Backdated to 12 Dec, 2021
Outside of her home, the winds howled. Once, they sang. Whistles and flutes through carvings in rock and plaster, both artificial and natural. Now, they just howled. Gentle songs were screams and screeches. Eventually, they'd decrease their ferocity, but that wouldn't be for a while, she figured, judging by how long the storms were tending to last these days. Lighting split the sky in a million pieces, and thunder shook the stone and metal building.
Kyrie winced, putting her hands up over her ears to muffle some of the sound. A fire was going in the wide hearth, and she eyed the decreasing level of her firework stocks. Another foraging trip to restock that would be necessary soon. The winds roared against the boards plastered over the windows, bouncing them against the thick glass panels. So many were already broken in the house--each felt like a gut punch when she'd pick up the shattered pieces of dense, colored glass that had previously shown images of flora and fauna of the world, and popular patterns. She'd already gone around to board up the rest of the windows, be they broken or not, for not only her place, but many of the buildings around her. The ones not in the immediate vicinity of her home...
She slumped a bit more in the pile of pillows and blankets she'd cobbled together near the hearth, tugging some of the them over herself. So much of the city was in ruins. She'd tried to reenforce what she could, but...
With no one else needing the shelter now, it'd been easy to find excuses to just let it all fall to pieces. Not that she even needed to let anything happen. It was the natural course when hurricanes were the new nearly daily norm, stretching on for hours or days, and typhoons and waves ripped away towns. Whole cities, even. Lands were flooded, everything dragged into the waters, or bashed into the rocks, or thrown over cliffs. She didn't need to do anything for whole swaths of her peoples' homes and wonders to just... vanish. Fall into debris and rubble.
Guilt ate at her, as it always did when her mind wandered in this direction. She'd read over different texts on architecture, masonry, carpentry... but without proper power supplies, most of the tools she needed for wide-scale repairs were now useless. Sure, she was able to work on smaller projects, but that had only been enough to protect her home, and the surrounding buildings. Largely so she wouldn't feel so depressed about their crumbling appearance each time she looked outside. Boarding up the stained glass windows, reinforcing walls and barricading doors to ensure they hold up against the increasing powers of the gales. Cleaning up debris that blew in, or tumbled from the islands as they flew overhead. Already, more large chunks had damaged other areas of the city, and entire islands had taken out towns, other cities... travelling far outside the cliff walls that helped to redirect the winds was no longer safe. Too many storms, too strong of winds. Too many chances of more of the stone sanctuaries crumbling and falling on her.
That thought made her cringe, an iciness leeching into her extremities. She hated it, but such thoughts were... growing more frequent. Had been, for the last... century? More? A glance towards a small book was a grim sight. Each page, she knew, carried tick marks. One for each day. Each page was evenly spaced with them to enable her to get a quick count. This book was nearly filled. She was... pretty sure she was only off maybe... a week, maybe two, in the grand scheme. There were times she'd just slept, wallowing in her own sorrow, crushed under the reality of her situation. But, most times, she still managed to crawl over to the book, make her tick mark, and crawl back under the blankets. As if that could somehow protect her from the falling sky, and dying world.
Another sky-shattering lightning strike, and the thunder that followed rattled her bones. Her wings fluffed before they folded tight against her back, allowing the flap on the back of her dress to fall back into place. Wriggling herself down into the pile of pillows, she tugged the blankets up higher, nestling herself in till she felt comfortable enough to pull out one of the various books she'd piled close to her. She wouldn't be going out until the storm settled, or so was her plan. For now, she read. It was a book she'd read before on trade agreements forged some centuries before she'd even been born. It was a slow, agonizing read, but the history was important. How valuable trade routes were formed was important.
Especially now that they were all gone...
Forcing away the thoughts about how she was the only one left to remember them, to remember any of it... wasn't. Easy. That fear of being the last to remember any of it. That fear of how easy it'd be for the dying world to take her out with it...
