- Half a year had passed. Half a year since her Berserkir fell. Half a year since the ghosts of the past crept from the depths of the abyss to cause terror in the human world. Half a year of nightmares, worrying premonitions and exhaustion. Despite all the emotional baggage that weighed heavily on her shoulders, Ofelia was faring well in her day to day life.
She was about to spend her first Christmas with Kam, her relationship with Elzo was strong and stable and she was no longer on her own. Last year she was on her streets, sleeping rough - hopeless. She had come so far. As Mjolnir though - everything still seemed as bleak as it always had. She was tired and though she saw little reason to patrol these days, she did so out of habit.
Powering up and taking to the streets seemed to be embedded in her DNA, a compulsion that grew stronger the harder she tried to ignore it.
Today she found herself wandering through the business district, a place she did not usually venture, but tonight her feet just seemed to carry her without much input. She was daydreaming, her mind in the clouds as her body moved - maybe not the best idea whilst she was powered up, she was open to a surprise attack, a rookie mistake or an open invitation?
She was urging someone to jump out of the shadows. The brunette had been itching for a good fight. There was so much anger, so much resentment bubbling under the surface, she wanted nothing more than to pound it into someone before it consumed her. All she wanted Christmas was a release, a punching bag, a pin cushion. Was that so wrong?
Maybe so.
"Merry Christmas," the clerk bade as Isaiah walked toward the door. "And happy New Year." It sounded forced, and Isaiah didn't knock him for that.
Once Ice pressed into the algid evening, he crossed to the corner of the pharmacy where the side of the business met the alley. During the day, he imagined many delivery drivers passed through the area - delivering OTCs for medical, delivering meats for the Chinese place across the way, delivering clothes to the department store on the corner. Now, the street stood empty and wanting - haunted with the absence of the day. Ice dropped his pants.
Applying the SalonPas patch demanded some skill from the amputee. Peeling off the strip of paper required the use of his teeth, and its application received very little finesse as he used inertia to slap it onto his hip. The gelled surface felt uncommonly cold against his skin, and Isaiah hissed through his teeth. He waited only so long as pulling his pants up before he donned the visage of Scholomance, and therefore chased away the brunt of the cold.
And when he loosed his breath, he did so with some resignation - much too near, he felt another basic Dark Mirror. He wondered if something came about with the court that encouraged their members to mobilize so recently. Within the past week, he met two now. Perhaps it was Blue, or the pompous one from earlier?
Scholomance decided that chancing the matter was of no choice to him. He passed from the alleyway into the more public street, where few risked their lives in the deep darkness. He passed under the penumbra of another sodium lamp and stopped when he reached its rim; the light clarified his presence without obstructing his vision in such a state. And when he spotted the senshi in question, he found (with some dismay) that this one was no contact of his. Briefly he wondered if the Dark Mirror plotted something big now, and mobilized their forces to form a second threat like the Negaverse.
- Mjolnir’s footsteps echoed as she walked down the street in an almost rhythmic fashion. One foot in front of the other foot, in front of the one foot, in front of the other foot. Then, she slowed until she stopped all together at a comfortable distance from the man who had come into the light. The only break from the silence being the wind that was softly howling, twisting brown strands of hair as it blew from behind her. “Excuse me, Mr, I am trying to get through.” Came a voice as golden eyes remained fixed on the tarmac at her feet.
She was hoping it would be an agent of chaos to find her tonight - she could not deny her disappointment. “You aren’t looking to cause me any trouble, are you?” She asked, her tone confident with a playful ring to it. Mjolnir bore no bad blood for the disciples of order, nor did she have any love for them. She judged each character on their own merit - thus, her slate with this particular knight was clean. Slowly her eyes rose to lock onto his, her expression giving no indication to what she was thinking, golden orbs just as vacant.
