Persephone stared at her senshiphone, frowning slightly. Ever since her visit to Ida, she had been churning over the possibility of visiting her own homeworld. She was, admittedly, curious about what it might be like. How would Persephone compare with what she’d seen on Ida? Would there be more fossil trees? More warm, loamy soil?

More empty houses, or places where plants belonged, or signs of lives once lived?

She frowned a little.

“Good job, Cait, depressing yourself. Real nice,” she muttered under her breath. Still, the idea of seeing her planet empty and lost and dead broke her heart into tiny little pieces. Her resolve to go forward wavered.

She closed her eyes and pushed the button and focused, listening to the sounds of the universe – and there it was. If she had to compare the song of her planet to anything, it would be a lyre, soft and gentle and calling her, irresistibly, home.

She opened her eyes, and found exactly what she had feared.

All around her were trees, but they were dead, desiccated. No leaves or fruit, just trunks and branches, and soil that clearly looked fertile so there was no reason these trees should have died.

She turned around, to see what looked like a decent-sized home of bricks and tile. It kind of reminded her of pictures she’d seen of ancient Greek ruins, and like them, it was crumbling. The interior was exposed, and she felt almost pulled to it.

Slowly, she walked to the house, through an opening that she somehow simply knew had never housed a door. There was no need. This house was not one someone might break into, if anyone really broke into houses. It was strange, that kind of certainty.

She wondered if this was how Ida had felt, realizing that they were in her old home.

She entered a doorway to the left and found what looked like a dining area, with a strangely well-preserved table set with clay plates and bowls. Had the inhabitants been sitting down to a meal when whatever destroyed the planet took them? That was…saddening. She shook her head and refused to think about that anymore.

She turned back around and crossed the front room to another side one – this one might once have been a sitting area, but most of the furniture was broken and decayed away after a thousand years. She reached out to touch a remaining piece of cloth, but stopped her fingers inches from it. No, it wouldn’t do to touch it and have it crumble in her hands. Who knew how fragile all of this was?

She left that room, too, and walked out the rear door of the entrance area.

She found herself in a courtyard, which might once have been beautiful and lush, but which was now dead and empty. There was what looked like a small pond, a tree of the same sort that had been outside, and beneath the tree, a wooden bench. Slowly, she walked towards it.

The garden was no longer dead – instead, it was vibrant and full of life. There were all sorts of odd plants, and Persephone swore she heard fish splashing about in the little pond. All around her, the house was as it ought to have been – polished white stones, a rich terra cotta roof. The pomegranate trees were in bloom, this time of year – flowers, not fruits, not yet. Under the tree, reclining on the bench, was a beautiful woman with long, wavy green hair. It was pulled into a ponytail woven with flowers, and loose strands fell into her face. Her skin was bronzed by the sun, her clothing a lovely white dress that reminded Cait of nothing so much as illustrations of Greek goddesses.

“Kore!” A female voice called, and the woman sat up, her eyes bright and excited.

“You came!” She said, and Persephone turned, her eyes falling on a beautiful woman with long waves of blue hair. Kore – the last Sailor Persephone, her past self, she realized - stood up and all but ran to the other woman, embracing her warmly. “It’s always so good to see you, my neráida.” Her voice, her eyes, her body language – never mind the rush of warmth the current Persephone felt – all of it indicated how much she cared for this woman. A tugging pain settled in Persephone’s chest.

And then, as quickly as it started, it was over, and Persephone was alone in the dead garden with nothing but her thoughts.

She sank down onto the ground, pulled her knees up, rested her face on her thighs, wrapped her arms around her legs, and began to sob brokenly. It was too much, all at once. The dead planet, suddenly and briefly restored. The vision of Kore – of her past self – with a woman she didn’t recognize, but with whom she had clearly once been deeply in love.

It was all so much more than she’d been prepared for. She was drowning in half-remembered emotions, and all she could manage to do was cry.

[WC: 850 words]