Clio - Midnight Train[Toggle Names]
Description: On a subway car beneath Metro City, a young witch, soldier, knight of the azure flame meets with one of the grand nobles of the Makai. Interests shared, attractions had, and potential deals are brokered in the underworld of a great city.
Some people are wary about using the Metro subway at this time of night. Even with Mayor Haggar's robust efforts to clean up Metro City, some problems linger on. Bright lights and ample policing do much, but even then desperation and circumstances drive individuals to robbery and violence from time to time. The Metro subway is likely in one of the safest periods in its history, but people are slow to warm up to the idea. They still stay clear of the last few trains if at possible.
The squeal of train brakes and the grind of metal wheels against metal rails echos through the station. A man in a rain-stained, well-worn jacket looks up from his phone, his music half-audible from his headphones. The doors click and pop before sliding open with a rattle.
"This is Uptown Station. Please exit to the right. Watch your step." The voice over the train loudspeaker is cracked and static-laden. Tired.
The subway at night. The sounds, the smells, the lights and the life'sblood. Also where Clio had recently had her ass utterly and completely handed to her at the hands of Metro City's finest fallen hero. She knows Jubei pulled it out in the end, but the loss struck her. It put her deeply in her place. Jubei was something else. Something utterly held back against her. Something that really didn't need her. Someone that didn't need her. And if the hyperactive Taokaka was also from his tribe, Clio could only imagine what that woman was capable of underneath her facade.
So Clio has taken to the rails, she has her hood up, though her mock Kaka Clan outfit feels awkward to her, even as she looks at the mask she has in her hands. To hide her identity, to make certain that the observant NOL wouldn't figure out it was her. Though as much as she didn't want to be discovered for being alive, her disgraceful showing was as much a motivator to hide. She was a soldier. She fought wars. She fought demons. She expected more from herself. She felt she could have belonged. But there, in the subway, she knows how little chance she stands.
And so she sits, looking out the window of the subway, riding around and around. She looks up to the loudspeaker, and she looks down at the mask. She's run from the NOL because she wasn't strong enough. Could she even run with Jubei? Did she deserve to?
The doors hang open for what feels like forever. It lingers just enough to make one wonder if it's broken but not long enough to actually do anything about it. They finally shut with a rattle of metal as the door slides through the tracks.
When the train starts moving again, a woman has seated herself across from Clio. Her hair is long and and a shocking shade of green. The white shirt she has on is precariously buttoned, her pale bosom and midriff exposed around what few buttons hold their ground. As she crosses her legs, the fluorescent light of the train shimmers against her black leather pants. She bobs her toes boredly as her shoe rocks back and forth.
"Fancy seeing you here," Morrigan says, her voice just as smoky as it was back in the castle. "Are you riding this train tae somewhere in particular?"
Morrigan rests her hands on her knees, her nails sinking into the fabric. One hand goes to her hair, sweeping her fingers through it to brush it back. A few strands are twirled around her index and middle as her green eyes focus on Clio.
Doors open, doors close. If they're open longer than usual it's just a normal thing. People have problems, doors are old, these subways take a pounding and they don't always have time to repair. More than a few rides through the subterranean has seen Clio staring through a wide open door while the stone and mortar races past.
Most days sees the subways as crowded at best, sardined at worst. Yet still not as packed as the shining trains back in Japan. So Clio would put up with the difference in upkeep. Still, she feels the edge of the air when the green haired woman sits across from her.
Clio's thumb runs over the edge of the mask, she looks up and around, there's less about than before. A rare direct eyeline between herself and the woman vacu-sealed into her blouse. For her part, Clio avoids looking as much as she is; there's a lot to see and and a lot that Clio does like to look at. But she leans back, hands and mask slip into the pocket of her hoodie. Her boot bounces, she raises her chin and her dark-lined eyes narrow.
She doesn't have to strain her mind long, the accent seals it. "Train goes where it wants to. I'm just seeing where it takes me," she says in her best disaffected way.
Despite her tone, her posture shifts in subtle ways. The bouncing heel tucks closer, gets a position. Her back raises her just out of slouching. She shoulders the heavy chain that hangs from the over-wide collar at her neck. And the thin lines of magic potential begin to glow a complimentary purple to Morrigan's green.
"Recognize me out of the uniform?" she asks, somewhere she still has that card, probably sitting back in her stash at Abigail's. But she remembers it, and that night, with a vivid intensity. The night she thought she might have been something.