Pluto? Maybe Saturn? Or something else all together? She knew very little about Knights and even less from the worlds they were sworn to. She knew Hvergelmir, the white lady who had helped her when she was injured and entrusted her with one of her trinkets. She knew Hy-Basil, one of the people who helped in the fall of Smol - and Gehenna, a knight who knew her by another name, from another life. They were a strange bunch, with very little in common. Then again, none of the armies in this war seemed to be particularly uniform.
There was a tone of gray and a whole bunch of s**t.
This particular Dark Mirror sent mixed signals. She refused to look at him as she approached, an indication of lack of confidence or meekness, and yet her voice intimated confidence. Scholomance sided with body language over the tone; anyone could fake confidence in their tone, but seldom did they match body language to it.
Still, he turned to the side to allow her to pass. He leaned against the tall sodium lamp as he looked upon her, and found nothing remarkable from which he could discern anything to her character. Secondly, he asked himself - should he care who this person is? Should he look into the Dark Mirror if the Negaverse demanded so much of his own life? He doubted it; the world intended to go to hell whether he intervened or not. He needed only to care about Scholomance for the instance that such apocalyptic predictions came to be.
"I've had enough trouble," he answered back as he looked into the long windows of the hot dog shop next door. They stared, black, toward the pair. Briefly he remembered Juno and her assumption that he was Negaverse. How predictive that encounter became.
"You sound like you're looking for it. I've seen more of the Dark Mirror around of late; is there something I should be worried about?" A hand rifled his coat pocket, and Scholomance procured a pack of cigarettes. Shaking the stick out, he plucked it from the set-top box with his lips, and retired it to pocket. Another shift in the pockets and he pulled the jet lighter he often wore about his neck. A click of the lighter and he breathed smoke to soothe his nerves.
He started feeling too old for this s**t.
- Mjolnir could not stop the smirk from creeping across her lips. Oh, if only he knew. “You are kidding right, trouble from the Dark Mirror?” There was amusement in her voice, like he had said recited a bad joke. Mjolnir walked closer to the night and went to walk passed him, stopping when she got to his side, golden eyes looking out on the path ahead.
“No, you don’t have anything to worry about - the Dark Mirror Court stopped giving a ******** about you guys and this city a long time ago. But don’t ask me, ask Prince Remarque if you are so concerned, he is the puppetmaster, after all.” All respect she had for the court was lost in their last gathering. The meeting where they had declared they were no longer a force to be reckoned with, no longer concerned with the affairs of earth, no longer willing to play a role in this war. They were willing to turn their back on every living being in this city, for what? A dream. A future that had not yet come to pass? Give up the fight before the first shot had even been fired?
All the Dark Mirror wanted to do was hide in Mirror Space and slam the metethorial door behind them - it was a pledge of cowardice that child Mjolnir to the core. “Put your worries, and you effort, into more pressing issues. The Negaverse can not be too happy about the invasion, the torture party - and that doomsday clock is ticking too. You have a lot on your plate.” She shook her head, eyes drifting to the side, attention drawn by the small flame in his hand.
While he cared little for her attitude, her scoffing at the Dark Mirror Court becoming a threat brought some relief. Scholomance found it curious that she expressed such disdain for her own court, but offered no comment on it - her disillusionment wasn't his business, and he knew how poorly that could turn out.
"That explains why I've seen all of four of their kind now." Scholomance took a drag, and wished he could draw on it forever. The wind blustered and bellowed between them, ruffling hair and extant clothing that the Mirror Court seemed fond of. Mostly Scholomance found the breeze cutting, and disruptive when it carried off his empty sleeve. "I don't care to talk to royals. I've spent enough time with them."
Then she spoke of the Negaverse, and only his greatest muster of willpower could stop him. You don't ******** say. You're standing next to someone who's missing a finger, missing an arm, and missing all of his teeth. Who do you think would have gone ahead and done that? Certainly not your Court. "You say that like it's my responsibility to stop an unending, limitless force. If you're so concerned about it, use your power to do it yourself." I'm the last person who can possibly act against them - not when they're holding my signet ring as a ******** carrot on a stick. It's not like I can just pull another out of my a** and expect to be effective afterward.
