He recognized the dagger, and the purple that adorned it. He doubted anyone else in that room would know it, but Aquamarine would not soon forget the color. It haunted him every time he dreamt of brown curls soaked in blood. His first hours as a Lieutenant were wrapped in purple, even if neither he nor Jet nor Seraphinite wore the color themselves.
Now it belonged to Jet as much as it once belonged to his brother.
Aquamarine bit at the inside of his cheek when his expression began to slip. Briefly, his fingers tightened around Jet’s hand, but he forced them to loosen and stroked his thumb over the warm skin.
Softly, he said, “You need the medical bay.”
He didn’t want to draw attention to Jet’s weaknesses in front of everyone, but he also thought they were rather obvious. A General King he might be, but Jet would not be at his full potential for a while yet. He needed a warm bed, a good meal, and proper medical care.
Aquamarine liked to think Jet needed him, too.
“Your Majesty, I can take care of him,” he continued, uncharacteristically gentle. “I’ll make sure he rests.”
Guine
The Space Cauldron
-
Though the Corrupt Senshi did not speak, Ganymede was all too aware of her magic. A horn materialized in the girl’s hands. Ganymede fastened a blank gaze on it and thought this must be Lysithea. Her magic pricked at Ganymede darkly, even as it knit more of her damaged flesh together.
Ganymede wondered if Lysithea was brought here on purpose, not just to heal her, but to demonstrate Metallia’s power — as if Jet’s promotion weren’t demonstration enough. One of the many victims of the hilltop ambush, Lysithea was a stark reminder of the White Moon’s losses.
As if Ganymede needed to be reminded.
Her fingers curled into fists, but Ganymede could move no further than that.
