mickilennial
Carlyle
Rockette
vietmyke
Izurich
Ti
AlteredTundra
Jailbreak In Fairyland I
The Station, Betwixt the Realms
Time is like an illusion dude
“My dad always taught me that Merlin closed the link between Faerie and the Mundane to prevent a war from breaking out after humans invented cold iron.”
“That is the lie that we are sworn to tell, a lie to protect the balance.” Voodoo explained as they walked.
“Protect it from what?” Zatanna questioned as her voice rose in intensity. Zatanna knew that her father wasn’t particularly a paragon of truth, and yet these more recent discoveries stung with a pain that lies never carried before. Perhaps, it was the fact that he was dead. All that was left of him was a stackful of his journals and the childhood memories that she had. The lies took away those memories, toxifying them with the distrust and resentment that had come to define their relationship in the later years. It made her question if even those early memories were actually as good as she remembered of if she was just too naive to see her father for what he was.
“From every young magic-user who after reading the Tempest believed that they could triumph where Prospero failed.” Voodoo coming off with the tired tone of a professor’s introductory lecture that they give at the start of every semester for the past fifty years. “Conflict between the Mundane and Faerie would be inevitable”
“So you stifle curiosity for a measure of security?” Zatanna retorted incredulously. As a matter of principal, Zatanna disagreed with any argument that relied on the basis of any kind of inevitability. A narcissistic impulse asserted by an ability to prod, warp, and tweak the laws of reality itself. Such abilities made a viewpoint of anything less than seizing the bull of life by the proverbial horns seem fatalistic to the point of nihilism in comparison. Why admit defeat or live in fear when you can just ask the universe nicely to do as you want.
“We do not wish to forbade curiosity timoun,” Voodoo insisted gesturing broadly with his staff as he walked. “We only wish to cultivate it such that it can’t become tainted by more base desires.”
Zatanna snorted in disbelief
“I see why you and my father got along so well ” Zatanna replied rolling her eyes.
“We both were well aware of the consequences of not seeing the bigger picture.” Voodoo agreed either choosing to ignore or having been oblivious to the open hostility in Zatanna’s comment.
Quickly realizing that a continued pursuit of the debate was pointless Zatanna held her tongue. Instead, she tried to wrap her head around the layout of the station, as she attempted to keep track of the path that Voodoo was following. Much to her frustration this task was much easier said than done. The further in they went, the further that Zatanna was reminded of old childhood memories of being trapped in a corn mazes around Halloween, the white marble hallways and the ornate gilded doors began to blend together into one entangled mass within her mind, just like those seemingly endless rows of corn. The confusion was only made worse by the station’s escheresque properties as there was often moments after heading up a staircases, she could of swore that they were actually going down. Persistent as always, Zatanna continued trying to count the turns, staircases, and doors as she went encouraged only by the fact that Voodoo and the other curious travelers that rushed past her seemed to know exactly where they were going.
Before Zatanna was able to crack the code they arrived to a new section of the station. A hallway that seemed to doubleback and swallow itself emptied them out into a much larger cathedral-like space, marble transitioning into worn stone. The ceiling above them had expanded dramatically stretching literally skyward as what was once matching marble ceilings having been replaced with a van Gogh style night sky except that the stars actually twinkled and the clouds move slowly across the frame. Descending from this nightscape and lining the walls of the “cathedral” were large stained glass windows that took Zatanna’s breath away as she could of swore they managed to capture colors that didn’t even exist. Each window depicted a scene of intersection between Faerie and the Mundane: King Arthur receiving Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake, the exploits of Fionn Mac Cumhaill, and finally at the far end of the cathedral sitting above the large set of double doors that Voodoo was leading her towards was the Severance.
The scene showed Merlin’s Severance of the Realms.Two opposing armies, one from Faerie and the other from the Mundane world, faced one another as the skies above them were cast red as if to foreshadow the violence destined to take place. Standing betwixt the two great armies was the wizard Merlin holding his staff high above his head calling down a burst of red lighting from the bloodstained skies. Looking up at the piece, Zatanna felt a wave of unease wash over her as she noticed Merlin’s eyes. They were locked in rigged concentration and full of great power and judgement. This judgemental gaze either through some simple perspective trick or minor enhancement followed you wherever you went in the room. Zatanna wanted nothing more to escape its spotlight gaze, but Voodoo walked across the space with at a slow and persistent pace, and Zatanna did not want to risk going ahead of him as she did not know if the station’s geometry would continue to twist.