Scholomance parted from his post at the street lamp, and paced a handful of steps to retain some distance between them. Settling near the mouth of the darkened alley felt like enough space for some peace of mind.
- “What can I say, we are few and far between. You are lucky to have met four.” Mjolnir was not sure how readily available information on the Dark Mirror Cout was. Though it did not take a genius to realise they were vastly outnumbered by the other factions, scarily so. “It seems there is not a lot of love to be found for Royals. Remarque, Leto, Ares, Castor - Which one soured your attitude?” She asked curiously. Even though she knew the chances of an honest answer were slim to none.
Personally she hated one of the above with a passion, was indifferent to another and cared for two more deeply than she was ready to admit, even to herself. They were all very powerful and so painfully human. She was not fool enough to think you could look to them for guidance, to look for answers and absolute truths. Never again would she follow one so blindly.
She shrugged at his comment. “Why do you think I am out tonight?” She asked him, it was not for the good of her health. She patrolled in order to stop the chaos, to chew it up from within if she had to. Whatever lovecraftian horror had been summoned from the depths of cosmos - she knew it could be expelled from this lifetime. There was still hope, it was fragile and it needed nourishing, but it was still shining in the hearts of the warriors who fought on the streets at night.
She was not ready to surrender - it was why she had turned her back on her court. She noticed his arm, but had the good grace not to draw attention to it. He would lose a lot more before the war was over.
“It is the responsibility of us all, to live, to fight, to die and live again. That is why we awoke in this lifetime right? To continue the cycle, to continue on this twisted waltz until the end of days and beyond.” Valhalla.
"It wasn't a personal thing," he admitted. "Ganymede, actually. I didn't know her well. But when we were all caught in Caedus' trap and left to die in the bowels of the Negaverse, I saw in her enough of a scapegoat to buy some time to escape. That's all she was - a distraction. A target for Laurelite and the dragon youma and anything else in there that held a modicum of ambition in its bones. Why would I want to associate with that?" He glanced to her then, and wondered if she knew anything about the infiltration of the Negaverse's domain - if she knew how catastrophic it became for anyone involved save for the Negaverse itself. Obviously she's not seen much of its repercussions. Of course, how could she if she spends all her time looking at the sidewalk?
She asked him why he thought she was out, and he paused at the question. He thought it was ludicrous, initially - here was someone he barely knew, save for a few sentences and an appearance, and she asked him why he thought she was out. "You're out…" He started, chewing his lip for answers. "You're out to nose out some meth and have a good time for the next three days straight. No, I don't know why you're out tonight," he finished with another drag of his cigarette.
"You could say that. I was never one for destiny. I also think that…" He paused, drew a sigh, "the people who informed us of this - namely past life memories, and in my case, an ancestor - were mistaken. Prediction is no more available to them than it is to us. I think… Standing up to the Negaverse is a futile measure. They know full well how to terminate everyone on this planet, and the next, and the next, and the next. The options are boiling down to 'join them or die badly'. Idealists choose 'die badly'.
"But, there's no choice to just opt out."
- “I have not had the pleasure of meeting Ganymede, a pleasure for another day, I am sure.” Just how many Royal’s were there? She dare not know the answer to that question - she would not trust many people with the power that Royal Senshi achieved. “I know very little of what happened during the invasion - my kind were not invited to the party. Sounds like I missed out on quite the s**t show, there will be more, no doubt.” See one masacre seen them all, she was becoming painfully indifferent, falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole. Life before her awakening, the person she was before, it was just a far off memory at this point.
She could not help but chuckle slightly at his comment; oh, if only he knew what a goodie two shoes she was. Mjolnir had done nothing as daring as to smoke a joint.
