Sequence PV Closed

Much happens within a year. People change. Things change. Feelings. Goals. It all changes. Even words and their meanings to an individual. Revolution, was a word that almost perfectly described the Hogwarts Express. The train, the journey, it was a revolution. A cycle- circle- whatever you'd like to call it. The point is, it revolved. It had a fixed path that it had to follow, to get the precious cargo it carried from point A to point B; so that they (the cargo) could finish revolutions of their own. On the surface it was a clean-ticking system with winding parts that only spun in one direction. But, like with all things, there was much more to the system than what met the naked eye. What made this system run- what made it tick? Spin? Whir? Go choo-choo? For a machine to work, it needs a sequence. Ah. That there is an unfamiliar word. Sequence. Now one might wonder, what does this shiny new word have to do with todays adventure? Will it replace "revolution"? -The answer is something made of both "yes" and "no". Consider it an addition. Sequence, has everything to do with... everything. Not just the adventure. Not just the train. Sequences make the world spin. Without sequences, there are no revolutions. Without revolutions, things fall still. They rust.

Every sequence has a start- something that will kick it into gear. Most starts fall in the form of "paths". Some paths can be seen, many can not. The train for example, follows a seen and well-traveled path- a track. Its existence is necessary for the formation of the unseen paths; for it branches, and displays strange, and much smaller paths, each too narrow for a train to follow; all representational of a students personal trail. A newly-fifteen-year-old stood at the base of one of these smaller paths, weighing her options, analyzing the start of what would be her sequence. She stared through the hubbub that was growing around her; peered through the buzz, her eyes fell upon the great metal hive that beckoned her peers into its maw. They entered in swarms. Moved mindlessly, sluggishly, like cattle being herded into pens. Xailah leered at them silently, wondering if any passengers were having second thoughts about boarding. She imagined at least one had stopped to question themselves; only to find that they had no other choice but to get on the train.

Xailah imagined, because this was the issue she was now being faced with. After what had happened in early January, she could not bring herself to step onto the train. Not easily at least. It was almost remarkable how a place that once homed wax nostalgia could become an incubative capsule for trauma; and in the span of literal seconds. Perhaps such a thing should have been expected, considering the connections the express had with Hogwarts. That school, and everything associated, was nothing but a nest to nurture hurt. The trainwreck was truly a pity; especially for children like Xailah, who loved all things winding and mechanical. On the third of January, she would learn something very important about locomotives: they didn't always reach their intended destination. Sometimes, they rolled off the tracks. This revelation changed trains for her. She had always thought that they were these invincible metal beast, that followed their set paths. Not once did she bother to wonder if one could be slain.

There were many things to take away from the wreckage. Some were picked up quickly, while several others were still in the process of being accepted. Xailah was trying to come to terms with the fact, that it was okay to no longer admire something that was once adored. It was okay to be wary of trains. The Gryffindor felt her stomach churn as she continued to watch students gather around the Iron Horse; smiling and waving to each other. She rubbed her thumb over the handle of her luggage, making herself aware of its existence. She was effectively pulled from her own head, when she felt pawing at her pantleg. Oh dear- how long had she been standing there dwelling? She looked down at the source of the disturbance, her eyes narrowing at a cat who had squished himself between her leg and the luggage at her side. She knelt to give him a pat on his large, round head. "We will board soon." She assured the animal. Now would have been the time to go on board and start looking for seats to claim. Claiming seats was her job. Self-appointed, but a job nonetheless. Had she not been busy mulling over past happenings, she would have accomplished said job by now- she also wouldn't have decided that it was best to wait for her friends outside the train rather than inside. She preferred that they didn't get split up this ride. Hopefully they wouldn't be too upset that she shirked her duties. Besides, maybe it was someone elses turn to pick the seats.