Backdated to May 27, 2017

It was always a pull. A whisper on the winds. A rustle in the trees. A babble from the brook. A giggle from the waves. It was always a pull. She let it pull her, taking out her phone and hitting the homeworld icon. Homeworld. It felt strange, to call it that. Her namesake was a constellation, not a star or asteroid or comet or... any of that. A constellation.

Teal grass swayed in the sea winds where the land wasn't protected by the curving trees and rock outcroppings, towering over her in heights she wouldn't have imagined possible under the weight of the powerful winds. Deep roots grew quickly and long here. Large waves battered the strong cliff faces and walls of white stone built eons ago, the only echoing sounds of this world. No birds, insets, people, fish... she never understood how the plants continued to flourish and spread.

She stood now among the smooth marble and chrome-like buildings, the glinting metal and white stone standing far higher than, in her mind, it had any right to. Narrow, high, hundreds of stories high on average, with tight circular patterns and arches, domes and many... so many glass windows. Suspended rooms on upper floors, plants overgrowing the rails and barriers and hanging out open windows. Stones, gems, and bright old paints glimmered and added color and vibrance beyond the white, metal, teal, and blue of the world. Frescos, mosaics, depictions of wonderful stories she only wished she could still understand, visible behind the strain of time and overpowering plant life.

The stars of the constellation were near, glimmering even in the sun. She watched one, unsure which it was, the closet. The primary light of her world. But they each lit up the planet, each gave life and light. Would she ever meet these senshi?

She shook herself, brown eyes sparking as she refocused on the building ahead of her. One of the largest, one that... whispers. Memories that weren't hers, they... they told her what this place once was. A library. The... Vitae Palace Library. Whispers on the wind spoke in tongues she never heard, yet someone else understood perfectly. It sent chills down her spine and goosebumps across her skin.

No actual palace inside. That was located on a different part of the island... city... they were both sort of the same thing. A bag was dropped to the stone path she stood on, followed by a large duffle bag to her other side. She fished out a camera from her bag, snapping photos of the library's front facade--or as much of it as she could fit into the frame at a time--the street and its other buildings, and as she worked, stepping closer and closer, the flora and weather tarnished metalwork and paintings along the door and face of the building. She'd definitely need a ladder if she planned on cleaning even the whole of the ground level face, but at least for now, she had a place to start.

It was a summer plan, really. Enough resources to last her the weekend trip to her world, along with various recording, documenting, and cleaning supplies that she could get her hands on after beginning to research restoration techniques. Of course, she doubted she'd be capable of a mass scale thing that the city--the world--would require. Even just one building was far beyond the scope of her abilities and funding.

But if she could just start to make some headway here and there. Just start to dig into the world that was... hers, and the history of a people and their stories here. It was enough for her. A summer project that would likely turn into a lifetime project.

Cassiopeia braced herself as she began her work, using clippers to slowly begin to pull and cut away the flora that had taken over the doorway. Unveiling the astounding craftsmanship of dainty details and arching figures of metal. Trees, mostly, curving vines of metal, precious stones, reaching for worlds and stars far beyond. Frescoes of swirling patterns, more shows of glistening stones beneath years of grime and wear, of deep rooted trees reaching for stars and worlds far beyond their own, spreading branches and seeds into the unknown. Art of a people who viewed their work as beneficial to all they encountered, beneficial to each world they graced and gifted with their knowledge and existence.

There were countless problems with that alone, with these emotions of pride that swirled through her mind and chest as she worked. Cassie balked, skeptical and removed from the world on which she stood, adorned in the garb of Sailor Cassiopeia. She'd braced herself for this, even if she'd no concept of how deep this hole would go that she was beginning to unearth. History was never neat and prefect and ideal and pretty. Archaeology? Even less so. Such was the cost for the pursuit of knowledge. Bit by bit she pried away the plants, the heavy leaves and clinging vines. Careful of the artwork beneath their touch, taking photos with each bit of progress as she went. Drinking water often, sketching and noting her understanding of what she was seeing with each new piece bared to her eyes. Living eyes. For the first time in centuries. A millennia.

So close to home, something whispered on the sea winds. You've come so far.

Who? Cassie? Or Cassiopeia? Or someone else she still couldn't name? Whose story was the voice referring to? Her own? Or someone else's, someone's she had no place in, except for the duty to relay it?

WC: 940