Last minute April submissions
All of the following are last minute submissions for the April 2011 prompts at sm-monthly, mostly experimental and better enjoyed with some knowledge of the Sailormoon series. Prompts are linked within the info sections.
Title: It gives a lovely light
Theme: " First Fig" by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Genre: General/Dark
Version: AU/Pre-manga?
Rating: PG
It left without a sound, its wake marked by a silence she was suddenly unfamiliar with, the kind of silence that lies between a question and an answer. But the question was one that led to more of the same and the answer one that she wasn't sure she could even believe to come true.
But oh, if it were to come true.
She touched her lips with shaking fingertips and unsteady breath. It had shown her a possibility, a taste of what her allegiance could bring - it hadn't been a promise, but still, it had been sealed with a kiss. She was well-aware that it had been magic, an illusion born from her deepest desire. But that this spirit had so much power, the ability to pluck with such dexterity the most intimate and most guarded of her secrets and place them not only on display but to give them life - she touched her lips again - how could she not at the very least be tempted to believe?
Because she, of all the people on Earth, knew how magic worked. She knew of the half-truths and the gift-curse that were used to bind bodies to spirits and life to death. She knew that the currents of magic affected more than her eye would ever live to see. And she knew, this without a doubt, that to open her heart would be to lose it, forever. The gift would be but a flame, a single, flickering flame that would not last a night. The curse would be a fire, a terrible, all-encompassing inferno of torture that would last to eternity.
All this she knew.
And yet.
When the spirit returned, it did not repeat its question. It did not need to because - and this Beryl also knew, had known the moment the spirit had appeared to her - it already knew her answer.
&
Title: Disturb'd universes
Theme: Excerpt from " The Love Song of Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot
Genre: General/Dark
Version: AU
Rating: PG
Setsuna wakes up everyday at precisely 6:00 a.m. She brushes her teeth, showers, and dresses in the outfit she had chosen the night before. This puts her at 6:35 a.m., give or take 2 minutes. She takes her time applying make-up and gathering her things. When she crosses the threshold, heels in heels, briefcase in hand, the watch on her wrist reads 7:00 a.m. It gives her 30 minutes to travel to the cafe outside the research center and 30 more minutes to enjoy her toast and tea. When Setsuna logs in at work, it is 8:00 a.m. exactly.
***
Setsuna wakes up everyday at precisely 6:00 a.m. She brushes her teeth, showers, and dresses in the outfit she had chosen the night before. She is wiping her staff clean as she watches the sun rise. She smiles when the Garnet Orb catches an errant ray of sun and takes a moment to admire her staff's design, golden in the morning light. (Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thinks of taking a shower.) Sailor Pluto tosses the now bloody fabric onto the body at her feet and turns to head back to the Palace. This puts her at 6:35 a.m., give or take 2 minutes.
Setsuna stands before her closet, biting her lip as she tries to choose a dress (short enough to show her legs, but not so short as to be scandalous whilst stepping in and out of the car; light enough to accent her skin tone and rich enough to turn heads). Finally, she settles on a vivid violet backless number and smirks as she imagines Mamoru's reaction. She takes her time applying make-up and gathering her things.
When she crosses the threshold, heels in heels, briefcase in hand, the watch on her wrist reads 7:00 a.m. Her car is already at the curb with the driver standing by. The driver greets Ms. Meiou as she approaches. She offers a smile as she settles inside but her attention is already focused on the day's events: a funeral for the latest victims of the Sailor Senshi, a meeting to reevaluate youma finances, a planning session with the DD girls ... She is so intent on her first speech that she doesn't notice the shadow that suddenly descends atop the back of the car nor does she notice the twin sparks of green and golden light.
It gives her 30 minutes to travel to the cafe outside the research center and 30 more minutes to enjoy her toast and tea. Garnet spreads a light layer of jam atop her last slice of toast, held delicately between her fingers. Once she sets down the knife, she resumes marking the document with notes she will bring up to Dr. Tomoe in their morning meeting. When Setsuna logs in at work, it is 8:00 a.m. exactly.
