Play@YSDC

Jonathon reaches the door unaccosted, swings it open and then heads into the connection between compartments. He reaches the door to the lounge car and pulls it open without incident, only to find Charlie standing a mere few feet away from the door, as though he'd been on his way to help you but stopped for some reason. (Note: Post in the Lounge car).

Ilona cautiously and slowly makes her way through the car, staying as much as she can to the centre and trying not to look at much.
She can only imagine the horrors if she looked outside, or through the missing peoples belongings through the cart. Isn't that bad enough? What good would she do snooping? Mr Alden must have been snooping and *something* scared him out of his mind. It couldn't have been a person, nothing followed him back! Or maybe it was the monster outside? No, there can't be such a thing! Surely...
She doesn't realise she'd been holding her breath while trying to stay quiet and pauses to take a deep breath in before continuing.

The Smoking Car lies as dark and silent as a tomb. All of the belongings scattered here and about lie dejected as though long abandoned by their owners. It really does seem like the site of some dread disaster ... yet where is the blood? The gore? Why did all of the people here simply decide to get up and leave?

"So far, so good." Ilona whispers to herself, stopping as she reaches the end. She takes a moment to mentally brace herself before cautiously entering the next car.

Still quiet. So quiet...

The room smells heavy with exotic cigars and foreign cigarettes. There are no lights in here bar a single candle stuck to the table top with melted wax and which casts everything in a desperate flickering gloom. On one side, a set of wicker chairs with leather backs and seats face off over a blue-covered table. Many pairings have sat in those chairs, their intimate discussions staining the wicker with words left unsaid and deeds left undid.

On the other side, similar chairs face couches over similar tables so that three might sit and converse. Luggage racks sit near the ceiling beside each table on gilded, handwrought brackets, so that passengers may place small items up there and out of reach. There are some items up there now, their silhouettes heavy in the flickering candle light. Someone has also carved shapes and lines into a few of the tables, always furthest away from the candle. The carpet is a pattern of depressing browns, whites and greys. There are no curtains here, only peach-coloured spring-loaded blinds.

A small shelf by one of the doors carries an ornate golden clock who's furtive ticking removes moments from lives, threatening revelations and too-soon destinations. The golden clock is ornate and expensive, and it seems to be slowly winding down as it ticks the seconds on a much reduced and slowed down scale.

This room disturbs the mind. It turns sounds back on themselves. It's also cold in a cloying, heat-sucking sort of way.

Go backward for the Lounge Car.
Go forward into the Dining Car.

Charlie enters and remarks "Well, this place is creepy, betcha a quid those tables have weird symbols and some other language them."

Jonathan looks warily towards the window, then says: "Stay away from the window... I almost lost my head there", he shivers, then looks around the room with renewed interest. The writings on the tables capture his interest, and he picks up the candle to shed some light on them. As a writer, he's curious to know what people would write in that strange train, in that strange room.

The quid looks like the easiest money he's ever made as the lines aren't fancy symbols but some rather odd words: Back again here again always again got a light but the light draws them and makes them run but which ones? have to go out there again no I won't but they have tickets need their tickets each time the final car FINAL car thats so long how long do I need to wait for them to come again? The curving lines depict faces, but only ever half of the face, though not always the right half. The carvings are quite tight and small, requiring much squinting to read all of this, as the entire set of graffiti could be hidden beneath a single dinner plate.

"Creepy... this place never fails to impress me", Jonathan laughs, but it's clearly a nervous laugh. His hand moves to the pocket, where he holds the ticket he bought the previous day. He makes sure it's still there. The strange man was talking about the ticket earlier, and now these writings... better safe than sorry, as they say.

Charlie squints down at the writing. "Guess I'm not as good as I thought. Whoever wrote this was a different sort of loco than piano guy back there."

Jonathan places the candle back where it was, then heads for the next car: "Let's catch up with Miss Aston".

Go forward into the Dining Car.

Charlie quietly slips into the smoking car and presses his ear against the door to the dining car.

"Help!" shouts Artemis from the Dining Car.

Charlie clenches his fist as he considers his options, then rushes back towards the lounge car.

The room smells heavy with exotic cigars and foreign cigarettes. There are no lights in here bar a single candle stuck to the table top with melted wax and which casts everything in a desperate flickering gloom. On one side, a set of wicker chairs with leather backs and seats face off over a blue-covered table. Many pairings have sat in those chairs, their intimate discussions staining the wicker with words left unsaid and deeds left undid.

On the other side, similar chairs face couches over similar tables so that three might sit and converse. Luggage racks sit near the ceiling beside each table on gilded, handwrought brackets, so that passengers may place small items up there and out of reach. There are some items up there now, their silhouettes heavy in the flickering candle light. Someone has also carved shapes and lines into a few of the tables, always furthest away from the candle. The carpet is a pattern of depressing browns, whites and greys. There are no curtains here, only peach-coloured spring-loaded blinds.

A small shelf by one of the doors carries an ornate golden clock who's furtive ticking removes moments from lives, threatening revelations and too-soon destinations. The golden clock is ornate and expensive, and it seems to be slowly winding down as it ticks the seconds on a much reduced and slowed down scale.

This room disturbs the mind. It turns sounds back on themselves. It's also cold in a cloying, heat-sucking sort of way.

Go backward for the Lounge Car.
Go forward into the Dining Car.

Charlie strides through the car and slides the door open to see into the dining car.

No one and nothing prevents him from entering or seeing into the next car ... and there's no sign of the recent kerfuffle.

Is there blood anywhere? are there doors in either the dining or smoking car that lead onto the platform?