He could find magic in the world at last, far beyond the streets of Kolkata. An entirely different world waited for him out there, and yet he needed to sleep. To maintain obligation. To be Elex Yorke, and complete all tasks that Elex Yorke was intended to complete.
And yet the opened windows beckoned for Faustite, for a cursory glance around the city. He could know its denizens from a different angle. He could know the senshi that his general warned about, or he could know allies, or he could know the strange machinations that occurred between both parties. Perhaps he could spy a battle. And what else could he find, that his general failed to caution about?
Such thoughts led to the sleepless lieutenant testing power at last, beyond the warnings of his superior. The Old Town district of the city held promise for how a notion beyond his language urged him onward, and Faustite supposed his perception was that of 'auric energy'. He walked with purpose, passing ancient shop fronts harkening to the Victorian era, though the lot of them stared blankly toward a blackened street. Steel shutters crossed the windows where he knew of none in other parts of the world. Chains wrapped about posts. Floodlights flickered on when he passed, ambushing would-be burglars in their opportunistic searches. The old cobblestone streets remained terribly quiet, and Faustite waited for some spark of magic.
The feeling he chased faded away, and Faustite stood amidst the center of the street, wondering if he resigned himself to his too-active imagination for too long. But here, among a dozen quaint storefronts, he elected to wait.
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Sailor Alya was not without purpose tonight, though the purpose was selfish. He wasn't out to do good, necessarily--he was out because he was bored. And, more importantly, alone and with no one to call.
The idea of going to some club or party just seemed too draining an activity so he'd manipulated himself into powering up and going out into Destiny City alone with the promise of maybe finding someone more interesting than painted up colleagues or acquaintances.
He didn't know energy signatures well, but he knew them well enough to know that there was someone just on the horizon. Not a Senshi--he'd spent enough time with them to know what they felt like. He had the distinct sensation that he should have stayed away.
Alya didn't usually listen to the voice in the back of his head, so instead he walked straight towards the signature. He wasn't subtle--deliberately; he didn't want to sneak up like some criminal in the mind.
He had settled himself to wandering on rooftops--an easy, fast method of transportation--and a good vantage point. He spotted movement and guided himself towards Faustite before he'd really even gotten a good look. Moving to the edge of the building he dropped to the ground, mindful to keep his composure. Instinctively he reached a hand up to adjust his hair.
"Evening," he greeted, tucking what felt like a stray hair behind his ear. He wasn't shy about approaching and gave Faustite a quick look over. He tilted his head slightly as he examined him. "...What are you wearing? You aren't a Senshi, what does that make you?"
The idea of going to some club or party just seemed too draining an activity so he'd manipulated himself into powering up and going out into Destiny City alone with the promise of maybe finding someone more interesting than painted up colleagues or acquaintances.
He didn't know energy signatures well, but he knew them well enough to know that there was someone just on the horizon. Not a Senshi--he'd spent enough time with them to know what they felt like. He had the distinct sensation that he should have stayed away.
Alya didn't usually listen to the voice in the back of his head, so instead he walked straight towards the signature. He wasn't subtle--deliberately; he didn't want to sneak up like some criminal in the mind.
He had settled himself to wandering on rooftops--an easy, fast method of transportation--and a good vantage point. He spotted movement and guided himself towards Faustite before he'd really even gotten a good look. Moving to the edge of the building he dropped to the ground, mindful to keep his composure. Instinctively he reached a hand up to adjust his hair.
"Evening," he greeted, tucking what felt like a stray hair behind his ear. He wasn't shy about approaching and gave Faustite a quick look over. He tilted his head slightly as he examined him. "...What are you wearing? You aren't a Senshi, what does that make you?"
A sensation grew that he couldn't place. He recognized it as some kind of instinct, yet lacked a means to place it. But as someone hailed him, and as Faustite grew to understand the location of the feeling, he started to understand it. He recognized the presence of someone else before he ever laid eyes on the approaching man, though he knew not why or how that could occur. Faustite would need to inquire with his superiors about it later.
For now, he turned his attention on his latest company. He looked like something from a Renaissance festival, his stomach all exposed and his shirt bound together like peasant's wear. He felt strange - different from other Negaverse agents, certainly, though Faustite only surmised this was due to his qualification of 'enemy'. The white undershirt provided its own clue, alongside warnings that the only allied senshi to the Negaverse sported recognizable holes in head and chest. This one was an enemy, though he reacted in no way that Faustite would expect for someone who would want him dead. No, he seemed equally lost as Faustite.
The man chose not to attack him, but to hail him. A start, he supposed. Better than the alternatives he faced earlier. Maybe this one would prove him wrong, but Faustite would not yield to hope just yet.
"I'm not a senshi," Faustite confirmed with the shake of his head. The man looked older than he, and oppositional in more ways than just in uniform. Faustite wondered; did he think it safe to ask such questions of strangers in a war? Was he yet unaware of repercussions? "I'm an agent." Faustite crossed arms over chest and meandered to stand near the cusp of a sodium light. "A part of the Negaverse. Who are you?" With the light to his back, he could see the senshi with relative ease - the yellowed sash, the billowing pants trying to engulf combat shoes. They were, perhaps, the most useful part of his regalia. But none of them could choose their own outfits, could they? Briefly Faustite wondered who made the choices.
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“Oh, the Negaverse.” Alya nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer. He continued without introducing himself, “You’re not really like the last Negaverse agent I met. You feel different. But then, she was a bit more intimidating. Not,” he added hastily, “That you couldn’t be intimidating, it’s just you have such a sweet little face. You’re not that old, are you?”
It was difficult to tell—especially when the youth these days had a way of just looking older, but Alya was convinced he couldn’t be out of high school yet.
“Not very fair to expect you to come out and fight, is it?”
Only now did he move to stand in front of the agent and extend his hand. “I’m Sailor Alya. What should I call you?”
It was difficult to tell—especially when the youth these days had a way of just looking older, but Alya was convinced he couldn’t be out of high school yet.
“Not very fair to expect you to come out and fight, is it?”
Only now did he move to stand in front of the agent and extend his hand. “I’m Sailor Alya. What should I call you?”
I have a sweet little face. He smiled crookedly, knowing what his mother would answer in kind if she were here for such a comment. "I'm fifteen," he provided. "A great deal of the Negaverse looks older than I do." Or he supposed so; Jet and Chrysocolla looked much closer to his age. So did the senshi that approached him, too, when he compared the blonde to Umber.
The rhetoric urged him to raise a brow, and he conceded that much. "They haven't expected me to fight. Not yet."
But Faustite could not restrain his own questions ad infinitum; after a short paused, he asked after his own curiosities. "You're a senshi. Why do you come out at this time of night, knowing that the world is full of mischief? I've seen whole streets taken over by vagrants and drunken husbands looking to escape their responsibilities." People like my dad, he almost added. "The dead, doll eyes of the unconscious left behind by careless agents. Once I've seen the end of an old relationship. But you're different from them. So why face this part of the city, Alya? Why come out at night?"
He hadn't yet offered a name in response, but his CO often cautioned him against providing information. He knew not why he should trust either impulse - to share or to follow his CO's advice - given that the lot of the world at this angle looked so new and so rapt for hurt.
kyuseisha no hikari
sorry about the wait!
