Who Knows Where the Time Goes?
Sam Weasley
Summary: The last story was about the mysterious Sailor Hecate and her trials of the Sailor Senshi. But Hecate cannot guard the Gates of the Underworld and be the Senshi of Death at the same time. So she sends her companion back into life to help protect the old and new Senshi from their Future and Hecate's warning to Endymion. Warnings: Overall weirdness, for one. But basically, some swearing, violence, swearing, and overall insanity. YAY! Disclaimer: I don't own the Sailor Senshi Venus, Mercury, Moon, Chibi Moon, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, or Pluto. I own Sailor Senshi Hecate. I do not own Yoroiden Samurai Troopers Kongo no Shuu, Suiko no Shin, Tenku no Touma, Rekka no Riyo, or Korrin no Seiji. I do not own Masho Gen, Yumi, Doku, or Oni. I do not own Kayura-sama. I do own Angel Senshi Justice, Faith, Intellect, Virtue, and Courtesy. I also own Angel Knights War, Death, Empathy, Silence, and Courage. I do not own Gundam Pilots Heero, Duo, Quatre, Trowa, or Wufei (::like Birdman:: WUUUUUUUUFEEEEIIII!!). I do own Bya-chan, Nefertiti, and the idea to turn OniMasho into a cat. heh heh. I do not own Luna, Luna-P, Artemis, Diana, Byakuen, Kokuen, the Medjai or the Preventers.. I think that about sums it up.. Yeah. OH! I don't own X-Men (who will only be mentioned by the name Logan- whom I do not own).
Left. Right. Duck! Spin, trip, jump, and back, back, back! Block, two, three. Strike! Left, right, watch out! Ow.
The girl lay on her back on the mats after taking a particularly bad hit to the stomach. Her sparring partner smiled down at her, crouching at her side.
"You okay?" he asked curiously, already knowing the answer. She was fine. She could take hits easy enough and get up and keep fighting.
The girl nodded and sat up, rubbing her chest and glaring at a young man in the sidelines who was laughing hysterically at her.
The young man fell off his bench and on his back when a wooden Kali stick collided with his forehead. The young man next to the fallen boy smirked and patted his calves, which were on the bench now that the rest of him wasn't.
"You should keep your guard up more than that, kid," the sparring partner told the girl with a laugh. The young man laughing at his daughter and then being knocked down were common ever since he and his partner had arrived a month or so ago. The father held out a hand to help the girl up. She stared in her usual silence, leaned back, and threw herself to her feet with graceful ease. Much more graceful than her mother at that age, or even her younger sister. She had his genes, which was the explanation. She had a terrible temper, which was why that boy was still unconscious on the floor, and an ease in her movements that made her a skilled warrior. She was also extremely protective. Yep. His genes, alright.
Minerva smiled at the boy on the bench who was still patting the boy with the braid's ankles as he regained consciousness and started swearing at her.
"Miss Minerva! How are you!" a young woman with long blonde hair and strange eyebrows came into the training room in a blue business suit. She smiled slyly at Minerva, yet she always smiled like that, and came over without invitation.
Minerva was about to shrug in reply when she noticed something strange. Her father, who was recapping a water bottle, flickered. Like a television with bad reception. But then he was fine again. Minerva stared in wonder, and then turned to two other people in the room: a man and a girl her own age, who were sparring on the other side of the hall. The man had done the same thing her father had. This could be bad. Minerva looked again at her father, who was now completely fuzzy and transparent.
"What is-" her father began, but was gone. The water bottle fell to the mats and the girl at the other end of the room shrieked.
Minerva stared at the two boys, who were staring at where her father had once stood with mouths open wide. Then glanced at the other girl, who was running for her and tying a ribbon into her hair. The girl stopped short of Minerva. They both nodded and made a run for it, leaving behind the three stunned teenagers.
"Don't you love Earth, Trowa?" Quatre lifted his face to the sky and sighed heavily. "Space is beautiful but nothing compared to the Earth's view." Quatre sighed again, looking over at the boy on the camel next to him. Quatre had taken Trowa on a tour of Egypt because Quatre had vacation time to kill. The Maganaqs were there, of course, but they were interesting company.