If nothing else this knight had a sense of humour, it was a welcome change. “Wrong.” She stated, shaking her head and crossing two of her fingers to make an ‘x’. “I am out because I am one of those idealists. Even if the fight is futile; if I could take down one of the ********, two, three, more; then I have done my duty and when I DO die badly. Then I will do so with two fists clenched and ready to strike. As you say, there is no choice to opt out. Nothing to be gained fearing the inevitable.” She shrugged. Just because she had faith that in the end they would prevail, she doubted many of them out live to enjoy the peace that followed - until the darkness rose again. Mjolnir no longer feared the reaper, she had made her peace with her destiny.
She had no memories of the past to guide her, no ancestor to help her along the way - her faith came from within herself. It came from trusting the tales and dreams of those she held dear.
She then directed the question towards him. “Why are you out tonight? Mr?” She still did not know his name.
"I'd fill you in, but… Well, usually people ask about the things they're interested in, and gloss over the things they don't care about. I think that says enough." Scholomance experienced his own personal shitshow and cared not to experience more. The potential remained that she experienced much the same, but he doubted that much; she stood as a basic senshi, and more often than not, basic senshi remained clueless over the brunt of their circumstances. He wondered, then, if she simply cozied up to one of the aforementioned royals and learned bitterness from them.
"Good to know." Scholomance stared back at the window, took another drag. He watched the blue-grey smoke echoed through the glass. He looked like a stranger in that blackened mirror. "If you're out to do just that, I have a couple of generals I'd like to see thoroughly killed." Smartly, he never saw either of the generals since their combined efforts to mutilate him. He knew that, eventually, he would face them both down, and either receive his ring or further punishment. Perhaps both. Would a single Dark Mirror senshi hope to enact any sort of harm on them? No - she would surely die, or suffer a similar fate to him. Ultimately it would not matter; he long since learned the futility of making requests on anyone oppositional to the Negaverse. Seldom were they ever carried out.
She inquired after his presence, and Scholomance rolled his shoulders jauntily against the brick building. "Well, since you asked, I'm out to nose out some meth and have a good time for the next three days straight. I'm out to snort coke off a hooker's a** and set up a house party that the Negaverse could only dream of draining. But, if we're talking reality here, I'm out because I still try to tell myself I can make a difference. Most of the time that line doesn't work too well." He flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette.
"It's been many months since Caedus set that trap for us to die in. The Negaverse didn't exactly blink at its losses, and we had two royals with us. Two royals and not even the power to purify someone against their will." He paused, laughed. "And yet they thought, what? That they could march up to Metallia's door and put an end to her? s**t, I just wanted to watch. Look where that got me." A brief gesture to the empty sleeve, and Scholomance finished the last drag of his cigarette. He let the stump fall to the ground where he crushed it into the pavement.
"So, you seem to think the rest of the world has a chance against the Negaverse. What's your secret?" He asked, his gaze alight with interest. "Tell me - what's the Deus ex Machina that's going to sort it all out?"
- “Who knows, maybe one day I will face your Generals; but if you want them dead - the best way to ensure it is to do it yourself. Hatred can fuel a person to do spectacular things, things that are unimaginable for a soul sound of mind.” If her Sphere had taught her anything, it was not to underestimate the power of malicious intent or a person who did not care the consequences their actions would inflict upon them. “You can make a difference; we are the only ones who can.” She added, they had awoken, they had been granted power, a second chance to make things right. Every fight made a difference, every enemy fallen and every life returned to the cauldron. The war would not be won with an epic final battle, it would be won by chipping away at chaos until it collapsed upon itself.
