Primus, her grumpy old protector. The leader of the Poets of the Fall. She smiled at him wistfully, thinking of all their years together. They must make a strange sight, a lumbering retrograde with a fearsome mask, giant bone club and an attitude to match. She, with her hood up to cover her ascension markings, black robes under her leather trench coat, only a dagger, and a med bag by her side.
She leaned against the window, eyes watching the landscape slide by and as usually happens when she has a moment of quiet, the music begins to play.
“It’s a bad trip on a sinking ship, when no-one seems responsible
Scapegoat to rock the boat, yeah, we need someone expendable”
Were they doing the right thing? She had heard rumors that the Fort was gone, that everyone had moved to the Landing. She didn’t believe half of what was spoken about, but the folks there were certainly crazy enough to make such a move. This new town, Steel Horse Crossing, full of Rovers and DJs, seemed like a far fetched dream. She had visited only briefly before, but Kai and Armani spoke highly of it.
“Is there a hero somewhere, someone who appears and saves the day
Someone who holds out a hand and turns back time
Is there a hero somewhere, someone who will never walk away
Who doesn’t turn a blind eye to a crime”
The Poets were far from heros, despite their best efforts. Yet the music demanded they try.
She closed her eyes, listening to the thumping beat, and matched her pulse to it’s rhythm.
If the music demanded it. She would make damned sure it got done. She was the music, she was a Poet, and she would do what was right.
But what was the right thing to do?
“Vengeance is mine
Vengeance is mine, mine, mine
To forgive is divine
But vengeance is mine, mine, mine”
Her lips curled into a wicked semblance of a smile, and the beat grew louder until it roared above even the sound of the train.
Hours later Primus shifted next to her with a grunt and she nodded, pulling her Doctor’s bag close. They were almost there.