Prologue
Jellal found the only cold in the heated train leaning against a window. The press of chilled glass startled him awake and for a short moment, he forgot where he was. The gentle reminder came as Jellal squinted upwards, drawn in and easily transfixed by the rolling pastures of mountain sides and the glister of stars on the other side of the glass.
Without pulling away from the window, Jellal felt around his sweater for his communications lacrima. He brought it forward, turned it on, checked the time, held it against his ear to hear the voice message left for him, turned it off, and gripped it over his lap. The calming voice lulled him away from sleep, and then the cold on the window began to warm over.
He searched for a solution. He had fallen asleep too fast to notice the sash lock on the window earlier. Jellal rubbed his eyes and finally helped himself to a look of the train's dark interior and when he saw no one, he stood and pushed the sash lock. Eagerly, he shoved the window upwards, letting the breeze in. The wind touching his warmed skin and running between his hair was a beautiful thing.
After all this time, he still wasn't used to being on this side of the glass.
The world appeared differently behind a window. Jellal believed he had more in common with what it blurred than any of the passengers who boarded the train with him. Because there were days where Jellal wanted to be a blur, like those pieces of unknown mountain and all those stars even he sometimes took for granted; because for a long time, that was who he was. That was where he was. He used to chase trains and run alongside them and before he welcomed that loss in its entirety...he would continue to mourn it.
Tugging the window down halfway, Jellal sat back down with a slouch. He did not miss the life he left behind, but perhaps one day they would create a window that would do the world justice. Perhaps they would not have to, and he would stop hoping for one. The message in his head rung loud and would keep him company for the remainder of his trip. He wouldn't forget where he was again. Her voice never changed.
Note:
Something new I'm trying. I've been thinking about making something for my post-war jerza interpretations for the last two years and I cannot contain them any longer. This was originally supposed to be a long one shot, but I changed my mind. This prologue is subject to modifications. Hope you guys stick around.