Pulling her eyes away from stained glass in an attempt to alleviate the pressure Zatanna looked around the cathedral. It was only then that Zatanna noticed that the crowds that persisted in the rest of the station were absent. The only other beings in the room were clusters of hooded figures praying at a series of small altars that lined the walls. They wore long black robes and Zatanna could only assume the strange noises that emanated from the shadows of their hoods was some sort of prayer.
In her observations, she took a step closer and as her foot made contact with the floor each and every one of the hooded figures all turned to face her. The chanting was now directed fully at her causing her entire begin to be assaulted with a sea of unfathomable noise. The words spoken were in an old and forgotten tongue but the fear they carried was all the same. Zatanna found herself unable to move as the muscles in her legs seized. She tried to mutter out a spell but when she opened her mouth, the only words that spilled out were the same ominous chanting. All the while the hooded figures moved in closer their bodies stuttering forward like they were a frame behind the rest of reality.
Suddenly Zatanna felt a hand grasp hers and turn her away from the chanters. Voodoo pulled her along never breaking stride. His grip on her hand was like a vice and she would of complained about the bruising she was going to have if she could talk. Purposely keeping his head towards the floor Voodoo began to whisper instructions to her, his voice cutting clean through the chanter’s cacophony.
“Don't run. Just keep walking forward and whatever you do, don’t look back.”
Half walking, half being pulled along, Zatanna followed Voodoo as he made a break for the door. As they increased their pace, the chanters’ volume crescendoed matching their pace. Zatanna had to put in active effort to try and combat whatever enchantment was laced into the twisted prayer that sought to immobilize her. Thankfully, Voodoo was helping her ever so often squeezing the hand that he still had a hold of. The pressure and arrhythmic nature of the pulses helping disrupt the drone’s trance.
They were only halfway to the door and Zatanna could of swore that the hooded ones were gaining on them. A chill ran down her neck as it felt like a set of fingers was inches away from grasping at her head, their assailants so close that their chanting sounded like a whisper in Zatanna’s ear. As they got closer, the chanting grew less and less unintelligible, the words becoming clearer. A promise of peace and rest and all that was needed from her was to turn around.
Zatanna slapped herself hard across the face as she ran nearly toppling herself over. The sting of the impact flooded her senses as neurons and synapses flared. The chanting seemed more distance, the words that she was hearing a minute ago back to a meer garble of noise. Finding something to grasp onto she focused in on the pain in her face and throughout her body. There was the feeling of pins and needles in her hand from Voodoo’s stress grip as blood circulation began to be cut off. There was the feeling of pain in her feet as she was currently in a deadsprint in heels of all things cursing herself for not choosing more practical footwear to go with her show outfit. And she pulled all that pain closer constructing a mental bulwark against the enchantment.
As they neared the exit, Zatanna saw Voodoo’s mouth began to move as he began to recite a incantation. His words were drowned out by the noise, but the power that they held was all the same. Energy swirled around his staff before exploding outward in a burst of concessive energy. Projected forward, the column of pure force slammed into the large double doors causing them to burst open with a concussive boom akin to a cannon shot. In their haste to push the last few feet towards the door, they fell through the open doorway, the pair of doors slammed shut behind them. From the otherside of the door the chanting could still be heard accompanied by the sounds of claws scratching feverishly at wood. Eventually, the clawing stop and the chanting grew dimmer and dimmer, until there was finally silence again. And very slowly the door to the cathedral began to sink into the surrounding wall before soon enough it was gone in its entirety.
The silence that now surrounded Zatanna was almost as deafening. The magician suddenly becoming aware of everything again from her laboured breathing to thunderous drumming of her heart as it threatened to burst free. She pulled her fists together into tiny shaking balls digging her nails as hard as he could bear into her palms.
“What in the hell....” Despite it only being a whisper Zatanna felt like she was screaming, the sound of her own voice strange on her lips.