Green hair snakes around Morrigan's fingers in such a way that it becomes fuzzy as to whether she's wrapping her hair around her fingers or if her hair is doing it on its own. Fabric squeaks against fabric as she uncrosses her legs then recrosses them. Her heels goes up, then down, left, then right as she swings her foot boredly.
"Of course, lass," Morrigan says, unthreading her fingers from her hair to toss it back behind her. "I never forget a pretty face." Both heels tap on the floor and she's suddenly leaning forward toward Clio. "Nor an interesting character. You've been fortunately blessed with both." A smile spreads across her face. Pronounced, but somehow also subtle. A smirk like the cat who ate the canary. She leans back in her seat once more, leaning back and resting her elbows on the back of the seat. She props her feet up as well, taking up the empty seat next to her.
"Just going where the winds take you, is it? Seems like a dreary route tae take tae get there."
Clio St. Jeanne, former Lieutenant of the NOL, knows she's looking at a Darkstalker. She knows she's looking at a Darkstalker capable of taking care of a lot of business. That her hair might be prehensile is about the least surprising if not still rather concerning thing about the mint-haired woman. And for the lack of surprise on her face, she does smirk just a small bit when Morrigan's taking the standard seduction routine to the hilt.
It's not only a show that Clio can appreciate, it's one that tells stories of just what kind of thing Clio is dealing with. She had, for a time, considered vampire, but the Scottish woman seemed to be of a different flavor. "You saw me after a pretty bad ugly cry," Clio admits, "My eyes must've looked like hell. But thanks." She sticks her legs out, crossing her boots at the ankle. Going toe-to-toe in the lounging game.
All the same, Clio St. Jeanne's eyes dart this way and that. She looks for the train car, she reads the situation, but she closes her eyes and sits back up. "I'm a child of the streets," Not entirely true, she had family, she just only knew part of it and that part did a lot of things that allowed Clio to wander out on her lonesome. "And the subway gets pretty nuts at times."
A hand comes from her pocket and Clio wraps a link of her chain around her hand. "Haven't seen you since Illyria," she admits, "Never did steal that dress design."
Clio is well aware of just how dangerous Morrigan can be, but the whimsical way in which she carries herself certainly doesn't show it--at least, here and now it doesn't. She long nails slide into her blouse and adjust it slightly around the bust, showing just a smidge more of her pale skin underneath. Perhaps Morrigan did not think she was taking it far enough. Maybe she's just warm in the train.
"You? I would not hae guessed. You seem like a rough and tumble sort tae tell you tae truth."
Morrigan seems to pay the situation no mind. Perhaps she is well-aware. Perhaps she carries herself with the confidence of an apex predator, unconcerned what else might be lurking in the shadows.
"I've been busy," Morrigan says, tapping her cheek with her index finger. "But I have been meaning tae check in on you. --did you not? That's a shame. It'd look good."
Clio herself isn't exactly dressed prudishly. That she's wearing bike shorts is only noticeable when her overlong sweatshirt pulls up. Much of her legs are pretty clearly exposed past the boots she wears. And with her stretch, she amuses herself at playing at her own version of showing off.
"Really?" she asks Morrigan, a little doubtful, "Even with the make up?" she questions. Clio would've thought the chain had given herself away, but she hadn't had it fighting Mab, Leo had broken it. Even as she considers that fight, the chain she wears carries its eldritch thrum.
"Not for a lack of trying. But I'm a little short on things these days. That going where the winds takes me doesn't pay many bills."
"Even with the make-up," Morrigan says. "You can be pretty and fierce." Morrigan smiles playfully at Clio, stretching a leg over to bump her gently with her foot. Her eyes follow the movement of the chain, just a little, before her attention moves to Clio's legs then back to her face.
"Been having a rough time since Mab, hae you?" With a pout, Morrigan rests her chin on her palm and her elbow on the armrest. "Surprised Leo didn't knight you or something. He seems the type."
"Thanks, I know," Clio says, not lacking in confidence for herself as she raises her eyebrows, looking at the bumping leg stretch. Keep a clear head, she thinks to herself, as fun as it is and as attractive as she is, the Scot is still a potent Darkstalker. One that could stand to the faerie queen that was messing around in Illyria.
