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[SOLO 2] : Guilt Trip


The city streets of Destiny City had gotten a lot emptier lately. It was easy to see why, with the sightings of monsters and senshi; the entire metropolis had become an unwitting battlefield over the past several months, and its citizens risked getting caught in the crossfire if they went to the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a good reason to stay indoors after the daylight hours... that, and it was November. It was slowly and surely getting colder outside every day. This did not make for good weather to have a pleasant evening stroll in.

Sailor Atlas knew this all too well. It was unfortunate Astraea had awakened him right when the final leaves had started to drop off the trees, as the senshi uniform was not exactly built for protection against the elements. Frigid breezes kept cutting straight through his exposed legs, making him have to tense up and brace himself constantly, and his fingers had long since gone numb under the pristine but woefully thin fabric of his gloves.

He was patrolling-- or at least, that's what he was trying to do, but he felt more like he was wandering around aimlessly in a mockery of it. Usually he would at least be leaping across rooftops to get a better view of the city below (and, admittedly, to lift his mood a bit), but right now he was lost in guilty thoughts.

His attack had collapsed a bridge.

He had collapsed a bridge.

This had become a concrete fact of his life, and he felt the need to remind himself of it with every corner he turned and every intersection he crossed no matter how much he tried to stop it from hijacking his poor attempts at more peaceful thoughts. Atlas was timid, still, and hesitant, but a tiny part of him liked to think that perhaps he'd managed to do a few good things since he'd had that henshin pen puked on his feet. That maybe it wouldn't be so bad to keep the pen, as much as he'd surprised himself when he first thought such a thing. But... he could help people like this, actually do some good instead of huddling in the background and cowering like he normally did.

He'd done that all his life. He had been relatively comfortable with the idea that he would continue to do that all his life. And now that he was finally opening himself up to the idea that he could step up to the plate and be brave, that he could rescue instead of the one being rescued-- he--

That boy had gotten so angry. First he'd been thrilled that Atlas had helped to save his life, and then he'd flipped like a switch, looking at him like he was a criminal--

And he had every right to look at him like that.

He had every right to label him a terrorist. An accidental one, maybe... but that's no excuse, the tiny voice of guilt in his head said, you should have known better. You could have done better, or let the other senshi handle it. She knew what she was doing.

You didn't.

You could have hurt someone.

You were lucky.

You could have hurt someone.

He broke into a brisker walk, hoping the focus put in motion would do something to clear his mind. Shoving his face into the air like this was leaching the feeling out of it, he could barely even tell what expression he had set it in. Not that he needed to feel his face to know he probably looked sad; he always did. He was aware of this. He was constantly worried that he was being a mood-killing nuisance by looking so depressing all the time.

The chill, dreary gray of Boysenberry Lane seemed to be in the same mood as he was this even, though perhaps sans the self-conscious.

No youma for him to create more carnage around, at least. Closing his patrol with a heavy Simon sigh, he started making his way back up to Hillworth.

[REGULAR 4] : Tea for Three


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[SOLO 3] : Aren't You Forgetting Something?


It was well-established to his roommates that Simon often had trouble sleeping. This was normal. Simon Ferris just simply was not Simon Ferris without, at the very least, waking up feeling restless at least once or twice during the night, if not a new cause for anxiety or depression keeping him from sleeping all. It was par for the course, typical; really, it was a greater cause for concern when he didn't have problems sleeping.

This... had been one of those nights, apparently, his dark and lanky form draped listlessly across his less-than-comfortable mattress as the ginger and blonde figures of Samson and Seymour peered at him from above, looks of impatience worn on their faces. He'd had a good night's sleep, for once. They knew this because he was enjoying this rare indulgence so much he refused to even flutter an eyelash at all their attempts to wake him up -- and half of these normally ended with Simon prickled with fear and practically clinging to the ceiling like an overstartled cartoon cat.

"Kick 'im again," Seymour suggested.

Samson didn't need to be told twice (kicking people used to be one of his favorite things to do). He raised a flannel-clad leg and, using a second to take careful aim, gave his roommate's prone torso a couple of healthy prods with his foot.

The kick made Simon's form flop around like a dying fish momentarily, but through it he remained completely unconscious.

"Come-- on--" the redhead grunted with each prod, "wake-- up-- Christonacracker this isn't working, god dammit. Hey, Ferris. FERRIS."

He lowered himself so he was hovering three inches over Simon's ear, took a deep breath, and, "FEEEEEEERRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII--"

Then there was a shriek, a loud smacking noise-- Samson had been in the path of the taller boy's suddenly flailing arm as he started awake, screaming.

His dreams had been cold, gray dreary nightmares, the sluggish uncomfortable kind where everything was dull and too slow, but pain and guilt and other unpleasant feelings were such a weight to bear it was almost worse than the thriller fears of other dreams. At least one could wake up from those. As it were, Simon was being dragged through a mire made of his own shortcoming until his roommate's shouting pierced through and warped the world into a place centered around one single, real, awful moment.

The scream. That death wail of the woman from the animal shelter, the woman who'd died because of him.

"Jesus, Simon, it's about time," Seymour was saying. "We almost thought you might be dead. Now, would you mind telling us what in the hell you've been doing?"

Simon didn't respond. He was too busy trying to breathe normally again, trembling hands clutching his bedspread. This was normal enough that his roommates just kept right on talking.

"You haven't gone to the arcade with us in weeks, Ferris, weeks!" Samson said.

"Four weeks, to be exact--"

"Shut up, Ferguson, I'm talking--"

"Your mom--"

"SHUT. UP. Anyway. Ferris. Is this some s**t with St. Germaine and the Buttbuddy Club or what? 'Cause, like, it's getting way outta hand, you know? Sneaking out like that? It can get you in trouble."

"He's already in trouble, actually," Seymour remarked.

At this Simon shot into a sitting position, alarmed and disbelieving.

"Oh, right, you are," Samson recalled. "Already in trouble, that is. Like. Killingworth's on to you, man, you better come up with a cover story, right now. Except you gotta go to his office, like. Right now." And, clapping a hand on his shoulder, he finished, "It was nice knowing you, Ferris. Even if you totally abandoned us, no hard feelings."

Simon helplessly gaped after his friends as they stalked out of the room, Seymour deadpan and Samson sneering. He kept waiting for them to come back, tell them it was a joke, wanted to see the look on his face as he fretted about his rapidly approaching demise, but they never came. He was left there, alone, to try and steady his hands enough to change into his uniform, pull on his shoes, close his door behind him and slowly pick his way down the hallway.

It was empty and silent the whole way, nothing but the noise of his footsteps to keep him company.

[ORP] : Suspicious Barriers Are Suspicious


Atlas is taken along when Alcyone goes to investigate the barrier over Barren Pines. There's a load of people there.

[SOLO 4] : To: Destiny City, From: Atlas


Sailor Atlas spends Christmas Eve doing what he does best.

[BATTLE 4] : Accidental Fetch


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[REGULAR 9] : It`s a European Shoulderbag!


Sailor Thuban tries to teach Sailor Atlas how to patrol properly.