What colorful butterfly will fly next?

[waterfell]

Cold fog swirls, and makes the darkness even deeper, shrouding everything in a damp, cloying mist. There's a smell of ash in the air. To the side, a single golden pin impales a blue butterfly with black markings, just above the thorax. It struggles with a vain flurry of its tired wings, but for all the writhing desperation, there is little life left in the spasming body. It rests weakly between fits of frantic activity.

Beneath the butterfly, a picture of a blue-haired girl in a tiara and sailor-style collar has been clearly marked 'Mercury'. Nearby, similar displays bear the names of other planets. In some, the butterfly's wings have been pulled off or its body has been singed and scorched or bent to sickening angles; others are fresh and empty, but labeled in anticipation. They stretch into the distance as far as the eye can see in all directions.

Comments

[waterfell]

[Without the pin, the butterfly falls to what passes for the ground. Its legs kick in pain and if only it could scream, it surely would. The thrashing subsides after a long moment, quieted to a slow, labored waving of a bent antenna.

In that moment, the creature shimmers, and reverts to form of the label: Mercury. Her uniform is tattered and torn and burned, and the wound from the pin has become an ugly, sickening hole at her chest. She chokes on the words she tries to speak at first.]

[hero_complexed]

[ Harry stares in some level of disbelief and looks around for something to help- maybe a potion or-or something! ]

C-can you hear me?

[waterfell]

[Someone is speaking to her. The voice is distant to her own ears, and she has to realize it's actually coming from much nearer. She doesn't try to move yet, but the words come - slowly, still slightly garbled, but they come.]

I hear you.

[Wait. She does hear him, and more, she knows that voice.]

Harry Potter?

[hero_complexed]

Yeah.. it's me.

[ He nods vigorously ]

I-There might be a potion or something that could help you-I could look?

[waterfell]

[In the dream, the actual star graveyard has merged with its guardian's sadistic tendencies. It's unlikely anything of healing or good will be found here. It's also highly unlikely anyone would be found here.]

How did you arrive here? How did you come this far?

[Dimly - it's so hard to think - she remembers he isn't precisely a normal human, not by her world's standards: he's a wizard. Maybe that's how.

There's nothing to stop Harry from looking around, despite Mercury's lack of answer. The closest displays hold the names of planets Harry would recognize as his own solar system. The fog stays thick enough to hide what might be beyond them; but in this graveyard at the end of the world, now that he's here, there may be other markers he'll recognize.

There may also be something to help them after all. Introducing something new can begin to break down a closed system.]