"Very," Trowa's word of the day. Quatre laughed.
Far off, a horse whinnied into the empty desert. Quatre and Trowa followed the sound. Their troupe was traveling by camel-back. The sound of a horse was intriguing. In the distance stood a cliff lined with dark figures. Quatre and his group were almost headed in the direction, but would miss the cliff.
"Medjai," noted Rasheed calmly, though there was a hint of dislike. "We must have entered their lands."
The other Maganaqs muttered their agreement and turned their steeds so that the angle took their travels slightly further from the cliff.
"Who are the Medjai? I've never heard of them," Quatre asked curiously as the horse whinnied again.
"A large tribe of desert dwellers. They say they protect the world from evils from Ancient Egypt. They aren't very social," Abdul called from Rasheed's side. "It's best to stay out of their way and not look suspicious. Dangerous people, they are."
Quatre turned back to the cliffs, which were getting easier and easier to see as they got closer. Six black robed forms on horses stood still there. Quatre could see the glint of a weapon in the far right's hand.
"Mystery is what makes such people so feared," Trowa muttered. Quatre turned to see him staring up at the cliffs as well. "To have survived the changing times is a sense of power and perseverance, however."
"I agree."
The ride was in silence from then on. The Maganaqs were too busy trying not to look suspicious to the Medjai, not wanting to draw them out. Trowa and Quatre were watching the cliffs get larger as the sun set and the stars appeared. They had to stop, unable to ride through the night, and pitch camp. The cliffs were about half a mile away, and the six Medjai still stood their, watching silently.
"It feels good to stop, I'm starting to hurt all over," Quatre said cheerfully, not checking the ground before he jumped off of his ride. His feet hit the ground and something sharp pierced through his pant leg and into his flesh. "OW!" the boy cried, looking down finally. There slithered a black snake, looking to strike again.
Rasheed killed it quickly.
"Ohh." Quatre muttered, falling to sit on the warm sands.
"Master Quatre! You should have checked the sand before you dismounted!" Rasheed was scolding him frantically. "We have no anti-venom for an asp."
"What about the Medjai?" Abdul turned to the cliffs, where the forms stood silent in the darkness outlined by stars. He remounted. "Its worth a shot, we have no choice." And he was off, with Trowa following close behind, Quatre now in the arms of Rasheed who quickly caught up.
"Well, look here!" Seth said calmly as there was suddenly a slight uproar in a group of forty-two people traveling near their lands. Near Hymenoptera. The city may be hidden beneath the sands for a long time now, but leaving it alone once before proved a bad idea. Three people started for the cliffs where they stood, the last one holding a fourth who looked to be falling unconscious. "What do you think?" he turned to the Medjai on the far left of him.
Nefertiti pulled down her hood from her face; her mouth still covered by black cloth, and surveyed it all. Without a word, she turned her white horse and galloped to meet the charging people. She had seen the snake, but moreover, she had seen the golden jewel in her belt start to flash along the green one.
Rasheed didn't like the idea of going to Medjai. There were dangerous. The Maganaqs had had dealing with them in the past about hidden cities in the desert. They were too superstitious for his liking and believed too far into the Old Ways of Egypt when it was clear the Old Ways were dead and the New Ways lived in power. These same people had also refused to fight in the war for the colonies. Their communicator, a young, fair-haired man, had said that what happened to the technology between people was not part of Medjai issues. What mattered was the protection from the past's curses and magick.
A bulky black cloaked person met their racing camels on a white horse dressed up with black. They stood, dark green eyes surveying the people before them.
"Our master has been bitten by an asp, Medjai, we ask your help," Abdul said in a breath. He stared at the man in a pleading way, though using much dignity in asking help from a superstitious type.