&
Title: -holic
Theme: Casablanca, movie
Genre: General
Version: AU
Rating: G
"Play it once Haruka, for old times' sake." Anyone else - certainly every man in the club at present - would have bowed beneath the half-lidded gaze Setsuna now bestowed upon Haruka. But the blonde simply continued to riffle through her collection of sheet music.
"What do I care for time," Haruka responded. Her voice had the perfect note of disinterest but Setsuna saw the tiny bit weakness - there, the clenching of Haruka's jaw.
"Surely you care a bit for me."
Haruka exhaled in exasperation, shaking her head as she stacked sheet upon sheet. "Of all the songs in all the languages in all the world, you insist on this one," she muttered.
Setsuna deliberately leaned into Haruka's field of vision, forcing Haruka's gaze to meet her own and held it in that way, the one she knew Haruka hated so much. "Yes," she murmured softly, with a smile that knew far too much, "I do."
***
Later, Haruka found her on the balcony, the night hiding her like the clouds did the moon. There was enough light for Haruka to see the smoke of her cigarette, the slow pull, the equally slow breath out. To know Setsuna was to know silence and its sister, patience. But Haruka had never been fond of either.
"How did you know she was here."
There was the small flicker of orange as Setsuna took a pull before speaking. The way the darkness covered her, the words seemed to come from the smoke itself. "I know everything that happens in my club, Haruka. You know that."
"You could have warned me." Her words were sharp with irritation. Anyone else in her position would have apologized - here she was, trading words that were as good as blows with the proprietress of the establishment at which Haruka eked out her living.
But Haruka did not take back her words. And Setsuna, of course, made her wait.
"I could have."
Silence slipped over them once again but Haruka had had enough. Just as she was about to turn away, however, a movement at the corner of the balcony caught her eye, something like silk rising silently from a fallen, blackened pile. She took the slip of paper from between Setsuna's fingers.
"The hotel she's staying at," Setsuna answered before Haruka had even asked, as if well-aware that Haruka's relationship with patience had long since soured.
Haruka left without a sound, without a word of thank you. After all, she wasn't sure yet if it was something to be thankful for.
Title: It gives a lovely light
Theme: " First Fig" by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Genre: General/Dark
Version: AU/Pre-manga?
Rating: PG
It left without a sound, its wake marked by a silence she was suddenly unfamiliar with, the kind of silence that lies between a question and an answer. But the question was one that led to more of the same and the answer one that she wasn't sure she could even believe to come true.
But oh, if it were to come true.
She touched her lips with shaking fingertips and unsteady breath. It had shown her a possibility, a taste of what her allegiance could bring - it hadn't been a promise, but still, it had been sealed with a kiss. She was well-aware that it had been magic, an illusion born from her deepest desire. But that this spirit had so much power, the ability to pluck with such dexterity the most intimate and most guarded of her secrets and place them not only on display but to give them life - she touched her lips again - how could she not at the very least be tempted to believe?
Because she, of all the people on Earth, knew how magic worked. She knew of the half-truths and the gift-curse that were used to bind bodies to spirits and life to death. She knew that the currents of magic affected more than her eye would ever live to see. And she knew, this without a doubt, that to open her heart would be to lose it, forever. The gift would be but a flame, a single, flickering flame that would not last a night. The curse would be a fire, a terrible, all-encompassing inferno of torture that would last to eternity.
All this she knew.
And yet.
When the spirit returned, it did not repeat its question. It did not need to because - and this Beryl also knew, had known the moment the spirit had appeared to her - it already knew her answer.
&
Title: Disturb'd universes
Theme: Excerpt from " The Love Song of Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot
Genre: General/Dark
Version: AU
Rating: PG
Setsuna wakes up everyday at precisely 6:00 a.m. She brushes her teeth, showers, and dresses in the outfit she had chosen the night before. This puts her at 6:35 a.m., give or take 2 minutes. She takes her time applying make-up and gathering her things. When she crosses the threshold, heels in heels, briefcase in hand, the watch on her wrist reads 7:00 a.m. It gives her 30 minutes to travel to the cafe outside the research center and 30 more minutes to enjoy her toast and tea. When Setsuna logs in at work, it is 8:00 a.m. exactly.
