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 Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2014 9:42 am
This time, Penthesilea did no dawdling before her trip to her planet. She was still feeling guilty for what had happened to Vulcan, and dragging another person into danger for a bit of light fun for her seemed like a very foolish proposal. She had thought she was untouchable, and that there was nothing she couldn’t do.
She had thought that even after she had been proven wrong. Even after Titan had nearly crushed her under his hammer, and only sheer luck and quick dodging between buildings had saved her. Even after Avalon had run her through, and Thraen had to carry her out to the hospital. She should have learned then, but all she had learned was that her own body was an acceptable sacrifice, and that if she could survive that, she could survive anything.
Maybe it was true for her, and it wasn’t just ego that said she could survive almost anything with a bit of dumb luck and some good allies.
That wasn’t true of the people around her.
Vulcan’s near-death had humbled her. She had led the Senshi of Volcanoes into that fight, had made the plan that led to them splitting and Vulcan playing decoy. She had caused that wound, as much as if she had actually done it herself.
Even though she had heard that whisper, the wisp of memory saying she had indeed completed the second trial when she sewed Vulcan back together, she couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t deserve anything for it. Even if she had technically succeeded, it had only been in fixing a problem she had caused. One that never should have existed in the first place. She should not have had to fix Vulcan, because Vulcan should not have been injured in the first place.
She wanted to be up here alone, this time, and simply take some time in silence to be thankful for everything she had found here. Particularly the medical supplies that had let her save Vulcan’s life. Apparently, medicine had been an important part of Sailor Penthesilea’s training, and she was glad for it - and glad for whomever had tucked away those supplies. She owed her success to some past resident of her planet, and it felt wrong that she could not thank her.
It was her guilt that carried her over the dusty streets of her city (Telnarquel, something told her, the city’s name was Telnarquel) and to the steps of the hospital, where Vulcan had lain bleeding and Penthesilea had worked desperately to save her. There was no blood there, and somehow that felt wrong - there should be some kind of marker of what had happened.
But of course there wasn’t, because even if it was significant to the planet’s Senshi, she doubted one near-death was significant to the planet itself, to this ancient and ageless ground.
She sighed, and walked up the steps. Last time she had completed a Trial it had opened a door, and she wondered if this, too, would do so - even if she felt she didn’t deserve it. Still, she pressed her fingers to the door, expecting it to refuse her.
It gave, and she made an involuntary noise of surprise, even though she probably should have expected it.
The inside was an expansive room, and she could see stairs in the back - a multifloor hospital.
Something struck her, something horrifying - there were stains on the walls, splashes of what looked like old blood.
Penthesilea felt her stomach rebel. She had no idea how they had gotten there, and her education of the law of war was imperfect - but she did know that hospitals were not legitimate targets.
Something had happened here, before it had sealed itself.
Something deeply awful.
Her eyes were drawn next to a splash of bright red on the floor - a strip of cloth, just lying there. She walked over to it and picked it up -
The hospital was busy, full of badly injured soldiers. Evadne’s fingers curled around the Sash of Ortrera, an ancient relic of her peoples’ first Matriarch. There was still a battle outside the walls, a war she had caused, but she could not be there. She was confined inside Wall Elgar’nan.
It rankled, because she should be leading her troops, but she could help here, help save the wounded.
“Who is the worst off?” She asked the lead healer, her tone determined.
“Shriue,” the healer replied. “She took a sword to the middle - we can keep her together, but she doesn’t have much time. The Sash, though…” Her eyes drifted to the cloth in Evadne’s hands. “The Sash might save her.”
“Then I must try,” Evadne said, and she walked to the bed indicated. The woman lying there was struggling to breathe, white bandages stark against her dark blue-gray skin (and for the first time, Penthesilea of the present really registered the unusual look of the people of her planet - elves, almost, tall and willowy, with pointed ears and skins in shades of gray and blue and purple).
“General,” the woman breathed, her voice faint.
“I am here,” Evadne said, and then, slowly, she wrapped the sash around her. “Don’t move, this will take some time…”
Penthe stared in quiet wonder at the cloth in her hand.
The Sash of Ortrera, first Matriarch of her people. A healing item - something she could have used to save Vulcan much more easily.
This was her reward - the power to ensure that she never had to feel that rising panic again. The power to save her soldiers, and herself.
No one would die on her watch.
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Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2014 11:40 am
Penthesilea left the hospital, sash tied around her waist and fingers occasionally brushing it. There was more to explore - she was curious about that strange book in the library, the one that had showed the first two Trials. Her hope was that now that she had completed the second, it would show her the third. It seemed perfectly reasonable - even if she was still clawed with guilt about what happened to Vulcan, and about leading the Senshi of Volcanoes into a hopeless battle, she now had the means to prevent that from happening again, and her planet obviously considered her at least a little more ready than she had been before.