Voodoo for his part seemed less shaken by the whole affair. He was already on his feet brushing the dust off of himself. The tip of his walking staff still caught in the afterglow of the spell that had been fired off from it moments earlier. Catching his eye, Zatanna reflexively flinched at the anger that was there but also noted that there was concern there as well. Leaning on his staff, he looked down at her shaking his head.
“I warned you not to stare.” He stressed using the same tone you would when discipling a child for doing something that they wouldn’t know was wrong.
“You didn’t tell me what I should not stare at! I was fine up until now looking at whatever I wanted! So maybe next time you should be more specific old man! ” Zatanna argued pushing herself up from the ground. She pushed herself straight into the older man’s face her eyes flaring with anger and magical energy as they did. Voodoo might of just saved her life, but she wasn’t about to let him chastise her. She shook her head frustrated,“What the hell were those things anyway?”
Voodoo looked like he had seen a ghost. The rest of his face was the still the age-worn visage that she had come to expect, but there was something in his eyes. It was gaze that Zatanna was all too familiar with. It was the same one that her father had whenever he thought about her mother. Taking a step back from her, Voodoo quickly regained his composure. Whatever brief glance Zatanna had acquired vanished back beyond the walls that he had carefully curated over the years. There was a brief moment of painful silence as Voodoo looked down and played with his staff.
“Well,” Voodoo started with a brief cough “I suppose my instructions... could have been a bit more specific yes. And those things serve as another line of defense for the station.”
“Defense,” Zatanna asked shaking her head “You’re telling me that those things are there on purpose?”
“Not necessarily,” corrected Voodoo, “it was more like they are the original owners of this place. The station was built on top of the ruins of their cathedral. And any attempts to remove them... only lead to a bolstering of their numbers.”
“Well isn’t that lovely,” Zatanna muttered taking a few precautionary steps away from the wall where the door once was “You mind if we get as far away from here as possible?”
Voodoo chuckled.
“Now that is a plan that I can agree with.”
The door had emptied them out onto what looked like a more traditional looking Tube platform. Travelers of all shapes and sizes gathered on the platform many carrying bags, sacks, and there was even a strange blue goblinoid creature that had what Zatanna could only describe as a three-headed peacock in a large birdcage strapped to his back. The same announcements that a normal line would get about minding the gap, and being observant were piped in from an unknown source, but the lines were also repeated in several languages that sounded completely alien to the magician’s ears.
Claiming an unoccupied bench, the pair made themselves comfortable. Zatanna tried to start up a conversation with Voodoo, but the older magic user had conjured a large black tome out of thin air with a snap of his fingers and was enraptured by his reading. On a whim, Zatanna took out her phone. To her surprise, despite being what she could only assume was several hundred feet underground she still had perfect reception. Even though it herwas n phone it felt almost voyeuristic as she scrolled through her emails, texts, and social media. Her regular life, the life of Zatanna Zatara, Vegas’ greatest magician seemed like it belonged to a different person, somebody she wasn't. It was like that life was an artist imitation of the strange, bizzare, and colorful world that she was currently submerged in.
Strangely enough despite his severe distaste in modern technology, in that moment looking down at her phone made her think of her father. He would of had to deal with his duality serving as a guardian of this magical world and a father in the mundane one. All of her life, she had resented the training, the drills, the ceaseless preparation that he made her endure, and even know she still thought there would of been better ways to go about it, but she was able to understand it a little better. Dealing with things like this everyday, Giovanni must have not seen any other choice. It wasn’t like he could pretend that this danger didn’t exist.
The shrill sound of the whistle on an approaching train drew her attention. Putting her phone away, Zatanna looked around as the platform began to come to life as the train approached. Zatanna looked over at Voodoo who seemed unconcerned still just silently reading his tome. Zatanna tried to follow his example and wait patiently but it just wasn’t in her. Standing up, she pushed her way through the crowd towards the platform’s edge. Peering down the the tunnel and far off in the distance, a light was beginning to get closer and closer.
