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 Posted: Sat Aug 23, 2014 7:58 pm
The first time she traveled to the asteroid she drew her name from, Irene had been hopeful. Optimistic that she would find something wonderful. Maybe even something game-changing. And if not, well, what of it? Things were still going well for her and hers. As long as she could stay any tragedies that might come her way, she would be happy.
Only a couple of weeks had passed since then, but she felt like a different person now. One who had a hard time believing that everything would be alright. She was unhurt, and the people she cared about were fine. But that was not true of everyone out there. Certain images still haunted her: blinding light, the glint of steel, a defeated man's prone body.
Her inability to prevent any of the tragedies that had occurred that night- and there had been more than one- bothered her still, but they were not what she was really afraid of. Instead, she found herself cowering from the simple fact that such things happened. Sometimes, the best of intentions and the strongest desire didn't fix things. Resolution and courage could only get you so far. And when it wasn't far enough, then what?
She still had no answer for that. Maybe that was what brought her back to Irene. As she appeared in the plaza, just as she had before, she wondered what she was expecting to find there. No miracles or magic, not this time. Now she knew that such things weren't freely given, even, perhaps, to the deserving. But there might be something else worthwhile.
Where there had been a handful of flowers growing in the plaza before, in crevices between stones, now there were dozens. Large, bright petals waved at her from all sides. Light green stalks swayed in the gentle breeze, even brushing against her legs as she took a couple of shaky steps. The transition from Earth to Irene was practically seamless, but it took her body a few minutes to adjust to the changes. Here, she was welcomed back by cloudless blue skies, even though it was nighttime back at home.
Once she recovered her stability, she began walking. Not with any destination in mind yet, but because she had to do something. To make use of the chances she was given. To do... well, she was still working on that part.
She brushed a few wisps of hair out of her face and looked around. There was still a lot to see in the city around her, but she hadn't thought to bring the sort of gear that she'd need to explore it properly. The thought of which reminded her to take some extra allergy medicine, wrinkling her nose as she swallowed. Even with that, it probably wasn't safe to poke around anywhere particularly dusty. Better to stay outside.
"Ah, yes." There, in the distance, was her goal from before. The biggest temple on the mountain in the distance. Irene didn't know why she wanted to make it there in particular, rather than any of the myriad other temples and shrines and altars, but that was where she wanted to go.
So she put her feelings of unease and the city itself behind her, and set off to find out what was waiting for her there.
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Posted: Sat Aug 23, 2014 8:00 pm
Getting past the city was easier said than done. Irene forgot just how complicated the layout was, with streets that connected at odd angles and seemed to wind around each other. As if nobody was paying attention to what was already in place before putting up more buildings. She ran into more than one dead end, and suspected she circled one building more than once, before finally breaking through to the forest beyond.
This was a little easier. There was no one road that led up the mountain, but there was still evidence of the favored path people had once taken, trampling the ground beneath them, pressing trees and vines out of their way. There was also room to experiment. Once or twice, she found her passage blocked by debris- fallen statues, dead trees, the remains of what may have once been an altar of some sort. Other times, parts of the natural staircase that the root system created had rotted away. Even when the track looked stable enough, that was no guarantee that it would bear her weight, as she learned the hard way when a poorly-placed foot sent her sliding downhill until she managed to catch herself. Her legs were scraped from that, and it was pure luck that had saved her from a sprained ankle, or worse.
None of which stopped her from moving onward. On her last visit, she had stopped when she got tired, because there was no reason to push herself harder than necessary. The whole thing had been like a stroll in the country, albeit a dead country. And while she had no more of a specific goal this time, her destination picked almost at random, that mindset and behavior would not be allowed anymore.
She had to be serious. To work harder. To push herself past whatever limitations she had. Only then could she have any hope of changing the system she was stuck in. For years, she had crossed her fingers and hoped, and things had turned out pretty much okay. And because of that, she thought that they always would. A mistake that she would not allow herself to repeat.
Even with her occasional detours and mistakes, the route she took was somewhat familiar from her last visit, since it was the easiest way up the mountain. She saw many of the same buildings and statues and trees. Which meant that she could tune them out while she was busy scolding herself for acting like a child. But she did pay attention while walking through one courtyard, with two very familiar statues at opposite ends. The man with the flowy sleeves and the woman in the conical hat. What was it about these two that made her stop and pay attention?
