Welcome to Gaia! ::

She lay in the sand, the coral rough against her bare back. Salt and sand caked her arms, her legs and her swords which lay lazily at her sides. Her outer gown lay on the rocks, and her shift was the only protection against the breeze. Her last trip to one of the Undersea cities had left her feeling cold down to her very bones, and she hadn’t been sure she would be able to manage the time away from the sun. The cold… reminded her of the days when she had been a slave. Summoned by her thoughts, a twinge of pain shot through her back. Her left shoulder blade had been where the slave mark had rested. When she had been set free- been rescued rather- the slave mark had been cut off, almost damaging the muscle underneath. The scar that remained was a badge of pride, along with the others that marred her arms and legs. Only her hands- her precious hands- were mostly undamaged, save for some scars from when there were no other women around to do the cooking. (Andromache was only feminine in form. A curse.) Her toes dug into the sand. High above her the mountains would soon float, blocking her spot of sun. She’d had many warm days in the time since…

Jada opened her eyes, her toes no longer water-damp, the beach no longer warm and sandy. The mountains no longer floated the sky; for 1000 years they had lain dormant, part of the landscape. Pushing to her feet, the new Scylla surveyed her world with a small smile, pleased at its rapid healing. Everything grew and changed almost as she watched. Six weeks ago, she had seen skies bare, rubble heaped on the ground. The rubble had for months merely been laying there, useless hunks of dead material. Then, unexpectedly, it was floating three inches (give or take) off the ground, spinning lazily around her ankles as though caught in a gentle current. One more week and it had been floating around her knees, bumping into her. In the distance, the waterfall roared, spitting water that flowed lazily for what Jada guessed was close to a mile before pooling in the crater that had once been an ocean. There the water filtered off, dripping into the cracks in the coral and leaving behind only a faint patch of dampness. The World Pillar was still encased in its ice, but like the river had started to spread... The ice was also starting to melt, and as she moved across parts of it she thought she could hear the faintest of cracks.

When she had first come to this barren place, there had been no connection, just awe. She was in space! Everything was empty, felt larger (though really, Scylla was so much smaller than Earth…) When she had first laid eyes on the creature that had once been a god to her people, she had thought him part of the landscaping, his long arms merely pathways to a generous hill for a gazebo. The Kraken had always been rare creatures. Nothing else on Scylla grew so large and so feared. Only the Leviathan whale grew so near in size, and only the scythe-finned Devilfish drew near in ferocity. Now all that remained of the god was a fossil, two limbs stretched up a cliffside once submerged, vanishing into a gap that had once been a sea-level window into the catacombs below the temple. Andromache’s tomb was down there, resting with the other Scyllas, her burial rites incomplete. Her remains probably lay in that sarcophagi on the dais, waiting for the final steps. Her memory doll, her urn, still lay open next to the heavy coral 'coffin.' Sometimes, Jada’ wondered what her own doll would have looked like. Much like Andromache’s, she suspected. They had similar hair, though Andromache’s was more of a blue-black, and her eyes were painted a faded color that was more white now than the lilac Jada could see in the Scyllan mirrors.

High above the fossil, reigning at the top of the cliffs like a white jewel, rested still the Temple. It had a name, however Jada could not remember how to pronounce it, even when she spoke it in her memories. The Temple was a place of power once. The center of a priesthood, leadership of a civilization that had worshiped a beast considered a god. All paths in the village eventually led there, the hub of the city. Inside the Temple, the rooms were all smooth, circular. “It represents eternity.” Her own voice was the only sound on the world. “Never ending. No sharp edges, no corners or dead ends.” Her voice was the only sound to hear. There was no wind to whistle along the cracks in the coral, no waves to crash along the shoreline that nature had so carefully carved a millennia before. There was no dust, only a fine coating of salt. Slim fingers trailed over the bed frame as she looked around the room that had belonged to Andromache, to the past, to her.

Memories, confusing, conflicted.

Six weeks ago, Jada had taken a broom, a hanging plant and a backpack full of cleaning wipes and trash bags, candles and a lighter. For her first priority she had cleaned the bedroom at the Temple that she knew to have once been hers. The senshi had taken a toothbrush to the beds here, using her bottled water after she’d realized that hauling water from the tiny stream a mile away wasn’t really going to be plausible for cleaning the whole temple. She had cleaned out the closets, gone over the linens and clothing with reverent fingers. Under the thick coating of salt, Jada had found a mother-of-pearl vanity. The room had cleaned up to be surprisingly comfortable and ornate for a world that Scylla remembered to have been primitive and backwards. The tapestries were ruined except for a few that had been stored in the lower areas, but the furniture was as sturdy as it had been in her previous lifetime. And the bed frame, cut and grooved, she had scoured clean with a toothbrush and bottled water, exposing the intricate patterns and ebony coral. Some clothing was still in this bedroom, hidden away in the dresser of earthwood.