The green eyed man surveyed the scene again, moving to Rasheed and passing a thin hand, a pianist's hand, over Quatre's face and moving it down his chest and resting over his heart. The other Medjai had arrived. The green eyed man dismounted and motioned Rasheed to do the same. Pulling a golden rock on a leather rope from their belt, the Medjai held it just above between Quatre's eyes, muttering very softly in Arabic. As they did so, a reddish cat climbed from a basket on the white horse and surveyed the situation himself. The Medjai man pulled a small vile from his cloak and poured the contents into Quatre's mouth, making sure he swallowed. The blonde choked, coughed, and then fell silent, his breathing normal.
The green-eyed Medjai stood, pushing back the cloak and revealing that HE was really a SHE in a black chiton and sandals. "Take him to the village," she ordered her Medjai men, "He needs rest and medicine they obviously cannot provide." She pointed and the nearest Medjai and her orders were followed without question or comment. She was obviously the leader of the tribe. She turned to Rasheed and then glanced over the Maganaqs and Trowa. This time she spoke in English. "Your master will survive, but it will take him a few days to recover. Our tribe is open to take care of him; you must have your own means of survival outside what I just saw?" Rasheed nodded, feeling rather annoyed at the woman. She really had no right to say what she did in the way she was implying- they weren't simple! "Fine. You can stay within boundaries but are not to leave without consulting first one of my tribe's people," her eyes quickly caught the looks the Maganaqs gave the order. "And there will be no complaining!" she snapped, climbing back onto her white horse easily, her cat climbing up to her shoulder to ride.
Quatre woke up from a marvelous dream of flying. One he couldn't really recall but knew he had. The room he was in was dark. Whether because it was night or the fact the thing was black he wasn't sure. With blurry vision one could never tell. Jangling. He heard jangling. Something cold and damp pressed to his forehead.
"You nearly died," said a quiet voice in perfect Japanese.
Quatre's eyes focused a little more on a short haired woman in a black dress. "Are you some kind of angel?" he asked more as a joke than anything else.
Her green eyes focused on him and she smiled. "I am as human as you, Mister Winner," she replied, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes.
Quatre silently watched a pair of dog tags swing back and forth from the woman as she went about fixing the blanket over him. "Were you in the war?" he asked curiously, reaching up for the silver rectangles absently.
"No," the woman replied quickly, putting the necklace into her shirt without a sound otherwise.
"Oh," slightly embarrassed, Quatre laid back down. Then, a perfectly obvious question came to him. "Where am I?"
The woman smiled. "In my tribe. Your Maganaqs came to us asking for help when you were bitten. They had been quite worried about you. Especially the boy, I believe he called himself Trowa," her smile became quite knowing, like she was reading his thoughts, "He seems quite fond of you, that quiet boy."
Quatre smiled. "Are you a Medjai?"
"My name, as I'm told, is Nefertiti Bey, and yes, I am."
"As you're told?"
"I've lived an extremely interesting life." Nefertiti tilted her head to one side and back before standing up and her shift buried her sandaled feet. "Rest," she said simply and disappeared outside into a setting sun.
Trowa looked up from the glowing fires as from the encampment walked the woman who called herself Nefertiti, while others referred to her as Jackal. Her cat was with her again, at it always was. She smiled at him.
".Medjai think they're so superior." Abdul was muttering in Japanese, nodding to the camp beside Rasheed. "Warriors for this and that. Heads stuck in the sands, if you ask me."
"Do not insult what you do not understand. Such things can be quite costly," Nefertiti said simply in absolutely perfect Japanese. "We may not concern ourselves with space but we do know and we are always watching." There was insolence in her voice, and great annoyance, but also amusement at the shocked look Abdul and the rest of the Maganaqs were giving her. She turned to Trowa. "He woke up, your friend Quatre. Very trusting boy he is. Asked me all sorts of things before asking where he was or who I was." She smiled genuinely. "You might want to help him with that."
"Quatre is an Empath, Nefertiti Bey. It is not a matter of trusting but of knowing," Trowa replied calmly, standing up. "Can I see him?"
The woman's smile broadened. "Sure! It's only the Maganaqs we don't like! Pushy people, they are. All fire and brimstone, if you ask me. Right this way." she turned and headed back for the camp. Trowa followed, chased by annoyed outbursts from the Maganaq people.