“Forced purification does not work, not truly. Chaos only feeds on and amplifies the darkness already lingering in the heart of it’s victim, in the same way that light only gives strength to the conscience and humanity that is already there - I say that as a member of the Dark Mirror who was forcefully corrupted by Princess Ares; if the heart is unwilling it will continue to follow its desires and return to its original state.” The question of; is purification right? Was one that many argued over, some saw the chance for redemption others thought that sins could only be repaid in blood. Luckily for Mjolnir she had stumbled across a small group of people who were encouraging her to walk the path back into the light,
She nodded, listening to his story with interest but in the end shook her head. “Even the Royal’s power only goes so far, the ones I have met are painfully human, not that different to anyone else really. With the same weaknesses, the same emotions, the same doubts and limitations - they are powerful, there is no denying that, but in the end you can not expect more from them than you do any other soldier. In the end they bleed just the same.” Be it an Eternal, a regular Senshi or a Cosmic Power; ‘will’ was the determining factor in any confrontation, and there was always chance that the underdog would pull through.
The brunette shrugged at his question, she did not know the answer. “I don’t know, but I have to believe in something. I have seen memories of my past, though I was told that was impossible. I summoned a creature from my homeworld from the depths of Mirror Space, even though I was told that was also impossible. The purification of my court was said to be impossible - and through the method is unknown to me I know of others who have passed through the barrier
It seems like every day another barrier that we through unbreakable crumbles. In a few weeks or months everything we know about our limitations could have completely changed - It would be foolish to think that all the cards have been laid down already, so who is to say?” Golden eyes followed the end of his cigarette as he disregarded it, folding her arms across her chest as she finally took a slightly more relaxed stance. You could never be sure, but the knight seemed to have been telling the truth when he said he was not looking for any trouble.
"Conviction works better than hatred," he countered. "It's got all your potency with half the shitty feeling afterward." Like cocaine without the comedown, he likened it in his mind. He was learning that Mjolnir spoke very matter-of-factly, and mostly in no-brainers or long-coined tropes. He figured that most people knew hatred could spur one to the unimaginable - that the host of movies and books and music made over such matters successfully saturated the populace in that idea. Most, he found, studied the matter no further than that. Perhaps Mjolnir was one of them. Perhaps not, and she simply chose to stick to safe, obvious ideals in front of him to guard the ones she truly believed. He couldn't say - not yet. "We'll see how it goes."
At last, she gave information of which he could take note. Chaos amplifies the darkness in its victim? If that is so, we've got a lot of milquetoast characters under the banner of Chaos. If she's right, then I've meet Benitoite at his multiplicative worst, and Ashanite in much the same demeanor. Even Schörl could be a.... No. No, she couldn't be a decent person. No, I'd much rather watch her twisting in the wind than admit that she could be 'saved' to any capacity.
That information came with a second, more destructive piece of information - forced purification does not work. So, for all the meager power they amassed in the bowels of the Negaverse, they could amount to nothing. They carried no lethal weapons, their magic failed to end others for all its neutered simplicity, and even if they tried, they could not manage a single purification of one of their General-Sovereigns. The information explained why Ganymede spent no efforts on forcing the chaos from Laurelite, even when the woman swung a scythe at her. The strength light gives isn't enough. If Order cannot hope to purify one lowly, fence-riding lieutenant, then how can it expect to even look upon Metallia and survive? Forever more these prospects grow bleak. If the royals knew that purification would not - could not - take the chaos out of a devout officer, then why did they even agree to go into Caedus' trap? Why bother? Why even continue to power up, unless they were looking for a means to coin forced purification? There has to be something.
They can't be relying on blind stupidity to see them through. That's asinine.
They are powerful, she said. There's no denying that. "They're not powerful enough," he admitted quietly. More and more their magic started to look like dazzling lightshows meant to distract where their fists managed the real persuasion. The human body could be honed into a decent weapon, he knew, but humanity was coined a race of tool users for a reason: with a weapon in hand, a lethal one, they grew far more deadly and efficient. That was, in his opinion, why the Negaverse would trounce the White Moon. Power unbalanced power, and the White Moon could do nothing to counteract it.
