xxxxx Gardner Presley was not afraid of youma. Well, she was, but she didn’t feel fear the same way that she should; a decade plus of horror movies meant that whatever fear she felt served only as a spark to the adrenaline rush that she loved. It felt like being woken up, like in the rest of her easy and pleasant-enough life she was sleeping. She only dropped her henshin in order to rest, or to go get food; the rest of her time was spent either wanting to patrol, or patrolling.

xxxxx Which turned out to be a rather poor idea. Upon her awakening, she had merely defeated a small dog youma with Pippin. During her recent patrols, she had fought a much larger youma which was far too much for her to take. She had, with Camelot’s help, defeated it by wedging a long shard of glass into its side.

xxxxx Perhaps her influence was not completely useless. It was certainly not a pretty, cute sphere; the sphere of shards meant that something had been broken, and that something could cause harm. Or bad luck and harm in regards to mirror shards. Gardner Presley might have been better served as a senshi of Gore, or a senshi of prettiness. At that thought, she laughed aloud to herself, and spun in the chair in her room. She sat on it cross-legged for a moment, before pushing herself up, shutting her laptop, and laying down in her hammock.

xxxxx If she could just learn how to fight properly, there would surely be no trouble? Well, not surely; that rather large Youma had been dangerous, and she needed to have a backup. There wouldn’t always be broken glass lying around. She would, one day, find herself in a situation that she could not escape. Would anyone be there to help her out? Right now, she didn’t know anyone like her. She knew Pippin, and Camelot… but she was out of touch with the community. Perhaps Pippin could help her rectify that.
xxxxx Presley’s phone buzzed. She flipped herself out the hammock, picked it up off her desk, and flipped it open: an empty text from an unidentified number. She shut it, opened it again, and another text arrived. An invite to train, from someone who understood…? It didn’t really occur to her that she was talking to a Prince; she was pretty new to the whole Senshi-lifestyle. Minus patrolling; that, she enjoyed.

xxxxx Patrolling would be safer in a group, wouldn’t it? Maybe someone, either Pippin, Castor or Camelot, might know where she could find a group. Presley had never worked well in groups, but perhaps Sailor Hercules could. She was senshi, right? Shouldn’t she strive for what was good and right, eliminate evil, make friends?

xxxxx Presley snorted. There was no such thing as good and evil, in her mind. People had desires, and sometimes they acted on them; that was what made them ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ in the public eye. Who could claim they understood every hero? Every villain?