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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"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.
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"Painting."
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"Evidently," he says, lips parted in something between a sneer and a cold, humorless smirk. "Why this?"
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"Can't say I have a reason," she says, and pretends the lie is flawless. "Tragic scenes sell better."
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"This painting is of the distant past," he observes. "Those far-off days before this planet was destroyed."
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"It is," she murmurs. "I suppose you're going to tell me to get rid of it, too?"
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"I do not wish to forget those days with the Master." Again.
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"The Master?" she queries, voice neutrally inquisitive.
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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.
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"I'm sorry, Usagi," she says softly.
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She looks to Michiru and stops. This girl looks so familiar to her, but why? "...How do you know my name?"
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"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.
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"Thank you. It wasn't easy to paint."
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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?"
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"Amazing..."
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"I understand it's a touchy subject."
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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?
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