Even if his opinion of her waxed low in the beginning, Mjolnir offered a rationalizing point that proved quite palatable - quite useful. He grinned slightly beneath the mask, even if it did not translate past the garish exterior. Scholomance trained his gaze straight ahead, and urged himself to remain tempered and steadfast, and to refrain from running off with Mjolnir's idea. Their gauges of impossibility recalibrated with each victory - and if what Mjolnir mentioned was correct, then there existed means to counteract these impossibilities. Forced purification may not work now, but if these constraints shattered over time, then perhaps it would in a month, or a year, or even a handful of years. Attrition no longer retained the negativity provided by a sureness of their fate. Perhaps currently their resistance proved mediocre, even assured of defeat, but if someone broke through that barrier of impossibility, they might know a future.
Perhaps that was the crux of magic. He knew through Blaine that Scholomance once existed as a sprawling campus with hundreds of students working on magic and weapons manufacturing. He knew Blaine himself spent his life on the concept of true resurrection. Magic's potency must lay in possibility - else there would not exist a weapons facility on the face of Saturn. This was a basic tenet. But to think that the impossibilities they faced even with the assistance of magic were but temporary barriers…
"You're right," he admitted at last, "it's foolish. But it's also human nature. Order is faced with a demon army, lethal weapons, instantaneous travel, and a method to end someone by reaching into their chest and discontinuing all rebirth cycles forever more. Imaginary violence is high. Real violence is high. Each day that ends offers us fewer soldiers to fight for tomorrow. These are facts. They cannot be ignored. But…"
His gaze reached the stars, where their distant brilliance punctuated the darkness. "If your stories are true - and I don't doubt them - then they need to be told. This is as much an intellectual's war. It's worth the footnote that your story provides."
- “Not for me. I am the Berserkir Senshi, rage feeds my sphere. Power from Vengeance. Losing yourself in a sea of red. I will drown myself in it if it means victory. I do not feel guilty afterwards, not anymore.” It was her path, her creed, the law she lived by. She had no ancestor to guide her to instead she had given herself to her sphere. Put her trust in her instincts and in the power that was granted to her. There was not one path to a destination, this was the one she chose to take - she did not expect others to understand it, or follow her into self destruction, but she would not have it questioned either.
A pained smile came across her face, it seemed like they both had the same mindset when it came to information, but she had learned first hand that not many did. “Who will listen to my stories? After my creature was born, it was your kind that destroyed it. It was at the time uncontrollable, scared, angry - thrown into an alien world. I begged them to let me try and calm it, try and control it, learn from it. It was the only case of its kind, the only time I know of a creature from another world being summoned to this one, it was so valuable - but still they killed it. Because they did not trust me, because they had witnessed the damage it could do if left alone. Why would such people listen to anything I have to say?” She asked him.
She came to look at the same darkness, golden eyes resting on the sky. “Despite the Darkness being vast and ever growing, the light from a single star pierces through it and can be seen light years away. We might be at a disadvantage, but the power we hold is greater than even we can comprehend, even stars that are long dead, their light remains and shapes the sky. We are not alone, and even warriors that fell a thousand years ago are still guiding us, maybe in a thousand years time our actions will still have an effect, so we can guide others. Naive maybe, but I like looking at it that way, it makes things seem less bleak.” She shrugged there was no point dwelling on how hopeless it was she refused to waste any more energy overthinking things - it would drive you mad.
Burry the dead, honour their sacrifice, move on and go into every battle like it would be your last.
“Use the information I have gifted you how you will, if you truly believe - and if there is any doubt, find the Earth Knight with the red hair and freckles, holding a smoking item and donned in green. Or if you know him the Knight with dark skin, brown dreads who wears the crest of Mars, a gauntlet wrapped around one arm. Both saw my monster, both chose to end its life. Or you could as Prince Castor, he threw the final punch.” She paused, looking at him curiously, she had talked enough - maybe he had some tales to spin. “I have more stories if you want to hear them, I am sure you have many you can give in exchange.”
