Rainbows of light danced around her, following her every step, making sure that the whole world was watching. Below, thousand of arms stretched out, a portrait of thunder in a canvas of sound.
She was a goddess.
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She watches her mirror image stare back at her.
Meer's reflection isn't the pretty face that is framed by glossy pink locks. It isn't the pair of sapphires that hide under delicate lashes, nor is it the opaque stranger that mimics each detail of her aspect and each flutter of her movements. No, Meer's reflection is the blur outside the car window, the burst of shapes and colors that shift with every nanosecond. That is the real Meer Campbell, an uncertainty, a reflection that hides in someone else's reflection.
Not everyone sees Meer. If it weren't for the old photographs that remember her, she would be virtually nonexistent. Meer is only visible in the shadows of solitude, in those rare moments when the world isn't looking.
The car stops, and the door opens for the woman that isn't Meer.
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She smiled and waved at the flurry of applause and camera flashes that embraced her.
Those simplest of gestures invoked great responses from the people. She'd never felt so powerful in her life. The crowd roared on, beckoning, clamoring. But the name that they called out isn't hers. -+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
Lacus Clyne. Lacus Clyne. Lacus Clyne.
The point of the pen slides easily. It always says the same thing, calls the same name—Lacus Clyne.
The pen is a liar.
She does nothing to silence it.
After all, nobody wants mediocrity. Nobody needs Meer Campbell, and nobody will remember her.
But there's always room for an angel, a goddess. And so she becomes one, taking up the flight with paper wings.
Sometimes she wonders why she keeps her old name. Maybe it's because she wants to own something completely hers. Something true. Or maybe she just wants to remember that part of her that the world has left behind, that part of her that died when she became Lacus.
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And she sang.
Everyone heard her singing for them.
Nobody heard her singing for herself.