Kyrie set the book down on the ground, heat rising at her eyes, stinging till she squeezed them shut. This happened a lot, too. She pulled the blankets over her head, trying to bury herself into the soft cocoon. Breathing became more difficult as she pressed her face against the soft materials, panting and choking on gasps and stinging tears. Sounds grew, lifting into the room. It didn't matter how loud she screamed, or if she did it enough to make her throat raw. It hadn't mattered in over two hundred years.
I'm sorry
Tangled in the screams from the young woman and the storms, words pierced through before being lost to the gales. Brief. Useless. Unheard by any, unwanted by any for so long. When had anyone last cared about her thoughts?
I couldn't save you
Why am I here?
Why am I alone?
Why can't I just die?
Everyone else is dead. Why can't I be, too?
There was a plea there. But with it, a fear. She didn't want that plea answered. But the plea still came. Over and over, time and time again. She'd watched people grow old. Be born. All die. How many mourning periods had there been? How many burials did she help with, watch from afar, then conduct herself? No one else had the strength. Many were never buried. Lost to the sea. Lost to the rocks. Burned, if people refused her help. Lives were lost that couldn't be readily replaced. New life became something that couldn't be celebrated because the limited resources meant a new mouth to feed could topple the teetering settlements and shelters.
Each time a life ended, Kyrie could no longer apologize after a thousand years. She had no more words for them. Just as they had no more use for her. She'd failed them as their guardian. The dying world was proof of this. Their dying people were proof of this. Yet over a thousand years, she remained unchanged. Even the mountains cracked and deteriorated under the plague and storms. Kyrie looked no different than she had when their communications went down with other worlds, and Solaris was cut off. That time of confusion, that time of unrest, they'd all been so sure they could survive and adapt to. And did. For a while. But they could not fight the effects of the plague or time.
Her parents aged. Her baby siblings aged. They all died. Some naturally. Others...
More screaming. Was it her, or the storm?
Why am I still alive?
Why am I still here?
Let me go. Please. Let me go.
Then go
The sharp pull in her chest was jarring.
Kyrie gasped, a choked sound as she lifted her head, eyes red-rimmed and gaze unfocused. Sparks tingled along her nearly numb extremities. Blankets tumbled somewhat around her as she sat up, knees pressed into the rest of the bedding below her. Her breaths came out in shaking huffs and puffs from her mouth, looking around the room bathed in firelight and the soft blue glow of some of the crystals. There was no change. Why did she think there would be? It was like something had grabbed her by the arm, and yanked on her. Only. Not her arm. A hand reached to gently press against her chest. There was... a throb there. Inside her. Like something had... tugged on her. Not to hurt..?
But...
To get her attention..?
Dark brows furrowed, fingers rubbing absently against the loose off-white tunic. Golden chains flickered in the dim lights and clinked together. As the thoughts occurred, they felt... right. The fire was dying into embers. Part of her considered throwing on more logs, but she couldn't bring herself to move towards the dwindling pile. Stoking the fire again meant she... was staying right there. That made her stomach churn. The sparks felt sharper, skittering under her skin. Pricking and poking. On trembling legs, she pushed herself up out of the comfort of the blankets and pillows, dousing the flickering lights in the base of the hearth with water. Smoke hissed and steamed up, filling her nose and making her eyes burn till she turned away. The storm hadn't lessened outside. It still raged with all its might, and if anything, she could hear the battering of the rain and debris all the louder against the boards and rock. Slamming like fists. Shouting, booming.
It sounded... furious.
For all the world like it...
Bare feet padded soundlessly across the pillow and blanket strewn floor. That pull was still there in her chest. Lighter. It didn't need to yank so hard to get her attention now. But still there. Persistent. A gentle tug, urging. Encouraging. The door shook violently beneath her hands as she rested them against the ornate carvings of gold and white marble inlaid in the sturdy, polished stone. Heavy as it was, it still rattled and groaned against the force of the winds outside. It bucked and shook her away. Scared. Or enforcing the will of the storm beyond it.
Delicate fingers unlatched some of the heavy locks, thick chains that helped to secure it in place. Her skin shimmered blue in the crystal light. Cold. The pulse that thundered inside her chest felt warm. It was somewhat unnerving, but also... exciting? She couldn't recall when she'd last felt this. An urge to move. A want to move. Laying in bed. Letting time pass. Sinking into the storms and darkness. It was so easy. So, so easy. Make her tick marks, and return to the embrace of emptiness. It made time pass. Especially when she could find so little food these days. What else did she have?
