backdated one week after this rp.

Word Count: 708



The first name that eternal had said was 'Sandrine.' It was definitely a name, given the context. Like it was a question. Followed by 'you' a few times. It hadn't been a mispronounced Sanidine. Beyond all the crossed arms and accusations, there was a truth that couldn't be refuted, justified, or passed over anymore: 'You lost a lot of memories,' came back again and again. Try as the corrupted super wanted to, it couldn't be drowned out this time by focusing on quota, gathering, practicing or working. It repeated like a refrain from childhood choral classes that were part of it's own lost obscurity and no longer a part of life.

Tonight, sitting alone on a Gothic outcropping of a church bell tower, the pieces of life that had been retained, and last looked at on first awakening in the barracks, were pulled out one by one from a cloth drawstring backpack. Jack Bromwch's ID's, with photos and said she'd been a student at DCU. The age was younger than Morgan's ID's from the Infiltration Division set. Ipad came out of the bag next, leeching open wifi as part of the charity of the church. Google was a good place to start collecting leads: A facebook page a couple years old, with high school photos of musicals and plays, a stag pack to a few dances, dance classes, dinner theaters and renaissance faires, civil war and revolutionary war reenactments. The page had a notice of 'in memoria', and some posts from people, friends and family, that told anecdotal memories to work out grief and support the mother and father. They looked like hippies, from their own pages. They had no recent photos. They didn't live near Destiny City. They didn't have any other children, either. Haüyne read their stories, and those otherwise posted about Jack, but nothing rang a bell. Not a word more personal or connected than having picked any random Facebook page off of the internet and deciding to play Biography.

Jack was energetic from all these accounts. Got into things. Wasn't shy. Always moving. That's all....I guess true of me. It's hard to tell if that's what people think of me. Nothing about being over loud, though. Seems to have done well with music and singing, so can at least GET loud to project. The edge of a thumbnail, and the thumb itself, were sacrificed to sudden nervous chewing. Is it good or bad? Is it good or bad to be similar or different from Jack? One person says they know a Sandrine. I must have been Sandrine? I woke a super senshi. I had to have been a basic senshi at some point. We don't just wake up, hey-presto-supah fanceh. I was Basic Senshi, and I don't remember s**t about it. Just.....flashes. Useless flashes.

But is it good or bad?

Or was it neither? Was it that simple? It could be a mix of things. Certainly Purple Nurple would have a load of her own opinions to say about how the whole thing was s**t and hurting people and how awful that was compared to everything. Nevermind the whole War aspect. People got hurt in War all the time, and everyone knew it. Some of the best cinematography was Wartime stuff, coming across the Youtube, Netflicks, Hulu and other, less legal site recommendations. Everything from live action fiction, to documentary dryness, to security leaked military surveillance footage from governments across the globe that thought they ran things. For now. They'd all meet Metallia soon enough, and have to bow, and to recognize that she was Earth and they could all eat it. The civvies, anyway. And the senshi and knights?

A purple and gold eternal who knew a Basic Senshi named Sandrine, Jack Bromwich? Haüyne didn't know, not anymore certain what to do with that than any certainty of who Jack was to begin with. Jack, Sandrine, the fairytale princess-prince and Fool who jumped over candlesticks, or bought magic beans, couldn' t eat fat, sat in the corner, built houses...

and disappeared. Ceased to be. I don't know. I don't know what it is, not being Jack. But having been that.