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Post Time Skip Journal Entry: The Call

His birthday had been November 22nd. There'd been a phone call, a digital card because mail was unpredictable, and some money wired to a local store. He'd been thankful, and polite about it. The discussion had been as bland as watching paint dry on a wall. All the usual things, "How is such, do you have a such, are your studies such." His answers, were always as equally bland and uninteresting, uninviting, as the questions. "Fine, too busy, going well."

Reed had learned how to have these sorts of conversations during his first year away, not to attempt discussing his work..or thesis..or loves..with his father. They were from two different worlds in that aspect.

His father worked with metal and digital beings, soldered motherboards together or some such thing.

Reed worked with plants, life, death and toxins! The veritable poison that was humanity. The fantastic sustainability of plants. That nature and animal alike could be manipulated at its core..through its DNA..to become something more. There was also the fact that people had evolved to overcome so many things...Yet could still easily be brought down by the equivalent of an infected paper-cut.

He stopped asking about view points, or culture, or beliefs. All controversial topics had to be left out of all conversation, because the resulting rift and anger that could result from those things, was too great to fix from a distance of thousands of miles away; over a phone. Reed wasn't about to go home either.

So he'd learned. The tone was neutral. The calls were bland. The birthday was the same as it had been the last three years. Everything was kept as non-descript and fluff-piecely as was humanly possible. Maybe they had both come to an acceptance of the status quo? That this was how it would have to be, until something else changed.

Two weeks later. Reed received another call, and it hadn't been from his father.

Change was inevitable, and would happen regardless of anyone's want or need for said changes. It had been some time since Reed had felt the pull of fate, shoving him in a direction, regardless of his will. It was an extremely rude wake up call; reminding him in just how many ways his life would never just be his own.

Reed stripped his meager flat of all personal possessions. He only had enough to throw into a pair of duffle bags. The rest could go to the dogs..
He gave himself 24 hours. Dropped his internship, quickly set up online services through the college, and hopped a 16 hour flight back to Destiny City.

Reed spent the majority of his time on the flight, either unconscious or blissfully drunk. He wasn't going to think about the call, the details. He had the message saved, the numbers to call once he landed. For the next 16 hours he only wanted darkness and silence. He would deal with focusing on all the chaos that would come after...all of the questions...later. He refused to force himself to face them now, to turn all those sharp edges of inner confusion, and hatred; on either himself or the outside world. Refused to focus on how many things he was going to miss, all that was going to change about his life. All of his plans and goals that would now need reworking to accommodate the most unexpected of-

Was it a tragedy? Really? A loss? He didn't know how to feel about it. He'd made a snap decision, he was doing the right thing, the thing any son should do!

Thinking about that in any context. That particular inner dialogue could wait to be examined until hell froze over; as far as he was concerned.

WC 589)

Post Time Skip Journal Entry: Clean up and Rebuild

Reed sighed, sliding down a bare wall, lazily eyeing the marks in the carpet..and on the tile..the walls. The thing he hated most about cleaning out a home, any sort of home. Was how easy it was to tell where things had been before. Like the furnishings themselves could leave their ghosts around to haunt; until brutally ripped out or painted over.

Even in doing so..it didn't negate the fact that they had been there. There was no denying their existence. No matter how many times something was repainted, replaced, or re-carpeted..One could always tell that something new had been put in, likely to hide the old.

He wasn't even completely done with this place. He'd made the large items the first to go. He didn't want..couldn't have handled..keeping any of them. Not the smell or the sight. Reed didn't want the furniture, or the dishes, or the memories.

He'd donated as much as was humanly possible. Called all the thrift stores, and waste management for those things they couldn't take. Apparently unsealed beds were too gross. He didn't blame them..who wanted an old bed..full of someone else's detritus? It was shudder-worthy.

He ran a little mental check list, all the clothing and linens..furniture...accounts..knicknacks and living essentials..It had taken a few days, but he was finally down to the last of it. Of course the last of it was the worst of it.

Picture albums, old birthday cards, memorabilia. Letters...

There had been boxes. Shoe boxes even, of all things.

Reed grit his teeth and scrubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He was not, under any circumstances, going to open them, or read them, or keep them! He didn't want to know. He didn't care anymore. He was sure he'd dealt with that part of himself when he'd left!

Suddenly he couldn't stand sitting. He was up, moving, pacing. Grinding his teeth while he threw open the closet, and grabbed up everything that was left inside...