If you want to ruin your life with bad decisions based off vengeance, that's your business. Scholomance offered no further comment, but he filed one bead of information away - she called herself the Berserker senshi. He imagined, then, that she just gave her sphere.
"My kind?" He echoed. "Them's fightin' words. If you're referring to knights, call them knights; most choose not to associate with me. Give credit where credit is due on the neutrality front, alright? I could be kicking your a** about now." She anthropomorphized her creature, ascribed upon it human emotions and human reactions in a manner that a mother might do for her child. Scholomance reached for another cigarette. Perhaps intuition allowed her to do so, but he doubted it - he often heard much of the same testimony given by caretakers of wild animals shortly before they were devoured by said wild animal. Such descriptions never held much weight with him since.
The jet lighter flared, the cigarette waxed orange at the tip. He wished it was one of the special ones. Sobriety grew more and more curse-like by the day. "Unless they told you point-blank that they're killing your creature because they don't trust you, then don't make assumptions about their decision. It'd be quite a**-backwards for me to start firing off possible motives for you, too. If you're going to assume they won't trust you and therefore not even try, then you're the one imposing that limitation on yourself. Sounds a bit odd to me, you know. One minute you're talking about impossibilities vanishing in smoke, and the next you're pulling pity party about how no one will listen to a Dark Mirror and give her stories credence. What am I, chopped liver? Do I not count for at least that?" Scholomance knew of a small group of knights who would otherwise give her the time of day. Perhaps she may never encounter them.
She mentioned the guidance clause of descendent knights, and Scholomance coughed around his cigarette. He hoped she wasn't serious. If I was cooped up in those towers for a thousand years, I'd be twice as batshit as Blaine is. No, I'd rather have my starseed ripped out and eaten by youma if I had a choice in the matter. A thousand years of solitary confinement? No thanks. "By virtue of reincarnation existing, actions have a direct effect. There's no reason to worry about that.
"And… I think I know those people." The first description sounded like Hy-Brasil, and the second like Gehenna. He could certainly see the pair of them reacting first and thinking about their actions later. Much of their knighthoods revolved around that concept from Scholomance's experience. Prince Castor, however, came up blank - unless he was the prince that stood at Castor's deathtrap?
Scholomance started a slow pace, if only to keep his leg from growing stiff. Whether Berserker Senshi wanted to follow or not was up to her. "Yes, I have stories. I don't know if they're the type that makes a good impression, though." He flicked ash from his second cigarette. I doubt they're the type to make a difference to someone like you.
- “What was it that they said ‘I will not allow Chaos to wield the Legacy of Saga, and use it for it’s own gains. They will not allow the Dark Mirrors to be subjected to pasts they can not see. This creature is not a friend to people are neither are your charges. How can we trust you? Chaos has warped you like it has done this creature. Take your pick of the reasons they used to justify their actions, they made is clear it was because I could not be trusted with that power. I did not want it’s power, I just wanted to understand.”
She could feel anger bubble in her stomach, they had immobilised it, beaten it nearly to death when she made her plea - it was no longer a danger to anyone, but they ended its short life regardless. Mjolnir knew exactly why they did it; their reasoning was as plain the day. Words carved into her heart, some of which came from a man she very much loved. “You were not there - my words do not come from pity but experience, one that has repeated itself again and again. But you are right, maybe some -like you- would, but after years of trying to break down that barrier I feel my energy is better spent elsewhere. Maybe in the end; my actions will speak louder than my words and prove myself worthy of said trust.”
She shrugged and scoffed, maybe he could be kicking her a** right now, but she would make sure to take a bit of him with her. Still, the encounter had been somewhat pleasant; she did not want to have it turned sour now. “Though no other Dark Mirror Senshi stands with me, it does not make me any less a Mirror Senshi. They are my kind as much as Knights are yours, individual but cut from the same cloth. We are all judged by the sins of our courts and alliances, when I say I plan to fight against chaos, that also means an end to that which lingers in myself.
