Okay, some of you may know this as "Love: The Most Powerful Emotion," but I've changed the title just a bit, and I've broken down my monster prologue into three chapters. What is written below, is the real prologue, and the other two will simply be preliminary chapters. I'm sorry this isn't and update, as I'm sure some of you have been waiting for one, but this over-haul was needed; it was annoying me that I had written so much for just the prologue, and had no muse for anything else. So, this way, at least there will be three chapters, and when I work through what I have written, I'm hoping that my muse will come back for this. So, without further ado, the disclaimer, and then onto the prologue itself.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon; the franchise belongs to the authoress Naoko Takeuchi, and the rest of those involved in the creation of the anime, the manga, and musicals, and the live action. I simply own the plot, and my OC Akane. The second OC in this story, Evelyn, belongs to go-ahead-and-try, aka Koneko, aka my "cousin"/best friend in real life.
Does she know? Sometimes, I wonder. Other times, I wonder if it even matters. I mean, yes, I've always professed never to have those kinds of feelings for my friends, but… I came to realize, on that God-forsaken school trip last week, that I had been lying to myself, and possibly all my friends, for the past year. I say again, I wonder if it even matters, what I feel; I've kept it hidden from even myself for all this time, why should I bring it to light now? And yet, I have; I came clean, and now, I fear how she will react. Will this be like before, when I found myself in this situation; friendship shattered and my heat broken along with it? Or will it end better, with acceptance, friendship still intact and nothing changed between us?
The long-fingered pianist's hand closed the journal, setting the pen down beside it upon the desk. Emerald eyes flicked to the clock; just past ten in the evening. Her homework for the day had been finished, and all her chores completed, as well as dinner cooked and eaten, with the dishes after washed and put away. As usual, the tall teen had then retreated to her room and read for a time, before taking out her journal and seating herself at her desk. Then, she had proceeded to write down her thoughts, as she did every night; however, tonight was different, as changing events had taken place just after school that day. She had confessed her love to her best friend (she thought it cowardly that she had done it via a note, but done was done) and then fled, ranting something about her karate class. A smirk curled her lips momentarily; she found it amusing that she had been able to even focus on something so mundane and normal after those events.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of her cell phone. After removing it from her pocket, and flicking it open, she realized it was a call. (The confusion between a call and a text could easily be made, as she hardly ever had the sound on.) She quickly answered it, by pressing the 'call' button, and lifting it to her ear. The word 'hello' had barely passed her lips, when the caller spoke. Her smirk returned. Leave it to the enigmatic woman on the other end of the line to disregard the formalities of politeness.
"It is done." The other woman, elder by some years, spoke solemnly. It was not for any other reason than that it was simply her way; she was not a very expressive person, much like the blonde, in most cases.
"Thank you; everything is as it should be, I trust?"
"How can you ask that?" The query which came was rhetorical. "Of course it is; when have you ever known myself to do something incorrectly?" A beat of silence, then, "You don't have to do this, you know."
"Don't I? You yourself said something was going to happen this year – and you said that it unnerved you that you couldn't tell what. Rest assured that this was not my original intention; if it had been, it would have happened before this. And you still say I need not do this?"
The other woman gave no response. It was not because she could find no words, no. It was simply because she felt no need to reply to the truth in the younger's statement.
"That's what I thought. Now, shall I see you there? We both know it might be the last…" The trailing off of words was rather ominous, but the reason as to why was not yet known. And yet, the elder of the two seemed to know exactly how to respond.
"Perhaps, perhaps not; you shall know why I cannot come, at any rate, if I do not. You shall be content with that, I trust?"
"Another question which needs no answer; but yes, I shall be content, as you already know. So, whether I see you or not, I shall hopefully speak to you once more when the time comes."
"You ask that as if you did not already know."
A small, mirthless chuckle, then, "You are right, my friend, as always. So, it is good-bye for now, then?"
"Yes, so it seems. Farewell, and may the Gods of old, and your God, light your way on this journey."
"And may you take comfort in knowing that this is not simply an end, but a beginning also. Be well, dear friend."
It was an old, traditional parting. One older than the language in which they spoke, and perhaps older still than that from whence it had come, spoken by peoples now long lost. And yet, that mattered not. Both knew it well, as they had spoken it once, perhaps twice, before, at a time far from this, but with events no less grave. It marked both an ending, and a beginning, as noted by the very words themselves.