There was something thin and dark in the woman's hands. Frowning, Irene veered off her path a bit, to get a closer look. Only once she was closer did she remember that she had left something there last time: the flower she had accidentally picked upon her arrival. A couple of weeks ago, the flower had been big and bright, with a stiff yet brittle stem. Now it was limp and dark, the large petal shriveled and gray. Which, she supposed, wasn't too surprising. As if any flower could last so long after being picked! But the sight of it still made her sad, and she took the dead flower from the statue and laid it on the ground next to a nearby tree, so that it might at least serve as fertilizer. "I'm sorry," she told the woman softly. "I didn't mean for that to happen."
The statue didn't answer. Naturally; Irene probably would have screamed if it had. Still, she waited in silence for a moment before moving on.
But the dead flower had made her curious, and a little remorseful, as she remembered the whole bouquet that she'd picked in the shrine. Yes, there had been dozens of flowers there, but that was no excuse. If she was so careless with plants, how could she expect to be responsible for human lives?
That was a dizzying leap of logic, and even Irene, with all of her self-doubt, realized that perhaps she was being too hard on herself. That didn't stop her from marching in the direction of the flower-filled shrine- or at least in what she hoped was the right direction- so that she could bear witness to the consequences of her actions.
Finding it was easier said than done. She turned off in the wrong spot three times, and had to make her way back to the main path. Once she saw the rows of pillars, carved into blossoms at the top, she knew that she was in the right place, and practically sprinted across to the shrine. And there it was: a pitched roof, supported by arches and pillars, with a slight breeze and a delicate scent coming from within.
There had been lots of flowers there before. Now, there were even more, to the point that it was more difficult to walk through the interior of the shrine without bumping into a flower. She moved with care, not wanting to repeat a previous mistake and wind up with even more dead flowers. To the point that she almost stepped into the pool in the center, and caught her foot when only the heel had gotten wet.
There were still flowers in the pool, but whether they were growing there, or able to live off the strange slimy liquid, Irene wasn't sure. She gave the pool as wide a berth as she could while still avoiding the flowers, working her way around to the other side. It wasn't until she was almost at the altar that she looked over to it, and gave a sharp gasp.
The flowers she had picked and arranged in the basin in front of the altar were still alive. Or so it seemed from a distance. They looked like they were peeking their large bright heads over the rim of the bowl, watching her progress from one end of the shrine to the other. It wasn't until she was standing over them that she could confirm that they were the same flowers she had plucked, rather than a crop of new ones growing where she had put the old ones.
There was still liquid in the basin, but the level had gone down from when she had filled it. There was still residue on the side, showing where she had filled it to, as well as on the outside, from when she had dropped it into the pool. Irene was surprised that it hadn't dried up in three weeks, but then, it had been an awful pain to wash off when she'd gotten it all over herself. A mistake she had no intention of repeating anytime soon.
She couldn't keep herself from investigating closer, though, taking a single flower from the bowl and shaking it off before holding the stem between her thumb and forefinger. Despite her best efforts, she could feel the oily substance even through her gloves, and wrinkled her nose. So much for staying clean. But as long as she didn't wind up covered in the stuff again, it wouldn't be too bad. Probably.
The stem was much more pliable than she remembered. When she had first picked a flower, it had been by bumping into it. Now, it bent and swayed in her hands without breaking. Even when she tried to break the stem, just a little by the bottom, it didn't work. Nor would the petal tear when she tugged on it. The flower seemed to move with the forces inflicted on it, allowing it to come out relatively unharmed.
"There must be something in the water," she murmured. "Or whatever this stuff it. Goop." It felt very unpleasant on the skin, but it seemed to help the flowers out a lot, making them more resilient. And there had to be some sort of nutrients in it, to keep the flowers alive. Or appearing alive, at least. They were certainly more lively than the flower she had given the statue- "Ah!"
Now there was an idea. It would take time, and energy, and that meant that she was less likely to reach her destination. But Irene didn't care.
She went to work, peeling her gloves off and using them to wrap the greasy stems of the flowers in the basin, once she had shaken off as much of the liquid as she could. Then she picked a fresh bunch of flowers, using those that grew closest to the pool, so that her work would also serve to widen the small walkway around it. She arranged her new flowers in the basin, making a mental note of the level of liquid in the bowl. Then she took her glove-wrapped bouquet and turned to leave.
Something stopped her. She wasn't sure what, but she had the distinct feeling that she wasn't quite finished in the shrine yet. But what did she have left to do? She had taken the preserved flowers, and gathered a new batch, so that when next she visited, there would be more of them. And she knew what she wanted to do with the ones she had, as offerings for- wait.
There were carvings on the archway behind he altar. Of flowers, which made sense, considering the contents of the shrine. And a woman who tended them. Irene looked at her, and then carefully pulled one of her preserved flowers out of the bouquet and laid it on the altar, behind the basin.