But Clio also felt like someone without a lot to lose. And Morrigan brings up memories. A girl, just a few years ago though it felt like decades, sitting on a bed with a request to join their cause. The young girl raised on her namesake heroics. The girl who learned about knights and monsters and lived to be one. The girl who turned that down for the life of a soldier. Knight errants were alone. Fighting for the NOL kept her with her friends. Until transfers and secret terrors split her away again and again and again.
"Been offered," Clio admits. "But hard to do that when you're dead."
"I thought you might," Morrigan teases. "But I had tae be sure." Her smile is toothy and open. In any case, she seems quite pleased with herself and her teasing.
"A dead woman, eh? The dead can do surprising much where I'm from." Morrigan rises up from her seat, her heads tap-tapping on the subway floor and splitting through the steady thump-thump of the car as it moves down the rails. "Some of the most interesting people I've met as of late, the dead." She leans in dangerously close to Clio, her lands clasped together and resting against her thighs.
Morrigan moves in closer, her breath warm, heavy even. "You should do what you want," Morrigan says, "Dead or not. That's what I think."
Clio taps chain link to chain link. Little sparks of eldritch power flicker and flare like violet embers. She looks up at Morrigan, not moving from her spot, but her hand slips along the length of the chain, while the other comes from her pocket to rest on the chair near the spiked "tail" end of the metal links.
"Yeah, dead is freeing but it's got a lot of limitations on doing what I want," she tells Morrigan. Though money and means is far from what's getting in the way of what she wants. There's a lot she simply doesn't have the strength to do. A lot she's relying on Jubei for. At least Jubei was easier to rely on than Leo and his entire nation.
She looks away from Morrigan. Close enough to feel breath, close enough to feel the /presence/ of the woman. "Big words, but talk is cheap in Metro."
Morrigan's eyes follow the movement of the chain. "Oh, am I being a little too bold, lass? I'm not looking for a fight yet. Not tae worry." Morrigan drops back into her seat, kicking her feet up once again.
"Oh, talk is cheap everywhere," Morrigan waves a hand through the air. "But that's the answer of someone who can't have what she wants. What might that be?"
A short laugh. Too bold? Not nearly enough. Clio can't ignore that Morrigan ticks a lot of boxes, but the level of suspicion over the circumstances of her last meeting with the Scottish Succubus is enough to keep her head in the game. "That's how you look for a fight?" she asks, leaning forward in her seat, weaving her chains through the fingertips of her left hand, twirling it in place of her short hair.
"There's a lot I might want, and don't think you can do a thing about that," she tells Morrigan with a bitter little laugh. "But," the challenge in her eyes sparks out for a moment of seriousness, "How did everything shake out after the NOL pulled out? Any more faerie shit going down?"
"Sometimes," Morrigan says, "Depends on who I'm asking." She gives Clio another smile, this one making her fangs a bit more pronounced. The succubus crosses her legs again as she leans back in her seat.
"Oh, I don't know about that. There's quite a bit I can do." She sweeps her mint hair back again, brushing it out of her face.
"As for the NOL, I found them dreadfully boring. I try not tae avoid them as much as I can. I get enough politics back home."
"You found me again, so I think you know that much," Clio says with a half shrug. She falls back against the subway seat and resumes crossing her ankles and looking out the window behind Morrigan's head. Her fingers still play with the links of her chain.
"Boring or not, someone like you's going to get their attention," Clio says, shrugging in a disaffected teenage sort of way, her sullenness returning. "What do you want from me?" she asks.
Languid and reclined, there's a sharp edge to the former Lieutenant, her posture is loose, but limber and ready for the moment to shift. "What I want is the thing I thought I was doing to be worth it again. The NOL that helped me, that I thought was what it is, it isn't. I've killed for them, and I think that what I've done was worth it, because I'm willing to do it to help people, I can't shake it knowing that there's problems. But I'm only one person, and the other night proved to me how far I got to go before I know I'm worth it."
Morrigan smiles again, leaning back in a sort of lazy sprawl. Lights rush past the window behind her as the train pulls through a tunnel as it makes its snaking way through the city.
"Oh, no doubt," Morrigan says, "but I'll deal with that when it comes tae it. There are an awful lot of people out there with ambitions that are terribly great for such a dreadfully small understanding of the world. But anyway."
"Ahh, the ever noble soldier. I think maybe you did miss your chance at being a knight, you know." Morrigan looks at Clio with one eye before gazing out the window herself. "We'll get to what I want in a second. Believe it or not, I'm surprisingly good at -- what do they call it? Delayed gratification?" A pause. "At least sometimes." Morrigan flips her mint hair as she gives Clio a cheeky grin.
