MPL - Tora's POV (Part 2)

Hi lovely Patrons. Today I'd like to share something that I wrote for the first few episodes of Midnight Poppy Land before starting on the comic. Because of my technical and artistic limitations, some of the subtleties of the story are lost, and you'll find bits and pieces of information in here that I wasn't able to include in the comic. There might be some minor spoilers , and parts of it have been changed to adapt to the comic. Nevertheless, I hope you'll enjoy MPL in story form. 

Here's part 2 (final part) of the scene sketch, concluding the little sneak peek into my creation process. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you soon with more goodies to come!

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Tora's POV (Part 2)

It was a painfully long drive. He cursed, wondering why he’d even bothered. Goliath was enemy. A section head of the Thirteen Daggers Clan. They’d crossed paths several times - clan negotiations, mostly. Nobody got hurt. Goliath had made sure of that. The bastard was fast, Tora mused, recalling the one meeting they had when Goliath had stepped up and shielded a young clan member - right before Tora’s right fist met with the youngster’s throat. A throat that would have ruptured, and burst. The young punk had wobbled, and then dropped to his knees, unable to stand.  Tora laughed. Goliath had his shoulder in a cast for months, after that. That kid got away easy. Too easy. 

Rootburn train station was nearly a 2 hour drive away, located at the country side of Angeloz. He pulled into the open carpark and scanned the area briefly. There was nothing. Just lush greenery, miles and miles of it. It was serene and peaceful, beautiful as fuck **include as Tora’s ‘lingo’ when he describes Poppy**. Fuck this shit, he thought. Whatever happens to Goliath is none of my fucking business. Get someone from your own clan. 

But Tora was tense. His hands were holding tightly on to the steering wheel and his leg muscles were clenched and his breathing was shallow. He relaxed his fingers, leaning his head back and let out a slow, controlled breath. 

Turning the key, he revved the engine. The car vibrated, then stalled. He was momentarily stunned before turning his gaze to the gas indicator. Empty. Son of a bitch…! He got out and kicked the car. The train station was a private run service, which meant that trains would only arrive every 4 hours or so. 

Looking around, he spotted a strange sight. It was a woman clawing her way out of the bushes, dishevelled and frightened. Her shirt was undone and her bra clad chest was fully exposed.

Did she have anything to do with Goliath?

He watched her from the car. It took her several minutes before she seemed to realize that her shirt was hanging open and she fumbled with her shirt, before clamping her bag in front of her chest. Then she ran up the stairs and disappeared into the station’s entrance. 

Tora waited several more minutes before grabbing his baseball jacket, sliding out of the car and jogging over to the station. It was mostly empty except for an old couple and a man. 

 And her. 

She was seated at the far end, head drooping and bag clenched tightly against her. The woman was slight, tinier up close than he’d thought when he’d seen her from a distance. Copper brown hair hanged like a curtain, covering a face that he couldn’t see, clad in dirt pink cardigan and black leggings. A country wench, who'd found her way in to the big city. 

He strolled over the the opposite end of the station, pulling his baseball cap further down his forehead.

His mind was a silent buzz, but his instincts spoke, loud and clear - follow her.