Sam Weasley
Summary: The last story was about the mysterious Sailor Hecate and her trials of the Sailor Senshi. But Hecate cannot guard the Gates of the Underworld and be the Senshi of Death at the same time. So she sends her companion back into life to help protect the old and new Senshi from their Future and Hecate's warning to Endymion. Warnings: Overall weirdness, for one. But basically, some swearing, violence, swearing, and overall insanity. YAY! Disclaimer: I don't own the Sailor Senshi Venus, Mercury, Moon, Chibi Moon, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, or Pluto. I own Sailor Senshi Hecate. I do not own Yoroiden Samurai Troopers Kongo no Shuu, Suiko no Shin, Tenku no Touma, Rekka no Riyo, or Korrin no Seiji. I do not own Masho Gen, Yumi, Doku, or Oni. I do not own Kayura-sama. I do own Angel Senshi Justice, Faith, Intellect, Virtue, and Courtesy. I also own Angel Knights War, Death, Empathy, Silence, and Courage. I do not own Gundam Pilots Heero, Duo, Quatre, Trowa, or Wufei (::like Birdman:: WUUUUUUUUFEEEEIIII!!). I do own Bya-chan, Nefertiti, and the idea to turn OniMasho into a cat. heh heh. I do not own Luna, Luna-P, Artemis, Diana, Byakuen, Kokuen, the Medjai or the Preventers.. I think that about sums it up.. Yeah. OH! I don't own X-Men (who will only be mentioned by the name Logan- whom I do not own).
Left. Right. Duck! Spin, trip, jump, and back, back, back! Block, two, three. Strike! Left, right, watch out! Ow.
The girl lay on her back on the mats after taking a particularly bad hit to the stomach. Her sparring partner smiled down at her, crouching at her side.
"You okay?" he asked curiously, already knowing the answer. She was fine. She could take hits easy enough and get up and keep fighting.
The girl nodded and sat up, rubbing her chest and glaring at a young man in the sidelines who was laughing hysterically at her.
The young man fell off his bench and on his back when a wooden Kali stick collided with his forehead. The young man next to the fallen boy smirked and patted his calves, which were on the bench now that the rest of him wasn't.
"You should keep your guard up more than that, kid," the sparring partner told the girl with a laugh. The young man laughing at his daughter and then being knocked down were common ever since he and his partner had arrived a month or so ago. The father held out a hand to help the girl up. She stared in her usual silence, leaned back, and threw herself to her feet with graceful ease. Much more graceful than her mother at that age, or even her younger sister. She had his genes, which was the explanation. She had a terrible temper, which was why that boy was still unconscious on the floor, and an ease in her movements that made her a skilled warrior. She was also extremely protective. Yep. His genes, alright.
Minerva smiled at the boy on the bench who was still patting the boy with the braid's ankles as he regained consciousness and started swearing at her.
"Miss Minerva! How are you!" a young woman with long blonde hair and strange eyebrows came into the training room in a blue business suit. She smiled slyly at Minerva, yet she always smiled like that, and came over without invitation.
Minerva was about to shrug in reply when she noticed something strange. Her father, who was recapping a water bottle, flickered. Like a television with bad reception. But then he was fine again. Minerva stared in wonder, and then turned to two other people in the room: a man and a girl her own age, who were sparring on the other side of the hall. The man had done the same thing her father had. This could be bad. Minerva looked again at her father, who was now completely fuzzy and transparent.
"What is-" her father began, but was gone. The water bottle fell to the mats and the girl at the other end of the room shrieked.
Minerva stared at the two boys, who were staring at where her father had once stood with mouths open wide. Then glanced at the other girl, who was running for her and tying a ribbon into her hair. The girl stopped short of Minerva. They both nodded and made a run for it, leaving behind the three stunned teenagers.
"Don't you love Earth, Trowa?" Quatre lifted his face to the sky and sighed heavily. "Space is beautiful but nothing compared to the Earth's view." Quatre sighed again, looking over at the boy on the camel next to him. Quatre had taken Trowa on a tour of Egypt because Quatre had vacation time to kill. The Maganaqs were there, of course, but they were interesting company.