--------------------

There was a fire in the bathtub. He didn't quite remember starting. Couldn't focus on the used motel matchbook in his hand. He could only smile, watching the paper burn orange, and the pictures burn the green and blue chemical hues. Little glass frames cracking under the heat, scorching black the porcelain of the tub itself. The bits of paper turning ash curling, flaking, occasional embers floating up into nothingness.

Prehnite could only relish in the rightness of it. The feel of pulling himself together after months of doing nothing of the sort. The welcoming feeling of dragging himself back on, a second skin, that was anything but; because it was who he was, who he'd always been.

He knew he was terrible at accepting all parts of himself. He understood his own denial, even if he couldn't face it head on. He could however, always accept the chaos. The organized chaos, and his existence as an extension of such. Even when he was unsure of his place, of the exact nature and definition of his place in the grand scheme. He at least knew, beyond a doubt, that he had a place.

He would never truly be homeless, leaderless, or alone. Only insomuch as he made himself to be. He was sure of it.

Prehnite smirked, tossing the rest of the matches into the fire, backing out of the bathroom as the smoke and flames began to rise. Maybe it wouldn't burn beyond that area. After all..it was mostly porcelain and tile walls...and that's what firefighters were for right? Some brave soul would earn their pay today, putting out the flames..or investigating the flooding of smoke from the place.

Prehnite didn't care if anyone saw him leaving the apartment. Hoped in fact, that they would assume it was vandalism of some sort..an act of domestic terrorism. A crazy arsonist with a weird fetish for peoples personals? Reed wouldn't be under suspect, and Prehnite could vanish into the darkness for a little while longer.

WC 689)

Bound to Lose

Reed was in a bind..and so was his wrist. Ice it and wrap it, simple, easy. It wasn't broken luckily, but it had definitely been sprained after his last little encounter.

Every little encounter...they were starting to add up. Like pebbles on a scale. One didn't tip it very much, but the more you added, the heavier it got.

Reed took a moment to gently set himself down on the worn out couch, in his empty a** apartment..with nothing to look at but a couple of succulents and a potted palm fern he was working at. He was realizing how empty the place was. Dead and lifeless..

He hadn't planned on staying, not really. Come home, do the funeral, leave as quickly as was humanly possible. Not that it mattered now. He was here, ready to finally throw himself into the thick of things, and completely lost as to how' he should go about doing that, without getting his a** handed to him. It wasn't enough to simply drain energy, or collect the occasional Starseed of a deserving civilian. It was about more than filling a quota for him now..

Reed was behind and trying to play catch-up. Reading up on as much as was available to him in his low ranking status. Considering tapping into higher connections for the rest. He had always been loath to ask for help, especially if he felt he didn't need it..Even when he knew he needed it, he hated it.

Knights of the order were a new being to him, and they seemed to have taken up populating the areas the city the Senshi had left barren. He felt like a magnet to Knights of the order and wondered why. Why always knights? Why couldn't he find any Senshi? Why didn't they find him? Had they all vanished since he'd been gone, was he picking the wrong spots to hunt? It wasn't as though Reed particularly relished the idea of fighting with a Senshi..

Reed found himself glaring at his ceiling as though it'd insulted him personally..or worse...his plants...Plants needed gentle talking to, it was a fact!

He wasn't surprised though, he was pissed off, tired and sore. His subconscious was screaming at him about something. This annoying little itch in the back of his mind.

Maybe he was his own problem, getting in the way of his own growth? Though he was loath to admit it. He simply didn't want to deal with himself or Senshi. Senshi were this unpredictable being, they were children, and women with magical abilities. Not that the side of chaos lacked in magic. It just always seemed more understandable from his end. Soldiers didn't go around shouting out attacks and pelting people with magically summoned hail. Soldiers carried weapons. Occasionally obvious weapons.

Prehnite didn't have to second guess a wooden oar, or a feather duster. He didn't ever feel bad about going after a Page.

He needed help, focus, clarity of the issue. He would beat the problem and the solution out of himself if necessary. He'd heard a name going around..something about some..shadow crap or other. Glitter? Glinty?

Prehnite groaned tiredly, dragging himself back up off of the couch. It wasn't as though he was going to get any sleep tonight. Summoning his communications crystal and pulling up still more data.

Something of a Shadow Box..A Knight...He would find him, and fix this.

(WC: 581)

Fire and Ice: A Castle Hellscape

Everything was wrong, drenched in the feel, sound, and smell of it. The din of screams and clash of blade on flesh. Magical shouts and angry war cries. His cowardice in the face of it all the most revealing thing. "You shouldn't be here, just stay hidden, no one knows your here!" His mantra for the moment, pressed up against a nook in a wall well out of sight and mind. He hadn't prayed to anything in particular, simply hoped to stay hidden, to escape when the chance came - if they won - if the intruders were chased out! How had they gotten in!?

