--- It's All Over.
They were finally returning home.
After being trapped on the dismal planet Earth for what felt like centuries, slaving for a prince who behaved like a spoiled child, facing abuse on more than one occasion, they were free at last.
So then why did Magenta feel oddly sad?
Of course, she was beyond ecstatic to be returning to their beloved Transsexual; to stand on it's moondrenched shores, and to time warp all night with long forgotten friends. But, after the initial rush of adrenaline from the take-over to launching the castle out into the atmosphere had worn off, a sour taste began to form in the back of her throat. What was it? Nerves? Exhaustion?
Magenta knew exactly what she was feeling; grief. Not over Frank'n'Furter, she'd probably dance on his grave if she got the chance to. And certainly not over Rocky, the blonde creature was barely old enough to know what death was to begin with. But... Columbia.
Blinking rapidly, she stared down at the prone body sprawled across the floor, not paying any heed to the corpses floating in the swimming pool at the opposite end of the auditorium. Never again would she hear the sounds of tap shoes clacking through the halls, the shrill laughter, or waste nights away gossiping and fooling around. As much as she loathed to admit it, Magenta had viewed Columbia as a friend. Possibly her best friend. It was more of an annoyed affection than anything else, but it was still there. It was real.
She wrestled with her emotions and facial expressions, wanting to scream and sob. To wail over the loss of possibly the only good thing that had come to her from their time on Earth. But Magenta didn't. She didn't want to alarm her brother... the murderer.
After being trapped on the dismal planet Earth for what felt like centuries, slaving for a prince who behaved like a spoiled child, facing abuse on more than one occasion, they were free at last.
So then why did Magenta feel oddly sad?
Of course, she was beyond ecstatic to be returning to their beloved Transsexual; to stand on it's moondrenched shores, and to time warp all night with long forgotten friends. But, after the initial rush of adrenaline from the take-over to launching the castle out into the atmosphere had worn off, a sour taste began to form in the back of her throat. What was it? Nerves? Exhaustion?
Magenta knew exactly what she was feeling; grief. Not over Frank'n'Furter, she'd probably dance on his grave if she got the chance to. And certainly not over Rocky, the blonde creature was barely old enough to know what death was to begin with. But... Columbia.
Blinking rapidly, she stared down at the prone body sprawled across the floor, not paying any heed to the corpses floating in the swimming pool at the opposite end of the auditorium. Never again would she hear the sounds of tap shoes clacking through the halls, the shrill laughter, or waste nights away gossiping and fooling around. As much as she loathed to admit it, Magenta had viewed Columbia as a friend. Possibly her best friend. It was more of an annoyed affection than anything else, but it was still there. It was real.
She wrestled with her emotions and facial expressions, wanting to scream and sob. To wail over the loss of possibly the only good thing that had come to her from their time on Earth. But Magenta didn't. She didn't want to alarm her brother... the murderer.