"Very," Trowa's word of the day. Quatre laughed.
Far off, a horse whinnied into the empty desert. Quatre and Trowa followed the sound. Their troupe was traveling by camel-back. The sound of a horse was intriguing. In the distance stood a cliff lined with dark figures. Quatre and his group were almost headed in the direction, but would miss the cliff.
"Medjai," noted Rasheed calmly, though there was a hint of dislike. "We must have entered their lands."
The other Maganaqs muttered their agreement and turned their steeds so that the angle took their travels slightly further from the cliff.
"Who are the Medjai? I've never heard of them," Quatre asked curiously as the horse whinnied again.
"A large tribe of desert dwellers. They say they protect the world from evils from Ancient Egypt. They aren't very social," Abdul called from Rasheed's side. "It's best to stay out of their way and not look suspicious. Dangerous people, they are."
Quatre turned back to the cliffs, which were getting easier and easier to see as they got closer. Six black robed forms on horses stood still there. Quatre could see the glint of a weapon in the far right's hand.
"Mystery is what makes such people so feared," Trowa muttered. Quatre turned to see him staring up at the cliffs as well. "To have survived the changing times is a sense of power and perseverance, however."
"I agree."
The ride was in silence from then on. The Maganaqs were too busy trying not to look suspicious to the Medjai, not wanting to draw them out. Trowa and Quatre were watching the cliffs get larger as the sun set and the stars appeared. They had to stop, unable to ride through the night, and pitch camp. The cliffs were about half a mile away, and the six Medjai still stood their, watching silently.
"It feels good to stop, I'm starting to hurt all over," Quatre said cheerfully, not checking the ground before he jumped off of his ride. His feet hit the ground and something sharp pierced through his pant leg and into his flesh. "OW!" the boy cried, looking down finally. There slithered a black snake, looking to strike again.
Rasheed killed it quickly.
"Ohh." Quatre muttered, falling to sit on the warm sands.
"Master Quatre! You should have checked the sand before you dismounted!" Rasheed was scolding him frantically. "We have no anti-venom for an asp."
"What about the Medjai?" Abdul turned to the cliffs, where the forms stood silent in the darkness outlined by stars. He remounted. "Its worth a shot, we have no choice." And he was off, with Trowa following close behind, Quatre now in the arms of Rasheed who quickly caught up.
"Well, look here!" Seth said calmly as there was suddenly a slight uproar in a group of forty-two people traveling near their lands. Near Hymenoptera. The city may be hidden beneath the sands for a long time now, but leaving it alone once before proved a bad idea. Three people started for the cliffs where they stood, the last one holding a fourth who looked to be falling unconscious. "What do you think?" he turned to the Medjai on the far left of him.
Nefertiti pulled down her hood from her face; her mouth still covered by black cloth, and surveyed it all. Without a word, she turned her white horse and galloped to meet the charging people. She had seen the snake, but moreover, she had seen the golden jewel in her belt start to flash along the green one.
Rasheed didn't like the idea of going to Medjai. There were dangerous. The Maganaqs had had dealing with them in the past about hidden cities in the desert. They were too superstitious for his liking and believed too far into the Old Ways of Egypt when it was clear the Old Ways were dead and the New Ways lived in power. These same people had also refused to fight in the war for the colonies. Their communicator, a young, fair-haired man, had said that what happened to the technology between people was not part of Medjai issues. What mattered was the protection from the past's curses and magick.
A bulky black cloaked person met their racing camels on a white horse dressed up with black. They stood, dark green eyes surveying the people before them.
"Our master has been bitten by an asp, Medjai, we ask your help," Abdul said in a breath. He stared at the man in a pleading way, though using much dignity in asking help from a superstitious type.