The questions pointless, mindless, useless against the calling of true power. Apatite, a force to be reckoned with, the ringing presence of a General Queen, the brilliance of her fighting. Even he couldn't ignore that, was unable to hide himself away when he could be watching...could be taking advantage of her distraction.

He had, and then he'd run straight for the doors, snagged the nearest weapon, uncaring of it's previous owner..Then there was death. A shock of red braids and an attacking Senshi, too clear in his path to ignore. A body of a school girl, and a Corrupt captain to stare through; because he couldn't help but stare 'at' the girl.

He'd never had to.. It was so different than pulling a star seed, unexpectedly fast and messy..

All of the wrong buried beneath the unnerving, shocked, selfish, feeling of relief. The disbelief that he would feel relieved at anothers death by his own hands if not his own blade; overwhelming relief that it was someone elses blood rather than his own. That it was an enemy - a child - and not another one of their own.

The weapon of course, was immediately discarded, it wasn't something he was ready for, and he immediately fell back on the need to flee. Would have absolutely turned tale and run...except he'd already exposed himself..and now someone definitely knew he was here..He was a coward true, not so much of one that he could simply turn his back on the person he'd just-on the fellow soldier he'd just killed for..saved? Captain in rank and worth following, even if only so he could drag the man bodily through the exit because 'none of them' should have been there.

Not with how badly they were loosing, especially not with the General Queen, in all her beautiful pink and red, crazed smile and manic eyes, hungry eyes, not with her 'eating' the very people that served her. He found himself wondering if all the sayings of power and madness were true. One could not be gained without the other, that some of them were so loyal they would throw themselves at Apatites feet, rather than seek self preservation.

He begged self preservation in the face of her onslaught; sure that if he ever needed to die, he would at least prefer it not be like that, anything but that. No matter how desperate..or crazed..or devout..Never like that.

By the grace of his begging of Ochres sound judgement, he was out - of the frying pan and tossed squarely into the fire. It all quickly became hail and brimstone, beautiful and terrifying in a whole new way. Yet somehow safer - if only because he would have chosen to die fighting than to die a snack. Even if he would have preferred to avoid the fighting entirely...

It was all a little easier to manage when he had someone he knew at his back, however brief the introduction had been. To have someone sane to listen to was a blessing - however short lived.

Between the hail, and the fiery death of the greater Youma...

Between finding a glimpse of someone he would have very much liked to see dead, and finding himself brought low by searing fire in his veins...

He maybe also found something like courage..or maybe something more akin to faith in his betters..Because Laurelite was worth following, all the right kinds of terrifying, and Xenotime seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, and Leucite appeared the living embodiment of what they all 'should' have been striving to be.

He'd spent so much time looking at the wrong people; being the wrong sort of person for this work.

He just hadn't seen it before.

WC: 728

Meta Solos for Medal Earnings + Mission Star Seed Snatching
(Castle Of Death Meta)

It was a little girl -

And his mind screamed ‘enemy’, flagged the blurry lines of the corpse as such. Washed it over with a startling kick of indifference to dull the obvious shock of what he was seeing - what had been a Senshi that became a child - younger then himself - so much younger than himself.

Dead dead dead dead d e a d -

A little girl far younger than him and her life was in his hands - a pulsating glow of pink and white. Told himself he’d had to, what choices had there been, they’d attacked them. They were the cause of all their earthly woes, all the pages and all the white moon.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done it before - the same task as this - on others who looked like her. Only with far more joy for the job of it - under orders instead of under fear for his own self preservation.

Somehow this one felt different —-

The barracks were on fire and the castle was screaming and Apatite was eating them all in a flurry of rage and joy - a black hole that consumed life and became something other entirely.

It came in handy later - that stolen life of the Senshi - enemy - a ******** little girl - and how readily he fed it back in to laurelites crushed form without pause or hesitation or thought to what the starseed had come from, he passed the life into Xenotimes hands as she forced the souls between their General Queens parted lips in a desperate attempt to save her.

Dead little girl became enemy - any wince of flash of ‘other’ faded. A full ache instead of a piercing wound.
WC: 300

(Post Tea House: Prehnites done being spanked by pages and knights alike.)

Everything had ended in hail fire and ruin - a success for all - except for his ticking ego. When the goal was to benefit the whole where did an individual stand? Against the tide of many how was one to be considered?

Tired is what he was. Of being sounding board and cannon fodder alike, running to every heeded call to ensure some small success that benefited who? Him? The darkness!?