But she wanted this.
The heavy chains fell, clattering against the ground, some muffled as they landed on blankets or rugs. Pushing on the handle did nothing. It didn't even flinch. Kyrie scowled. She slammed her hands into the door, then her shoulder, her wings flexing and flapping as if that might somehow give her the leverage she needed. The winds continued to scream, shoving back against the heavy metal. Pressing hard against the door, leaning all her weight into it, she managed to open the door a few inches, but a gust threw it back into place, knocking her backwards. The door slammed shut with a mighty clap, causing the house to tremble in its finality. It refused to budge. Kyrie yelped, landing back on her bum hard, nearly slamming her head against the floor as she fell back. Saved only by her arms flying up to cushion them. Her wings were pinched and ached, making her hiss.
With stuttering movements fuelled by weak limbs that sparked with pins and needles, she crawled onto her hands and knees, staring at the rattling, snarling door. It kept her in. A prison guard. No. The storm was that. Her home. Her sanctuary. When had it turned into her cell? Her gilded cage? How many years had she hidden away here from the groups of Solarians who cursed her, spat at her, tried to attack her? Some had thought if they'd had another senshi, they might have been saved. Now and then, Kyrie had wondered the same. But she always escaped. And hid. Or someone stopped the angry folks, and she ran away. And hid.
The thing pulling at her wanted her out. She couldn't keep hiding here. Anxious energy began to rush through her veins. Ah, adrenaline. When had she last felt that? She nearly fell back onto the ground as she pushed herself up, wavering but... standing.
Heavy breaths were drowned out by the tempest beyond the door.
Hesitation gripped her and held her fast. The warden was snarling outside her door. Inside her cell, her cage, she was safe. The safest she could be on this world now. She could just lay back down. Curl up. Sleep. The storm would be over by tomorrow, maybe. But something warned her time was of the essence. She only had one shot. If she stayed inside... that'd be it.
And the finality of that terrified her.
Her throat was sore. Choking on air hurt enough as it was.
But...
Stumbling, catching herself on bookshelves haphazardly emptied and messily filled, pushing herself off a paper and instrument strewn table, she moved over to the back of the room with the book with her tick marks. It sat on a worn, colorful piece of fabric. In the chest beneath it, treasures lay protected. On her knees with a thump, Kyrie opened the chest and began to rifle through it. So many pieces of fabric. Costumes for festivals and rituals. Favorite articles of her father's and mother's. Toys her siblings loved. Perfumes her sisters and mother used. Books her brothers loved. Trinkets they'd given her. Happier times. Beautiful times. She pushed past them, careful not to topple them out of the chest. There. Beneath them all, tucked away and hidden. Smothered. A metal box, dented and old. It once was ornate. Pearl-encrusted, inlaid with gold. Delicate embossed feathers that glistened in the light. Beautiful.
The box's lustre had not survived the thousand years. It'd become broken, buffeted, worn down. Pieces lost, sections torn off.
Kyrie opened it, forcing the broken lock apart. It came undone so easy. So tired. Unable to fight or hold back the forces working against it any longer.
The pen within was still so beautiful.
It didn't look as it once had. It looked like the device given to her centuries ago by that smiling, gentle Mauvian.
Her fingers closed around it, and that pull within her chest tightened. She had to go. She couldn't wait.
Returning the box to the chest, she fastened everything shut once more. Protective, still, of the memories that lay within. Pieces from her mother, father, brothers, sisters... things she never wanted to forget. Things she knew were lost long, long ago.
Leaving them behind felt... like she was abandoning them. Them. She wouldn't be able to smell the perfumes. She wouldn't be able to look upon their writing. Their faces were already so faded in her memories. There were gifts, tokens, from other people. People who lived long after her family had left this world. They were beginning to grow faint in her memories, too. Would she forget them? Would they cease to be? If she left these pieces behind... would that be it, forever? People often told her she'd abandoned them. She'd been too weak. Not suitable as their guardian. That another senshi would have been better than her. Any other senshi. Her grip slackened on the pen briefly... before it tightened, digging the metal into her flesh.
