Backdated to 17 Feb 23 - 10 Mar 23 WC: 2,569

One thing Kyrie never quite tired of were the sunsets here.

After being on Earth, she'd become all the more appreciative of them--sure, Earth's own were beautiful, muted rainbows as the sun sank beyond the horizon. But on Solaris?

She leaned against the cold half-revealed walls of the bunker, gravel and debris from long-dead fauna covering the majority of its top to form a sort of hill over the facility. She'd not been able to locate it for a while thanks to that--once upon a time, it'd been cleared, gleaming metal peering above the terrain on its defensible high perch. Indents in the walls hinted to where panels once would have shifted aside to allow for sniper fire out from the safety of the bunker, or for scouts to peek out of and take count of any changes in enemy forces or some such.

Even the slope cut down into the ground to access the door had been mostly filled in, requiring her to actually dig the damn thing out… but she'd managed. Eventually. Her elbow and part of her forearm rested on the roof of the facility somewhat cleared of the hill that had settled over it, hair tossed about by winds smelling of salt and crisp, clean water that misted over her. She was far enough inland to not be worried about storms dragging up waves large enough to smash her camp here, or flood the facility, but the bunker had been built as a small fortress atop a prime location--the dense rock that formed the cliffs here withstood the test of time and weathering, allowing it to soar above the majority of the neighboring landscape unimpeded.

She sipped carefully from her thermos, enjoying the balm of warm, fresh tea sliding down her throat as she watched the bloom of colors across the ocean. Warm, golden rays from the last of the sun's warmth for the day danced over the slow drift of the waves. Mist and larger droplets suspended in the winds created sparkling gems and liquid gold through the sky, iridescent rainbows dancing through the air as they scattered the light. Long, crisp shadows formed where some of the floating islands dotting the skyscape lingered, some with their own mists of drifting waterfalls casting more golden glimmer and rainbow waves into the air. The golden haze of mist across the beach that sifted lazily under the winds added to the soothing view, a warmth and gentleness Kyrie had nearly forgotten at times.

While Earth's sunsets were muted rainbows and gold highlights, Solarian sunsets were iridescent gold, and sure, there were similarities... but she was biased here, and she basked in the beauty of her homeworld in that moment.

Once upon a time, the plant life would have been tossing up their bioluminsence about now, and the stars in the sky would have battled with the illuminations on the planet and floating islands for dominance in brilliance and magnificence. She missed that. Missed the golden lights and mists dancing over black leaves and tendrils, dark blues and purples and reds gilded in gold and rainbows…

As the waves rolled lazily, she finally finished her drink and knew she'd need to head back in. The warmth from the sunset helped to fuel her, at least, adding an extra bounce to her step despite everything that weighed on her.

That she could still find beauty in her world… it was a relief, to say the least.

Meant she still had hope, and so long as she had that… she could figure this s**t out.



Back inside the bunker was warm thanks to some of the systems she managed to get running again. It'd been somewhat of a surprise to find they could still function, at least somewhat. Not a lot, but enough that she was able to manually fix and readjust wiring that had been long sealed off and protected against the elements. Most were… in questionable condition, and so Kyrie shut off a lot of the typical systems that would have run simultaneously back in the day--scanners, computer systems, lighting, heating, water… She was able to get the heating and lights back on in a few rooms due to the old generators that ran on energy-filled crystals, types that were renewable energy sources due to how they could re-absorb latent energy around them (they just were… slow as ******** to recharge without other help…). After sitting around collecting dust, and energy, for hundreds of years, they were brimming with power to offer. Kyrie just kept things secluded to a couple core rooms where she was currently camping, making herself nice and cozy with the heating and lighting in place.

The computers she'd found there had made her hopeful at first…

Till she realized they'd been smashed by someone at some point in the past, leaving them useless to her now. That... that had been a painful moment.

She'd yelled and cried more than she'd care to admit.