"But now. What happened to do? Have a bad match?"
The rushing lights outside. The humming fluorescent lighting in the train car. The sound of the wheels on the track clattering and creaking. The steady clinking of Clio's chain as she clicks and clacks the links. Small sparks of eldritch light dance with each strike.
She nods to Morrigan's words. Maybe she did miss out on what she should have been. Maybe there was some other turn of the Wheel of Fate that would see her in the Sacred Order, armored, striking forth as needed by the powers that be in Illyria. Just one of many possible outcomes, just as many chances for a different roll of the dice.
"Ain't that I don't think there shouldn't be better people. But I ain't nowhere near what I need to be. Not with things like Mab. Not with people like Captain Hazama. Not with them out there."
"You feel powerless," Morrigan cuts to the point. "You're gifted, but you've trained yourself even past that." The mint-haired succubus leans in again. Once again there's that heavy breath. Morrigan steps across the narrow corridor and turns around, moving to seat herself next to Clio.
"You want tae make the world what you think it should be," Morrigan says, "but there's so many people in the way of that."
"I feel like I could be better. I'm good," at least that's what she tells herself. She does feel powerless in the face of the great looming threats ahead of her. She feels powerless compared to people like Jubei, and Leo, and even Cody. She's felt a great deal of slipping ever since Golden Angel, really. But she's not open to talking that much about it, even with the succubus being very present beside her.
But there is something that sets Clio's alarm bells off in the next thing the Scot says. She shakes her head and the grip around her chain grows tighter. "Maybe," she admits. "Depends on how you look at things."
Morrigan slides into the seat, dropping into it almost weightlessly even if she may be crowding Clio just a bit. At least there are no wings today.
"You see strong opponents and think that you've got room tae improve. I get it. It's not too unusual, I've seen it quite a bit over the years, you know."
Morrigan raises an eyebrow when Clio reacts. "Oh, too aggressive for your tastes?" She asks. "Sounds a bit like a tyrant, doesn't it? But no, that's not you. You want the strength to stand against people like that, defend people who can't help themselves? Is that it?"
The train keeps rolling along. Clio counts the lights out the window. She's keeping focus on things other than the woman sliding close to her. She's also trying to suss out when the next stop should come. They've been talking, but the underground hasn't yielded a new stop yet. It was concerning as the questions being posed to her.
"Always room for improvement. Least until you die," Clio says, turning to look at the woman beside her. She turns the links about in her hand, the deep violet glow sparks just beneath the surface. The arcane energies wish to burst outward, to be used, to spark and fire.
"Can't have one without the other," Clio says. "You waiting for me to beg for something?" she asks, tugging hard on the chain and eyeing Morrigan with a sharp look. "You think you're the first to sound like that? I've met Relius Clover. Guy still owes me money for beating up his kid."
When was the last stop? Did the train roll past it? Shouldn't there have been on by now? In that moment of realization, time seems strange. Stretched, almost melted to fit the need.
"Oh, that's a good answer," Morrigan says, "I know a few who could learn from that kind of attitude." The mint-haired woman crosses her legs again, spreading her fingers as she rests her hand on her knee. She rocks a little in her seat, looking up at the ceiling as she does. "You wouldn't believe just how many old farts in Makai take immortality as an excuse tae get boring. Stagnant, if you will. Like Mab."
"Oh, it does sound like you meet some awful characters, don't you?"
The succubus frowns at the suggestion. "Oh, I much prefer people beg in much different circumstances, lass." Morrigan says with a devious smile. "But no, isn't it enough that I like your spirit?" Morrigan reaches out to poke Clio in the shoulder. "And you're cute, too."
The wyrd woman looks away again. "Tae to be honest, I get dreadfully bored back home, so I come find interesting people. You got my eye with your witch power, you know, but there's more to it than that."
Morrigan shows her teeth with another smile. It's almost predatory. Almost. "I like people with drive. Not for something so droll as pointing them at my problems like that old codger Jedah Dohma, mind. People with drive DO things. You know, they make the world interesting."
"So if you got as strong as you want tae be, what would you do then?"
Things had definitely slipped to the strange. Clio sets herself more on guard, sitting up in her seat and leaning forward. Her chain hangs loose and over her knee, not far from where she rests her forearms. Her focus: directly on the world outside the window on the opposite side of the subway car.
