[center][h3][color=d8bfd8]Nero – Train[/color][/h3][/center]

Nero listened with rapt attention as Trinity related his own anecdote.  Admittedly, he loved to tell about his exploits, and a small part of him reasoned that it'd be very unprofessional, from one storyteller to another, to not pay the minstrel full heed.  Unfortunately, Trinity's tale lasted almost no time at all, and held no element of the whimsical, fantastical, or exciting that got Nero's blood moving.  Stories at Strychnine, rare as they were, never merely informed the listeners.  Didactic was the name of the game at that academy, so all of the tales Nero heard had a twist to them, often violent and horrible, but exciting nonetheless.  For better or worse, he had grown an attachment to invigorating tales.  “Ah,” he responded, not exactly sure how to take Trinity's remembrance.  Was he supposed to sympathize with her?  [color=d8bfd8]“Well, I hadn't you to just open up and tell me about the time you went to jail!  Any more dark secrets rummaging around in there?  Who knows, you might be a dark mage, just like me!”[/color]

The train's deceleration captured his attention.  [color=d8bfd8]“Wow!”[/color]  He exclaimed, seemingly unable to keep his thoughts to himself.  [color=d8bfd8]“That was a fast trip!  Time flies when you're having fun, though, eh?”[/color]  When the vehicle's journey had ended with a final jolt and cacophonous release of steam, Nero hopped to his feet, only to spin around woozily for a moment, his head spinning.  [color=d8bfd8]“Gagh...rose too fast!  Where's headache magic when you need it?”[/color]  Laughing at his own display, Nero straightened himself up as much as he could muster and pursued Sasha from the train.  He happened to run into Prince, who hooked an arm about Nero's shoulder.  The genie's first instinct, rather stunned by this turn of events, was to freeze with eyes dangerously wide open.  The second was to mutter a curse beneath his breath, giving the clingy catman a sudden but brief case of nausea, more than enough to make him vomit for a minute or so.  Nero smirked, wondering if Prince would learn from this ordeal, and stepped away to avoid the smell.

A quick look around didn't reveal much about his surroundings.  A nagging question resurged in his mind, and now seemed as good a time as ever to voice it.  [color=d8bfd8]“So, what the hell are we doing?  I kinda just agreed to come 'cuz I'm super useful.”[/color]

[center]-=-=-
[h3][color=B22222]Somewhere in the Desert[/color][/h3][/center]

The sun—the life giver.  Its incandescence made existence in earthland possible, be it warming the soil, fueling the planets, or simply revealing all to those with eyes in its splendid radiance.  To Bert Cunningham, however, the sun couldn't seem more mockingly antagonistic.

[color=B22222]“Can't...catch...me,”[/color] he gasped, heaving himself down into a sitting position upon the smoldering sand.  He shielded his eyes from the sun's glare at first, but too tired were his arms to protect them for long.  Those hands had done much, and even now, it hurt for Bert to look at them almost as acutely as it hurt to bask in the sun's oppressively hot glare.  Sure, he hated the desert, and the heat, anything that made him sweaty and uncomfortable really, even though he was fated to be a sand wizard.  But they had no alternatives.  No matter how scratchy the infinite beige grains, or sweltering the heat, or slick with perspiration his brow, the desert was a paradise compared to what he knew lay elsewhere.  That hateful sun was his greatest ally.

A haggard, triumphant smile appeared on his face.  [color=B22222]“Now...I'm in the middle a-nowhere.  No dark.  No cold.  No people.  No...water.”[/color]  Even as he said it, Bert could not keep his face from growing pale.  The memories struck at his mind like hammers on an stone block, threatening to reduce it to fragments.  Ironic, he knew, to be so afraid of water that he fled into a desert, where he'd die from lack of water.  But that was the best way.  [color=B22222]“Can't...get me...now,”[/color] he muttered, and bowed his head, blocking the intolerable, companion sun with the brim of his hat.  Did he want to waste his water on tears?  He wasn't a crying man.  But after what he'd been through...?