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Alessa/Louisa (reg): Need help?
First day at Meadowview. Alessa meets Louisa and tends to forget who needed help in the first place.

1st blog entry (solo): Destined City


I haven’t updated this blog in a while. So sorry! Real life happened.
First schoolday at Meadowview High! It looks a lot better than I expected. And well, it also looks better than my high school back at Hepaunville. Also, uniforms! First time ever I’m trying these. They’re orange and cool. If you thought all school uniforms were grey and lame… well, WRONG. Little to no difference between us that way, but they’re very lax. They don’t mind my favourite bracelet, and, well, you can wear a bit of whatever you want with it, from what I’ve seen. We totally need that kind of policy in all public schools.
Also, there’s weird stuff all over the news that we didn’t know before. Terrorists in skirts and uniforms and crap. Well, the journalists are calling them terrorists, but most don’t quite seem to agree on what they actually do. Apparently, two factions fighting each other. With stuff. I should check Youtube for videos. There’s however a consensus on frilly colorful sailor suits. You know what that means? It’s just a buzz for an incoming movie. An EPIC movie. Or it’s gonna be the subject of a movie in the very next year, it’s all the same.
Sunday, I’ll be off to watch Inglorious Basterds. Yay Tarantino! Your humble servant won’t give you a review this time because, hey, Tarantino. Of course it’s gonna be awesome. Besides, all of you must have already watched it.
See you next time, if real life doesn’t kidnap me again!


SkyblueHeart42


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Alessa's place (solo): Silence in the kitchen

“Listen carefully, Alessa dear. Are you sure you don’t remember what happened?”
In the living room still partially inundated by cardboard boxes, Mr and Mrs David were leaning over their daughter who, aside from a bandaged right hand, looked perfectly healthy.
“I-I’m sure, dad. I went to the cinema, I was waiting in the line…” she said, and to illustrate her point, she shook vaguely her hand in the air. “… and everything is blurry after that. I remember the ambulance, and that’s all.”
The mother bit her lip. “It’s important for us to know. So that we can help you. Did you see anything weird? Do you remember how you were injured? Maybe… I don’t know, maybe it could get infected…”
“I don’t think so, or else, they would have found traces of stuff long ago, wouldn’t they?” timidly suggested the girl.
A short silence. “Hey, Maria, doesn’t it smell like burnt? Let me check the beef” said Johan with an extremely fake tone of voice.
“… it does. Let me help you, I’ll take care of the sauce meanwhile” replied the woman.
Both parents vanished in the kitchen, the next closest room. And began whispering.

---

“It’s obviously a psychological shock” stated gravely Maria, pretending to mix the ingredients in her sauce. “It’s denial. She can’t remember a thing until she’s ready.” She appeared worried. But that was the kind of thing they couldn’t find, so she was pretty much resigned. “Besides, other than that wound and the cuts on her leg, nothing hinted at any sort of problem. It happens, you’d be surprised at the amount of people who just won’t remember.”
This was not really answering Johan’s main concern. “Of course, but is she going to be okay? I mean, okay? It must have been pretty traumatizing. I mean, watch the news again, those witnesses don’t agree on a goddamn thing either. Witnesses, my a**. And they didn’t help Alessa, either.”
He turned the steak upside-down; it was perfectly cooked, but would have burnt for real if left one more minute on the same side. “Maybe they’re right about that terrorists thing. The estate agent didn’t tell me a word on the matter. Not. A. Word. Now, I understand why the flat was so cheap.”
Maria grimaced. “The news are greatly exaggerated, and you know it. They’re just pranks going bad, that’s all. There seem to be school rivalries going on. Yes, I have my sources. Pranks going bad, but just pranks. Terrorists don’t run around in miniskirts getting rid of things that mysteriously leave no corpse.”
“You know, I thought we both agreed never to argue about the news”, spat the father. His tone became much softer the next second. “Maybe it was a bad idea leaving our house back at Hepaunville.”
“Oh, no, you didn’t.” Angrily, the woman spilled way too much salt than necessary; annoyed, she proceeded to take off the exceeding salt with a wooden spoon. “You were the traumatized one back then. And so was I. We couldn’t walk down the street without thinking about what happened to Mark. We couldn’t talk about it without sobbing. He… he was our friend, dammit.” She wiped her tears and blew her noise in a handkerchief after turning away from the saucepan. “We can’t return now. And we’ve lost so much time and money with the administration. Let’s act like grownups, Johan, for God’s sake. And let Alessa forget if that’s what her brain judge is best for her. When the time comes, she will tell us.”
The man’s eyes drifted towards nothing in particular. “Maybe if we tell her about those things we’ve been hiding away from her all these years, she will be able to tell us what her unconscious is hiding from us.”

---

Well, they weren’t very subtle, but at least, they could whisper. The brunette looked down. Her palm was completely covered in that white bandage, not the same as all as the one slipping gracefully around the lion’s body. One more visit to the hospital for the staples, and she would be as good as new.
But how about Sailor Polaris? Was she doing alright, right now? Does she have a civilian life? Does she have to pretend nothing interesting has happened to her, either? Just how many people did she save, not just today, but the weeks before?
Such an odd disguise choice, too, but maybe it had some special significance to her she couldn’t catch right now.
She'd fled like a thief, barely thanking her. And still, she had saved her life. Polaris deserved more than a “thanks”. Thanks to her, she was allowed to keep going with her normal, boring life. If only she could find her again and thank her properly. How was she supposed to do that, however? Search other monsters and show up when they appear? What sort of retarded idea is this? How was she supposed to thank her, actually? What would be worth a life saved that was not another life saved?
The guilt was growing the more she looked around. How devastated would her parents have been if she hadn’t been saved?
Melancholy hit her. She felt like crying again, but she kept herself from doing so. She would just worry her parents further.