***
Setsuna wakes up everyday at precisely 6:00 a.m. She brushes her teeth, showers, and dresses in the outfit she had chosen the night before. She is wiping her staff clean as she watches the sun rise. She smiles when the Garnet Orb catches an errant ray of sun and takes a moment to admire her staff's design, golden in the morning light. (Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thinks of taking a shower.) Sailor Pluto tosses the now bloody fabric onto the body at her feet and turns to head back to the Palace. This puts her at 6:35 a.m., give or take 2 minutes.
Setsuna stands before her closet, biting her lip as she tries to choose a dress (short enough to show her legs, but not so short as to be scandalous whilst stepping in and out of the car; light enough to accent her skin tone and rich enough to turn heads). Finally, she settles on a vivid violet backless number and smirks as she imagines Mamoru's reaction. She takes her time applying make-up and gathering her things.
When she crosses the threshold, heels in heels, briefcase in hand, the watch on her wrist reads 7:00 a.m. Her car is already at the curb with the driver standing by. The driver greets Ms. Meiou as she approaches. She offers a smile as she settles inside but her attention is already focused on the day's events: a funeral for the latest victims of the Sailor Senshi, a meeting to reevaluate youma finances, a planning session with the DD girls ... She is so intent on her first speech that she doesn't notice the shadow that suddenly descends atop the back of the car nor does she notice the twin sparks of green and golden light.
It gives her 30 minutes to travel to the cafe outside the research center and 30 more minutes to enjoy her toast and tea. Garnet spreads a light layer of jam atop her last slice of toast, held delicately between her fingers. Once she sets down the knife, she resumes marking the document with notes she will bring up to Dr. Tomoe in their morning meeting. When Setsuna logs in at work, it is 8:00 a.m. exactly.
&
Title: -holic
Theme: Casablanca, movie
Genre: General
Version: AU
Rating: G
"Play it once Haruka, for old times' sake." Anyone else - certainly every man in the club at present - would have bowed beneath the half-lidded gaze Setsuna now bestowed upon Haruka. But the blonde simply continued to riffle through her collection of sheet music.
"What do I care for time," Haruka responded. Her voice had the perfect note of disinterest but Setsuna saw the tiny bit weakness - there, the clenching of Haruka's jaw.
"Surely you care a bit for me."
Haruka exhaled in exasperation, shaking her head as she stacked sheet upon sheet. "Of all the songs in all the languages in all the world, you insist on this one," she muttered.
Setsuna deliberately leaned into Haruka's field of vision, forcing Haruka's gaze to meet her own and held it in that way, the one she knew Haruka hated so much. "Yes," she murmured softly, with a smile that knew far too much, "I do."
***
Later, Haruka found her on the balcony, the night hiding her like the clouds did the moon. There was enough light for Haruka to see the smoke of her cigarette, the slow pull, the equally slow breath out. To know Setsuna was to know silence and its sister, patience. But Haruka had never been fond of either.
"How did you know she was here."
There was the small flicker of orange as Setsuna took a pull before speaking. The way the darkness covered her, the words seemed to come from the smoke itself. "I know everything that happens in my club, Haruka. You know that."
"You could have warned me." Her words were sharp with irritation. Anyone else in her position would have apologized - here she was, trading words that were as good as blows with the proprietress of the establishment at which Haruka eked out her living.
But Haruka did not take back her words. And Setsuna, of course, made her wait.
"I could have."
Silence slipped over them once again but Haruka had had enough. Just as she was about to turn away, however, a movement at the corner of the balcony caught her eye, something like silk rising silently from a fallen, blackened pile. She took the slip of paper from between Setsuna's fingers.
"The hotel she's staying at," Setsuna answered before Haruka had even asked, as if well-aware that Haruka's relationship with patience had long since soured.
Haruka left without a sound, without a word of thank you. After all, she wasn't sure yet if it was something to be thankful for.