marlowe_tops: (Default)
Marlowe ([personal profile] marlowe_tops) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2017-03-18 04:40 pm

The Road


The Road


Maybe you’ve always been traveling this road. Maybe you just started. But, either way, now you have a companion. They say it’s not about the destination, it’s the journey. Now you’re going to have to find out.

1. Post-apocalyptic. There’s not much left of the world out there. But there’s still this road, and at the end of it, they say, there’s a haven.
2. Epic fantasy. It’s a long and winding road, through forests and plains, and all manner of treacherous fairies and giant spiders along the way. Supposedly, at the end of it there’s a castle, a dragon, and a treasure.
3. Yellow brick road! A journey through a world weird and wonderful, and at the end, if you’re lucky, is a way back home.
4. Road trip! Route 66, cheap motels, diners, small-town America and the open highway.
5. The Eternal Commute. Welcome to hell. Or New Jersey. Either way, really. The two of you are stuck in this car, in traffic, and you’re getting nowhere. Eventually, one day, you’re going to get to your destination.
6. Wilderness road. Maybe you’re lost, or stranded, or this is all you’ve ever known. All you know is there’s only one road in all this wilderness, and if you’re ever going to get back to civilisation, you’re going to have to follow it.
7. Shangri-La. You’ve heard a rumour about this road. It goes somewhere. Somewhere special. El Dorado. Atlantis. Camelot. But if you ever want to get there, you’re going to have to follow the road. Don’t stray.
8. WILDCARD
maledicat_dominus: (solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris)

[personal profile] maledicat_dominus 2017-03-21 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
"Perhaps we are in one of your dreams," Faust suggested, wanting to know, specifically, what made this differ from the dream, or how she knew it wasn't. "Or hell. Or a sort of limbo."

He leaned over to stage-whisper to her, tilting his head carefully so that he caught no possible glimpse of what might lurk in their wake. "What do you think is behind us?"
metades: (everybody's sick for something)

[personal profile] metades 2017-03-21 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
"Are damned souls meant to tread endlessly?" She almost lauged, but the sound was drier than intended, lacking in practise and confidence. "Perhaps it is one of my dreams - perhaps my mind is a projection of the afterlife itself. Or perhaps that's a bit too much." She pauses. "It's the first time I'm not alone. And the first time I remember coming here of my own volition."

Every other time was a blur, as dreams would have it. If this were another one, it would be too meticulous for comfort.

His words, too, were too heavy for comfort. There was another cold chill in the back of her neck, like a phantom tongue lapping at the skin in an effort to terrorize her.

"Something all-consuming," she whispered back, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. "More than a demon or a witch or a creature going bump in the night. Fear itself is far greater - I would assume. I'm not tempted to look just yet."

"But what do you think it is?"
maledicat_dominus: (si pecasse negamus fallimur)

[personal profile] maledicat_dominus 2017-03-21 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
"Nothing," Faust said, head forward once again, pace steady. There were hints of both dread and reverence in his voice. He desperately wanted there to be something behind them. For this to be a place of magic, real magic. Even if it was hostile to him, the cost was worth it. But he did not believe that there would be anything at all. This was, surely, a dream born of fevered hopes and overspiced food.

"There is nothing behind us. The dread that keeps us from looking, the certainty that something pursues us--it's only an illusion. If we turn about, there will be nothing at all, and that--I think--is worse than any monster or obscenity."

He tilted his head up, but there was nothing to see. Treetops disappearing into mist. Pausing, he knelt, skimming his fingertips over the surface of the path. "If we stop, would it matter?"
metades: (I do not have an awful lot to tell)

[personal profile] metades 2017-03-24 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
If magic - any kind of magic - was truly his wish, he had the dark child of its end result right beside him; a fragmented soul inhabiting a fragmented body, and though she tried to mask it well, she was no actress and bound to falter at any moment.

"You sound far too skeptical - and yet, you say it as if you want to believe." It was a strange coordination of opposing feelings but Adora could not blame him for it. He made a good point - in not knowing lied the greatest of fears, in expecting the greatest of anxieties. But she was not so desperate or so paranoid to give in - her mind was focused on the end, a goal, something she could not quite place but was sure would be at a reaching point of this journey. If there was one.

She stopped a foot or so ahead of him and almost looked back - almost, but instead took a couple of steps back to observe him side-by-side. No falling for it yet.

"Would something so patient as to let us wander grow impatient now of all times?" She offered a meek shrug despite her words. "If we stop, we won't know what lies ahead. If we look back, we might either be disappointed or regretful. But your choice is yours."
maledicat_dominus: (o lente lente currite noctis equi)

[personal profile] maledicat_dominus 2017-03-26 06:46 pm (UTC)(link)
"A fair point," Faust conceded, straightening and continuing at their former pace. "And I do. What could be worse than conceding that we live in a world without magic, where there is nothing but the mundane?"

His eyes flicked briefly over his companion. There was something odd about her, but it was overshadowed by the much more visceral wrongness of the place, making her oddities almost insignificant. "You said you came here of your own volition."
metades: (but you are (my love) the astronaut)

[personal profile] metades 2017-03-26 09:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"Our world is riddled with mysteries," She hummed softly, almost breathlessly as her foot landed on an especially soft puddle of mud. She paused, shook it off and kept moving. "I hardly think mundane is a fitting word."

Every so often her eyes were fixed on the path ahead in a fleeting attempt to see beyond the mist. All failed efforts, but efforts nonetheless. His question didn't deter her from trying again, though this time she nodded complacently.

"I did, and I do. This place has been calling for me for months." She pauses, realising the strangeness of her words. "I cannot explain it - it started with a dream but it's invaded my everyday thought. Surely that can't be normal."