IC Date: 08/13/2025
It would have been an understatement for Sailor Tempesti to claim a bit of trepidation at the inevitability of her return to the Primordial Tower. Despite her determination to press forward the suffocation that had nearly claimed her life during her previous foray jellyfished through her nightmares, stinging paralysis mingled with cosmic dread.

An airless void.

A dark star blazing like the afterimage of a supernova against her retinas that left her shaking for hours after she returned to the waking world. Disgusting or not, the demonic chicken encounters of earlier weeks had been an almost merciful distraction, if not a particularly welcome one. Their conspicuous absence of late wasn’t enough to lull her into a state of complacency, though maybe dreading the return of sulfuric poultry was easier than accepting the horrifying reality that confronted her whenever she allowed herself a few moments of stillness.

The senshi shook her head, focusing instead on the scent of an alien sea carried by a gentle easterly wind as she rode through the ancient Tempestine capital. Keraunos made it far easier for her to push aside any number of near death experiences that tapped incessantly at the back of her consciousness. The very stones felt as though they vibrated with awakening life, soft green peering eagerly through the cracks between the cobbles, along the sheer white walls of the canals, slowly reclaiming each opening with a stubborn determination. It was only right, in that case, that she match their tenacity.

Braking hard, Tempesti abandoned her bicycle against a low stone wall edging the canal. Two halves of a decrepit bridge reached crumbling fingers across the water, connected to an unfamiliar wrought metal gate by glittering mosaic path. Following the river of colorful glass she passed through gracefully arced leaves and blossoms delicately rendered in patinaed wrought bronze left creaking in her wake. An almost dizzying perfume hung heavily in the ancient garden, warm and honey-sweet against her skin. Pale, translucent leaves offered shade through their soft nacre glow, proving surprisingly sturdy against the gentle impact of Tempesti’s outstretched fingers, bell-shaped flowers in shades of celadon leaving fragrant traces on the palm of her hand.
Lavender petals spilled from the bell, seemingly clinging to her fingers before a sharp pain lanced through her nerves. Startled, she shook her hand but found herself unable to dislodge her tiny assailant who began to scuttle about, seeming indignant at being transported from its little hideaway. Through its false petals she could see a form not entirely unlike a praying mantis, though it bore flower-like wings and a sour attitude.

Dawning light cracked the delicate canopy overhead, casting orange shadows across the faces of long dead Tempestines whose fractured stone likenesses graced every corner of the secluded park. At least, she assumed it was a park. There was every possibility that it was the private garden of some ancient oligarch.

Whatever it might have been, any former owners were in no position to dispute her desire to declare it a park. Even if she and the bugs were the only ones around to enjoy it.