Then she was able to leave, feeling a little more free and easy than she had in weeks. She moved on, but not forward just yet. Instead, she backtracked to the courtyard with the statues, making only one wrong turn along the way. The woman seemed to be waiting for her. Or maybe that was just how it felt, Irene thought, placing another of her flowers across the woman's covered hands. As an afterthought, she did the same with the statue of the man.
"There," she told them with a smile. "Now you match!"
Again, there was no response. Irene shrugged, still not sure why she was so fixated on these two statues, and finally resumed her journey up the mountain.
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Posted: Sat Aug 23, 2014 8:02 pm
It felt like she had been climbing for hours, though that probably wasn't the case. The sky hadn't even changed color, but was still the same shade of calming blue it had been when she arrived. There wasn't a cloud to be seen. Maybe the asteroid had no weather at all. But that wouldn't explain the abundance of trees and shrubs and vines in the forest, many of which at least had the appearance of being alive.
The trip to Irene had provided its senshi with more questions than answers. That in itself wasn't a bad thing, she knew. It was just that she already had a number of questions that she was wrestling with. About herself. About what she was fighting for. About what it meant to be a senshi. And, most pressingly of all, about what it meant to be a warrior of peace.
The whole idea sounded like an oxymoron. How could anyone fight to obtain peace? It was one of the stated goals of pretty much any war ever fought, despite the fact that going to war banished peace from the countries and peoples involved, for the duration of the fighting at the very least. Often longer. The end of a battle did not always mean the end of hostilities. But it was impossible to maintain peace while fighting. Anyone who thought otherwise was fooled by a fragile facade.
Maybe the real question she needed to be asking was 'what is peace?' It seemed so obvious, but most things that did were in reality anything but. It had to mean more than the absence of violence, since that was truly impossible to fight for. But what more was there? Was it possible to have peace in the middle of a war?
Even without wondering about the ecosystem and culture of a long-dead asteroid, Irene had a lot on her mind. It made the climb up the mountain less tedious, but did nothing to make it feel shorter or easier. By the time she had reached the flower-filled shrine, she was already starting to tire. Doubling back to the courtyard with the statues hadn't helped matters. Not long after that, her muscles began to ache, unused to being exercised in this way. But she pressed on, because she had set a goal. An arbitrary and somewhat meaningless goal, but a goal nonetheless. It was past time she held herself to a higher level of accountability, and starting when the stakes were low was a good way to practice.
The mountain became gradually steeper as she climbed, using trees and roots as hand- and footholds. Though there were still statues and temples and alcoves all around her, they were much more spaced out the farther up she went. Possibly due to the inherent difficulty of building on such steep ground. The path she had followed below became much harder to discern, which Irene felt was probably because fewer people came this far up. So why, she wondered, was the largest and most elaborate building, visible even from the city plaza, so difficult to reach?
At least she didn't have to worry about getting lost. The building loomed over her, jutting out from the face of the cliff, growing from a blob in the distance to a roughly rectangle that looked as though it could fall on her head at any moment. For a few moments, as she studied the underside of the temple, she wondered if going inside was really such a good idea. Then she scolded herself for even thinking of backing out. It had stood for hundreds of years without collapsing. Nothing she could do would make such a huge structure come crashing down.
As she got closer, she began to wonder how she was supposed to get in, if the front of the building was sticking out of the mountain itself. There was a very grand entryway, with carved arches and pillars, but she could see no way to get to it. After all of the work it took for her to get to this point, she would feel like an idiot if she couldn't even get inside!
But there was, she noticed a few minutes later, a smaller entrance on the side she was climbing along. This one was a single arch, and she was surprised to see that the path she had been following became more apparent again, the closer she came to the building. As if many people frequented this temple, and the slew of them below, but few bothered to travel between the two areas. It was yet another puzzle, which she added to the list, if at a very low priority level.
Then, finally, she was there, the dark opening in the wall just a few feet in front of her. Irene leaned against a tree branch and caught her breath, moderately surprised that she had actually made it. And without seriously injuring herself, even. Her arms and legs burned from the workout, and her chest felt a bit stiff, as her lungs protested their rough treatment. But she had kept to a deliberately slow and even pace, knowing that trying to rush things would only trigger an attack.
She was horrendously dirty, though. Brown streaks covered her bare arms and legs, the bodice of her suit looked more tan than white, and she could feel twigs and leaves pulling her hair out of its braids. The dove on her purse was obscured by mud, and her gloves, which she used to tie her bouquet to the strap of the bag, were almost black. The flowers were in surprisingly good shape for having been dragged up a mountain with her. Aside from a light coating of dust and a couple of crooked stems, they were fine.
