying nothing, not turning a hair or batting an eyelash, Chane only continues to stare out the window. Lust may as well not be there at all for how much attention she's given. ]

[a_sin_for_him]

So you can kill me, but you can't even look at me?

[Lust raises an eyebrow and shakes her head. She has no intention of inspiring guilt, but she paid a price. A steep one. To this woman. She's owed something in return. Equivalent Exchange is the only thing she still believes in anymore. If only because she can't believe in nothing and still go on.]

We made a trade, you and I. My life for a greater chance at whatever it is you played the game for. I just want to know why. I'm not expecting some deep or meaningful answer, just a reason. Even if it was simply that I was there at the wrong time.

[Few deaths really have any good reason.]

[tightly]

[ It's a few moments after Lust has finished does Chane look over. ]

...

[ Very well, then. "A trade." That's how Huey would have phrased it, after all.

Chane mimes writing on the palm of her hand, indicating that yes, if Lust wants her answer, she ought to get pen and paper. ]

[a_sin_for_him]

[Lust wasn't certain she'd get any response. When she does, it almost surprises her. But she nods, and goes for paper and something to write with. She returns from Yuna's Arts and Crafts area with a bit of paper and a colored pen.]

Here you are.

[She offers both to Chane.]

[tightly]

[ She writes comparatively little, in the end. ]

You made it simple.

[a_sin_for_him]

[When Lust reads the explanation, she finds herself chuckling. It's more relief, than anything. She'd been almost certain the answer was something along the lines of 'you weren't important to anyone' or something similar.]

No, I didn't give you much trouble, did I? You were clever, though, to your credit. Thank you, for telling me. And for your...chosen method. There are far worse ways.

[She knows, she's experienced them. It may be a strange thing, to thank one's murderer for their murder method, but as a creature that has killed and been killed countless times, she i>does appreciate it.]

I won't trouble you any further.

[tightly]

[ If Chane had known what was going through Lust's head - (a possibility, self-esteem telling her, "you died because you were unimportant,") - then she might have tried to disabuse the young woman of the notion. Might have. After all, Chane's own kills had been quick and clean, doing her best to painlessly cut a swath through the population before the messier, the crueler, the gleefully bloodstained could have their shot. In return, her head had been caved in with a shovel. That's what happens when someone cares about you, as Eliot had cared about Lust; as Claire cares about Chane.

She had never intended this cycle. She could not have foreseen it as she prepped an inconspicuous wine bottle, what feels like so long ago. What's done is done, and she's not thinking on it, but.

Maybe that's because considering it makes her stomach turn. Then again, maybe not.

Giving Lust her undivided attention and a clear, unflinching gaze, Chane listens, and nods.

... ]

[generously]

Found you.

[ No, that's not the Rail Tracer descending down on his victim again. It's Claire wrapping his arms around Chane from behind, leaning in on her and... not saying much at all, for once. Not at the moment, anyway. He found genuine happiness again, even if the woman he loved wasn't gone for very long. Of course, there was a time when he thought she was gone for good, so he's very happy to be wrong about some things he believed. ]

[tightly]

[ For anyone else, this might be a dangerous course of action, or at least an ill-advised way to approach her. For Claire, however, she's calm and pliant in his arms, happy. Even if her expression doesn't really betray it as such, sheer relief fills her faster than Chane would have thought possible. Excepting his jobs, these scant few days are the longest they've been apart since their relationship began. She has no desire to repeat it.

Gladness leaves her slightly limp as she turns in his arms, attempting to embrace him more directly, She's thinking that she missed him, worried over him, is relieved he's here now -- all these things, all of them and more, might end up written on her face for someone who knows her like Claire does.

There's an apology too, framed as little more than a baleful nudge.

She's sorry she left him behind. ]

[generously]

[ He reads her expression, but doesn't respond immediately. Right now, in this moment, all he wants is to see her. To see her for who she is and what she means to him. ]

... Don't worry about it. [ His own expression is a gentle one, a huge contrast to the one he adopted over the weekend. Besides, she didn't leave him behind anyway, not when her blood was painted all over his face. Hopefully Chane can't read his thoughts the way he does hers because that's not a normal romantic gesture at all.