After her old room, she had gone on to the rest of the temple. It hadn’t taken as much to clean as she had worried that it would. It was as though, sometimes, time was reversing itself, and the grime of 1000 dead years was cleaning itself away. She had uncovered murals, and the pieces of a shattered lamp. She had found clothing, and a book that was brittle and filled with odd, unrecognizable runes that had fallen apart at her touch. She’d found dolls, she’d found musical instruments… Every day that she had the time or energy to travel ‘home’, she found more and more things that reminded her of what had once been. Little things, tantalizing bits that told her only that she hadn't always been Jada Chamberlyn. She had lived before. She had been... She had died before. (Was it her duty to die again?)

Around her neck, the necklace she had taken burned cold and heavy, a weight at her breast that spoke of things familiar and not. She would find herself caressing the gems sometimes, the weight fitting comfortably in her hand. Each gem glittered like there was a blue flame at the core, yet the outside remained cold as ice. They had been called... Messian gems, and they were badges of honor, like scars, physical representations of bravery. They were tokens, from a lover. They were proof of manhood, proof that someone had survived the deep to provide them. These gems had been worth much years in the past, and even today they glittered with a life of their own. She'd dropped the necklace once, and one of the tips had neatly cut into the tile floor, not even chipping itself. She wanted to wear the necklace out sometimes, but didn't dare- it was too different. So the only time it graced her neck was when she was Scylla, and it fell against her chest as though it belonged.

At night, when Jada was wrapping up her work, she would take a break to watch the darkness fall. In the dark, it was easier to imagine her past. The trees, the coral, the walls of the very temple themselves, all glowed with the paints that her people used. They had been tribal people, and there had been groups for air, land and sea. Their religion had not been organized, and there were many spirits to demand respect. They had been like the Native Americans (the best example for Jada to identify with) and had often carved totems to protect them. The senshi had only found one, weathered with age, the symbol of this village. There were others out there, even for the Undersea. She'd found smaller charms, parts of necklaces, a charm she knew belonged on the hilt of a weapon.

Now, she sat on the ledge of a window, trying to manipulate the coral with her small pocket knife. She had been working on this project in her few minutes of free time. Now, it would be too late. Scylla didn't have many animals, so she was stealing Native American symbolism and earth animals. After all, everyone she knew was from Earth- even if they hadn't always been. So she had decided to make all of her friends little animals, to symbolize her thoughts on them or her wishes for them. In truth, Jada was no artist. Not with a knife. With paint one could get the general idea, but not this.

For Audrey, gone from her but still her friend, a badger. It was a lump, with another lump, and four smaller lumps. The badger was persistent and strong willed. Confident and independent, the badger was also aggressive when threatened. The badger said to walk at one's own pace. Audrey had always commanded attention, even if she didn't know it. She had been intelligent, creative. For Jada, it sounded like a good symbol. Would Audrey have liked it?

For Elzo, Jada chose a coyote. Admittedly, the carving might be a dog. Or a horse. Or a wolf. The coyote was instinctual, resourceful. The coyote was symbolic of recognizing one's own mistakes, of communication with the pack, and the consequences of actions. It was about playfulness, and the flexibility of spirit to be able to cry when one was happy and laugh away the fear. Coyote taught to laugh at mistakes so people did not get stuck in the pain of life's lessons

When it came to choosing an animal for Elke, the friend she had thrown away, Jada selected a deer. Her carving was remarkably similar-looking to a horse, but all of her work was a lump anyway. The deer was a symbol of peace and grace, generosity. Deer was said to teach people to maintain their innocence, to stay gentle and share it with others. Last time she'd met Elke had been the night the Zodiac had saved an enemy life. And Jada hadn't bothered, in the time since, to try and understand, to talk to her. Even though Elke had been one of the kindest people she knew, Elke had also known, had warned Jada, that this was a war.