She holds her face stern, but it breaks, she has to smile. "Okay, that one is good, that is good," she admits with a reserved sigh at 'begging in different circumstances'.
"You want the world interesting?" she asks, "So you're a gadfly. That's all the sort of thing you like?" She shakes her head and looks between Morrigan and the spikes on the toe of her boots.
"I'm not as strong as I want to be. How the hell do I know what I'd do then? All I got is I made a promise. I would be a knight of the azure flame. A light to guide in the darkness." She looks back outside the windows of the subway again. She counts the lights, knows it's meaningless. "Maybe I'd be that knight."
For a brief moment, the world outside seems surreal. Strange geography and alien structures. Unnnatural shadows. The window is obscured by another pillar and things seem normal again. The squealing of brakes cut through the air as the train gets into a steady, thumping rhythm of its deceleration.
Morrigan beams at Clio, all too pleased that she managed to get a reaction out of her.
"I'm not sure if I've ever been called a gadfly," Morrigan says, "Oh, wait, no, it's just been a while." She taps her chin with a slender finger. "But I wouldn't say that's all I want. I find ways tae keep myself entertained, and sometimes that means meddling with boring people like Mab."
"But sometimes it means giving the underdog a little nudge too, Miss Azure Flame." Morrigan winks at Clio before rising out of her seat as the train comes to a stop. It lurches suddenly, but Morrigan doesn't move with the train, instead hovering minutely above the floor. One hand goes to the swell of her hip and rests there.
"Here," she tosses a small sack--like a coin purse--toward Clio's lap. It rattles when it lands. "You can use that if you want. Or not. As a free spirit, I try not tae tell people what tae do."
Watching, wary, vigilant despite her openness, Clio keeps a soldier's eye on the ever present succubus. And there's a good deal to keep an eye on. Even as the train seems to cry out just outside the walls of this little bubble of a moment.
Clio's head tilts one way, curious and judging, before she shakes her head at the tune and she sees that woman is simply floating rather than putting herself at the mercy of the subway's return to following the laws of time, space and physics.
The chain is dropped, its weight hangs from her neck, so that Clio may snatch the purse from the air. She hefts the weight, inclines her chin in further judgement, and without a particular moment of wasting, checks the parcel to see what it may contain.
"So are you tied up with the vampire guy? Or did I do something to start getting all of your attention?" she asks, inspecting the contents of the pouch.
The bag contains several unusual gold coins. They seem to be fairly old, but they're in good condition. Probably pawnable somewhere, if Clio could find the right buyer. The script on them is a bit unusual. There is also a calling card tied around the bag. It is decorated with bats and some unusually frilly handwriting. A ten digit number is written there.
"Vampire guy?" Morrigan asks, turning around with hand still firmly planted on her hip. "Did he have brown spiky like this?" She gestures with both hands, sweeping them up like a big swoop. "Big muscles? Blue suit with a white cravate that looks like something outta that Dracula movie?" Her gestures are very animated, suddenly.
"Or was he sort of a blue-grey color with this big horn things?" She traces her hands in two big arcs off her head.
Antique coins. Times like this that Clio wishes she still had access to the NOL database and research files. Or that she had been back around Illyria where she could pick the brain of that gear, Paradigm. Now she's just in a train with change. Old, possibly something but possibly not depending on the whims of the Morrigan.
She closes the bag and slips it into the hoodie's pocket along with her kaka clan mask. Thoughts go back to the figure that spoke to her, hiding much as he could and being terribly ominous. At least Morrigan was a more attractive offerer of power and potential. "First one, traveled with bats. He has some interest in the NOL. And since you seemed to be quick to throw him out there, I'm guess that interest is in your interest. And, going from that, probably has something to do with that guy, Jedah's, tower over in Southtown." She leans back in her seat, grinning like a hungry cat, "Did I put things together?"
"Cute," Morrigan says, stepping back and leaning forward deeply toward Clio. Her top dips precariously as she does, but Morrigan is hardly modest. "And smart too. Demi-Dem--" A pause, "Demitri Maximoff has a tendency to zero in on cute girls, so that was my first guess. I wouldn't call him a great manipulator, but he's grown pretty strong in his age." Morrigan looks over Clio again for a long moment. Her eyes seem gold for a moment, then green again. In that lingering moment it's easy to lose focus. To get lost in her gaze.
