It was a little under two weeks until Christmas. The weather was growing colder and colder, until some days it was all that Jada could really do to leave her house during the day, much less to patrol at night. Still, she was forcing herself into it, and rubbing dry and patchy skin with moisturizers that burned on chapped skin, but left her skin clean and youthful still, as though all she had to do all day was sit around like the rich socialite she'd been. Once. Before scars, and death, and nightmares of a world she'd never really been to. Before senshi, and the Negaverse, and talking cats, and the realization that she was essentially an alien from another planet, whose soul lived inside another person now. Had Jada Chamberlyn ever been Michael and Szelem's daughter? Or had the body she might have inhabited been taken over by some parasitic life-form known as Senshi? Maybe, and this was what Jada hoped- what she knew had to be true- this was what had been meant, somehow. That she be born in this body, to these people, with this family. Maybe that was why the population of heard had grown so exponentially- because even for the normal souls, this was now... home.
By the french doors leading onto Jada's private balcony, there was a table, and on that table rested two possessions which Jada guarded from everyone, including her friends, her sister and even her cat, zealously. They were snow globes, identical in shape and form, and inside was the Princess that she and others had been assigned, even reborn, to search for. She'd been careless with them once before and Castor, her cat, had gotten a hold of one. It had been a moment in time, desperately suspended, before the snow globe had landed safely on a pillow laying haphazardly on the plush carpeting. Now they were protected in her room at all times. “Serenity.” she whispered into the cold of her bedroom, kneeling by the table and lifting one of the globes in her hand, turning it over so that she could wind the small key in the base before setting it back down on the wooden desk. The moon princess- her princess, some would say- twirled and spun in the glittering snowflakes that fell through the globe, catching the snow in her hands.
She had listened to the music boxes enough times that she had almost completely memorized this song. Jada had watched the way that the small ceramic Serenity spun in the snow, and memorized the angle of the cupped hands, the peaceful expression she imagined on that small, painted face. Now she took it a step forward, opening the doors to her balcony and letting the cold air and wild snowflakes into her room. The music boxes were still playing, and the young woman took a step out onto the balcony, turning and slowly starting to twirl in the snow, like a slow, steady, living music box. And she spun. The music box played, and Jada's hair moved behind her , brushing heavy against her back, and Jada imagined herself twirling like the dead Princess, who was gone far beyond their grasp. How could they search for her? There was nothing left to find... not anymore. It was something she firmly believed, and it ripped at her more than it ever had before. She'd never felt that finding Serenity was urgent, more a pleasant bonus than anything that would save the world. Serenity had never been necessary, and wasn't, she told herself firmly. It was so easy to say, and so easy to believe... wasn't it?
The song died down and Jada's spinning died with it, letting her body slump into the cold snow, where she lay, until the chill and the damp had permeated her clothes. Up above Jada, the moon poked her shining face through the clouds, only briefly, before hiding again. It was then that Jada stood, knocking the snow off of her side and moving into her room. The music box was re-wound, and Jada closed the french doors with a certain finality as it played. Only once, she told herself. She would only indulge in such a flight of fancy once. The light from outside- that mocking moon had shown herself again- glinted on the ivory keys of her piano, and the golden trim of her harp. Play us, the glints said, and Serenity spun in her music box. So she did, moving over to the piano and laying her head on the body, hands stretching out over the keys. It was slow, as every note held a weight for her that made her hard-pressed to try and share them. It was trying to explain something that held too much to be put into simple terms. Hands that had not played in far too long stuck to the keys, tripping and stumbling over parts, enough to make her want to slam the piano cover down.
This was stupid.
This was...
The first hot, uncalled-for tear scalded as it made its way down Jada's cheek, and the music box finally came to its halt.
