Mizuno Ami☿Mercury (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
waterfell) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
onepassingnight2012-03-12 07:58 am
waterfell) wrote in onepassingnight2012-03-12 07:58 am
But there is no life on Earth.
Near the north pole of planet Mercury, there are signs of life, all enclosed in a thin, transparent dome that still allows a clear view of the heavens. Inside, the air is clean and breathable, and even stirs itself in artificial breezes.
The entire city is a mass of blue crystal, luminous with the glow of thousands of solar trees both within and without, their blue cels attached to silvery branches and trunks. It makes a striking contrast, and the structures provide the city's energy, veritable solar power farms, bustling and thriving like the city itself. . Everywhere, the roads lead inward towards a palace, attention drawn to it by its height, taller than any nearby building.
The lush sound of splashing water comes from a clear, ornamental pool in the entryway. Tropical fish swim contentedly there, glimmers of golden koi amid and around the stems of water lilies. There is greenery, too, and flowers provide a seasoning of color. Overhead, the ceiling is dizzyingly high, adding to the sense of open space.
Seated at the edge of the pool, dressed in an elegant gown and with the sigil of her planet showing proudly on her forehead, is the Princess Mercury, now queen of her reborn kingdom. She plays a simple, longing melody on the harp she holds in her lap.
The entire city is a mass of blue crystal, luminous with the glow of thousands of solar trees both within and without, their blue cels attached to silvery branches and trunks. It makes a striking contrast, and the structures provide the city's energy, veritable solar power farms, bustling and thriving like the city itself. . Everywhere, the roads lead inward towards a palace, attention drawn to it by its height, taller than any nearby building.
The lush sound of splashing water comes from a clear, ornamental pool in the entryway. Tropical fish swim contentedly there, glimmers of golden koi amid and around the stems of water lilies. There is greenery, too, and flowers provide a seasoning of color. Overhead, the ceiling is dizzyingly high, adding to the sense of open space.
Seated at the edge of the pool, dressed in an elegant gown and with the sigil of her planet showing proudly on her forehead, is the Princess Mercury, now queen of her reborn kingdom. She plays a simple, longing melody on the harp she holds in her lap.
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But it stings, in a way she can never admit, to think of someone she thought of as someone who wanted to be with her, wanting to be with her enemy instead.
In the end, 'intel' wins.
"Then go on." And, in a tiny rush of spite, "You'd better have enough to make it worth hearing."
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"Galaxia was the most powerful senshi. She saw the Solar System as important. She beat the senshi even when they were together."
It's a warning. To try telling her what's more important. But he knows there is something truly off with what he told her.
Spiteful.
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No. She can put it aside, take what she needs, and then - then - forget, erase, move away from any sting or barb.
"If Galaxia sets her sights on Earth, she'll find it has more powerful protectors than the sailor senshi she was hoping for."
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"She destroyed thousands of planets before it. She's going to have a lot of senshi under her command... If she doesn't come for you."
There is anger -- and worry. In his eyes, Ami is underestimating Galaxia.
Out of pride.
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"It's served me better than them until now," she reminds John coldly. "I tore them down with my own hands."
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"If you have nothing new to say," she nods her head towards the vast doorways at the other side of the chamber, "Leave."
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He has been alone for several years. Wandering alone throughout several worlds without anyone from the UNSC to be with him in his journeys, without a single solid word about either his universe or of anyone he knew from Econtra, wondering -worrying- that anything could have happened to them after he lost contact.
And she suggests he would betray the only friend he's had for all this time. Of the person that reminds him of Cortana.
But he says, and does nothing.
He stands up as he leaves the mark of his fist engraved over the cracked seat. His visor gives her one last look, before he walks away.
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Of course he's going; and a part of her may even realize it's entirely her own fault- no, her own demand. Another part watches him go, posture stiff and jaw tight, displeased with the result.
As she wakes up, she has trouble returning to sleep that night.