As the light drew closer, Zatanna began to make out the approaching vehicle. It looked like one of those old steam locomotives that were now regulated exclusively to display pieces in museums. Yet despite its antiquated appearance it was moving at speeds that could rival a modern bullet train. It's charcoal black exterior blended with the darkness of the tunnel save for the few gold leaf accents scattered about its body. Its whistle continued to blare as it drew closer to the station. Zatanna could see sparks jumping up from the tracks as the breaks were thrown causing metal to scrap against metal generating heat and light. The screeching noise reverberated across the platform and despite an obvious effort, Zatanna was sure that they were still going too fast and the train was going to overshoot the station. Yet as the train entered into the light of the platform it appeared almost as if the air surrounding it became thicker as the jelly-like substance helped pull the locomotive to a full stop.
A cloud of white steam coated the platform like a thick fog. Zatanna tried to push the steam away from her face, coughing as she did. As she coughed, an ocean of activity moved all around her. The doors on the train opened letting loose a tide of travelers. Some of these individuals stopped to embrace friends and family that had gathered on the platform while others rushed past and headed back into the station. And after this first wave of departures began, a great embarkment began as many more on the train rushed past Zatanna to get aboard. All the while strange stout reptilian looking conductors shouted amongst themselves up and down the platform as they ushered the new batch of traveler’s in. This push and pull of moment nearly knocked Zatanna over but she managed to maintain her balance and not get trampled underneath the feet of the crowd.
“Impressive isn’t it?”” Voodoo called from behind Zatanna as he wisely choose to move from the bench only after the initial rush.
“It’s all very Hogwartsy... “
“Hogwhat?”
“Really? Of all the cultural references you don’t know?“
Following Voodoo onto the train, Zatanna was immediately struck with the ornateness of it all. Embroidered red carpeting on the floor, the walls rich dark-almost chocolate brown wooden paneling, and a chandelier with real crystal in every car. It called back to level of excess that was rarely seen in the modern age of mass transit whose philosophy was more geared to carrying the most people in the most effective and cheap manner. Instead it seemed to invoke distant images of luxurious ground travel that was still conjured with titles like the Express d'Orient. And even Zatanna, who self admittedly grew up in a very privileged background felt very small walking through its corridors.
Eventually, the two of them found a booth in a cabin near the far end of the train. A few small clusters of travelers were grouped together but compared to the initial rush outside the dull noise of their conversations was like being in a monastery. An androgynous figure dressed in a waiter’s uniform moved from booth to booth taking down drink orders. Zatanna slipped into one side of the booth scooting all the way down towards the window which overlooked the now mostly empty platform save for a few of the lizard conductors that were loading luggage into the train’s undercarriage. Voodoo slipped into the seat across from her and with another snap of his fingers conjured the book that he was reading earlier.
“How long will it take us to get there?” Zatanna asked curious
“As long as it takes.” Replied Voodoo flatley
“Oh thanks for that insightful information.”
At that moment the waiter that had been moving around the cabin approached their booth. At first glance, they looked almost human to Zatanna. They were cast in hues of white and black, ivory colored skin paired with short hair and eyes both ink black in their coloration. Their face seemed more more angular than any regular human proportion like it was constructed exclusively from sharp sweeping lines and harsh angles. Even their ears as opposed to being rounded were pulled back ending in fine sharp tips, like the end of a quill. And as they smiled, Zatanna had to fight the urge to shiver as it revealed a mouth filled with rows upon rows of sharp knife like teeth.
“And will you be having tea or coffee today ma’am?” They asked their voice rising and falling in a sing-song pattern.
“Tea,” Zatanna answered “no caffeine though... something herbal if you have it?”
“As you wish ma’am” The waiter responded scratching something the order down into what looked like a piece of wood with a sharpened fingernail. “And you sir?”
“Coffee, black.” Voodoo responded without looking up from his book.
Just as the waiter left them for the next booth the train began to move. As the light of the platform was traded for the darkness of the tunnel, Zatanna pulled herself up against the window laying her head against it. In her first moment of peace in what felt like days, the young Zatara felt sleep slowly began to take over her. She didn’t fight it as she closed her eyes and let the slow vibrations of the train as it moved through the tunnel rock her to sleep. And just like the world that she once knew, she to was swept away by the darkness.
