There was something about trains.

Momiji's presence at the trainyard was neither a rare nor capturable moment, as with anything he did; he was so easy to spot, just out of frame of any sidelong glance, yet difficult to pin down within a single reference. He was like this locomotive. Roaring, ever pushing to somewhere, anywhere. Breathing hot air like the smog from coals, his eyes too green to be their equal but all gems came from the same black pits. He would be no different. He had a fire in him that kept an engine ever rumbling, released from such pretty lips in a purr that was as tempting as its threat. His lopsided grin served their own derailing.

Still, he found himself back here in Baska often enough since his involvement with Guardia Compagnia. Truth be told twice? He had only taken up with the guild as the first to find and recruit him on Fiorian soil. It wasn't like he held any values or love for the nation. He simply needed somewhere to be - someone he could be here, far away from the only 'home' he had known before. The quality of these trains and their dilapidated station, within the stages of its foundation, served to bring his thoughts back to that moment of freedom. They were bound on their tracks without escape but charged forward in spite of that. They stalled only to see new faces, accept new patronage, and carry off again. Hungry, insatiable, for their fuel and the world et large. How much of Fiore had the machine pulling in now seen? More than him? Indoubtedly.

And how did you catch something like that? It was an itch in his legs. Maybe that's why he returned to this spot, standing behind a bench as if it served the only barrier between him and total escape. He was unlikely to be found; but his previous family continued their attempts, and his tracks were made hard to follow only by his general chaotic nature. He had his run-ins. He should be taking more chances. He should be moving faster, unexpected. How much more distance could he make from Joya? Could the train do it for him?

And he circled back around with a drag of his eyes to the landscape of Baska nearby, a hand brushing light across the back of that partition while his eyes drowned in their own apathy. Momiji wasn't built in a way where he could renege his life in Guardia until the time came where he had grown bored with its offers; and as that hadn't happened, he had a duty to the things that he『loved』. Momo liked Baska. Momo『loved』Guardia Compagnia. Momo loved his freedom.

Maybe the train before him symbolized in an aspect of such -- but it was just as emblematic of a new trap. You were never free if you were just constantly escaping. You just ran between the cells that held you. He sighed, big, and let it rattle out until his eyes refocused with a giggle.

How fast did you have to be to catch a train? A leg tensed, arching him over the top of the bench.