Livid - he was livid - wanted a reward beyond a flimsy piece of metal and flash of sash - he would damned well settle for it if it was all that could’ve been offered. Some small piece of ‘his’ to claim
amongst the many.

Prowled not for starseeds or energy or for quota - but for himself - picked a page because, ******** them all. Their oars and Senshi and common alliances.

Came across a Saturn - saw red - for it. Red for all the factions, hearts of Ganymede and icy hues of Polaris, all the ducking castors.

Saw it and took this one with I pretended violence, like the poor thing he fight had slighted him on a personal level.

Left his body in the bushes as he clutched his soul in his hands - bled and ached but felt better for having it. Some dark thing in the corner of his mind that cried out for vindication, that validated his actions however unreasonable they were.

Curl of icy darkness and he felt better for handing the sparkling little soul over to it….

WC:258

He plucked a pair of wishes, feeling both gracious and nosy all at once. He wondered at what people in this city could possilby be wishing for. What trite and simple little things they assumed a tree and basic festival goers would grant. Unwrapping the colorful parchments, ostensibly red and blue, but pocketing the seeds separately.

He let the wishes sit, tucked away to be read once he was done with the task of handling the seeds. They held far more importance and value to him then whatever was on the bright dyed scraps of paper.

He took care of the seeds first. Striking out for a nice soft loamy patch of soil, one that would get just enough sunlight without being cooked in the heat, but was still hidden enough to not be picked over by birds and squirrels. It was maybe the most fun he'd had in over a year, planting hopeful little seedlings, knowing he'd come back to see if they'd taken and grown, what sorts of plants would spring from their small delicate shells.

Only once he was done with that did he pay any mind to the wishes. Dirt smeared fingers straightened the edges of crumpled parchment, muddied some of the soft inky lettering. "I wish the city had more red..." the rest was illegible, likely the works of a child. Making it any clearer hindered by Reeds dirty hands.

A perturbed noise left him, a snotty 'tsking', as he opened the second wish and found to his detriment it was from the same child with poor penmanship. At least it seemed to be. The way the lettering trailed off and smeared into loose scribbles that could have been letters...."I wish the city had more blue?"

Requests in blues and reds asking for hues to be strewn about the place in some manner. Reed crumpled both notes in his fist, dug a third hole, seedless, and buried the notes in it. He huffed off, intending to let the concept of granting any wishes go entirely.

But the thought lingered - and an idea on how to creatively use the child's failed writing example as a learning opportunity burgeoned in Reeds mind. He completed the task as Prehnite. It was far easier to guise himself up to complete his new missive that way. Less questions would be asked, he could work on his quota, and if anyone gave him any trouble for it, Prehnite was far better equipped to handle such a thing.

Three buss stops, and five well drained, sleeping bodies, later. There were purple benches freshly painted at strategic points throughout the city. Spots where Prehnite had felt they would be seen the clearest.

Purple was the perfect combination of both red and blue, helpful that it was his favorite color as well. Reed wondered if the child would see it and know. If all else it would be a good lesson in color pallets, a tangible example on mixing primary colors to get something better out of it.

"What's blue and red and in the city...a purple bus bench." and Prehnite took his proffered energy home. Leaving the paint cans with the sleeping occupants at the final stop, as he didn't want to chance taking any blame for the incidents.

WC: 546

Reed had taken his time that night - thought a meteor show - even if viewed alone - would still be worth viewing. He hadn't seen one properly in years. So now - now that he as back? He was going to take advantage of the circumstances and enjoy it to its fullest. A light picnic basket packed and carried on powered legs, up-up-and up onto one of the taller buildings in the city limits. One who's height edged out the glare of the lights below it. So that it's rooftop lay edged in black, a gold wash from below, that wasn't bright enough to reach up and over. No clouds or chem trails to obscure the glory of the pitch night sky, and all the stars that shown throughout it.

Then something streaked through the sky that was not a star. Reed clutched the building for dear life, a bit of snack he'd brought with him tumbling free of his mouth as he held fast, prayed the foundation held - and then cursed all that was as the whole of the city appeared to flicker out entirely. Lights across grids for miles and miles, plunged into sudden darkness as the thunderous impact sound and shaking dimmed out to a mere hum.

Reed breathed through the encroaching headache - reminded himself that this wasn't something he needed to do anything about - no logical reason at all to go check up on every little oddity that reared its ugly head, simply because he'd returned home.

Reed sat for a good long while, bridge of his nose pinched between forefinger and thumb, until it made things worse rather than better. "Hssst...I'm going to regret this. I can already tell.." the words bitten out, a soft utterance, with a tone that spoke of dread and dreariness.

