Jackie and Noir stood in front of the Crescent Parish Police Department, the bustling vibrancy of the parish unfolding around them. Noir's attention was fixed on the world—buildings, people, technology—but none of it seemed to stir any reaction.
His gaze swept across the unfamiliar urban landscape, his silence punctuating the moment.
Jackie veered to her right and motioned for him to follow. "The trolley station's this way."
Noir glanced at her briefly before trailing behind her.
As they strolled along the sidewalk, Jackie couldn't help but begin her line of questioning. Her aim was clear: she intended to dissect him for any fragment of information she could obtain. Occasionally stealing glances from the corner of her eye, she probed, all the while keeping her focus forward.
"Man, your hair's really long. How long have you been growing it?" Jackie prodded, trying to initiate conversation.
Noir remained silent, his gaze fixed forward, as if her words never truly reached him.
"Judging from the clothes we found you in, you either had a rough time or a long one out there," she persisted, noting his appearance.
Noir remained unresponsive, prompting Jackie to stop walking as he caught up to her. She'd tried to be subtle, but her patience had worn thin much quicker than she initially thought it would.
"Look, kid, I'll be straight with you. We have no idea who you are or where you're from. The department's missing persons files didn't turn up anyone matching your description. A little cooperation would really help."
Noir halted beside her, choosing to maintain his silence as he watched a group of people with signs and posters walking by on the other side of the street.
Jackie let out a sigh. "Nothing, huh? Well, we're here anyway," she announced as they arrived at the trolley station.
As Jackie and Noir entered the trolley station, she scanned the signs hanging over each trolley, searching for the one heading to her parish—her eyes settling on the one labeled, Margeaux Parish.
"Hey, Jackie, are you headed back home?" a familiar voice greeted her.
"Hi, Dennis. Yeah, it's been a long night," she replied, acknowledging the trolley driver's query.
Dennis spotted Noir behind Jackie. With a hint of curiosity shading his face, he pondered, Who's the kid? Never seen him before.
Noticing Noir's hesitancy to board, Jackie playfully nudged him. "First time on a trolley? Don't tell me you're scared?"
Not one to back down, Noir regained his composure, boarding the trolley, strolling right past Jackie. It wasn't that he was afraid, but these new things seemed so strange to him.
As he searched for a place to sit in the relatively empty trolley, Jackie walked past him, casually remarking, "This way."
On schedule, the vehicle's bell chimed twice, signaling the trolley's departure.
As the trolley commenced its journey, Noir took the rear-facing seat across from Jackie.
"The trolley to Margeaux Parish is now departing. Please take your seats and secure all luggage." Dennis's voice echoed over the speakers.
The sudden movement of the trolley taking off caught Noir off guard, eliciting a subtle twitch in response.
"It's about an hour's ride, so get comfortable," Jackie commented as she leaned against the window, closing her eyes.
A WAYS THROUGH THEIR JOURNEY, JACKIE BEGAN CONVERSING WITH NOIR. HER words came in a mellow tone, painting a picture of the city's nightlife.
"I love this parish after dark. During the day, it's peaceful, but when night falls, it's a whole other world. The streets light up, musicians come out, and the parish comes alive. It's like a sanctuary, where everything feels right. While other places impose curfews, here in Meteor Kingdom, communal expression and unity are celebrated.
Sometimes I take this ride just to soak in the beauty of the night—watching people, listening to the sounds, and taking in the scents and fresh air. It's the heart of our kingdom, the beacon that connects us all."
In this strange world, she added in as an afterthought.
As the trolley entered a tunnel, which doubled as a service area, another trolley passed by theirs, heading in the opposite direction. Jackie peeked open an eye, having felt something strange—a sensation she hadn't experienced in quite some time.
Closing her eye again, she brushed it off as just a random tingle.
AFTER WALKING A MILE FROM THE STATION, THEY REACHED A CORNER WHERE Jackie's apartment complex loomed into view.
"Here we are," she announced as they stepped into the apartment courtyard. "Margeaux Quarters."
"Wait here; I'll grab the keys and check which rooms are available," Jackie instructed before disappearing into her office adjacent to the building's entrance.
During her absence, Noir observed the building's exterior. The two-story apartment stood tall, its boxy C-shaped frame enclosing an empty asphalt lot at its center. Intricate wrought iron railings adorned the balconies and stairs, lending an air of elegance to the otherwise stoic structure. Bright green leaves and white magnolia flowers rested in planter boxes and hung from the railings, embellishing the building with an understated charm.
Upon Jackie's return, she shared her findings. "There's an unoccupied room on the second floor. You can stay there."
Ascending the stairs, they reached room 229, nestled second to last on the floor. Adjacent to it sat room 230, its missing number plate leaving behind a faint outline on the wall while long planks of wood boarded its entrance.
A peculiar sensation washed over Noir—a strange sense of familiarity with the sealed room.
"What's in that room?" he questioned, looking toward the planks of wood.
"Oh, so you do speak." Jackie dismissed his inquiry with a casual wave. "Don't worry about it. It's just an old unit no one uses anymore."
She swiftly unlocked Noir's apartment door. "Here we are. The Chief asked me to let you borrow a place while we figure things out."
"What was wrong with the other place?" Noir asked.
"The holding cells? Well, you're not a criminal—at least, as far as we know. Those are meant for, well, actual criminals."
Jackie pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Come on in; I'll show you around. There's no furniture, but all the units come with a complimentary tufted floor mattress. That'll have to do for now."
As they entered, Jackie launched into a rundown of the apartment's layout, her tone slipping into that of a practiced landlord. She listed the amenities, even throwing in a few selling points. "It's a steal compared to housing in the capital," she added.
The Margeaux Quarters apartment complex had been in Jackie's family since her father had it built in his thirties. As a child, when she wasn't on the road with him, she stayed home, helping her mother manage the property.
After her father passed away, he left the complex to her, along with a sizable fortune—enough to retire whenever she wanted. But she never considered it. The complex held a special place in her heart.
It was home, and as long as it stood, she never felt truly alone in the world.