“Lunch’s ready, darling!”
The couple brought to the table the steaks, a delicious Italian sauce, and a large pan of macaroni. Just what Alessa needed.
They all sat down and began eating, with forced smiles. “It’s a bit salty.”

Ji-Yeon/Alessa (reg): Fix Them
Ji-Yeon and Alessa happen to volunteer at the hospital at the same time.

Demy/Alessa (reg): Guitar Distressed Damsel
Someone sucks at Guitar Hero, and it's not Demy.

Remi/Alessa (reg): Bringing a Bit of that Bedside Manner
Second visit at the hospital. Turns out the brain is a strange thing.

Alessa's place (solo): Bad days


“I’m here, dad!”
The blond man left the computer to greet his daughter. “Hey, Alessa. How did it go today?”
The girl hung her thick brown coat on her chair, as usual. “A bit tired. Not too bad, I guess” she replied, lacking the usual cheerfulness. Seeing the inquisitive eyes of her father, she elaborated without even being asked. “Today, there was a girl from the organ traffic ring thing, and… and I think I’m the first person she saw since she was rescued, she just woke up. And I believe I saw …her mom before I met her and she woke up.” Johan David could see his daughter was enduring a moral dilemma. “I’m not supposed to be the first person they see. She doesn’t even know why she’s at the hospital!”

The father patted his daughter’s shoulder. “Well, there could have been nobody at all. And at least, you talked a bit with her? You gave her cookies, right?”

It only outraged the brunette. “But I didn’t even do anything useful at all! Her mother left a note, and I panicked when I called because it was the number of some shop! And oh crap I completely forgot the cookies.” She entered a panic again, and checked her bag. As a matter of fact, the Tupperware containing the homemade cookies was still there.

He groaned. “Oh, well. Calm down, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll eat your cookies.” He wasn’t used to such a pileup of fail coming from her. “You know, you should probably relax for a few days before volunteering again.”

She sheepishly nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.”
Suddenly, she remembered something from a few days ago. Something that had completely slipped out of her mind. A question.
“Say, dad… by the way, where does Alessa come from?”

He’d been about to eat a cookie, and was stopped right in his tracks by the question.

“…it’s not related to the previous topic, or anything.” she said, just in case.

“Your mother decided to call you Alessa”, he said calmly, “because it was the name of a deceased aunt she liked very much, back in Slovenia.”

“So, mom’s Slovene?” She had never expressed much of a need to know her origins before, because of the age-old conflict between her grandparents (which also had an origin unknown to her, unsurprisingly).

“No”, replied dryly Johan. He realized his tone was unnecessarily harsh, he realized, and it became softer. “I mean, Maria was born here, in America. So was I, so we’re both American, as much as you are.” He dodged the question the same way as he usually did; he didn’t see the point in answering it as his wife and him had deserted their old life long ago.

Alessa insisted. “And I meant, are grampa and grandma from Slovenia? Where is it? Is Alessa a Slovene name?”

He sighed. “No, just her mother. Her so… her father is Finnish or something. I think Slovenia’s near Italy, but last time I checked a map of Europe, I was passing a geography exam at high school.” A pause. “Look, I don’t have any idea… it’s a very pretty name and I wouldn’t change it. That’s all there is to know.”

That last sentence was the sign Alessa was supposed to stop asking such questions. The subject made her father nervous, as it never failed in bringing bad memories back. (Sometimes, she just would have wanted to know what kind of memories.)
The next words she spoke, however, were still related to the previous topic to a degree. “Italy? Is that why we’re eating a lot of pasta?”

His face relaxed a tad. He smiled. “Maybe, but the main reason is it’s cheap and even you can do it. No offense, heh! After all, you can bake cookies on your own, too.” This being said, he ate his cookie whole. He had more of a sweet tooth than his daughter. She wouldn’t touch most candy and cakes, only the taste of chocolate could possibly redeem a bakery mostly made with sugar. However, she enjoyed pasta much more than he did. Perhaps it’s in her blood, he mused.

Another cookie was taken and eaten by the girl. She liked those quiet moments with her father when he was home. She enjoyed eating simple meals that even she could cook. She loved the silence, where no more question needed be asked. After all, she didn’t really need to learn about a country she will never set foot on, she didn’t need to know how people would have reacted if she’d done something she didn’t, and he didn’t need to know she helped a senshi fight a youma. Neither of them needed to know anything more about each other. They were perfectly fine with only their feelings and time spent together. They didn’t need to know the ways they were special. And Alessa was comforted by her own boringness more than anything. The special people today were either at the hospital, fighting for their lost lives, or wearing strange outfits, fighting for their mysterious goal.

Yvette/Alessa (reg): Ice Ice Baby
Hail forces the girls to meet, and even to Alessa's standards, Yvette shows she lacks self-confidence.