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Bedsheets.

Bedsheets had thrown Elegancia d'Strella into a foul and disagreeable mood for the rest of the day. You see, she had ordered a set online-- the thread-count was promised to be 200, but upon receiving them in the mail that day, she discovered they were 180. For those of you who don't fancy bedsheets, that's unacceptable and what Elegancia deemed to be "cheap."

So, it made sense that when she decided to go on patrol that evening, Rosalind was actually looking for a fight. If you don't know the girl, well, that's very rare. The sun began to dip beneath the land, a ring of pink spreading across the sky in the process. Rosalind strutted through the park (a place she did not patrol that often on account of the fact that youma spawned there more than anywhere else), but it seemed dry that night. She checked beneath bridges, in creeks, looked up in the trees, in trashcans-- everywhere fathomable, she checked. When she finally sensed a youma to the north, Rosalind dashed in its direction elegantly.

Sure enough, a youma towered before her. Strangely, though, it didn't move-- it was stuck in its place? The ground beneath it seemed to be giving way, as well. Maybe it was just extremely heavy. As Rosalind approached it, she noticed a blue blur (like Sonic the Hedgehog) zoom by and collide into the youma's face. It smashed into the ground, leaving behind a cloud of dust and Rosalind shielding her face from debris.

As the dust parted, a pile of dust remained with a blue-and-black sailor soldier on top of it. She seemed triumphant and haughty-- Rosalind didn't like it. Although she had a certain prettiness to her face, she most certainly wasn't on Rosalind's or MuCephei's level of grace and beauty. The two stared at eachother for awhile, neither of them making an attempt to ask who the other was.

Wow, wow, wow. Where had that come from? It was not Rosalind's fault that this other soldier was displeased with her sad, pathetic and boyish appearance! The brunette immediately went on the defensive. She brought her gloved hands to her hips, then tsk-tsk-tsk'd. "Is it common practice for you to look so ugly?!"

Okay, Rosalind couldn't think of anything but grade-school blows to the self-esteem, but what was she supposed to do? Make blind assumptions like, "is it common practice for you to lie to your parents?!" When in doubt, always go for appearances. Eyes never lied!

The Soldier of Wealth began to circle around Nemesis, eying her from toe-to-head. Why was everything so tattered? No wonder she had such a sour face-- she was hideous, and she really got the short end of the stick in the way of sailor fuku. Rosalind would be angry if it were her, too.

"Who are you, anyways?"

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?!" Rosalind inquired, an eyebrow quirked. She stopped circling the Soldier of Decay to inspect her once more, just to make sure that the girl was ugly-- yup, she was. "I would kindly ask you to not regard me as idiotic, because I am far from it." Rosalind twirled a stray lock of hair in her fingers, as if to say 'look, my hair is glossy and beautiful, and yours isn't,' then continued, "I could have said much, much worse, but I am a lady." The Soldier of Wealth began to laugh into the back of her hand condescendingly, then resumed circling Nemesis.

When the blue-and-black soldier snorted, Rosalind felt compelled to stare at her in disgust-- it wasn't polite to stare, but this girl was just so... Ugh. "I can do whatever I want, for I am clearly superior a boyish sailor scout such as yourself." She continued to giggle haughtily, then added, "I am Sailor Rosalind, the Soldier of Wealth. It's a pleasure for you, I'm sure." She wasn't sure if she liked where the situation was heading-- the girl seemed violent, like a Negaverser, but she was indeed a scout.

"So. What now?"

What was it about this awful girl that made her so... so... well, awful? Rosalind halted the circling around Nemesis, not wanting to seem like a wolf on the prowl. Vulgarities and rude remarks were things Rosalind would not, and did not, tolerate very well. "I am not an idiot," she said in defense, "I may be many things-- beautiful, elegant, wealthy, infinitely better than you-- but I am not an idiot." The brunette once again resorted to chuckling haughtily into the back of her gloved hand.

In her mind, Rosalind could do no wrong. She was the epitome of manners and grace, and never once stopped to think that her own attitude was rotten. So when Nemesis continued the onslaught of retorts, it only served to dig Rosalind's 'oh, woe is me, I'm the victim,' hole deeper. "I'll have you know that Wealth is an extremely viable sphere, you rotten little witch," she noted while leering, "much better than something so disgusting as Decay. The one nice thing I can say about you is that... Well, you certainly look the part. It's as if you're decaying yourself. How pitiful."

It was disgusting how much Nemesis spewed junk out of her rotten mouth at such an alarming rate. "Well, I mean, of course you're not tired, you hardly put any effort into your appearance..." she trailed off, the continued, "if I let myself go like you obviously have, I'm sure I'd be positively brimming with energy, you know."

