Hate to post again so soon, but I was ENABLED.

[infinityviolin]

It shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that Michiru is painting again, up on the roof of some building (a tall one, but she was spat into the Nexus again with supplies on her arm - she has no idea where she is, exactly, but she knows that she has a beautiful view of the city, and that's all that really matters.) No, if anything should surprise

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[earthvictorious]

He stares at the painting with something darker than anger in his eye. The endless swirl of memories has taken shape on that canvas as surely as in Zoisite's music. The endless swirl of memories that drove him from the most loyal soldier of the shitennou to this man resurrected solely as a servant to vengeance.

"What are you doing?" he asks coldly. His posture is tense with the effort of self-control not to simply cut the canvas into pieces.

[infinityviolin]

Michiru turns to face him, folding her arms neutrally across her chest. His face stirs something in her (dreams, Michiru, nothing but these dreams over and over, that's all) but she can't pinpoint it, so instead she just gives him a slightly challenging look.

"Painting."

[earthvictorious]

He doesn't strongly resemble the Kunzite of Michiru's world, but that shitennou uniform is unmistakable. That he is a warrior through and through is evident in every detail from that same uniform, to the warrior's topknot, to the sword at his side.

"Evidently," he says, lips parted in something between a sneer and a cold, humorless smirk. "Why this?"

[infinityviolin]

Michiru is unfazed by Kunzite's sneer. She is not easily intimidated, especially not by people she has never heard of before, though the uniform bothers her. She recognizes, why does she recognize it, and this is the only time in her life she can remember her dreams taking up so much headspace that processing conversation actually became difficult.

"Can't say I have a reason," she says, and pretends the lie is flawless. "Tragic scenes sell better."

[windunchained]

Zoisite, dressed in a white and silver version of the shitennou uniform and with a much lighter, airy cape, approaches Michiru - or rather, the painting, as he looks at it for some time. When he finally turns to her, his voice is soft, even almost gentle.

"This painting is of the distant past," he observes. "Those far-off days before this planet was destroyed."

[infinityviolin]

There's wariness on her face as Zoisite approaches, and she maintains it as she steps back and allows the man to look over the painting.

"It is," she murmurs. "I suppose you're going to tell me to get rid of it, too?"

[windunchained]

"No," he says softly, and even the voice is almost breathy, just like the faintest currents of wind seem to billow and play through his cloak. He fingers one hem and absently gathers it around his arm as they speak.

"I do not wish to forget those days with the Master." Again.

[infinityviolin]

Michiru narrows her eyebrows curiously. Now she knows how the other senshi feel when she attempts to maintain a secret of her own identity. It's perplexing to have someone know who you are and not to return that.

"The Master?" she queries, voice neutrally inquisitive.

[darkingdom_moon]

Usagi's just about to freak out over the fact she's on some random rooftop instead of in her room. She turns then, and her eyes settle on a painting. She comes closer, closer, and then stops, eyes widening in horror.

She doesn't make a sound, remarkably, and instead only stares at the painting as her brows draw together, lips quivering slightly. Tears come to her eyes. "I don't like it," she proclaims without thinking, softly, still staring at the painting and not it's artist. She hasn't even noticed the artist yet.

[infinityviolin]

Michiru softens slightly at Usagi's words, her arms dropping to her sides. She didn't mean to upset so many people with what she painted, but it's been driving her mad for days. She had to paint something, and this was what spilled over.

"I'm sorry, Usagi," she says softly.

[darkingdom_moon]

"O-oh! No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that!" she says immediately after, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head. "It's very pretty, it's just...so sad."

She looks to Michiru and stops. This girl looks so familiar to her, but why? "...How do you know my name?"

[notinuniform]

Makoto doesn't need to be next to Michiru to cast a shadow over the painting. Her face is an impassive mask, arms crossed to negate any possible signals of body language. She looks silently for a moment more, then gives a slow nod.

"It's an excellent painting." She has to admit that much. Even if the subject tugs at her heart in ways she'd thought were gone. Perhaps that's why it's a good painting, because of the power of the memories it contains.

[infinityviolin]

She is not wary on purpose when she looks at Makoto, but after the skating rink, it's something she's learned. Can't assume anything here, and she tilts her head a little, studying the girl in front of her and disregarding her own painting.

"Thank you. It wasn't easy to paint."

[notinuniform]

This Makoto's drastically different from the one in the skating rink, thankfully. For one thing, she's actually Makoto and not some Dark Kingdom lackey, for all the anger and dissonance that radiate from her. She's also much taller, maybe even six feet tall? Slightly bulkier with muscle, and scars creep up her neck from the long-sleeved shirt she wears.

Her gaze flickers to Michiru for a moment. Makoto's met a Michiru or two, knows who they are, but beyond that? Nothing. Her own world's version is hard to pin down. Ami's tried.

"I can imagine. It's not a pleasant subject for a lot of us." There's a pause. "That doesn't make it any less art than a happier theme, however." Slowly, her arms drop and she shoves her hands into her pockets. "What made you paint it? Catharsis?"

[dress_up_amazon]

Well, here's someone who knows - in a way - the scene you are painting. It's just as it was in the story it was introduced in - a ruined, decaying shadow of it's former glory. Still, Makoto stares at it, enraptured. As good as Usagi had done with the image, it was really nothing in comparison to seeing it in full color.

"Amazing..."

[infinityviolin]

She blinks at the other girl, not sure if she should relax or not. It's been a long time since she's been this tense, and she doesn't think she likes it.

"I understand it's a touchy subject."

[dress_up_amazon]

"Touchy..." It takes Makoto a second to figure out what this woman meant. "Oh. I...it's not really that. It's something that never happened for real to me. Still...it's terrible, isn't it?"

Who was this woman? She knew Usagi could be secretive about her sketches, but even so Makoto knew all of the major characters. So who was this girl who could know to draw the destruction of Silver Millennium so brutally, so...so first-person?