Acid Bullets
Sometimes, he sees her as she passes through the hallways. Her eyes are always glazed over and startled (like she is awaiting someone). Her hair fans out, long and hanging it looks like a dead man's rope.
And once she even smiles.
It is so different, so uncharacteristic, so tellingly pretty and unlike her.
-
She calls herself Venus and expects him to remember it.
(He does, but never addresses her by that.)
She sighs and gestures for him to follow.
(He does, because it is the formal thing to do.)
She tells him a story handed down the years: once upon a time, there is a girl and a boy. She leaves out their names—for him to fill in the blanks. And questions him wittily with her eyes. Maybe, maybe, he will remember.
Only to forget.
-
Kunzite vows to protect her. She laughs.
Venus is a goddess is not in need of protection (especially from petty, insignificant, weak mortals).
She says as much. And allows him to push her away. It is better. Venus does not ever love (Venus is only a symbol).
But when he asks her to dance—demands—she agrees. It comes as a shock but a happy one. And sometimes, even Venus likes to let her guard down. Because sometimes, even the symbol cannot live vicariously.
And so, she places her hand in his, twirls the flowing skirts of her dress and steps.
Slow and direct, the waltz continues.
And no one notices (who they really are).
In a masquerade, the mask is all that is essential.
-
Queen Serenity is like a surrogate mother, and like all mothers warned her of all the dangers and disasters that will come. She rambles off a million and one lists as premonitions. Her eyes glisten (tearing) and beats into her fake-daughter's head: listen and lead.
Leave.
Venus does not. She likes pretending to be a real goddess far too much.
-
They meet in secret, in private, in partially lit rendezvous that wane before morning. Always.
They kiss and embrace and depart.
(Venus sighs. For now, this will suffice.)
-
She never thought he would betray her. Or them. He was supposed to be her prince. But when he personally shot the spear straight into her side, that is when she finally woke up.
After an eternal sleep, Venus rises with all her lovely furies. She engulfs them in an acrid cloud, draws from her own barren surface and batters their bodies down with gravelly rain. Kunzite falls, desperate and grasping for the ledge.
Venus looks on, steely and stern and remorseless.
And when Queen Serenity tosses them apart and into separate worlds, still, he tries to touch her hand. Almost, he succeeds. Venus falls, Venus clouds over her eyes and thinks of red-burnished hearts.
-
In this life, she ceases to play a goddess and he stops all veneers of being good.
At the moment they meet, she knows it's war (he declares it so). Speak to me. I want to tell you a story. Answer me. He turns his head away, not daring to look her in the eye (avoidance is good, painless and indifferent).
In this life, they are enemies (again). But this time, she's ready to win. No more hesitations.
Venus has chosen a side.
(So has he.)
Rain rushes down in acid bullets. Venus holds up her arms and understands he's about to die.