[ 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.

QUICK NAV PRIVATE CONVERSATIONS | STATUSES | PROFILES | GRAVEYARD | MAIN NAVIGATION

Comments

[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.

... ]