Tend Towards

[W] The Forsyth Journal #41

"Noel Verve from the Mid-European colonies is scheduled to appear at the public unveiling of Banter Forsyth's journal.

A revolutionary and leader, Banter Forsyth had made great contributions to the Rainmaker's Guilds across Southern Africa, Australia and East-Asia. In his early life, he had chaired the International Concordat in Geneva, which gained him world-renown as the youngest diplomat to effect International Change. In his later years, his humanitarian work had gained him a Nobel Peace Prize.

Banter Forsyth's disappearance in the late 80's had come as a shock to the world, the events of which were shrouded in mystery and prospect.

Noel Verve, a young traveller from the Harrow-lands, had discovered the burial and final resting place of Banter Forsyth in late April, which had put many speculations to rest and shed light on the circumstances surrounding the final years of Forsyth's life.

While no body was discovered, a journal said to have been written by Forsyth himself holds the key to the mysteries of his disappearance. The Union of Historical Preservence has been mostly silent on the authenticity of the journal, having only released a public statement claiming that it seemed to be real.

Noel is to appear and deliver a speech about his discovery at the Rainmaker's National Treasures Museum at Rainmaker's Capital, Moraine, on Wednesday 7th -"

The cabin shuddered again, and Noel sighed. The natural light was fading into the evening, and the cabin was gloomy. It was difficult to read, at best.

"Six hours," Mira mumbled from the seat next to him, before rolling over onto her side and slipping back into her dreams.

Noel wasn't sure what she meant - six hours until - or had it been six hours since - what? Myra looked uncomfortable on the train. Noel wasn't particularly in the best position either. His legs were cramping and his neck was stiff. He rolled towards the window, and longingly stared at the passing world below.

It was an odd sensation - one he hadn't gotten used to yet, and he never believed that he would. The trees beneath the rails were calling out to him, reaching for him - it was a spiritual magnetism that promised comfort and love, but as the trees passed, it felt like their roots were ripped straight from his heart.

He and Mira belonged out there, on the ground with their feet dug into the mud and their toes curled into the earth. The Rail-Liner felt unnatural and alien, and he wasn't sure how long he could endure it.

He rested his head against the cool glass, and closed his eyes. Maybe he could sleep through it all.

***

Mira's face was wet and warm, her eyes panicked and crying. The garland in her hair was wilting fast, and Noel tried his best to keep it alive and glowing. Suddenly there was a soundless crash of air, followed by impossible heat. Mira's face was tortured in the light of the fire behind him, and she reached for his arm. It took Noel a moment to realise that he was the one dying, before a jolt surprise awoke him.

It took a second to regain his bearings. He was on the Rail-Liner, in seat CS7, next to Mira, on their way to Moraine. He glanced at his companion, and a slight relief flooded him to see she was still where he had left her. Her hand was in his, and vines had curled around their interlocked fingers. He tried to roll towards her, but had to carefully unwrap the tendrils of that had grown him against his seat. They were unwilling to let go.

They liked the new environment, which annoyed Noel. Metal wasn't nutritious in this form.

Mira wasn't bound to her seat like him. The only growth she displayed was a collection of small blossoms opening between the leaves on her arms.