Sailor Saturn is one of the rarest sights in the known galaxy. She is also
one of the most beautiful. Pale as death, with eyes a deep, inscrutable
shade of violet that reminds many people of infinity, and hair the color of
midnight rain. The eyes are never unsteady, the face always unspeakably
calm, despite the fact that it isn't easy being Death Incarnate.
None of these terms, however, were currently running through Esmeraude Black Moon's head. The actual words, had Esmeraude not been brought up so well, would have been along the lines of "Oh, shit."
Esmeraude happened to be dead at the moment, so her use of impolite terms might have been forgiven. However, sixteen years of extensive manners training and eleven years of (more or less) putting the training into action (although she never admitted to a day over twenty-five, it was only two years off her actual total, hardly worth mentioning) had left _some_ kind of imprint, so what she actually said was, "What the hell am I doing here? And why are _you_ here?" (The manners training hadn't sunk in all _that_ well. About all she could remember on the subject was not to use profanities in mixed company. Hell wasn't a profanity, it was where Nemesians went when they died.)
"You're dead," Saturn said calmly.
"Well, I'd sort of expected that. I wanted to know more along the lines of; Where exactly am I? Do they have cake? and What the hell are you doing here?"
"The afterlife- well, almost. No. That's complicated."
"Complicated. Great. That's wonderful. Just one little bitty thing- COMPLICATED HOW?" The Lady Marshal was losing what there was of her poise. Understandable, perhaps, but certainly not appropriate for someone whose lineage ran all the way back to Olivine and Chalcedony Red Star and whose mother had drilled her in manners from Day One. (Esmeraude had been Not Listening almost as long. Table manners had been all right, as had protocol, but when it came down to just plain conversational manners all she could remember were things like "Don't use profanities in public" and "Don't stare at people".)
Esmeraude was staring. She also had her hands on her hips and a facial expression that would have caused Agate Black Moon (who never wanted to be the mother of an Heir) to close her eyes, pray for patience, and send Esmeraude to her room for five years.
Saturn appeared unperturbed. "You're in a special version of the Afterlife. Sort of an Afterlife Mark 2, if you will."
"Excuse me? I'm the Lady Marshal of Nemesis. I'm a direct descendant of _The_ Lady Regent. I would have been Princess-Consort if things had worked out a little better, and I DON'T EVEN GET THE REAL AFTERLIFE?"
Saturn remained unperturbed. "Oh, this is real. It's just that the Afterlife Mark 2 isn't always permanent. You could get out. If you deserve it." Esmeraude opened her mouth again, but Saturn pointed to a door that hadn't been there a second ago. "You could probably start out by going through that door."
Saturn remained unperturbed for another few minutes until she was sure Esmeraude wasn't going to poke her head back through the door and ask more questions. Then-
"I HATE MY JOB!" she screamed, picking up her Silence Glaive and slicing at the nothingness. "I HATE IT! HATE IT! HATE IT!"
She may have been the Goddess of Death, but she was also a thirteen-year- old girl, and the fact that she had been one for a millenium or so didn't do anything about that.
Just a few short notes- Agate Black Moon is, in my massive Alternate Nemesis project that refuses to be written, the mother of Esmeraude, and not a bad sort. If and when I ever get the damn thing written, you will be able to find out more about her, as well as Olivine and Chalcedony Red Star, what an Heir is, and what Esmeraude meant by "_The_ Lady Regent".
Oh, and the title translates to "Esmeraude in the Underworld", for your enlightenment.
None of these terms, however, were currently running through Esmeraude Black Moon's head. The actual words, had Esmeraude not been brought up so well, would have been along the lines of "Oh, shit."
Esmeraude happened to be dead at the moment, so her use of impolite terms might have been forgiven. However, sixteen years of extensive manners training and eleven years of (more or less) putting the training into action (although she never admitted to a day over twenty-five, it was only two years off her actual total, hardly worth mentioning) had left _some_ kind of imprint, so what she actually said was, "What the hell am I doing here? And why are _you_ here?" (The manners training hadn't sunk in all _that_ well. About all she could remember on the subject was not to use profanities in mixed company. Hell wasn't a profanity, it was where Nemesians went when they died.)
"You're dead," Saturn said calmly.
"Well, I'd sort of expected that. I wanted to know more along the lines of; Where exactly am I? Do they have cake? and What the hell are you doing here?"
"The afterlife- well, almost. No. That's complicated."
"Complicated. Great. That's wonderful. Just one little bitty thing- COMPLICATED HOW?" The Lady Marshal was losing what there was of her poise. Understandable, perhaps, but certainly not appropriate for someone whose lineage ran all the way back to Olivine and Chalcedony Red Star and whose mother had drilled her in manners from Day One. (Esmeraude had been Not Listening almost as long. Table manners had been all right, as had protocol, but when it came down to just plain conversational manners all she could remember were things like "Don't use profanities in public" and "Don't stare at people".)
Esmeraude was staring. She also had her hands on her hips and a facial expression that would have caused Agate Black Moon (who never wanted to be the mother of an Heir) to close her eyes, pray for patience, and send Esmeraude to her room for five years.
Saturn appeared unperturbed. "You're in a special version of the Afterlife. Sort of an Afterlife Mark 2, if you will."
"Excuse me? I'm the Lady Marshal of Nemesis. I'm a direct descendant of _The_ Lady Regent. I would have been Princess-Consort if things had worked out a little better, and I DON'T EVEN GET THE REAL AFTERLIFE?"
Saturn remained unperturbed. "Oh, this is real. It's just that the Afterlife Mark 2 isn't always permanent. You could get out. If you deserve it." Esmeraude opened her mouth again, but Saturn pointed to a door that hadn't been there a second ago. "You could probably start out by going through that door."
Saturn remained unperturbed for another few minutes until she was sure Esmeraude wasn't going to poke her head back through the door and ask more questions. Then-
"I HATE MY JOB!" she screamed, picking up her Silence Glaive and slicing at the nothingness. "I HATE IT! HATE IT! HATE IT!"
She may have been the Goddess of Death, but she was also a thirteen-year- old girl, and the fact that she had been one for a millenium or so didn't do anything about that.
Just a few short notes- Agate Black Moon is, in my massive Alternate Nemesis project that refuses to be written, the mother of Esmeraude, and not a bad sort. If and when I ever get the damn thing written, you will be able to find out more about her, as well as Olivine and Chalcedony Red Star, what an Heir is, and what Esmeraude meant by "_The_ Lady Regent".
Oh, and the title translates to "Esmeraude in the Underworld", for your enlightenment.