And I don't want you to adore me
Don't want you to ignore me
When it pleases you
-Muse, "Muscle Museum"

The night gave way to the day without a sign of the Priestess. She hadn't left the monastery; she knew that much. There was however, no sign of her. Her knocks at her door went unanswered, for that matter she did not see hide nor hair of either Phobos or Deimos. Short of completely vanishing, the three of them had effectively ignored her. While the monastery was not that big; sizable yes but once she had the idea of the layout down it really wasn't that big, there were multiple places they could have hidden at all the same.

She would only allow herself so much to be ignored before she would finally do something about it. The problem however was the sinking sensation she had that the Priestess did not want to be found. Not found, not disturbed, and not bothered. For the first day, she let it go, fooling herself into believing that she was content with the knowledge that the Priestess just wanted to be left alone and not reminded of the visions she had or the reason she herself was ultimately here on Mars.

That was the first day however. The second day it started grating on her nerves. Like an itch you could not reach due to placement or the fact you could not move, it irritated her in such a fashion to wear on her. Or perhaps, like that nagging sensation that something was wrong. The nagging sensation of uncertainty, generally felt when one wasn't sure if they really had done something or not. Did I really remember to lock the door? Did I pack enough? Did I remember to take care of that rip in whatever article of clothing it was? Things like that.

That was the second day. By the third she had outright had it, after another unsuccessful attempt to find the Priestess or the other two. Known for being rather evenly tempered, it took quite a bit to set her off. Her temper then could be legendary in that regard, for it was a fire best described as a lover scorned or absolute jealousy. That it perhaps took her three days could be said that either she put up a valiant fight or that she was far too stubborn for her own good.

Boot heels beat out a rhythm that only they could achieve, a pounding sort of tempo that echoed each time her heel struck down, reverberating softly in the otherwise silent hewn stone passageway. Stalking was the best way to describe her gait, her gaze fixed before her in a blue stare that highly encouraged any who fell under its weight to leave her be. Behind her swung long blonde hair, the truest sign that here, she was most certainly a stranger, an outsider, and to be treated and regarded as one. Keeping stride with her was her falchion, banging lightly against her thigh in her otherwise pissed step.

Rounding the corner her gaze narrowed in spitfire anger, honing in instantly to her target like a lodestone did to anything metallic. A snort of breath later and she was in the same room, the door should have been slammed behind her but that would be petty. Someone could call her passive aggressive and they would likely be absolutely correct in such a simplistic descriptive. Instead, her hand made sure that it gave an audible click to be shut, but otherwise it did not sound any different than anyone else who shut a door.

With the Priestess' back to her she ground her teeth, trying, perhaps not exactly desperately but she was trying all the same, to achieve something in the way of inner peace, calmness, focus, anything. Anything that would allow her to speak without biting the other's head off, even though that was what she really wanted to do. Drawing in a deep breath she gave ready to speak, only to be interrupted.

Of things that truly set off her passive aggressiveness to unmanageable levels, it was truly that. Being interrupted.

"What do you want, Lunarian. You sound like a bull in heat."

Goddess how she really started to hate, truly hate, the questions posed as statements from the Martian. Any forward progress that the Priestess had made with her in regards to changing her impressions of Martians by and large was being shattered left and right. Swept away like a wave did to the beach, or a scythe through a field.

As she failed to answer, the Priestess continued on. "What, no witty comeback. I'm rather disappointed."

Count to ten Minako. No, better make that to at least one hundred. She doesn't know who you are, she doesn't know your importance, she's probably stressed from her visions and is just being a bitch. Subconsciously, she tried yet again to rein on her temper before she exploded. It only took once, after all. She dealt with much of the same with various officers of the Lunarian Army. One or two would try to indicate she had no place there, that her titles, her authority, much less her command, was given only because she either sucked the right person's cock or she spread her legs for them. Perhaps both, if not more, and likely for more than just one person.

Going on the offensive before the Priestess went too much further she answered sickening sweetly enough, the acidic undertone enough to crumble the resolve of most, if not completely sandblast the most stout of defenses. "My apologies, Priestess, for being such a disappointment to you. Perhaps had you deigned to so grace my lowly presence with your glory I would not be lacking the wit that you so desire from me in return."

The effect was almost textbook perfect, had the Priestess been willing to stoop to such a level in this game. Instead she merely turned her head, looking at her from the corner of her eye. "That fails to explain what you want."

"What I…" Pull it together Minako, she's just playing you! "What I want? Are you seriously asking me that?!"

"I didn't realize you, bodyguard, were so bad at following simple orders that you need them repeated to you multiple times. What else, must I remind you when to bathe?"

