WC - 1014

Dubhe wasn't entirely sure what called her back to her homeworld. Perhaps morbid concern at the ruination, or perhaps the last visit; the memory of the palace, the realization she'd been meant to inherit the Dubhian Empire and all of the promise it bore, a promise she wanted to offer as hope to the provincial stars of Dubhe. Or maybe she justy wondered if the entire star was dead. A funny word, to describe a world, but from a distance it was just that -- a star -- and so as Dubhe arrived at home, it wasn't missed by here to arrive upon the steps of the Imperial Palace,gazing well out across the capitol with no small sense of granduer and promise. Admittedly, Dubhe was noticing the smallest changes. Mostly, it was in the form of grass. Grass had begun welling up through cracks in the ground, along with dandelions, of all things, and similarly shaped blue and pink flowers. She wondered if they were edible, as she descended the stairs slowly, taking in the city before beginning to walk. Green, razor-sharp grass scuffed her boots as she walked, but the flowers were soft as any animal, and Dubhe couldn't resist picking them off and on, slowly braiding a daisy-chain of flowers, and from a chain, a soft wreath of pink and violet and blue and yellow, raising the flowers to smell them slowly.

The Emperor approached slowly, smiling at his child as the little girl collected flowers, clumsily making a wreath before he swept her up and nuzzled his treasure -- the only person he seemed to be soft and gentle towards -- and smiled at her.

"Jolanthe, what re you doing, hmm? Picking all those flowers?" He questioned. Jolanthe giggled before grabbing his crown, taking it before putting the flowers on his head.

"I wanted to make a pretty crown, Daddy! You need a pretty crown!" Jolanthe enthused. Her sire cooed promptly, before taking a regal pose, still holding her.

"Really? Does it suit me, my precious little flower?" He was more than happy to please her -- his heiress, his greatest joy. Jolanthe studied him seriously, then, nodded.

"Yah! It's lots better than your old scary one!" She proclaimed confidently. He cooed, and took the true Imperial Crown, placing it on her head seriously.

"I know you don't like this one, sweet -- but it's the sign of power the Emperor or Empress holds over the Empire. It's meant to command respect, not fear." Which was largely true. He tried to be kind to the provinces, since Jolanthe was born, but he admitted a heavy hand, originally. But he'd gifted them all citizenship, to celebrate his daughter's birth; and her every birthday drew more joy in him, thus he in turn granted more freedoms. But the Senshi remains conscripted and he refused to release them. His commanders needed the senshi contingent, and senshi owed their people and worlds this sacrifice. Gods help him, he was terrified his daughter might awaken as the next Sailor Dubhe, though. Srill, a worry unfounded, at present, and he kissed her forehead. "And one day, sweet, you will rule and wear the crown. But I think... Yes. Less frightening on you." He smiled, and hugged the girl warmly.

It hurt to remember another life and father. Dubhe paused, looking down at her flowers, and raised a hand to her tiara, a circlet of beads that wove into her hair. She had no idea where the crown coiuld be, but she suspected she awakened with the circlet, and was never crowned. So.... The machine that fouled up the planet was... Her father's fault? How completely depress--

Crnch.

The crunch was unmistakeably dry grass and plants, and Dubhe looked down to see she had stepped into a ring of death. Nothing grew here; or what had, died, crumbling into dust with a nudge of her toe. Immediately Dubhe panicked, falling to her knees to smell and finding the faint stench of ash and burnt plant matter, a hard border formed against luscious, sharpo green and hopelessly soft flowers that were growing in cracks in the ground of the city, and in a movement Dubhe shot up, almost dancing backwards with her eyes wide at the sheer contrast and sick reminder of how she'd found her homeworld. Dead; a husk frozen in the final moment of living before the machine -- something she barely remembered at all - had caused, robbing billions on the world of life.

Like this spot. Dubhe knelt, examining the space frantically. It was only a dead spot, circular and considerable, but it had taken razorgrass and flower alike, leaving brown and black death. Ash-like dust coated her gloves' fingers as she touched the foliage and frowned before exhaling, fingers beginning to shake. What was causing this? What if it spread? Dubhe's hand shook more as she began to panic. What if it was a repeat of the past? What if gwe gomeworld was condernws ro siw?A worse thought struck her.

Was the machine mending, somehow, and destroying the world all over? She didn't even know how it worked -- she then realized she didn't know how the machine worked, she did understand how to permanently break them, and the woman determined it was time to shatter this ancient relic. What if it killed other worlds in her absence? What if it killed another senshi? She couldn't risk uncertainty. Dubhe rose slowly, turning toward the center of the capitol, and to the palace, before she moved into a sprint, disregarding the fact she was wearing heels, instead sprinting, and sprinting, and sprinting. She shot up the stairs, into the palace, through the halls; she rushed into a massive chamber where the bodies long since disintergrated into bonemeal and cloth. She didn't hesitate, instead grabbing a large, heavy plank of wood andf slammed it down into the machine, again, and again. the metal buckling and crunching as it kept going, until there was no hope of it reactivating, and slowly she sighed, closing her eyes a moment, before turning, and raising her hand, producing her phone to go home.

Hopefully, it would be regrowing when she returned.