Written with staff approval.
Date: Friday, December 5th, 2014


Word Count: 1389

The ruins of Moon City held no answers for her.

Ganymede knew that well. She never had memories there, had not even heard the place mentioned in those memories she had on Ganymede. It would be entirely useless to her were it not such a convenient location for meetings. So far there'd been no sign of Chaos upon the moon's surface except for the destruction all around her. For once they had a place to which they could all venture and find safety.

For now.

Ganymede never expected these things to last. She had enough experience to know that most safe places did not always remain that way.

Yet she visited the Moon regularly. Perhaps not every full moon—that was too dedicated for her non-traditional outlook on the Moon Kingdom and the Moon Queen—but at least every few months. Most of her ventures into space took her to Ganymede, where she felt the most fulfilled in her search for answers. She went to the moon on something of an afterthought, when she happened to look into the sky on the nights that it was full and remember her first evening there.

She would summon her phone unconsciously. As the pearl charm glowed its brightest she would focus her thoughts on the place that brought her so much grief and frustration, and she would find herself wandering deserted halls or idly strolling through the gardens. Occasionally there were other Senshi there, ones she greeted reservedly, but she wasted no time in conversation and went about her business on her own.

During her explorations she'd learned of places within the palace into which she could not cross. She didn't know what they were, but instinct told her they were rooms and halls of importance. A hall of doors that could not be opened, a room and another hall concealed behind curtains of silver light. These caused Ganymede the most frustration. She didn't know why they were blocked off, and therefore could only assume that something important could be found there.

But no amount of time spent standing and staring changed the fact that neither she nor anyone else could enter.

Frowning, Ganymede removed her top-hat and threw it at the shimmering curtain that barred her from entering another hallway. Naturally it did nothing, simply bounced off the barrier to land upon the stone floor. Ganymede made no move to retrieve it. She glared darkly and kicked at the hat, sending it skidding further down the hall.

It was then that awareness dawned on her, and she sensed another presence. Not like she felt individual auras, but by some other sense that told her she was no longer alone. A shiver traveled down her back. Ganymede attempted to shake the feeling away as goosebumps rose along the bare skin of her shoulders.

She turned and saw another figure standing a couple of yards from her. The figure seemed made of pure light, shimmering like the silver barriers but with the added presence of diluted color. Pale hair made paler by her incorporeality, blue eyes dulled by the same, and a dress of pure white like freshly fallen snow.

Ganymede glared, her posture suddenly hostile, confrontational.

“Thought it'd be alright to show your face after all this time, huh?” she said.

The Moon Queen said nothing in response.

“Why now?” Ganymede asked. “It's been two years. Almost two and a half if you want a little more accuracy. Where were you during everything that's happened since then? What, you think you can show up every once in a while but not be there when it matters?”

Except last time had mattered. Having a safe place meant quite a bit to quite a few people. Ganymede simply didn't want to admit it to someone she'd come to feel so embittered toward.

The Moon Queen kept her silence. She stared at Ganymede with warm eyes but made no move toward her. She didn't size her up or look upon Ganymede with disapproval. Ganymede might have thought the Moon Queen was looking right through her if those dull eyes weren't locked on her own.

Another shiver made it's way down Ganymede's spine. In the silence and desolation, the Moon Queen's quiet presence seemed even more haunting.

“A lot of good Senshi believe in you, you know,” she continued. “Hell if I know why.”

It felt obscene to swear in front of someone who looked and felt so pure, but Ganymede did it anyway. It it came across as a sign of disrespect, it was no more or less than she'd intended.

“They think fighting for you means something, but I know better. It doesn't mean jack crap. If it did, this wouldn't be happening, would it? Aren't you supposed to have the power to end this? The Negaverse seems to think you're capable of taking over the Earth, so why the <********> haven't you done something about it?”

Again, the Moon Queen said nothing.

Frustrated by her silence, Ganymede leaned over to pick up a piece of debris, a rock that must have split from some piece of the palace. She hurled it at the Moon Queen, teeth clenched as an irritated shriek ripped up her throat, but her efforts made no difference. The rock went right through the Moon Queen's spectral form, clattering to the floor a few yards behind her.

Ganymede screamed her anger. It felt as if the Moon Queen was mocking her, standing there so pristine and perfect and saying not a word, giving absolutely no indication that she could even hear anything Ganymede said. Angry, burning tears brimmed up in Ganymede's eyes, distorting the Moon Queen's image, but making it no less ethereal.

“What the hell do you want from me?!” Ganymede shouted. She took a few steps forward as if she meant to scream her anger into the Moon Queen's face, but she stopped herself before she could. She didn't want to draw too close, for she would only become more enraged at feeling how insubstantial the Moon Queen really was.

“What the hell do you want from us?!” she screamed again. “Why is this happening?! Why haven't you done anything about it?! What good are you to any of us if this is all you are?! Why do you even matter anymore?!”

She hated it, that the Moon Queen still had so much prominence despite the fact that, by all appearances, she was dead—nothing more than a ghost to haunt the moon ruins and remind them all that this war, everything that had happened to every single one of them, was in some ways her fault.

Why should anyone devote themselves to her? Why should anyone believe in her, when the only good thing Ganymede had ever known her to do was bring them here in a time of need?

“We don't need you,” Ganymede said, her words harsh and acidic. “I don't need you. I've never needed you. I can do this myself.”

She knew that now, though she hadn't then.

Suddenly the image before her changed. It was not an extreme deviation; the Moon Queen remained where she was, and she seemed no more intent on speaking than she had when she'd first appeared. She didn't shift her nonexistent weight or reach out a hand as if to console the Senshi in front of her.

But the set of her mouth changed. In the moments since she'd appeared, her expression had remained carefully blank.

Now her lips curved into a small smile, like she was pleased.

Ganymede did not know whether to respond with shock or disgust, so she said nothing at all, adopted the Moon Queen's silence as her own. She struggled against the tears in her eyes, stubbornly holding them back. She did not wish to show any more weakness in front of the Moon Queen.

She needn't have worried. The Moon Queen's figure shimmered with her smile, and she faded from view as if she'd never been there at all.

Helpless, Ganymede fell to her knees and fisted the rubble beneath her. Tears streamed down her face—tears of anger, of misery, of lingering hopelessness.

But also of relief, because she knew her declaration to be true.

She could do this herself, and the Moon Queen knew it.

This solo was partially inspired by Ave Maria Païen from the musical Notre Dame de Paris.
French Verision
English Version