When she stepped into the library, she was once again struck by its incredible expansive beauty. The books still looked like they must have a thousand years ago - there had been no great tragedy here, no burning, no slaughter.
(Why, she wondered, attack the hospital and not the library? But answers on the war that she suspected had torn her planet apart were few and far between, glimpses only, of an army in the center of Telnarquel and death on the hospital steps and the terrible knowledge that something awful had happened in a place of healing.)
The book was where she had left it, open to the very same page - had she forgotten to close it? - and waiting for her. The Senshi slid into the seat she had taken before, fingers brushing the delicate pages. The words were still gibberish - a script and a language she could no longer comprehend. It was a tragedy to her that she couldn’t read it, and that no one ever would. How much history and culture was contained in these books?
That type of thing had never been a concern of hers, before, but this place was so intimately hers that to not know something about it felt like a personal affront, a failing she had to rectify.
But the pictures were clear as ever - and she turned the page, and was delighted to discover she could. There, clear as day, was an illustration of the Senshi holding the Sash in the air, triumphant. A reward, she assumed, for completing the Trial of Second Life.
She flipped the page, and stared, for a long moment, at the illustration there. A stone column, though it didn’t look particularly tall, with a round protrusion on top colored in bright red. The background of the illustration was clearly the Colosseum. Her fingers brushed over the illustration, and she turned the page.
The next image was the Senshi, hand pressed to the protrusion - a switch, or a button, Penthe realized. She hadn’t seen this thing in the Colosseum when she went before, but maybe it would be there now, if she looked.
But what was it for?
She turned the page, and she got her answer. The illustration there showed the Senshi engaged in combat - with the same small blades from the first trial - with a group of strange insectoid creatures. They were nearly waist-high on her, bigger than any big had a right to be, but she seemed to be holding her own.
After that, it showed her locked in combat with a pack of large, predatory catlike creatures - they reminded her of some kind of leopard, almost.
The last picture showed her and a creature much, much larger - an almost chimeralike beast. She felt a shiver run down her spine.
And she knew.
The Trial of Third Triumph.
This was what she would have to do.
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Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2014 1:54 pm
Penthe had slammed the book closed and bolted out of the library, chest tight with anticipation and panic. She needed to get to the Colosseum, because she knew, just knew with a certainty she had never felt before, that when she completed the third Trial, something wondrous would happen. She wasn’t sure what, but she knew that it would be good for her, and good for her planet.
So her feet pounded against the street, running the rest of the way and stopping at the entrance to the grand Colosseum. She stood still and took a moment to catch her breath, churning over the possibilities. It was obviously some sort of trial by combat - but that, she felt, would be the easiest for her. Maybe the point was endurance? It was clear the Senshi was piled by beasts in quick succession. And she had to triumph over them all.
That couldn’t be too hard. After all, she was War. She was a brawler and a knife fighter. There would be no way she couldn’t do this, it was exactly what she had trained for her entire life. And there was no way the switch wouldn’t be there - unlike before the Trial of Second Life, there had been no illustrations of training or work beforehand. She was so close, she could practically taste it. This meant that she would have completed all the trials that would make her the full Senshi of Penthesilea - and sure, she had no idea what that meant, since she was most certainly not a Chibi, but she knew it meant something.
She stepped through the gates, into the Colosseum.
It was empty.
There was no short column, no switch - nothing. Nothing was changed from the last time she had been there, when she had executed the Negaverse Captain and completed the Trial of First Blood.
All her doubts came pouring back, as she stepped forward, wondering if it might somehow appear in front of her. She reached the center of the Colosseum, where the image had seemed to depict the stone standing, and still - nothing.
She sank to her knees and pounded her fists on the ground in blind frustrated fury. It wasn’t fair, she had been so close - the path was right there in front of her. But the answer seemed obvious, even if she didn’t want to acknowledge it openly.
Her planet had seen her, somehow knew what she had done, knew how she had failed Vulcan. It knew that there were things broken inside her - things that made her unworthy of being a Senshi. Her recklessness, her foolishness, her anger. Her obsession with a corrupted Senshi - the strange cocktail of feelings she had for Lellouch, her enemy.
It seemed a strange thing to think of a planet, a non-sentient being that couldn’t really think on its own, but there was magic here - magic blended into the very ground and into her. Who was to say there wasn’t just a little in her planet’s core?
Enough to evaluate its Senshi, certainly.
It had judged her, and found her wanting.
She was not worthy of being Sailor Penthesilea.
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