She wasn't sure how she managed to walk away. The book, with all its tick marks, was picked up. Standing before the door, she let out a breath, one... far calmer than it'd any right to be, she felt. With a wave of her hand, she turned out the lights of the crystals. Darkness enveloped her, as the storm beyond raged. The storm that consumed her world. Her people.
Her.
Kyrie felt that pull. So urgent. Now, now, now!
"Solaris Power, Make Up."
The flare of golden energy was unlike any brilliance that had been seen on that world in years. She'd not drawn upon it. That useless, useless power. But now... now it fell onto her like a shield and a blanket all in one. Her wings flexed, her skin seemed to glow beneath its splender.
And she felt the power of it.
Her boots clicked once. Twice. Thrice. And one slammed into the door. The winds were forced back, the heavy door flung open despite their attempts. No pen remained in her hand, nor a book. They were gone, safe. Cloth swirled around her, clawed at by the torrent that bit at her skin and eyes.
Solaris stepped out into the thick of it, turning only to force the door closed once more. Shutting it tight. She'd protected this place. She couldn't lose it, too.
Now, now, now!
The tugging was so urgent. She was running out of time. Not that she was sure what that time was even for, what it meant... but she understood there was only this chance.
The Senshi of Catalysts knew what that meant. If nothing else. She knew when change was calling. Either she go with it, be brought amongst the forces, or nothing would ever change.
But catalysts survived change. They brought it on, they encouraged it. But they survived it.
Why am I still here?
Why am I still alive?
The storm tore at her, debris slicing thin marks that couldn't even bleed before the rain rushed them. Somewhere beyond the clouds that crackled and shattered with lightning, something called. An energy pulsed, flared. Called. It was brief. It was leaving. It reached out to her, gave her the chance. Leave. Or stay behind. Remain as she was, or head the call. It reached a crescendo that drowned out the storm, pulling at her core as much as the winds pulled at her form.
And Sailor Solaris...
Answered it.
The rush of energy was unlike anything she'd felt. It pulled her, tugging her though endless space. She felt herself leaving behind her world. Her home. Her people. To where? She had no idea. But she let it carry her. Lights flared and flashed, something crackled and roared. She closed her eyes tight, unable to take the pain in her eyes.
And then... silence.
A chill settled around her. The air. It was cold here. Not uncomfortable for her. Just... cold.
No winds clawed at her. No storm beat her. The air had a n** of that purely cold smell. Frozen water smell. But there were other smells, thicker ones. The air wasn't... as fresh as it was back home. Her nose wrinkled slightly. Distant sounds reached her. Blaring. Something. What was that? Not thunder. Slowly, her eyes opened.
Snow spread out before her in a field made blue under the light of a nearly white moon. But it was not a wide field. The field was circled by... trees. Not the skeletons she knew. Her lashes fluttered. They. Weren't skeletal. There was... stuff on the trees.
Her boots crunched awkwardly in the snow as she moved forward. Stumbled, catching her hand with a wince on the tree trunk. It was sharp against her skin. Rough. Needles scraped her cheek, and tangled in her hair. Needles. From the tree.
The heat of tears scalded her skin as she looked up at the fragrant leaves of the tree. Delicate needles hung on branches, prickly, but... she brushed her fingers against them, and marvelled. It was a tree built to survive rougher climates.
And there were so. So many.
Solaris looked around herself slowly, her mind not comprehending what was going on around it.
There were trees. They were... not dead. She looked back at the tree she leaned against, and in a flash, she began to kick the heel of her boot against the lower part of its trunk. Breaking at it till she could see the softer wood beneath. And. Sap. She fell to the snow, not minding the bite of it on her bare legs. Sounds broke from her lips, making her raw throat ache. But she stared at the sap that reflected the brilliant moonlight.
"I'm sorry," she gasped in a hoarse voice, placing her hands gently against the tree's trunk before pressing snow against the break in its bark. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't know if you were really... alive." Babbling. To a tree.
