*I do not own Sailormoon, or Mozart.
Haruka: Through My Eyes
Piano music resounds through the entire house. I instantly know what that means, and slowly step down the hall, to find the door at the end wide open. She's sitting on the bench, staring down at her frantic fingers dancing across the ivory. Her tan hair falls forward a little, shadowing her face. I have never disturbed her when she is like this; I don't have the heart. I can't help but stand silently in the doorway and watch my Sky Goddess.
Her instrument is one of two ways she can express herself. She writes also. Poetry. It's always exquisite, but try to tell her that. Spoken emotions do not come easily for Haruka. but I always understand what she means to say. It is our bond. We think with one heart, and live as a whole.
She is a complicated soul. If she were not, she wouldn't be Haruka. Her complexity is even more reason to love her. And how I do.
As hard as she finds it to believe, I love her exactly as she is. Exactly. She always apologizes for her faults, but I know what they are, and I accept them because even her "faults" are part of her. No matter how many times she flirts with Makoto-chan, I know she'll be there when I get home.
My darling-- her playing gets slower, and sadder. I know she too, is sad, but I still leave her to herself. It's what she wants.
Haruka is a difficult book to read, but the treasures she holds are worth any struggle. Underneath her icy, hard, ruthless exterior is a core-- which most don't see. A warm, caring, tender, passionate, Haruka.
Any emotion she shows is pure, and raw. She knows no other way to show it. If she's going to bother to have a feeling, it must be 100%, or it does not exist to her. This also accounts for her apparent lack of sympathy and tears. Haruka does cry. Only when the sensation encompasses her, never any other time.
My Haruka is tough. And strong. However, not as tough or strong as she wants you to think. Although she is a protector, a defender, and a warrior. she is human. A human with a pure heart, driven to do her job. A heart motivated to love me, as I thought no one was capable of. However, she has her weak moments.
Faint notes of Mozart seep into my brain, triggering an alarm. She only plays Mozart when she needs me. For once, I break that barrier in the doorway, and can't rush fast enough to her side. Looking down at her, I see her humanness flowing from her saddened eyes. Her tears fall from her cheeks, and fall gracefully to her now trembling hands. The only way I can get her to stop is to rip her hand from the keys, and kiss the tears from it. She closes her eyes and turns from me, trying desperately to hide. I kiss the tears from her cheeks, and hold her to me. She tremors in my arms, and I can hear a faint sob muffled by my shoulder, knowing only I can give her this release of weakness. Only I know the person behind the Goddess.
Haruka: Through My Eyes
Piano music resounds through the entire house. I instantly know what that means, and slowly step down the hall, to find the door at the end wide open. She's sitting on the bench, staring down at her frantic fingers dancing across the ivory. Her tan hair falls forward a little, shadowing her face. I have never disturbed her when she is like this; I don't have the heart. I can't help but stand silently in the doorway and watch my Sky Goddess.
Her instrument is one of two ways she can express herself. She writes also. Poetry. It's always exquisite, but try to tell her that. Spoken emotions do not come easily for Haruka. but I always understand what she means to say. It is our bond. We think with one heart, and live as a whole.
She is a complicated soul. If she were not, she wouldn't be Haruka. Her complexity is even more reason to love her. And how I do.
As hard as she finds it to believe, I love her exactly as she is. Exactly. She always apologizes for her faults, but I know what they are, and I accept them because even her "faults" are part of her. No matter how many times she flirts with Makoto-chan, I know she'll be there when I get home.
My darling-- her playing gets slower, and sadder. I know she too, is sad, but I still leave her to herself. It's what she wants.
Haruka is a difficult book to read, but the treasures she holds are worth any struggle. Underneath her icy, hard, ruthless exterior is a core-- which most don't see. A warm, caring, tender, passionate, Haruka.
Any emotion she shows is pure, and raw. She knows no other way to show it. If she's going to bother to have a feeling, it must be 100%, or it does not exist to her. This also accounts for her apparent lack of sympathy and tears. Haruka does cry. Only when the sensation encompasses her, never any other time.
My Haruka is tough. And strong. However, not as tough or strong as she wants you to think. Although she is a protector, a defender, and a warrior. she is human. A human with a pure heart, driven to do her job. A heart motivated to love me, as I thought no one was capable of. However, she has her weak moments.
Faint notes of Mozart seep into my brain, triggering an alarm. She only plays Mozart when she needs me. For once, I break that barrier in the doorway, and can't rush fast enough to her side. Looking down at her, I see her humanness flowing from her saddened eyes. Her tears fall from her cheeks, and fall gracefully to her now trembling hands. The only way I can get her to stop is to rip her hand from the keys, and kiss the tears from it. She closes her eyes and turns from me, trying desperately to hide. I kiss the tears from her cheeks, and hold her to me. She tremors in my arms, and I can hear a faint sob muffled by my shoulder, knowing only I can give her this release of weakness. Only I know the person behind the Goddess.