Ah, but he does have a regret of his own, probably the first one in his whole life. It must have played a factor in how he took her death. ]

I betrayed our marriage. [ ??? what? ] I promised to keep you safe and I didn't do that in the end. [ oh. ] If you give me another chance, I'll work even harder to be the best husband.

[tightly]

[ As he speaks, she leans back, giving herself some space to better gauge his expression. Regrets and apologies are so unlike him. It twists at her to hear and to know that, in some partial way, she contributed to this bleak, pensive mindset he's stuck in. Her hands slide down to find both of his, fingers lacing through and holding fast to his. After the past two days, after seeing him kill for her and then seeing him die, she doesn't want to let go.

Of course she intends to give him a second chance. To Chane, it wasn't even a question. She had promised him her forever, swore her vows with every iota of integrity within her. She chose him then, and continues to choose him every day.

So, if Claire's words leave her briefly looking puzzled, it quickly gives way to affection. On her toes, she brings her forehead to rest against his.

Three short words hover in her thoughts, close and clear and true. ]

[generously]

[ DOKIS!!! ]

I love you, too.

[ It's said with his usual sense of undeniable conviction. Because it's true, and he'll never stop proving it. ]

...Can you tell me what you've been doing? I wanna know everything!

[ Now that part is said in a way that's... proud of her?? She lied and killed for weeks and would've gotten away with it if not for that meddling Sheriff. He's not necessarily demanding if she doesn't want to share anything, however, but he was the guardian of her secrets long before Hannibal or Will and that won't change. He will never betray her. ]

[tightly]

[ He had, at the near beginning, given her wholehearted permission to keep her secrets and, just as importantly, forgiven her of them. That doesn't mean it had been easy, or what she had even wanted. Claire will never need her protection, no -- but that doesn't mean she'll ever stop doing what she feels is necessary to keep him safe. Chane's hands tighten against his, holding fast and almost desperately squeezing, before releasing somewhat. Yes, she'll tell him everything.

Letting go of one of his hands - only one! - Chane leads him over to a table.

Sit, honey. She has some writing to do. It's going to take a few minutes. ]

[generously]

[ He figured it was worth asking now that they no longer have to play the game, but he would have understood just as much if the time wasn't right. Thankfully, she complies and he looks entirely pleased to properly share their lives again. Chane's hardships as well as happiness are his own, and as it turns out, she seems to have done quite a few things for his sake, too. Even if her part wasn't necessary, it gives him butterflies in his stomach.

He sits.




...and kisses her occupied hand!! ]

[tightly]

[ Well, it's a good thing she can write with one hand! Eventually, a single page is given to him from across the table. ]

[generously]

[ He nods as he reads it quietly, as if he's hearing the entire thing read in her cute French voice that he will never know of. ]

I see... I see... so that's how it is...

[ Then he suddenly scrunches the piece of paper! ]

Aaagh! I'm so jealous! It should have been me helping you!

[ Somehow he views what Chane had done with the other murdercouple as something like quality bonding time. ... Which, let's be real, that's what it turned out to be. ]

[tightly]

[ From Chane's perspective, both of them acting in concert would have only made things more complicated. Suspicion was routinely thrown on them even without him being in the know. Ash, in particular, took the single fact of their marriage to be a sure sign of some guilt.

Still, she can't help but feel a smidgen of that now. This isn't the honeymoon she wanted to have with the person she loves.

Expression falling somewhat, she tries to figure out how to communicate that. ... ]

[generously]

[ Or they could have killed Ash together and made out over his corpse. Since when does man's thoughts threaten their world? Will and Hannibal made it work and they're stronger for it.

But there are no do-overs, so best not dwell on it. Claire thinks of it as the first of many tests their marriage will face, and strangely it makes him smile. What's life and love without challenges? It's exciting this way. ]

... La vie est drôle.

[tightly]

[ Hearing her milk tongue startles her into raising her head once more. Once she sees Claire is smiling, something in her decides to reset: these past weeks had been rough, yes, but no matter how much of that she brought on herself, she still has him. Simply knowing that is enough to suffuse her with a calmness, a gladness, a sense of lassitude that sends her heart beating a quicker pitch.

Smiling in return, she rises from her seat and holds out a hand for him.

Come on, handsome. Let's go ... somewhere else. ]