If you've ever played Punch-Out!!, then you'd probably have a pretty good idea of how Rosalind looked when she was decked in the face. It felt like a meteor plummeting onto Earth for the first time, or maybe like a bowling ball managing a strike. The horrible punch sent the prissy Soldier of Wealth reeling, rather melodramatically, and into a shrub. In said greenery, Rosalind rubbed her rosy-red cheek (now turning a somewhat-suspicious purple) as if it were Buddha's belly-- crying all the while, of course.

"What was that for?!" Rosalind cried, looking up at the black-and-blue Soldier of Decay. "Are you completely bereft of any humanity?!" Unfortunately for the brunette, she was physically frail compared to Nemesis. She hadn't grown accustomed to fisticuffs, so the awful punch-throwing girl obviously had the upper hand. "You know," she began, picking herself up, "that was extremely uncalled for. I didn't do anything to you!!" Rosalind wiped dirt off her minty green skirt, picked a twig out of her backbow, and re-adjusted her collar. Even if she couldn't handle hand-to-hand combat, Rosalind did have magical capabilities.

"I'm going to have to bounce you like a bad check, you witch!!" She proceeded to snap her fingers, then called out her magical incantation, "Sterling Silver Volley!!" The coins that poured down thereafter began to pelt both girls in their pale skin-- Rosalind winced as a shimmering silver dubloon sliced through her silky left glove.

"Hmph! It serves you right, you awful girl! Maybe next time you'll learn that ugly girls don't prosper!!" She proceeded to cross her arms triumphantly, haughtily smiling in Nemesis' direction. "My, how you look like a feral cat! It's just too pitiful!!" Rosalind laughed into the back of her hand once more, a rather loud, boisterous laugh, side-stepping coins all the while. It paid to be used to money falling out of the sky. As the Soldier of Wealth turned-tail, leaving Nemesis behind to wallow in just what she had done, she stopped by a glossy park trashcan. Since there were no mirrors in sight, it'd just have to do.

She didn't like what she saw. A big, giant purple blemish in the shape of a girl's hand was printed on her once-beautiful and flawless cheek. It was as if someone had utterly destroyed a beautiful piece of art-- like, the Mona Lisa had a giant shitstain across her face. It was that hideous.

The coin-shower began to dwindle, a spare coin tinking on the pavement here and there. Rosalind stared at Nemesis like a giant, hateful evil owl. They stared at eachother for awhile, neither knowing what to do next. Rosalind was filled with so much contempt that she was pushed into a frenzy. Oh, she was going to get even. Her limit was broken. She was in overdrive. She meant business.

Rosalind crooked her arms up in the air like a totem pole, her fingers bent like a witch's, intent on scratching the life out of Nemesis' face. She looked like a bear about to pounce on its prey-- it was truly a horrific sight. When she was within reaching distance of the Soldier of Decay, without any sassy remarks or comments, Rosalind attempted to throw her hands into Nemesis' nappy locks of hideous hair and pull them out.

So pumped up on adrenaline, Rosalind could not feel. She was pure rage. Nobody had ever bruised her face before and got away with it-- mainly because no one had ever even done it before. The two continued to struggle for a short duration of time, Rosalind pulling on her hair, then Nemesis clawing her face, then Rosalind pulling her hair again, Nemesis screeching, Rosalind gasping, and so on and so forth... That all ended when the Soldier of Decay decided to wise up and gut Rosalind in the stomach. "Ooph!!" Rosalind gasped out, the only thing she could manage.

The brunette recoiled, grasping her stomach in the process. "You... you..." She stared for awhile, then regained her rage-fueled onslaught of catfight-style attacking. Rosalind lunged forward, this time grabbing a chunk of the fabric on Nemesis' bodice. As the Soldier of Wealth got a hold of it, she plummeted to the floor, a satisfying rrrrrrrrip sounding in Rosalind's ears in the process. She looked up, noticing that Nemesis now had a bare midriff. "Ew, you're fat, too!!" Rosalind noted ever so kindly, frowning in the process.

She was sorry she had done that, truth be told.

Okay, Nemesis must have been an insane asylum escapee-- nobody was allowed to destroy Rosalind's clothes and get away with it. The Soldier of Wealth instinctively pulled her arm away, only serving to rip her sleeve quicker. "I am entitled to say whatever it is that I like," Rosalind spat, "that's what having money affords!! I wouldn't expect you to understand that, though." She proceeded to wad up the fabric that she had ripped off of Nemesis' bodice and toss it at her face.

Oh, boy, how damaging white fabric must be.

"I must say, you must be pretty insecure. Your fuku is made of a completely inferior fabric compared to mine," Rosalind ran a gloved hand over her ruffly bodice, "maybe it's not to late to ask for an upgrade? I'd certainly invest some time in looking for one if I were you." One more, the brunette brought a hand to her mouth and laughed into the back of it condescendingly. Then Nemesis opened her mouth again and just had to call her a... A hooker, of all things!

"How vulgar of you!!" Rosalind dashed forward once more, this time with a hand drawn back, intent on b***h-slapping Nemesis with as much force as she could possibly muster.