Prehnite stepped from the tiled roof just as lights amongst the homes and buildings slowly flickered back into existence. Purple locks briefly afloat, lapels of his not quite cape fluttering up against his neck with the breeze, and then, ever so lightly he touched down onto the edge of a thick billboard attached to a sturdy concrete building side, let the momentum and bend cary him forewords into a light run before spring boarding off the end - tight, controlled, prissy little movements.

Light landings, proper forms.

Movements that spent of years in prep schools, turned pre college boarding schools, balancing books and balancing check books and balancing academia against strict life constraints. The role of straight edged, tight laced, expectations ingrained into his bones at this point in his life.

Though Prehnite saw no presence of impact, no great gaping crater, or superheated rock and gaping dredged hole where the thing..whatever it had been...should have crashed.

He did - however - feel the flickering's of power in the distance.

The type of Aura that gave him pause - that had him stall out and stumble, graceless once he'd made it as far as the church that edged the woods beyond. The Aura hammered fear like nails through his soul - and he wondered what mistake he was making by edging his way up to such a monstrosity - what sort of world eating deity had crashed onto their soil - to put out such overwhelming power.

Prehnite steeled himself, forced his legs straight again, shook the weakness from his spine - and he moved on. All caution grown of time in the bowels of the earth, of having faced behemoths before, and seen the loss they caused...

If this was such a thing - he had a right to know - to see it for himself, if only for the sake of warning the others.

He held no love for his people, maybe a sparse few, but beyond that?

It didn't mean he was heartless enough to leave the whole of the city unguarded to whatever unfitting end such an aura would surely have been able to cause, if whatever stood beyond it was in a foul mood...

WC: 656



Prehnite realized he had been mistaken about the impact site and crater once he'd gotten close enough to the signature. A light treck through encroaching woods that had taken far longer than it ever truly should have, but he'd been cautious, maybe overly so.

'Better to be safe than dead' - his mind readily supplied.

He'd made it this long by being cautious in a way that toed the line with cowardice, but he wasn't going to die at 25 simply because it was 'less brave' than charging on headlong into gods knew what.

He'd expected many things as he'd come out the other side. A great beast, a powerful being, a grouping of sovereigns and general kings meeting to wage war...Not an irridescent shimmer - that looked nearly like something out of a movie - nearly translucent, unless one tilted just right and stared not into it, but angled just about the curve of it.

So Prehnite moved even closer, reached out, and though the signal sent his scenses ablaze - nothing within leapt out to drag him into an early grave.

The relief for that - twisted and twined into deep curiosity - and he started investigating. Curled and walked the length of the edge, circled and pressed in upon the precipice of where the invisible, intangible, edges felt as if they should have been.

He even attempted to go through at one point - and realized that it was indeed a barrier - impassible, but not in the same way a wall would have been.

Prehnite shook himself as he stepped through one shimmering end and came out another, flipped around and stared back at where he'd been standing before, the spot behind him, as if he'd walked through a mirror and come out the other side without touching any of the space in-between.

"Cursed ******** city..." and now that he understood it, with what limited ability he had to understand such a thing, he walked right back through, came out again on the other side, and stopped to turn and gaze at the glaringly obvious wooden signage.

Curiously written words scrawled across it regarding a missing creature, a store...and a trade...

"An interstellar merchant? No...you've absolutely got to be kidding me." deadpanned and full of frustration. Prehnites tone spoke of long suffering weariness with the shenanigans that took place throughout the city.

Still...a salesman...Prehnite had to see it for himself. That all the noise, and chaos, and energy of the night. All of that caused by some errant merchants want of - ******** wisp like creatures? Prehnite wasn't even sure they had such things available on the planet, but he'd make it a point to look - and then pop in the next night when the place opened, and give the merchant a piece of his mind.

After checking the whole of the area over once more. Prehnite made his way out, took extra time out of his night to go wisp hunting throughout the city, thoroughly surprised as to the new appearance of the firefly-esque creatures. They hadn't been here before...and he couldn't parse what brought them there now, unless they'd come on with the meteor shower...with the crash?

Prehnite collected a meager few, pocketed them in subspace to deal with the next night. Picnic long forgotten, headache in full force...He decided needed to go home and sleep, maybe even for the whole day. The city was absolutely more trouble than it was worth living in.

"I should consider moving out of the country...no...out into space..Maybe I'd find quiet there." peace and quiet, that was all he wanted in those moments, as he made his way home to bed.

WC: 609