Sailor Moon Reflections 05 : Venus

Her smile has been called many things. Beautiful, kind, nice, but the description she loves the best she's only ever hears in her dreams, whispered against her lips amidst a veil of silver hair, a loving smile.

Her usual smile starts at the corners of her lips before moving upwards, to her cheeks which dimple, much to her embarrassment, before her eyes, a perfect baby blue shade, and just the right size for her face, light up. Normally it is talk of boys, or the latest movie, or the newest Sailor V game that makes her smile like this. She smiles often.

There are other smiles though, smiles none of the others have ever seen, smiles she hopes they will never see.

She remembers England.

A little girl slumped against a brick wall, her uniform stained crimson with her own blood. The sound of her breath, a sickly hiss, coming from between swollen lips, her broken ribs like daggers inside her chest. The monster is standing over her, one claw raised high, ready to finish her.

It smiles.

Her hand comes up, the golden chain already forming in the air as she moves just far enough to avoid the monster's strike. The chain wraps around the monster's arm and she pulls. For a moment there is resistance, then swiftly, sweetly, the chain tightens, singing. A cloud of black blood and ichor blossoms upwards and outwards as the monster screams. Another moment later it falls silent. Her chain is around its neck.

She pulls.

Slowly, shakily she stands. Her eyes are hard, cerulean pools of ice. But then, beneath the foul black blood that has begun to dry on her face, beneath the bruises and the pain, beneath it all, the corners of her lips begins to twitch.

She smiles.

In her sleep she smiles. Often it is the usual smile, the one she smiles all the time. Sometimes it isn't, sometimes it's a sad smile.

She dreams that she is a princess, and that it is a thousand years ago. She dreams of vast palaces forged of gleaming marble, spiralling up into the sky. But most of all she dreams, of silver hair and turbulent blue eyes. Those eyes were always so cold to everyone else, hard, unyielding as rock, but to her, they were always kind, gentle.

He had a nice smile too, a loving smile.

In her sleep she smiles, but tears are trickling down her cheeks. She always hates the next part of her dream, the part, which reminds her what happened next.

She remembers the scent of flame, of blood, of a palace and an empire swallowed up by darkness. But most of all she remembers his smile, the cruel sneer on his lips as she'd stumbled backwards, off his sword, a broad crimson plume already staining her uniform. She died with that smile burned into her soul.

A thousand years later they'd met again and she'd hoped, prayed that once, just once he'd look at her like he used to, with turbulent blue eyes and a loving smile.

She got her wish.

He'd looked at her, his gaze burning into her soul. For a moment, just a moment, it was a thousand years ago and she was in his arms. Slowly, so very slowly, his firm lips had curved upwards, and from beneath his veil of silver hair, his eyes had shone.

I love you.

Then he was gone, his ashes scattered, borne away by a harsh unforgiving breeze. And all she had left was a ghost of a smile.

When she wakes she brings a hand to her face. She traces the path of her tears, the faintest hint of moisture still lingering on her skin. Something soft and warm brushes past her, her cat, and she pulls him tightly into her arms.

He is small, but she buries her face in his fur. She wishes she could cry, but the tears won't come, they never do. So instead she whispers, murmurs, whimpers a hundred wordless, inarticulate pleas for forgiveness, for the chance to make things right. The cat's little body trembles, and he weeps, weeps enough for both of them.

Slowly, too slowly, she stops. Gently, she reaches for her comb, for the brush she keeps by her bedside. Then, in the still, silent darkness, she begins to brush her hair. Her cat looks up at her, wondering, hoping that she is all right.

She looks down at him.

She smiles.

Only it doesn't reach her eyes.

Author's Note

Yay! Well… forget about Mercury being tough to write… Venus was an absolute killer to do. But why, exactly, was that? On one hand, I have to admit, Venus isn't my favourite Sailor Senshi. Don't get me wrong, she's cool, what with the golden chain and the crystal sword, but in terms of character development, I think she gets ripped off. On the other hand, I think she's also one of the most interesting characters, especially amongst the Inner Senshi. I've always though that with her early awakening, and her time in England, that she remembers more than the others, though I don't think she'd ever admit it, and surely that knowledge must weigh heavily upon her, especially when it comes to the Generals. Oh, and for anyone who didn't figure it out, the guy in the story is Kunzite / Malachite, depending on where you're from, and yes, I do believe that the manga tends to pair the two of them together. If you disagree, please don't shoot me.

All that aside, may I now remind you about feedback… I live off the stuff! Good or bad, tell me what you think, you won't regret it ;;.

To My Reviewers : Errr… I realised today that replying to all of you would probably just about double the length of the story, which sadly isn't practical. However I would like to thank all of you for taking the time to review, words cannot describe how great you guys are. Once again, gomen to everybody expecting a personal response… it's just getting out of hand… gomen.

And by the way, with the dwindling number of Senshi remaining, who thinks they can guess the next one? Till later then, and thanks, once again, to all my reviewers.