Soul Deep

Chapter I - Part 1

The world is not as plain as most people see it. Humans trained their soul to close off from parts of the world that they deemed too dangerous, too demanding of them. Over centuries, they became blind to what is around them in plain sight and what little they do encounter is packed up nicely with a ribbon of 'supernatural'. Ghost, monsters, myths, all fabricated to humans by humans to smooth the edges of the border between them, and us. Under that veil of ignorance is a whole world, they don't see, bustling with life, hidden away in dark alleys, never ending forests and deep in the mountains. For a long time, humans remained in the dark, deemed anyone that said other than their belief of the world a heretic, a jester or entirely insane. Because even so they evolved to be blind, fate played cruel tricks of some to be born to see. A new breed of human, open to see everything. Many went mad, many lived their life in solitude, but some, just some, the most courageous ones, embraced and learned.

***

Not many people choose to travel by train nowadays, it is either a convenience or time matter that people use plains, committing to a rush, as humans do. Everything became so fast paced, they have no idea what patience is, what it means to sit and listen, to really see and hear the world around them. And there are people who stick to the old-fashioned train rides, the slow rush among rows of trees, spotting animals as a blur and seeing the sun set and the moon rise before reaching destination. It is also more predictable when night falls and dawn comes. You can't chase the sun with a train. Now of course normal people would not consider this, but Damian Roux was not just any normal people, he wasn't even sure to consider himself as part of "the people". Not since the french revolution. Not since his master abruptly turned him in the frenzy of a war. The painful memory urged him to turn to his newspaper; you see, Damian has lived on this earth as a human for 35 years, then people decided to roll heads in France and his life turned up-side down. Memories of seeing his friends loose to a mob still clear as day, as the feeling of sharp fangs and the abrupt stopping of his heart, it was frightening and painful. But he survived, sort of. He only had to loose everything in the process.

The paper he was reading was french, flipping through the news section, cold grey eyes scanning for something. Broad shoulders relaxed when he settled on a page. It was a small news article, really insignificant: A building collapsed, no casualties. Even if he didn't needed to breath, he let out a relieved sigh. Satisfied with the result of his search he folded the paper and put it in his lap. Looking up he now acknowledged the man sitting in front of him, only two of them occupying the train cabin. The two seemed polar opposites: Damian sitting straight, his hair slicked back into a loose pony-tail, few strand of brown and graying locks coming loose as they were not long enough to tie in with the others. His clothes seemed very tailored and expensive. Dark colors with very subtle patterns. His attire seemed formal in these years but he had no intention the change his looks to society standards.

-Told you it will be fine – Sounded from the opposite side. A younger man, in his twenties. Muscular, Asian features, his lips curled in a ever present smile, undercut dark hair falling in to half of his face. His bright red leather jacket made him stand out like nothing else, maybe he wore it to distract from the two scars on his face: one over his right eye, the other on his lip's left. They were faded, but still very much there, never to heal fully. He was slouching back into the cushions, one leg propped up on the seat next to Damian. – Nobody saw us, you can quit with the patronizing look. – His tone was nonchalant, like he had no care in the world, like he was afraid of nothing.

If someone would have looked Damian in his eyes, they would have seen the slightest hint of red. It only lasted for a split moment, to the human eye it might have been just the play of the lights but Aiji saw and knew it meant he was threading on thin ice.
-It was still too close of a call to my taste. I know you can do better than that and the reason your concentration lacked is of personal problems. – His voice was low and without emotion. He stated this matter-of-factly and left no room for arguing. – Aiji, you should really talk to him...
There it was, the thorn in his side by the look Aiji gave back. He was referring to a family matter, the matter of his best agent of four years, all the which he refused to talk to his brother, despite the latter trying to contact him tirelessly. Damian didn't usually insert himself in matter like this, he had his own problems as is, but Aiji was someone he needed not to get distracted, he was a key to a very important mission.