Ladon often grew in the habit of listening to music – like most kids his age. However, he didn’t often listen to what was hip or cool. There were some songs that would he'd never admit to liking in public. However, with a good tone and nice lyrics, he tended to like the song and would often hum some little tune here and there. Classical – not so much. Country – he wasn't much of that either. Hip Hop – too many of the lyrics and subject matter made him from. Upbeat pop – usually. Classic rock was nice as well as long as it didn't involve drug abuse of having sex in an elevator. As much as his taste varied, the little tune from the music box had quickly substituted his radio or ipod, and he would spend time in his room staring up at the ceiling, turning the key over and over as he looked up and thought. It was more background noise. All his music had been. His house was often so empty and quiet that he needed something in the background to make it feel filled in.

Since his family split, his house had been quiet. The house breathed and creaked around him, and while he settled into a independence that he found familiar, it was more of a routine obedience to get chores down than an uplifting source of freedom. While his mother worked and trusted him alone in the house, he sat, in the dark, and found ways to make the empty house seem fuller. This involved thinking, cooking, and leaving the lights and TV on – as far as energy efficiency went. He was very much an advocate of not wasting.

In his room, his private space, it still felt empty. As much as he often envisioned his stuffed animals as living beings, reality would come and go in waves to remind him that he was alone in his room.

Alone – with his thoughts.

It was often times riht before going to sleep that he thought the most, and as of recently, he turned the key any one of the few snowglobes he had and listen to it as a dark, deep, sad song that worked his thoughts in painful ways. Sometimes he thought of the chances he missed out, the empty house, his half family, or the fact he didn't truly deserve his promotion. Other times he would feel his determination shiver and recede, leaving him doubting his loyalties. Lately, it had been happening more often, and he would scold himself more and more for it. He thought of the fact that more and more people had asked him about anyone he had his sights on, and the fact he had yet to pursue or be perused by anyone. Romance, the type he envisioned, was something he felt would something he would not attain. Really, why would anyone bother? As much as he supported being faithful and waiting, he was growing more and more worried he'd die alone, single, never holding hands and being in love. Then he thought how he could try to fix that and realized that the only way to fix that was to not be himself, and that just sank him even deeper.

The tune would stop and he'd wind it up again.

He'd try and set goals and realize failures. Failures that would either propel him to his goals or, as hard as he swallowed, only made his stomach tight and brought him down.

He'd wind up the snowglobe again. The tune would continue. A twinkle chime of sad beats.

And that's when he heard the whispering. The little voice from his dream. "…elp m…………..help me ……………………help me…." He had jolted at first, and then stopped the snowglobe, but once he did and listened in the silence, he didn't hear it. That's when he'd continue, and that's when it would start again. He would try stopping the music a few times before he then tried with it playing. "Hello? Is anyone there?" He asked out loud, but nothing responded. He'd try again, and get up, moving around the room to locate the voice. The walls. A plush bear. His backpack on the floor. Then he'd circle the snowglobe until at last he focused in.

Staring at the girl, he would listen through the music and hear it. The call for help. "Help?" He felt he was going made, so he stopped for the night, setting it aside and going to bed – as best he could. The call for help was not something he could ignore. It never was. He would go over and tap on the glass every so often, testing out different ways to awaken the girl, and when at last, long in the night after waking several times, when she said nothing, he finally went to bed.

It was the next night when he dared to try again that she called to him. The same message for help, and then something new. "I want to help you bring peace to the world at last? I want to help you? Will you help me?" It was a repeat message, like the former, but he engaged her. In his room, he wondered. "You're the moon princess…right?" She didn't answer him but continued in her broken recorded message. "How can you help us, help Earth, when you're what's making it bad?" Still nothing. He was growing frustrated, but the mixture of dreams and odd hobby had made him fond of her. He tried again. "I'll help if you help us. Take your senshi and leave the planet." And then she left at long last with a message. Short. "………Three days."

The next night, he went to his room early, shut the door and flopped on his bed. Snowglobes now on his bedside, he wound one up and laying on his back, listened with it held against his ear. At first he felt nothing would happen, and then she picked up. It was broken at first, as all the previous messages were. Was she having a bad connection? Was this some sort of moon phone in a odd shape? Then she asked him a question, as if worried. As if she had spent the entire night thinking of him, or them, and wondering. "When I get here….. will it make a difference? When I get here……..will people notice?" He wondered if he should answer her. If he crushed her spirits, she might never come and that would be a huge advantage for the Negaverse, but that didn't mean she could come back later. Then again, he had a deep need, a deep desire to see her. He wanted her here – even if it meant he had to see her on the battlefield. "You'll make a huge difference, I'm sure. Just……………come." When she repeated her broken message, he did so in return. Then, as if she was convinced, she ended with a whisper. "Two days…………..I'll be here soon."

He tried again to call her, but she was quiet for the rest of the night. Part of him said he should contact the queen, but he suddenly felt tired. Setting the snowglobe aside, he looked over at the snowglobe and the little princess inside. After their little talk, he felt she was actually inside of it, or at least connected to it.

For that reason, he didn't feel so alone anymore.

…..and then he felt more at ease and slept.

She'd be here soon? He wondered how soon and if he'd be there to greet her.