Six years, I can only imagine how it has corrupted my brain and morphed me, that is the beauty of it though, you never feel like you have changed, you never realise what it is doing to you, it is why you do not get many converts. It eats away at who you were, until eventually purification can not reach you, until the light can not touch you anymore - even if it is thrust down your throat.” Would he really suggest that she should not expect an attack as soon as she revealed herself to any order aliened senshi or knight? That she should hope they were willing to listen - though attack after attack was directed towards her? There could be trust, but that bridge was not going to form overnight.
“And mine have given you a good impression? Does my opinion of you matter? If alliances were build on liking a person I would have none. Facts are useful no matter regardless of whose mouth they fall from.”
"You're right. I wasn't there." The whole affair sounded to him like a mix of bad judgements. But what was he to say for that?
So she wants to purify. I'm sure more than a few White Moon or knights would be willing to give her the time of day, knowing that. Some still will be suspicious. Ah well, it's not for me to meddle here - I don't know her, and she certainly doesn't know me. I'm sure something will work out to her advantage. There's still far too many hopefuls out there for my tastes. Perhaps blind faith is the affliction of Order. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. Refuting impossibility puts a bit of an end to challenge, doesn't it?" He asked rhetorically.
Interesting bit on chaos there. How would she know it's eaten who she is and changed her so thoroughly without outside understanding? Someone must've worked with her on determining that; no one can come up with such an evaluation with the self alone. He considered the information with a grain of salt, but kept the testimony at the back of his mind. If chaos truly changed a person irrevocably, then it would explain Cinnabar's presence as a half-youma creature. He had seen nothing from the sort emanating from the Dark Mirror, however; he wondered how they could possible change over their years of exposure. With the Negaverse, at least, that path proved quite clear.
And six years is quite a long time to participate in this garbage. Here I've been around for a lowly year and a half, and already I look like the worst fighter of the lot.
I'm starting to wonder if I have redeeming features here.
"Opinions matter," he answered vaguely. Another drag, and smoke pealed out behind him. "I don't have many facts for you, my dear. Besides, you said it yourself - you've been about in this for six years. Surely you've seen it all." In truth, he found little comfort in facing more trite declarations and miles of assumptions. The girl was set in her ways in the same fashion as a man who clung to a bygone era. He knew when he wasted his breath.
"Scholomance," he offered in kind, and with the cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth, he offered a four-fingered handshake. "Of Saturn. Not that it means much. But, you might want a name for the face if we see each other again. Post-purification or otherwise."
- No, she did not know anything. She had been going through life with her eyes closed to the possibilities, her eyes on her feet, it was not until last year that she truly began to see. Four years of regret which she no longer wished to dwell on; though it was obvious to her that most of her rage came from self hatred. Shame. She had done so much wrong and never questioned it, she secretly did not blame Order for their distrust, she did not really trust herself.
Scholomance was correct, her indoctrination was not something she became aware of by herself - it was something that only made sense once pointed out. When you started to reflect on the past and could no longer understand the person you were, remember how you felt or what you thought, when your past actions seemed to alien to explain or make sense. Maybe one only realise it when they were close to purification, it was all part of the journey.
“Mjolnir. I am Mjolnir. Senshi of the Berserkir.” The brunette stated, taking his hand in her own. “It is nice to meet you, Scholomance. I will see about those Generals for you. I can not promise anything though.” It was a little more light hearted than the tone she had taken the rest of the meeting; but knew from his mannerisms this was goodbye and she was not sure if she was ever going to see him again.
Mjolnir sure as hell did not know if purification was on the cards, if it was possible, what price she would have to pay, so much was still so unclear. The jury was still out, Dene was yet to return with any information. “Yea, maybe, we will see if someone can survive two side-wraps in one lifetime, hmm? It is really going to suck for me if not.” She shrugged, and then began to walk away.
t e b i k ii
