The Disaffected: Epilogue (Narrative) Name on ticket: Nicholas Sherwood Preferred pronoun: He/Him Appearance, including apparent height, build & attire: Pale skin, straight-cut black hair, swept over to one side, chin-length. Silver rings adorn the fingers of both hands, black and silver bracelets adorn both wrists. Emo boy. About five-ten, somewhere north of twenty. Touch of eyeliner, remnants of black nail polish on the fingers of his left hand. Snakebite piercings in his bottom lip, silver hoops curling over the skin. His eyes: heterochromic. One green, one blue, nearly alike, but not quite. At this point of the evening, all he's wearing is a pair of rainbow-striped socks. He's under a blanket. One detail for the keen eye: The ring on Nicky's right index finger is the only one he wears that is not silver. It's black, and looks like iron. It bears a skull. Location on the train: His single cabin in second class, asleep. Nicky is not alone.
It's late. Nicky is sleeping, wrapped up in a strong pair of arms, a content look upon his normally troubled brow.
Time stops. A figure appears, taller than tall, misty, cloaked in black smoke. A second, smaller, human-sized figure appears at his side. Also insubstantial. Ethereal. Their arrival is silent.
"So you see." The tall, dark figure has a voice like knife scraping bone. He speaks, as if continuing a conversation. "I only inhabit a handful of realities, those where I have not been forgotten and discarded. This is one. It is not yours, though. I cannot claim you yet, but soon. On the equinox, when my wife shall again walk the world above, I will come to you. Tonight will seem less than a dream to you; you will not remember anything of this until I come for you. Only then shall you unlock the things you have seen here, and begin to learn the extent of your powers. Why you are who, and what, you are."
There are, necessarily, many questions. But the shorter figure only asks: "Is there anyone else like me?"
"Only one. I have but two children, in your world. If they choose to contact you, it will be in their own time. Now come, my child. I know you have many questions, but they must wait until we speak again."
The two visitors disappear. Nicky stirs, feeling that familiar cold. "Dad?" He whispers to the darkness of his compartment.