“That is the lie that we are sworn to tell, a lie to protect the balance.” Voodoo explained as they walked.
“Protect it from what?” Zatanna questioned as her voice rose in intensity. Zatanna knew that her father wasn’t particularly a paragon of truth, and yet these more recent discoveries stung with a pain that lies never carried before. Perhaps, it was the fact that he was dead. All that was left of him was a stackful of his journals and the childhood memories that she had. The lies took away those memories, toxifying them with the distrust and resentment that had come to define their relationship in the later years. It made her question if even those early memories were actually as good as she remembered of if she was just too naive to see her father for what he was.
“From every young magic-user who after reading the Tempest believed that they could triumph where Prospero failed.” Voodoo coming off with the tired tone of a professor’s introductory lecture that they give at the start of every semester for the past fifty years. “Conflict between the Mundane and Faerie would be inevitable”
“So you stifle curiosity for a measure of security?” Zatanna retorted incredulously. As a matter of principal, Zatanna disagreed with any argument that relied on the basis of any kind of inevitability. A narcissistic impulse asserted by an ability to prod, warp, and tweak the laws of reality itself. Such abilities made a viewpoint of anything less than seizing the bull of life by the proverbial horns seem fatalistic to the point of nihilism in comparison. Why admit defeat or live in fear when you can just ask the universe nicely to do as you want.
“We do not wish to forbade curiosity timoun,” Voodoo insisted gesturing broadly with his staff as he walked. “We only wish to cultivate it such that it can’t become tainted by more base desires.”
Zatanna snorted in disbelief
“I see why you and my father got along so well ” Zatanna replied rolling her eyes.
“We both were well aware of the consequences of not seeing the bigger picture.” Voodoo agreed either choosing to ignore or having been oblivious to the open hostility in Zatanna’s comment.
Quickly realizing that a continued pursuit of the debate was pointless Zatanna held her tongue. Instead, she tried to wrap her head around the layout of the station, as she attempted to keep track of the path that Voodoo was following. Much to her frustration this task was much easier said than done. The further in they went, the further that Zatanna was reminded of old childhood memories of being trapped in a corn mazes around Halloween, the white marble hallways and the ornate gilded doors began to blend together into one entangled mass within her mind, just like those seemingly endless rows of corn. The confusion was only made worse by the station’s escheresque properties as there was often moments after heading up a staircases, she could of swore that they were actually going down. Persistent as always, Zatanna continued trying to count the turns, staircases, and doors as she went encouraged only by the fact that Voodoo and the other curious travelers that rushed past her seemed to know exactly where they were going.
Before Zatanna was able to crack the code they arrived to a new section of the station. A hallway that seemed to doubleback and swallow itself emptied them out into a much larger cathedral-like space, marble transitioning into worn stone. The ceiling above them had expanded dramatically stretching literally skyward as what was once matching marble ceilings having been replaced with a van Gogh style night sky except that the stars actually twinkled and the clouds move slowly across the frame. Descending from this nightscape and lining the walls of the “cathedral” were large stained glass windows that took Zatanna’s breath away as she could of swore they managed to capture colors that didn’t even exist. Each window depicted a scene of intersection between Faerie and the Mundane: King Arthur receiving Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake, the exploits of Fionn Mac Cumhaill, and finally at the far end of the cathedral sitting above the large set of double doors that Voodoo was leading her towards was the Severance.
The scene showed Merlin’s Severance of the Realms.Two opposing armies, one from Faerie and the other from the Mundane world, faced one another as the skies above them were cast red as if to foreshadow the violence destined to take place. Standing betwixt the two great armies was the wizard Merlin holding his staff high above his head calling down a burst of red lighting from the bloodstained skies. Looking up at the piece, Zatanna felt a wave of unease wash over her as she noticed Merlin’s eyes. They were locked in rigged concentration and full of great power and judgement. This judgemental gaze either through some simple perspective trick or minor enhancement followed you wherever you went in the room. Zatanna wanted nothing more to escape its spotlight gaze, but Voodoo walked across the space with at a slow and persistent pace, and Zatanna did not want to risk going ahead of him as she did not know if the station’s geometry would continue to twist.