So she would be grimy when she went inside, but at least she wouldn't go in empty-handed. She undid the knot in her glove and held the bouquet out in front of her, preparing to make an offering of it. Even if there was no one alive to enforce whatever rules there might have been, she knew that she was about to enter a sacred space, and she didn't want to appear disrespectful. Bowing her head, she went in through the archway.
It was dark inside. Irene could make out shadows of more statues and more carvings just inside, where the light from outdoors trickled in, but it was pitch black beyond that. She could vaguely make out another arch a few feet in front of her, but had no idea where it might lead. For all she knew, it could open on a sheer drop, either by design or decay.
It was also horrendously dusty. The medication she had taken earlier helped a little, but it wouldn't be wise to stay inside when she had already pushed her lungs with the hiking. She hated the idea of leaving so quickly, after all of that work, but couldn't think of anything to do. So she buried her nose in the flowers, hoping to trick her sinuses into thinking that everything was okay.
As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she was able to see a little more of the room she was in. It was probably some sort of antechamber, she guessed. The entrance to the temple itself had been on the bland side, with little in the way of decoration. This room had a little more. Two statues of women in long, flowy costumes were set on either side of the arch that led further in. Each one held a flowering branch in her hand, and on each of the branches perched a bird. It was hard to make out details, but Irene touched her chest, or the brooch on it, and nodded to herself. They were probably doves.
It wasn't a temple to Sailor Irene. Neither of the women the statues depicted were wearing the familiar fuku. But it was possible that this was a temple to the thing that Sailor Irene sought to protect- peace itself. It would explain the doves, and the branches, which she suspected were olive branches.
Her eyes adjusted more, allowing her to see something she had missed before- a trough along the wall closer to the heart of the mountain. Dust swirled in the air as she made her way towards this new feature, and she held the flowers even closer to her face, trying to ward the particles away. It was amazing she had held out this long without succumbing to a coughing fit. If she could just make it a little longer...
The trough was empty, but it reflected what little light made it into the room in a way that was oddly familiar. Irene stroked the inside with a finger and was surprised to find a greasy residue there. Was this from the same substance in the flower shrine? Did that stuff ever come off?
A second look revealed carvings at the bottom of the trough that reminded her of lily pads. Maybe it had been some sort of water feature. Or maybe there was another reason it was there. There was no way to know, and Irene didn't really care enough to investigate further, at the risk of getting her hands all gunky again.
The wall on the opposite side was bare. There were hints of color splashed on here and there, but if there had been a mural, much of the paint had flaked off over the centuries. The best she could make out was a dab of what might have been green, up near the top left corner, and some reddish-brown below that. A tree, maybe? There were certainly enough trees on the mountainside, though none of them had looked like they were the focus of any of the shrines.
Walking over to the colored wall sent a fresh batch of dust into the air, which Irene batted at with her flowers. How was all of this not sending her into a fit? On her last visit, she couldn't even stay in the same room as a cloud of dust without feeling like she was going to choke. Here, there was more dust than air, and while she couldn't claim to feel well, she didn't think she was in imminent danger of seizing up.
"Maybe it's holy dust," she joked to herself, aware that it was hardly a politically correct thing to say. It also wasn't particularly likely that such a thing even existed. If her relative health was because of the temple, it was more likely that the building filtered pollutants in some way.
Except that the pollutants were there, easily visible in the light she had. Dust swept across her shoes and swirled around her arms. The only patch that seemed to have less was around her face, which made sense if she was breathing it in. But if she was breathing it in, why was she still okay?
She stumbled while thinking about it, and thrust her arms out in front of her to keep her from falling. Her bouquet tangled with the branch held by one of the statues. After tugging at it for a moment, she let it go and stepped away, trying to get her bearings.
Only then did she start to cough. It made no sense. The dust was the same. She was the same. Only the lighter patch in the air was gone. Or not gone, but moved, to where the statue was standing, holding a flowering branch entwined with real flowers.
Was it possible?
Covering her mouth with her hands, Irene went back to the statue. She took shallow breaths while she worked to free her bouquet from the stone branch. And slowly but surely, the coughing stopped, and her chest felt less like someone was trying to press it flat.
Irene stared at the flowers in her hands, not sure what to make of this hypothesis. With a solemn expression, she pulled two flowers from her bouquet, threading them through the branches that the statues held. She bowed to them. Then she backed away, out of the temple and back onto the mountainside.
There were still several flowers in her hands. She could have left the entire bunch there. But instead, she shifted the entirety of the bouquet over to her left hand, pulled out her cell phone with her right, and dialed home. This mystery that had been planted in her head had jumped to the top of her list, and she needed help to get to the bottom of it.
Word Count: 4387
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