literature

Afterrealm: Carried Away (part I)

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The Station
23 August 2010
09:45 AM


        "Melissa Edwards?"

        The voice was light and male, colored with a hint of uncertainty. She looked up from her reading, turning eyes like jade and a polite smile on the speaker. He was tall, lean rather than thin, and looked absolutely uncomfortable with one hand raking his bangs back from his long face and his shoulders turned slightly away from her.

        "I am she," She replied, closing her notebook as she rose, offering her hand. He was not just tall, she realized. He towered over her by almost nine inches, placing him at a lanky six-foot-two. She was not unaccustomed to the difference, as her combat trainer topped her by one inch more than he, but it was a bit startling. Even in Haven, where genetics had little say in matters, such impressive statures were rare.

        "I'm Crispin Alexander, your partner for today." He sounded more secure now, professional, if still uneasy. His eyes met her gaze and slid away as he took her hand briefly, barely long enough to give a polite squeeze before he let his fingers fall. He had long digits, hands suited to a pianist or a thief, though she suspected he was neither as she withdrew her own hand, still smiling. Both of them wore the black gloves that were required, but his showed more signs of wear over the palms and fingers than hers--a sure sign he was a veteran of many fights.

        The gloves were not the only parallel in appearance. They both wore the Uniform required for Harbingers operating in the Mortal Realm. Edwards kept her loose black slacks and tailored black trench coat neatly pressed and lightly starched to add a hint of crispness to the folds and sway of the cloth. Her coat's capelet and hood hung precisely, each fold and drape neatly in place. Her white shirt and light green tie were no less carefully attended to, and if any of it was mended, it had been done with an expert hand and an unyielding perfectionist's eye.

        By contrast, Alexander looked much more comfortable, if less picture perfect, in an un-starched and well-worn coat. A sharp eye, or one attentive to fashion (as hers was), would note the roughness at the hems from long use and hard fights, and the occasional mend tucked carefully into the weave of the cloth. He looked respectable, like a working man rather than a poster-boy. His red shirt and coppery tie added much needed warmth to his sharp, storm gray eyes, turning him from imposing and distant to almost approachable, and brought out the light ruddy color of his hair. Others had described that hair as pumpkin, or even weathered copper, but neither one seemed truly accurate to her.

        "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Alexander. Your reputation precedes you, and I find I am looking forward to working at your side." She spoke with a smile, as if words could curve upwards and tuck their corners in, and her voice carried the misleading traces of an Edensborough accent.

        He smiled crookedly, "Is that in a good way, or a bad way?"

        "Oh, it could not be meant in better form," She smiled brightly at him, "I understand you work with Graydon Keillor now, but you have an impressive record, especially in cases where Mister Ranieri was involved," He still looked uncertain, but she was moving on already, lifting a brown messenger bag from the floor beside her chair and settling its strap beneath her capelet. She talked as she moved, polite and brisk, "I am afraid it will take some time to arrive at our destination--approximately one hour by train, and half again by foot--before we can begin seeking the Aberration out in earnest. If you have any questions or requirements, now or on the train would be an excellent time to air them," Her gaze skimmed the clock mounted on the wall before returning to his face.

        He glanced at his left hand, grimaced slightly and turned his eyes to the clock. His thoughts flicked across his face with no attempt to hide them. It was nine forty-five. Their departure was scheduled for the next fifteen minutes, and if they missed it, it would be hours before the next train out to their stop. "Train," He said after a moment, gesturing for her to walk. "I read the report, but I'd like to hear your take. Nothing like a first hand account to get the facts straight."

        She nodded. "Of course. I am at your service, Mister Alexander."


:iconafterrealm:

The first story featuring Melissa Edwards, her official introduction to the Afterrealm Canon and to Crispin Alexander. Hopefully the one goes better than the other.
It's been a long time coming.

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Afterrealm universe and Crispin Alexander are courtesy of :iconallysdelta: 
© 2014 - 2024 Silence-Draconis
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