But it'd been cathartic.

The wisp met her as she returned to the main room, bouncing around her head and shoulders with a tingle of energy that made her smile. It couldn't speak, sure, but just having it around and with her, someone she could speak at and see respond (though how much it actually understood versus just responding to her tone... she'd never know), it helped her mental state.

Made her feel less like the only thing on this planet that she was.

Well. Only thing that belonged.

Kyrie sat down heavily at the old table that'd survived within the bunker--a smooth, light-weight stone that was sturdy and able to withstand the constant jostling and slamming around of gear soldiers tended to deal with. It was easy to deconstruct due to crafty pins of the same dark grey stone that made the rest of the piece, pushed into precisely cut joints where legs and table additions connected. This style of furniture was old, one of their oldest insofar as their historical records showed. Pieces didn't need to be made as often as they might have from wood or other fibrous materials, enabling them to last longer through generations, sometimes many... yet still light enough to move around as life dictated.

The various bits of blanket bundled into a sitting mat and her own pillow shoved against the low back of the chair, though, spoke to the universal need of comfort with such simplistic pieces.

Across the table, she'd piled bits of files she'd found through investigating the remains of the site's archives. Most of the names were unfamiliar to her, groups that had taken over the bunker over the centuries but still mostly maintained some acknowledgement of those that came before them. The most useful files were lost with the computers, she figured that much, but sifting through the physical remains passed the time and at least gave her moments of reaching back through time, hearing the thoughts and hopes and joys and sorrows of other Solarians.

Some of the oldest records, though, were handled especially delicately. Kyrie had nearly dropped the large box when she'd pulled it out of storage, hidden deep away in the lower layers of the bunker. It was a name she actually knew, familiar swirling script staring back at her from eons past.

Sitting at the table, Kyrie looked over some of the files that one in particular had carefully crafted. The penmanship was crisp, structured. Not a single bleed of ink out of place, no hesitation in any of the strokes. A small smile played across her lips as she could picture the vivid veridian eyes staring so intently at the pages before looking to her, a dark brow raised in silent but expecting question. The notion that the interruption had best be for what she would consider a good reason.

Even when wrinkles began to crease and crack her features, and the dark old burn scars on her face and along the left side of her body made certain movements stiff or her skin look parchment thin in spots… Synādyle Aelith never lost the ferocity in her gaze or stature. Kyrie could close her eyes and all but see her standing before her. Arms crossed and locked behind her back, grey hair streaked with specks of brown, wings a rich soil brown skittered with black and white markings along the longest flight feathers.

"Synādyle," she sighed, before catching herself with a small laugh. "No… sorry. You told me to call you Aelith, didn't you?" Addressing each other by titles and lineage names had been commonplace, honoring one's achievements and the honor the individual added to the family they hailed from. Jobs were addressed with pride, then position within, rank if needed, then the individual's name if necessary to specify a singular person in a group.

That someone of such high rank and experience, within and beyond the military, had asked her to call them by their individual name… Kyrie could still recall her shock and open gaping at the woman.




"< I'm not remotely-- >"

"< How much older than I are you? >"

Kyrie's attempted objections were cut off nearly at the quick, and she pressed her lips together tight as she stared at the military commander. The Synādale of Watcher's Grace, one of the few high ranking military officials Kyrie held genuine respect for.

The Synādale sitting on the rock bench in front of her hadn't even been born yet when Solaris' communications with other worlds shut down. Kyrie had already been living her life, fighting with politicians and religious leaders for years, stood as an Eternal Senshi, a full ranked guardian of her world…

Yet her very presence was more profound and magnetic than most others Kyrie had met in her life. Soldiers fought under their Synādale's orders and wisdom because they believed in her strength and ideals, they trusted her plans, they wanted to do all they could to see them put into practice. Kyrie had become one of them.

She wasn't nearly on the same level as the Synādale.