A bubble broke from her lips. A light, water-logged sound. Laughter. Oh. When had she last... laughed?
"You're alive." She looked about in sharp, jerky movements. The trees all around were the same. There were smaller plants, too, that formed an underbrush. "You're. All. Alive." Even within the snow, they still. Lived. Or slept, perhaps.
But lived.
There were sounds here. Not wind. Not rain. Sounds of... things rushing. A buzz of things. Of life?
More laughter spilled from her, tangled among sobs. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, melting away bits of the snow they hit. "You're alive. You're. There's. Life. There's life. There's life."
The words became more broken, more lost amongst tears and a croaking of sobs as her body began to rock, shoulders shaking. "There's life."
Something brushed against her leg, and Solaris nearly jumped backwards, even kneeling down amongst the snow as she was.
But she was snagged by the sight of the small, white-furred creature that stared up at her. Its warm body was pressed against her bare knees, little paws resting on the hem of her skirt as it stared up at her. Its nose twitched, whiskers moving about in the air.
She couldn't stop the broken sound that tore from her throat then. "Oooh.... oooh...." Were they words, or whimpers? She wasn't even sure. Trembling hands, numb not from the cold, reached for the tiny thing. It's large ears flicked about, but it moved into her grasp. The strength in her limbs nearly gave out, and she had to quickly pull it to her chest to keep herself from dropping it, nearly doubled over as she clutched it to herself. "Ooh.... oooh.... you're... you're alive. You're real." It wriggled a little, moving in her hands until it could shove its nose up against her neck, where the whiskers gently tickled her. She didn't mind it's cold body. It felt nice to her. She wondered if the heat off her body felt nice to it, too.
Again, she rocked, slowly, cradling the tiny thing to her. It stayed there, seemingly comfortable being held and pet. It didn't seem to mind how much she cried. Loud, pained sounds. Tears for all the years. All the lives. All the cracked mountains and fallen islands.
She didn't know where she was. But there was life here. More soft sounds in the snow eventually made her look up through wet, blurred lashes. More tiny white things. They clustered around her, tucking in against her legs, some climbing up onto her lap. They just... settled there. Some closed their eyes, content. Solaris wept on, allowing herself to be embraced by these small, fuzzy creatures.
Why am I still alive?
Catalysts survived, unchanged. They sparked change. Good or bad. And they survived.
That was why.
WC: 4,019
Prompt 7 (Snowbunnies): Winter seems to bring out the cutest of all rodents; this isn’t the first time that small, white rabbits have infested Destiny City. They’re small, rarely larger than a guinea pig, and have large eyes and wiggling noses. They are always pure white and seem to show up whenever there’s snow. They aren't menacing or evil, they're just everywhere. They seem strangely domesticated; they are sweet, curious, and friendly creatures that will eat anything you give them. They always seem cold to the touch, and when they shake, little snowflakes sprinkle off of them.
While they seem to be social creatures who seem to appreciate anything warm and will cuddle up to steal body heat, they are too skittish and fast to be kept for pets. They can show up just about anywhere, either alone or--often--in pairs. They tend to wander off on their own without any trouble, but if you surprise them or try to catch or hurt them, they may bite. Their little teeth are enough to break skin, but after one bite they run away. The bite itself isn’t bad, but the effects are a bit unpleasant: for roughly two days after the bite, the injury is cold and the victim will feel random, cold, shooting pains. Their core body temperature will drop and they will often be sent into random fits of shivering. No medicine seems to help, and no amounts of blankets or hot baths can soothe the chill. You're just going to have to deal with it and hope it gets better…
Most experiences with the bunnies are perfectly pleasant, you just have to worry about them burrowing. There are holes peppering Destiny City, and with the fresh fallen snow it can be impossible to tell where they are hiding. The holes range from small holes to several feet deep, so can be a minor inconvenience to a potential hazard. On the bright side, sometimes you wind up covered in bunnies looking for warmth from their sudden guest. On the other hand, there are a rising number of trips to the hospital for twists and sprains. The bunnies always leave with the snow, so best to enjoy them--or avoid them--for as long as you can.