Well, there it is, my third fanfic begins now. It is my very first one in english, it was quite a challenge !

It a UA... Again, I take some serious themes here (and quite personals too). I have a strange way to write so don't be afraid to be lost in the visions sometimes - I love making readers disconcerted.

So thanks again to my great betareader Miyu ;) and thanks to you if you are beginning the trip, this fic is not an easy one to read. I would be glad to recieve suggestions and reviews !

I also put names of music to listen when youa re reading certain extracts. It adds pleasure in reading I think, so be free to tru try the music on youtube ;) Titles of the music are in italic.

Lets'go !

SUSTIVA

PART ONE

Blue

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Listen to Lars von Trier & Kristian Eidnes - Antichrist Soundtrack - "Credits"

Athyrium's banners were covering the blue-sea threshold of a great swamp, exuding vapors of ancient time – vapors of that former time where forest covered everything – gently coating the old trees dipping into ponds of glistening mud. Something was shadowing the vision, like the stick of a plagued tree, and at times, scratchy leaves were slowly falling into the marsh, where they could sink gently, exhaling purple bubbles. The smell of musk, mingled with dull sands not far made the air stifling, humid and cold. The oxygen was going scarce as the quicksands were nearer, and there, a shadow struggled to get out of the mire, heartrending cries echoing in the dank jungle.

One could then descend slowly, in a continuous movement, down to the shores, and there the face of a young brown-haired teenager was lying, lost in the dream, watching the shadow being slowly swallowed by the sands. And Gray was there… sat on a cool chair; artificial lights of some floor lamps began to glow on his weak body, as he felt the present slowly taking back control. 7 am. Gray shuddered, the air of the station was difficult to breathe.

This pleasant terrace of a café… always freshened by breeze, coming from the streets around seemed deserted at this time. The silence of the station – which was particular because technically there wasn't silence in that kind of place – was drowning some lost people in sleep. Magnolia's train station looked like a giant cemetery where each bench, each corner, each wall could be a sanctuary. An entire ecosystem was living here and now Gray too, feeling how calm and strange Mondays could be, he was living with them, torn between his strange fantasies and the glossy colors of the place. But…

Why are there always lonely dogs in train stations?

Even in Magnolia, that sounded so strange – those shadows walking fast and looking at people, fear in the eye, searching for junk food in trash bags – left a strange odor… like… withdrawn rain? In any town there were always those kinds of brown or black little lost dogs, turning the streets in movie studios, they were evoking poverty and they were such a source of disgust for a majority of Magnolia's people. Rejected, abandoned.

"Your coffee, sir." Said a young and cute little waitress, dressed for the cold coming winter.

Gray eventually muttered "yes", while the blond girl was already back in the large gloomy coffee shop (one of those establishments where they put death in lunch boxes and you want to pay for) and then, decided to drink the hot coffee after few moments of pure mental void – Athyrium banners were silently growing in his mind.

But the cup was catching his attention, forcing his eyes to look deep into the dark smoking coffee, surrounded by this plastic thing that Gray could not stand (and even more on Mondays). He slowly put the edge of the cup to his lips and tried to drink, as he perfectly knew he would hate the taste. Why did he say to that pretty lady that he wanted a coffee ? And especially a straight mother fucking black coffee? Who knew? Maybe he was dreaming that he could just sit on that chair and order a simple coffee like a simple Monday man and drink it without any emotions. But everything was filled with emotions, spurring emotions, festering those aggressive emotions and he was not able to contain himself. So he cried a little, as if it was the place which was calling for tears.

He was not able to stand that coffee. Why didn't he order something else? Ask for one? After all, he was the only client at that time… And a tea? Yes… His favorite thing on earth maybe… A cool earl grey tea, as in olds times when he was drinking them with his master.

Gray childishly tried to aim for the coffee with his cold tears and won most of the time. That fucking coffee…

And then, maybe it was the rain outside, or maybe the bark of an invisible dog – and certainly not the call of that voice up, announcing the departure of his train – but he stood up and left some random bills on the table, fighting with himself not to upturn the whole structure. So… was it time?

Yes.

Middle class. Middle of the train. Middle of a row. Then he could, after long steps outside in the freezing town, sit in a new welcoming chair. Blue, and glowing, and even attractive in a certain way because of the smooth covering tissue.

Gray could feel the train in action, all the men of the station preparing everything, melting ice and frost on the locomotive, running on large metal strips, activating valves everywhere to make the whole big frame smoke with a sigh.

Trains…

And Gray was thinking about having a rest. Yes, there was like three or four hours until Crocus and he would not think about everything once again to start shivering and weeping like yesterday. Mourning should not become a habit. So letting the brain off for a few hours for a nap was a good idea, with luck, he would wake up with the weird sounds of steam vents at Crocus town, and everything would be perfect.

Leaving. He just felt so strange now. Traveling had always been an awkward thing to him but he had trouble to explain why.

And as the dim lights of the ghost train – occupied by some odd men in large suits and black coats who were sat far from his chair – were weakly irradiating Gray, he managed to find sleep in lost images of the past, melting those colors with the place, with Magnolia, with what he could imagine of Crocus (what could have changed during the last ten years?) and lately, the face of a beautiful young man, sliver-headed and wearing a cool blue cloak, resting with a pure and shining smiling face, dazed by the heat of a lost summer, lying on a dark couch, Gray tightly bound to his body…

At last, steam erupted from beneath the wagon and the visions gently disappeared. Gray could feel that the train was about to leave, and he enjoyed for a while that sensation – the odd feeling that you lose control on everything and you can sleep for hours, being conducted by invisible persons.

He placed a tired hand to his forehead and crept into drowsiness.

XXX