Kyrie knew better than to glance away, but her gaze wavered as she held the vibrant green eyes more vivid than flash fire or the streaks of falling stars. "< If age actually mattered, people wouldn't be cursing me at every breath they could muster, >" she instead retorted dryly, the smirk adorning her face fooling neither of them.

Her name, her title, had become a vulgar curse over so many years…

The blue metal of the rings and bracelet the Synādale wore glimmered in the warm light of the sun, shimmering like blue-silver feathers as the rays caught each facet of the material. The bracelet especially had been carved in the image of a < feathered dragon's > wing curling around the wearer. A sign of protection amongst their people.

Not for the first time, Kyrie wondered if perhaps the Synādale was guarded by the divine, that the spirits of the winds and rocks and soil did wrap her in the shelter of their wings--

"< Why do you insist on introducing yourself as Kyrie? You hold ranks. Titles. Why do you refuse to identify yourself with them to anyone? You earned the right to bear them with pride. >"

Again, straight to the point. Her eyes closed briefly, looking away from the Synādale in a show of weakness she knew was unwise in her presence--not to mention, to gain her disapproval was actually something Kyrie didn't want...

"< …I lost the right to use a lineage name when I awoke as the Guardian of Solaris. I was no longer considered part of the lineage I was born to, nor could I form one. I was just called 'The One Who Brings Change'. Which… held a weight of its own. Requirements of its own. >" She gave a small shrug, grinning once more. "< And now it's one of our peoples' top curse to say! >" She refused to see the softening in the Synādale's face. Refused to see the sympathy there. Refused. "< I don't want to give them more titles and ranks to condemn because of me, Synādale. Too many good, worthy people would be dragged into the muck with me. At least if they have my individual name, they can't spread that poison to anyone else. >"



Kyrie took a breath, drawing herself back from eons past. "...I'm sorry I only called you Aelith once," she said softly to the silent pages. The Synādale had laid dying, and Kyrie sat with her. Unchanged. Unaged. Another generation of Solarians, born, raised, fought in wars and clawed out their existence… and now, were dying. She'd met the vibrant green gaze and called the Synādale her individual name, and even now… the peaceful look Aelith had taken then, the warmth in her smile. It'd driven the breath out of Kyrie, unused to such a gift of gratitude.

"I still don't know why she smiled like that," she said to the wisp as it hummed beside her, before it dipped to hover above a small box she'd yet to open. It was simple, no locked latch, but the metal was old, solid. She reached for it next, unsure why the wisp would be drawn to it--did it want to play? Sit inside the box? The idea got a smile out of her.

One that faded instantly upon opening the lid.

Two blue-metal rings, and a bracelet formed in the image of a < feathered dragon's > wing sat quietly in the unassuming box. Artifacts of a bygone age, Kyrie didn't even need to be as Solaris to feel the pulse of old, old magic that clung to them. It pulsed through the air, hummed even softer than the wisp did. It brought to mind the old hymns she used to practice or offer to the winds herself when needing guidance.

Gentle, hesitant fingers lifted them, holding them up to the artificial light and watching as even that caught on the facets within the metal itself, the feather-like structure they formed. Gleaming like blue-silver wings trapped… or perhaps, allowed to be frozen forever. Offering guidance where they could.

Kyrie closed her eyes briefly, amused at herself, that she could still possess such sentimentality.

Beneath the bracelet though, she realized, sat a small slip of paper. Curiously, she lifted it… and felt her breath still as she saw the sturdy, swirling symbols of her name.


< Kyrie

You have never been a curse upon our people. The Guardian of Solaris brings change. Change is not always good. People must learn what they can from that change, and apply it to help strengthen themselves, so that they may better aid and support the people around them. Lead them through the difficult changes into prosperity beyond.

You were the one who taught me the strength in that adapting and strengthening.

May the winds ever guide you and stay strong beneath your wings.

But should they not, I trust you to spark a storm and create your own winds.

Aelith >