The green eyed man surveyed the scene again, moving to Rasheed and passing a thin hand, a pianist's hand, over Quatre's face and moving it down his chest and resting over his heart. The other Medjai had arrived. The green eyed man dismounted and motioned Rasheed to do the same. Pulling a golden rock on a leather rope from their belt, the Medjai held it just above between Quatre's eyes, muttering very softly in Arabic. As they did so, a reddish cat climbed from a basket on the white horse and surveyed the situation himself. The Medjai man pulled a small vile from his cloak and poured the contents into Quatre's mouth, making sure he swallowed. The blonde choked, coughed, and then fell silent, his breathing normal.
The green-eyed Medjai stood, pushing back the cloak and revealing that HE was really a SHE in a black chiton and sandals. "Take him to the village," she ordered her Medjai men, "He needs rest and medicine they obviously cannot provide." She pointed and the nearest Medjai and her orders were followed without question or comment. She was obviously the leader of the tribe. She turned to Rasheed and then glanced over the Maganaqs and Trowa. This time she spoke in English. "Your master will survive, but it will take him a few days to recover. Our tribe is open to take care of him; you must have your own means of survival outside what I just saw?" Rasheed nodded, feeling rather annoyed at the woman. She really had no right to say what she did in the way she was implying- they weren't simple! "Fine. You can stay within boundaries but are not to leave without consulting first one of my tribe's people," her eyes quickly caught the looks the Maganaqs gave the order. "And there will be no complaining!" she snapped, climbing back onto her white horse easily, her cat climbing up to her shoulder to ride.
Quatre woke up from a marvelous dream of flying. One he couldn't really recall but knew he had. The room he was in was dark. Whether because it was night or the fact the thing was black he wasn't sure. With blurry vision one could never tell. Jangling. He heard jangling. Something cold and damp pressed to his forehead.
"You nearly died," said a quiet voice in perfect Japanese.
Quatre's eyes focused a little more on a short haired woman in a black dress. "Are you some kind of angel?" he asked more as a joke than anything else.
Her green eyes focused on him and she smiled. "I am as human as you, Mister Winner," she replied, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes.
Quatre silently watched a pair of dog tags swing back and forth from the woman as she went about fixing the blanket over him. "Were you in the war?" he asked curiously, reaching up for the silver rectangles absently.
"No," the woman replied quickly, putting the necklace into her shirt without a sound otherwise.
"Oh," slightly embarrassed, Quatre laid back down. Then, a perfectly obvious question came to him. "Where am I?"
The woman smiled. "In my tribe. Your Maganaqs came to us asking for help when you were bitten. They had been quite worried about you. Especially the boy, I believe he called himself Trowa," her smile became quite knowing, like she was reading his thoughts, "He seems quite fond of you, that quiet boy."
Quatre smiled. "Are you a Medjai?"
"My name, as I'm told, is Nefertiti Bey, and yes, I am."
"As you're told?"
"I've lived an extremely interesting life." Nefertiti tilted her head to one side and back before standing up and her shift buried her sandaled feet. "Rest," she said simply and disappeared outside into a setting sun.
Trowa looked up from the glowing fires as from the encampment walked the woman who called herself Nefertiti, while others referred to her as Jackal. Her cat was with her again, at it always was. She smiled at him.
".Medjai think they're so superior." Abdul was muttering in Japanese, nodding to the camp beside Rasheed. "Warriors for this and that. Heads stuck in the sands, if you ask me."
"Do not insult what you do not understand. Such things can be quite costly," Nefertiti said simply in absolutely perfect Japanese. "We may not concern ourselves with space but we do know and we are always watching." There was insolence in her voice, and great annoyance, but also amusement at the shocked look Abdul and the rest of the Maganaqs were giving her. She turned to Trowa. "He woke up, your friend Quatre. Very trusting boy he is. Asked me all sorts of things before asking where he was or who I was." She smiled genuinely. "You might want to help him with that."
"Quatre is an Empath, Nefertiti Bey. It is not a matter of trusting but of knowing," Trowa replied calmly, standing up. "Can I see him?"
The woman's smile broadened. "Sure! It's only the Maganaqs we don't like! Pushy people, they are. All fire and brimstone, if you ask me. Right this way." she turned and headed back for the camp. Trowa followed, chased by annoyed outbursts from the Maganaq people.