Evenings in the park were the worst when it came to the little flying ******** that hovered around the ponds. The little green beasts made the best noises around the same time but tonight the ******** won the battle, sending Sailor Bacchus for a dimly lit walk in the planet’s stupid ******** heat, the top of his fuku unwrapped and tucked carefully in on itself. If one of the humans happened upon him, well, he would have a bit of fun sending them running off into the night. Lost in the overwhelming sensations of a living world, he’d barely registered the presence of another energy signature before he saw another senshi in the distance, face turned skyward as she leaned back on a wooden bench. The white fuku she wore was frustratingly familiar. Like an old acquaintance reencountered after too long to easily recall their name. She lowered her gaze, silently scrutinizing his face. Tempesti! That was it. Even if the fuku was a bit more elaborate than he remembered, and it was a different girl (much less dead, to be certain) wearing it, he was fairly certain that he had the right name for the outfit. If not, well he could deal with that then.

“Ho! Is that our little harpy?” The Tuath man all but charged toward the young redhead who looked more than a little bit perplexed by the sudden outburst.

“I’m sorry, are you talking to me?” It seemed more than a little bit unlikely that he was addressing anyone else, unless there was someone else associated with harpies wandering about the park. The tall stranger’s inhuman appearance left little doubt that she was speaking to another alien, seemingly newly arrived on Earth. Despite the measures he seemed to have taken to clean himself up, it was clear that he was most likely living in this park.

The deep space senshi cackled, “Ha! Still polite. You look good for someone who went insane and died. I guess the Galaxy Cauldron treated you well after that last ********> Tempesti stared at the stranger, bemused. He’d danced in the periphery of some of her memories in the Tower, alongside others of his race, but no names accompanied those sparse impressions. Her confusion only mounted when the alien swept her into a quick, tight, one-armed hug.

“You don’t remember me though. Course you don’t. You were dead for a good long while from the look of it and the Cauldron is about as helpful for memory as a long night with the Grey Lady.” He released the bewildered young woman before continuing, “Fin, Finvara if you still stand on ceremony, Sailor Bacchus if you insist on bringing up meaningless titles, but I really hope you’re done with that shite. It didn’t even suit you then.” The alien rolled his eyes theatrically.

He grinned, she’d been more Nuada’s friend than his, but her own stupid pointless death came well before the two of them fell out so he opted not to hold her bad taste in companionship against her. Besides, they had been friends, even if they didn’t have all that much in common. Gods know she needed some levity in that dreary tower and his sickly brother wasn’t always good for that. They both needed a good laugh now and again.

“I’m sorry, but you’re right. I don’t remember you. Not really.” She smiled slightly, a bit embarrassed at her inability to recall any real detail of how they knew one another “I know that Elysia knew you, but I don’t know how. Those memories are…fragmented and I’ve only recovered a few.” Very few of those recovered memories were pleasant, many of them were more like fleeting impressions than coherent memories. But there were a few nameless, friendly presences who didn’t carry the weight of fear that some of the others did.

Fin scrutinized her as she spoke, her eyes were the same stormy grey, but she didn’t have the same trembly twitchy thing Elysia did half the time, her features weren’t quite as sharp, and her lack of scales definitely seemed like a downgrade. Still, he wasn’t going to complain about the fact that she was alive and not babbling nonsense. Even if being born on Earth had necessarily made her less visually interesting. “Ah, well we met when my mother decided that learning statecraft meant visiting depressing prisons disguised as luxury suites. You were a sad, twitchy-faced thing so naturally you got along famously with Nuada. My brother, remember him? You probably don’t. You’re not missing out on much.” A bitter smile flickered across his face, barely noticeable before it vanished seamlessly into a crooked grin.

Tempesti listened in bewildered silence as the alien’s words came in a deluge of strange, sad revelations couched in a flippant, even jocular tone. “So, going to tell me your name this time around or are you going to make me guess?” Right, he’d immediately introduced himself with his own name, volunteering his given name before begrudgingly offering the name that he’d gained upon awakening. A title he’d called meaningless, leaving her with more questions than she suspected he’d be willing to answer, despite his general gregariousness.

“Er, Rowan. My name is Rowan.” However chaotic the man himself seemed his energy signature didn’t mark him as an adversary, and she couldn’t deny the nagging déjà vu that accompanied his presence. Some fondness Elysia had harbored for him and his family. Despite Elysia’s questionable mental state, no fear tinged the impressions she had of Bacchus. She told herself that it wasn’t entirely unwise to share her name. He’d shared his own after all, and despite the cheeriness he presented he clearly needed…help of some kind. Whether or not he needed the sort of help she could give remained to be seen, but that wouldn’t prevent her from trying.

“Huh, weird. Well, it’s good to see you not laid out on a slab, Rowan. That wasn’t a good look. Now. Where are we going?”