It didn't matter, the counting. It didn't do anything, and at this point it would have just been pomp and ceremony, habitual, to go through the motions. Her hand that had been resting at her falchion tightened dramatically, a grip that would have rivaled if not complete out done the ones that she gave whenever a craft took off or landed. The twitching shake was the giveaway, sending the falchion to rattle in its scabbard.

It did everything she didn't want it to, watching as the satisfied smirk appeared on red lips before the Priestess presented her back to her once more, resuming what she had been doing before so interrupted. Apparently it was reading a book, an almost offhandedly said comment following as she turned a page. "Do make sure you bathe once a day, bodyguard."

"How. Fucking. Dare. You." She spit out each word in a hissed whisper, having enough. She had long since vowed to never strike those under her command, knowing it did absolutely everything for undermining her leadership and completely ruining any trust one would have with or in her. This however was going too far, the implied insubordination was beyond what she was willing to accept, no matter the exceptions presented. Advancing, her hand left the falchion and instead fluctuated between forming fists and remaining open. A punch or a slap, it could have been any that her body was preparing to give.

In the blink of an eye, much faster than should have truly been possible given the supposed lack of skill that the Priestess possessed, she was out of her chair. Out of her chair, turning to face her, all but rushing her with short sword in hand. Against the door she felt her body being slammed, the wind rushing out of her lungs quickly as though it was being timed on its ability to vacate. Her head almost joined in that, almost slammed back to join in the sound but some underlying training kept her from being rendered unconscious that way.

What she ultimately was not expecting was the drawn sword at her neck, pressing against the column forcefully. Silently she vowed not to give the Priestess the satisfaction and knew it was a vow she would break, given how her eyes widened. Just a little certainly, but it was enough. The Priestess knew that she had her, the gloating easily came to her features as though she donned a second skin. "So pathetic. I thought you were some Lunarian champion, instead you're probably no more than some commonplace Venusian whore faking her way through like everything else in your life."

Her pride refused to take any more blows that were falling well below the belt. Danger be damned, her hands rose and made an instant grab for the short sword. With two hands to just the Priestess' one, it wasn't too hard to overpower her, but fuck what a struggle she put up too! "The. Fuck. Is your problem anyway?!" The words were punctuated only by the need to keep the blade off of her throat. Two hands, fuck it didn't mean anything! Somehow the Priestess was rivaling even the Jovian Princess' strength, and she honestly didn't know anyone that was stronger than Makoto.

"My problem? My problem?! My problem is you, you fucking Lunarian! You show up and expect everyone to follow you and do exactly what you say without offering any explanation of why!"

She had a point… grudgingly she would give her that, yet the Priestess was not done.

"No wonder my father will have nothing to do with the Moon!" She all but snarled, the venom laced her words to such a tangible level she could not help but feel the dripping poison of them.

But it was at that moment that either face took on a look of surprise and wonderment. For her, she stopped struggling against the sword, her grip going lax as she just outright stared. Under the impression that the Priestess did not know her parents; she had gone so far as to make mention of it while traveling here though she had to pry it from her, why… no, how then could she have known what the stance was of the King of Mars?

The Priestess' face was near the same of her own, an almost mirror image. What color she possessed had drained away, her hand holding the sword went lax at once. With a waver in her voice she began to repeat her last sentence. "No wonder… my father… will have nothing to do…" It was as far as she got before her eyes, such a shade of the night sky that she always found herself completely lost within them blazed with a fire that somehow felt wrong, tainted…

"You fucking bitch!" Her other hand rose, sword equally in that hand, crashing into the side of her face before once again the world went pitch black and a trailing, mocking laughter at her failure.

When she came back to, it was with an awareness of pain and agony. Suffering seemed to be a close friend since she arrived, her head positively throbbed with it. Dimly she became aware that she was lying out on the floor, her cheek pressed to the cold stone. The splitting headache roared through her next with a vengeance all of its own, demanding its due and refusing to wait for anything else. She knew it was a whimper that fell from her lips, eyes so tightly shut as though it would make the pain go away.

Goddess what happened? She was alive yes but with how her head felt she almost thought being dead would be the far better choice. How long she laid there she didn't know, her body refused to acknowledge anything save the throbbing pound in her head. It didn't even matter that her falchion was digging into her ribs and stomach, or the awkward angle her foot was propped up against the wall. Tears sprung to her eyes but if they were for pain or the hopelessness she was currently feeling she couldn't rightly say.