Pulling her eyes away from stained glass in an attempt to alleviate the pressure Zatanna looked around the cathedral. It was only then that Zatanna noticed that the crowds that persisted in the rest of the station were absent. The only other beings in the room were clusters of hooded figures praying at a series of small altars that lined the walls. They wore long black robes and Zatanna could only assume the strange noises that emanated from the shadows of their hoods was some sort of prayer.
In her observations, she took a step closer and as her foot made contact with the floor each and every one of the hooded figures all turned to face her. The chanting was now directed fully at her causing her entire begin to be assaulted with a sea of unfathomable noise. The words spoken were in an old and forgotten tongue but the fear they carried was all the same. Zatanna found herself unable to move as the muscles in her legs seized. She tried to mutter out a spell but when she opened her mouth, the only words that spilled out were the same ominous chanting. All the while the hooded figures moved in closer their bodies stuttering forward like they were a frame behind the rest of reality.
Suddenly Zatanna felt a hand grasp hers and turn her away from the chanters. Voodoo pulled her along never breaking stride. His grip on her hand was like a vice and she would of complained about the bruising she was going to have if she could talk. Purposely keeping his head towards the floor Voodoo began to whisper instructions to her, his voice cutting clean through the chanter’s cacophony.
“Don't run. Just keep walking forward and whatever you do, don’t look back.”
Half walking, half being pulled along, Zatanna followed Voodoo as he made a break for the door. As they increased their pace, the chanters’ volume crescendoed matching their pace. Zatanna had to put in active effort to try and combat whatever enchantment was laced into the twisted prayer that sought to immobilize her. Thankfully, Voodoo was helping her ever so often squeezing the hand that he still had a hold of. The pressure and arrhythmic nature of the pulses helping disrupt the drone’s trance.
They were only halfway to the door and Zatanna could of swore that the hooded ones were gaining on them. A chill ran down her neck as it felt like a set of fingers was inches away from grasping at her head, their assailants so close that their chanting sounded like a whisper in Zatanna’s ear. As they got closer, the chanting grew less and less unintelligible, the words becoming clearer. A promise of peace and rest and all that was needed from her was to turn around.
Zatanna slapped herself hard across the face as she ran nearly toppling herself over. The sting of the impact flooded her senses as neurons and synapses flared. The chanting seemed more distance, the words that she was hearing a minute ago back to a meer garble of noise. Finding something to grasp onto she focused in on the pain in her face and throughout her body. There was the feeling of pins and needles in her hand from Voodoo’s stress grip as blood circulation began to be cut off. There was the feeling of pain in her feet as she was currently in a deadsprint in heels of all things cursing herself for not choosing more practical footwear to go with her show outfit. And she pulled all that pain closer constructing a mental bulwark against the enchantment.
As they neared the exit, Zatanna saw Voodoo’s mouth began to move as he began to recite a incantation. His words were drowned out by the noise, but the power that they held was all the same. Energy swirled around his staff before exploding outward in a burst of concessive energy. Projected forward, the column of pure force slammed into the large double doors causing them to burst open with a concussive boom akin to a cannon shot. In their haste to push the last few feet towards the door, they fell through the open doorway, the pair of doors slammed shut behind them. From the otherside of the door the chanting could still be heard accompanied by the sounds of claws scratching feverishly at wood. Eventually, the clawing stop and the chanting grew dimmer and dimmer, until there was finally silence again. And very slowly the door to the cathedral began to sink into the surrounding wall before soon enough it was gone in its entirety.
The silence that now surrounded Zatanna was almost as deafening. The magician suddenly becoming aware of everything again from her laboured breathing to thunderous drumming of her heart as it threatened to burst free. She pulled her fists together into tiny shaking balls digging her nails as hard as he could bear into her palms.
“What in the hell....” Despite it only being a whisper Zatanna felt like she was screaming, the sound of her own voice strange on her lips.
Voodoo for his part seemed less shaken by the whole affair. He was already on his feet brushing the dust off of himself. The tip of his walking staff still caught in the afterglow of the spell that had been fired off from it moments earlier. Catching his eye, Zatanna reflexively flinched at the anger that was there but also noted that there was concern there as well. Leaning on his staff, he looked down at her shaking his head.