The moment passes.
"You're definitely his type," Morrigan says, standing back up. "But something tells me he's not yours, hmm?" Morrigan raises a hand to her mouth as she practically giggles at her own joke. "But no on the second part," Morrigan puts her hand on her hip, pressing her fingers against the bare skin where her pants are too low and her blouse too high. Her other hand goes to her mouth, tapping her lip. "I do wonder what's got him interested in the NOL all of a sudden though. Hmm, hmm. Maybe I need to pay him a visit m'self."
But in a moment, her expression gets more somber. Thoughtful. "Jedah Dohma is more dangerous I'd say. Smarter. More prone to having plans with plans. Stronger, too, even if I'd say he's less likely to flex it. In any case."
"I imagine you might have some strong friends already helping you tae get stronger," Morrigan says, "but if you need any help with that," She points at the chain. "I might be able tae help. I can't promise I have the patience to be a good teacher, but I figure I can manage something." Morrigan returns that hungry cat grin. "It might cost you though. Nothing so dire as you soul, though. That's so dreadfully predictable."
"...and if I ate every interesting person I met, I'd still be hungry but a lot more bored, so no one wins out there, eh?"
The gaze holds. The gold of Morrigan's eyes and the dark of Clio's own. Close, and it's easy to once more let the time slip and slip again. It's already been so fluid, lingering in some moments, fleeting in the next. The steady stare stretches the moment to a lengthy haze.
And when it snaps back, lost is found and time races to catch up with itself.
"No, he isn't," Clio admits. She doesn't have much to add on the NOL and why it's gotten his attention, that part she feels is obvious and the succubus is just looking for more information. And what she gives holds little for her sake. She imagines Jubei will have as much, if not more, to offer her.
But she has the coins, and what power they offer, well, she could find out for herself. It never hurts to hold opportunity in your hand.
"Maybe I do," Clio agrees to the Morrigan. "I've got a cat at least." She laughs a bit, leaned forward, hands hanging between her knees, ankles tucked and toes planted on the floor. A subtle position but one that has her still on the edge of bursting from her seat if need be. Part of her wishes she borrowed something from Mai's wardrobe here. It would've helped, she can't help but feel.
"When you can make offers and price, I'll be more inclined to listen," she says, "Right now, you're just a tease."
"Shrewd, too," Morrigan notes. "I'm so glad I tracked you down again." Morrigan takes the edge of her blouse, adjusting it a little to cool herself off.
"One of my other favorite people has been laying low lately, and it's a bit boring, so I'll make you an offer now." Morrigan says, flipping that mint hair. "I want to go on an adventure. Call it a date, if you want. I don't mind!" Morrigan smiles widely at Clio. "But it has tae be interesting! In exchange, you can have one favor," Morrigan holds up a single finger. "Be it lesson, secret, or what have you. The only stipulation is a fair trade of time."
"That sound reasonable, or do you want tae renegotiate?"
It always seems like a simple deal. Time for time, but vagueness is always the trick. Still, as Clio feels the weight of the mask in her hoodie. As she feels the weight of the loss against Cody. The failure to live up to Jubei's training and the potential failure of herself against the NOL. She didn't have them to fall back on anymore, and she didn't have the Sacred Order or Illyria. She only had Jubei close at hand and he had his own clan to look after as well as himself.
She looks toward the window of the subway car, her lips drawn thin. "I've got a tournament to think about. But I got your card." She grins and looks out the side of her eyes toward Morrigan and her flowing hair and how well her outfit is filled. "And you seem to have my number."
"Of course," Morrigan says. "Don't keep me waiting too long though, hmm? I'll be cheering for you." She turns and steps away again, heavy heels tapping the bottom of the car.
"Do you want anything else from me before I go?"
Clio considers the question. She feels the weight of a lot of things right now. And she leans heavily against the subway car. A look to the middle distance and an impassive, steady gaze to the world outside the subway.
"I got your card," she tells Morrigan, voice quiet, speaking enough to get the message across while she herself is slipping into her mind to consider things. "See you around."
"Suit yourself," Morrigan says, giving Clio a finger-waggle of a wave. "See you around."
The lights flicker off and then back on again in the subway car. When they return, Morrigan is gone.
"This train's next stop is the Arts Center Station. Please remain seated until the train comes to a complete stop."
Log created on 12:01:04 06/27/2019 by Clio, and last modified on 13:02:02 07/09/2019.