Tentatively she flexed her fingers, then wiggled her toes. All responded which meant nothing was broken save her head. It was with agonizing slowness, for it was the only way she could move would be associated with agony, that her hand finally came to her face. Carefully and far too slowly for her liking her hand finally found its way between the side of her head and the floor, cradling it like her life depended on it. At this rate it probably did.

With even more of the same agonizing slowness she had managed somehow, with numerous whimpers and groans of pain, to sit upright, her back to the wall. Her face was swollen, the side of it, she knew that. The coldness of the floor had managed to help in a fashion but it was paltry in comparison to the stark truth of another concussion, another blow to her temple, the near same spot she had been struck at before. Goddess… she wanted to cry, to actually cry, feeling the tears escape as she almost begged her patron to beseech her with mercy.

Tightly shut, her eyes squeezed off the notion. The Priestess. She wasn't herself. She knew it, her heart refused to believe the hateful things said. Logically her mind added reason to the truths her heart knew to be absolute. The Priestess had begun to act not like herself when she had the visions. She further turned the more she consulted the fires. Could the fires have corrupted her? How else would she know of the King of Mars' stance regarding the Moon; more so given that it was amiable up to the point that the Queen had sent the summons that went unanswered.

The Priestess did not know she was his daughter, did not know she was the Princess, did not know why she was so vital, for something potentially serious or not the Queen had wanted her as part of her daughter's guards. That's why she had been sent after all; unanswered summons, missing emissaries… it was time for her to step in. If the Priestess did not know of her relation, then why would she be so privy to something the King apparently felt?

The thoughts slowly turned her mind off of the pain in her head, leaving it behind as though it was petty. It was, after all, ultimately so. So very petty. A splitting headache was nothing in comparison to the fact she felt as though the Priestess was, in fact, under manipulation. Brain washed. Controlled. That couldn't be her; she refused to believe it and refused to acknowledge it.

Get yourself together Minako. You have to save her. Arguing with herself, or at least not giving herself mercy in such regards, she managed to push up to her feet. That she instantly regretted it was to be expected, slumped against the wall as her knees wavered on the verge of giving out. She felt nauseated, sick, weak… any number of words would aptly describe the sensation. Her will however refused to submit, a hand found the door while the other held her head.

Out of the room she stumbled, distantly knowing she had to look like she was drunk. If only she bitterly thought… if only. It had been ages it felt like she had the opportunity to let herself go like that, to consume alcohol. Fuck, to just love someone and be loved in return. Her life was too much duty this, duty that, duty, duty, duty… always duty first. She staggered off a wall, not even bothering to give it a baleful glance. Refusing to look; she made the mistake of opening her eyes and the world had threatened to black out on her, she went by sheer feel and guessing to where she was.

Another step and she felt arms around her, voices of both the male and female type that were dim, speaking what she couldn't understand. Fucking Martians and their language. She tried to hold on, to not let go to consciousness but her body refused cooperation with her at this point, succumbing to the feeling as her coherency left her for better things to do. She gave it all up without a struggle, much less a fight.

When she came back to this time, it was to the softness of her bed and a cold cloth pressed to her face. The light here was dim; but fuck this light made little sense to her anyway. She groaned, feeling something awful as her eyes fluttered to focus. The same guide as before was sitting on a chair next to the bed, holding the cloth to her face. There was a fear about her, a deeply rooted one but also a relief that seemed to almost be battling it away.

"Where… where is she… where did the Priestess go…?" Her voice cracked in so very many places, a whisper but she had to know, she had to know where she had went. Fuck at the very least she had to save her from herself, from whatever powers had a hold on her.

"Y-you should rest. Your face, your head is bad…" The guide started with, fear coating her words like a fine chocolate did on a strawberry. Fuck the comparisons her mind made when her world was not right. Irritably her hand waved the concern away, demanding that her eyes focus, that she ignore the pain for right now. There was plenty of time to rest later, just as she always lied to herself about.

"I don't care. The Priestess. Is she still here?"

"N-no. No she's not. She… she left, along with her two guards."

Of course, she would never do something so simple for her as she so needed her to, as she so desired her to. A breath was drawn in, eyes falling shut before they reopened again. "The Priestess. She isn't herself, I'm sure it's obvious. I'm going to go after her… I have to."

"But… but someone needs to take care of you! You can't leave, not like this! You can probably barely even stand! How, what are you going to be able to do for her if your can't even help yourself?" The guide pleaded with her passionately, desperate to infuse reason to her world.

She knew that. She knew the arguments. She still gave a bitter laugh, but she wisely did not shake her head. "No one has taken care of me yet, so why should this be any different. Did she at least leave a horse, or am I going to be walking the entire time?" How so fitting that would be…