“I warned you not to stare.” He stressed using the same tone you would when discipling a child for doing something that they wouldn’t know was wrong.
“You didn’t tell me what I should not stare at! I was fine up until now looking at whatever I wanted! So maybe next time you should be more specific old man! ” Zatanna argued pushing herself up from the ground. She pushed herself straight into the older man’s face her eyes flaring with anger and magical energy as they did. Voodoo might of just saved her life, but she wasn’t about to let him chastise her. She shook her head frustrated,“What the hell were those things anyway?”
Voodoo looked like he had seen a ghost. The rest of his face was the still the age-worn visage that she had come to expect, but there was something in his eyes. It was gaze that Zatanna was all too familiar with. It was the same one that her father had whenever he thought about her mother. Taking a step back from her, Voodoo quickly regained his composure. Whatever brief glance Zatanna had acquired vanished back beyond the walls that he had carefully curated over the years. There was a brief moment of painful silence as Voodoo looked down and played with his staff.
“Well,” Voodoo started with a brief cough “I suppose my instructions... could have been a bit more specific yes. And those things serve as another line of defense for the station.”
“Defense,” Zatanna asked shaking her head “You’re telling me that those things are there on purpose?”
“Not necessarily,” corrected Voodoo, “it was more like they are the original owners of this place. The station was built on top of the ruins of their cathedral. And any attempts to remove them... only lead to a bolstering of their numbers.”
“Well isn’t that lovely,” Zatanna muttered taking a few precautionary steps away from the wall where the door once was “You mind if we get as far away from here as possible?”
Voodoo chuckled.
“Now that is a plan that I can agree with.”
The door had emptied them out onto what looked like a more traditional looking Tube platform. Travelers of all shapes and sizes gathered on the platform many carrying bags, sacks, and there was even a strange blue goblinoid creature that had what Zatanna could only describe as a three-headed peacock in a large birdcage strapped to his back. The same announcements that a normal line would get about minding the gap, and being observant were piped in from an unknown source, but the lines were also repeated in several languages that sounded completely alien to the magician’s ears.
Claiming an unoccupied bench, the pair made themselves comfortable. Zatanna tried to start up a conversation with Voodoo, but the older magic user had conjured a large black tome out of thin air with a snap of his fingers and was enraptured by his reading. On a whim, Zatanna took out her phone. To her surprise, despite being what she could only assume was several hundred feet underground she still had perfect reception. Even though it herwas n phone it felt almost voyeuristic as she scrolled through her emails, texts, and social media. Her regular life, the life of Zatanna Zatara, Vegas’ greatest magician seemed like it belonged to a different person, somebody she wasn't. It was like that life was an artist imitation of the strange, bizzare, and colorful world that she was currently submerged in.
Strangely enough despite his severe distaste in modern technology, in that moment looking down at her phone made her think of her father. He would of had to deal with his duality serving as a guardian of this magical world and a father in the mundane one. All of her life, she had resented the training, the drills, the ceaseless preparation that he made her endure, and even know she still thought there would of been better ways to go about it, but she was able to understand it a little better. Dealing with things like this everyday, Giovanni must have not seen any other choice. It wasn’t like he could pretend that this danger didn’t exist.
The shrill sound of the whistle on an approaching train drew her attention. Putting her phone away, Zatanna looked around as the platform began to come to life as the train approached. Zatanna looked over at Voodoo who seemed unconcerned still just silently reading his tome. Zatanna tried to follow his example and wait patiently but it just wasn’t in her. Standing up, she pushed her way through the crowd towards the platform’s edge. Peering down the the tunnel and far off in the distance, a light was beginning to get closer and closer.
As the light drew closer, Zatanna began to make out the approaching vehicle. It looked like one of those old steam locomotives that were now regulated exclusively to display pieces in museums. Yet despite its antiquated appearance it was moving at speeds that could rival a modern bullet train. It's charcoal black exterior blended with the darkness of the tunnel save for the few gold leaf accents scattered about its body. Its whistle continued to blare as it drew closer to the station. Zatanna could see sparks jumping up from the tracks as the breaks were thrown causing metal to scrap against metal generating heat and light. The screeching noise reverberated across the platform and despite an obvious effort, Zatanna was sure that they were still going too fast and the train was going to overshoot the station. Yet as the train entered into the light of the platform it appeared almost as if the air surrounding it became thicker as the jelly-like substance helped pull the locomotive to a full stop.