For Fallon, an eagle. Her friend had been having a hard time of late, and more than any of the others, she had worked on her totem. Too late, now. Rumor had it that Fallon had gone. The eagle was proud, efficient hunters. They symbolized authority, Ares' leadership of the Blood Moon Court. They were the symbol of focus, determination, no matter how misguided or different her friend had been thinking. Most importantly, the eagle was said to be symbolic of clarity of vision, and Jada had hoped... Well, too late now.

For Marlo, a scorpion. It looked like a short-legged elephant with the trunk on the wrong end. They were supposed to symbolize solitude, isolation. Marlo seemed to work a lot, very busy, not very social. Defensiveness, a need for control? And a wish for protection, in many cultures. Maybe his totem animal wasn't so much a guide for him as a hindrance. She'd set it to the side to consider it some more.

Her decision for Kirin had been particularly hard. She was still debating. The snake was a viable option, as was the giraffe. It wasn't like there was a hurry on these little gifts. It was just something she wanted to do. Between the two options, Jada leaned towards the giraffe for the other woman. The giraffe was a messenger, the long neck saying to stretch out to communicate with the others around. Its black tongue was said to remind one to make their words count. The fact they didn't need to sleep much stretched into meaning a steadiness and constant, low-key energy. On the other hand, however, the snake was all about duality. It was also a symbol of knowledge, cunning, and transformation. Snakes would shed their skin, their eyes growing cloudier the closer to shedding they were. They would shed their skin and move on. It represented a need for change, letting go of the old self and being reborn; it symbolized a finding of balance, harmony. Both of those were good wishes, even if

For Ari, Gunn, and most of the (remaining) BMC, she had carved dozens of tiny little lumps with tiny little wings. They looked like houseflies, so she had painted little yellow bits on the rear of them. She had chosen the bee because it showed that they could accomplish the impossible. Bees worked hard, with focus and cooperation to make the hive stronger. The Blood Moon had suffered of late, and Scylla had missed it, and they were no longer whole, hanging on in rag-tag bits. The bee was a symbol of cooperation, and hopefully...

Each lump had blue eyes, which shimmered suspiciously in the dark as if it had a light of its own deep within. She had searched for some time to find the little chips of gem. If she ever gave these out, luckily most of her friends knew that she was a senshi, with access to strange things like the coral and gems that they were made from... her other friends would likely just assume she was still having those strange “rich girl” moments. What she was doing, in a way, was giving a piece of herself to each of them.

But what would her totem be?

Finally it was too dark for her to work and Scylla carefully collected the small objects, wrapping them and putting them in her small velvet bag. A piece of herself, hah! It was all she could do, driven to distraction by life and introspection. The Kraken was a beast meant to destroy. Even in Scyllan mythology, the Kraken had been a mindless killing machine. He'd thrown the world into the air, and the planet had been too afraid to become whole again. The role of Scylla had been to be a warrior, a general, a battering ram.

”Do you know why the Great One has many arms, Andromache?” the two were sparring, wooden sticks in their hands as the Nephelai taught her child to hold a weapon.

“So he can gobble everything he senses!” it was a prompt reply, complete with a thrust that told the girl's parents she had been watching her six older brothers sparring. Andromache's father drew his blade against his sharpening gem again, looking at his only daughter with a smile. “He lurks, and he waits, and he snacks on the devilfish before they can rise to the surface and chop off our heads! He sends his spirit into the Scylla so that the Scylla can chop off the head of the evil people, too!”

“Evil comes in many forms, from a little boy stealing your doll when you play, to the one who stalks and murders. Evil doesn't need to have its head chopped off-”

“But it helps-” her eldest brother commented from the sidelines, and her mother gave a quelling glance in his direction, catching Andromache's stick with her own.

“There are many angles from which cruelty can come, and that is why the Kraken has many arms, Andromache. Not so that it can destroy, but so that it may defend its territory from every direction." Her mother's voice was soft, the hand in her hair gentle. “Remember, before one can attack safely, they must have someplace safe to retreat. It is the many arms of the Great One that keep us safe. That is why our women learn to fight. Not to join their men in war, but to give them a haven.”

Was that what Andromache had done wrong? What Jada was doing wrong? Both of them used their power for war, both of them restrained their weaker pieces, leaving themselves incomplete. Andromache had fallen into the hole in her life, and she had destroyed herself before Chaos could have the chance. Jada wallowed in fear and anxiety, over-thinking herself and not denying instinct. She had let her losses overshadow her wins, and she'd lost what she was fighting for.

It was something to think about.

A hand brushed over the back of her neck, fingers warm. When Scylla turned around, no one was there.