A cloud of white steam coated the platform like a thick fog. Zatanna tried to push the steam away from her face, coughing as she did. As she coughed, an ocean of activity moved all around her. The doors on the train opened letting loose a tide of travelers. Some of these individuals stopped to embrace friends and family that had gathered on the platform while others rushed past and headed back into the station. And after this first wave of departures began, a great embarkment began as many more on the train rushed past Zatanna to get aboard. All the while strange stout reptilian looking conductors shouted amongst themselves up and down the platform as they ushered the new batch of traveler’s in. This push and pull of moment nearly knocked Zatanna over but she managed to maintain her balance and not get trampled underneath the feet of the crowd.
“Impressive isn’t it?”” Voodoo called from behind Zatanna as he wisely choose to move from the bench only after the initial rush.
“It’s all very Hogwartsy... “
“Hogwhat?”
“Really? Of all the cultural references you don’t know?“
Following Voodoo onto the train, Zatanna was immediately struck with the ornateness of it all. Embroidered red carpeting on the floor, the walls rich dark-almost chocolate brown wooden paneling, and a chandelier with real crystal in every car. It called back to level of excess that was rarely seen in the modern age of mass transit whose philosophy was more geared to carrying the most people in the most effective and cheap manner. Instead it seemed to invoke distant images of luxurious ground travel that was still conjured with titles like the Express d'Orient. And even Zatanna, who self admittedly grew up in a very privileged background felt very small walking through its corridors.
Eventually, the two of them found a booth in a cabin near the far end of the train. A few small clusters of travelers were grouped together but compared to the initial rush outside the dull noise of their conversations was like being in a monastery. An androgynous figure dressed in a waiter’s uniform moved from booth to booth taking down drink orders. Zatanna slipped into one side of the booth scooting all the way down towards the window which overlooked the now mostly empty platform save for a few of the lizard conductors that were loading luggage into the train’s undercarriage. Voodoo slipped into the seat across from her and with another snap of his fingers conjured the book that he was reading earlier.
“How long will it take us to get there?” Zatanna asked curious
“As long as it takes.” Replied Voodoo flatley
“Oh thanks for that insightful information.”
At that moment the waiter that had been moving around the cabin approached their booth. At first glance, they looked almost human to Zatanna. They were cast in hues of white and black, ivory colored skin paired with short hair and eyes both ink black in their coloration. Their face seemed more more angular than any regular human proportion like it was constructed exclusively from sharp sweeping lines and harsh angles. Even their ears as opposed to being rounded were pulled back ending in fine sharp tips, like the end of a quill. And as they smiled, Zatanna had to fight the urge to shiver as it revealed a mouth filled with rows upon rows of sharp knife like teeth.
“And will you be having tea or coffee today ma’am?” They asked their voice rising and falling in a sing-song pattern.
“Tea,” Zatanna answered “no caffeine though... something herbal if you have it?”
“As you wish ma’am” The waiter responded scratching something the order down into what looked like a piece of wood with a sharpened fingernail. “And you sir?”
“Coffee, black.” Voodoo responded without looking up from his book.
Just as the waiter left them for the next booth the train began to move. As the light of the platform was traded for the darkness of the tunnel, Zatanna pulled herself up against the window laying her head against it. In her first moment of peace in what felt like days, the young Zatara felt sleep slowly began to take over her. She didn’t fight it as she closed her eyes and let the slow vibrations of the train as it moved through the tunnel rock her to sleep. And just like the world that she once knew, she to was swept away by the darkness.
and if I'm actually able to budget my time, I definitely have enough free time to squeeze a post in at least once a week, in some sort of Marvelous Monday fashion.... though alas Z... doesn't really work that well with alliteration or days of the week for that matter. And my Internet is surprisingly good, most of the time; I'm used to being out in the country, not a "civilized" place like Petersburg with things like proper Internet connections and all that. 
