Fragments of Memory
by Thalia
Rating: R
-SILVER-
Melantha's first meeting with Nolen was on the moon, in the royal
palace. There he stood, lean and solid and earthy-vibrant, chestnut hair
and striking blue eyes. In the tradition of the time, they duelled on
the practice grounds, and when it concluded at a draw, he clasped her
hand in both of his and kissed her palm rather than shaking it. Her
fingers tingled with the spreading warmth and she allowed herself to
smile unguardedly. A faint quirk of lips. A dimple in one cheek. A glint
of warmth and interest in her eyes. It wasn't a perfect smile, and yet,
he told her later that he'd never seen anyone look so beautiful as she
did that moment.
She'd kissed him when he told her that, and between their lips, she felt
the sparkle of the stars and the sizzle of her lightning. She had never
believed in love, and yet, here it was-- thrilling and intoxicating, and
perhaps both of them had been too happy for the universe to tolerate.
Two people could only laugh so much and soar so high before a fall.
He shattered her world with a sword and a denial, and when she killed
him on her last breath, she smiled again, unguarded and imperfect.
"We'll meet again," she whispered into the wind of desolation that
surrounded them, before all went dark and cold. The knife-crescent moon
gleamed steely that night as its life bled itself away.
-ROSY-
"Ring around the rosies, pockets full o'posies..."
Lord Nigel of Astorea had been passing through the village of Sylvania
when he had first seen her. With a wood-nymph's beauty and charm, her
unbound hair curling down her back like an auburn waterfall, she was
leaning against the fence surrounding the mill. He watched her talk to
the miller's son, a frail, waif-like child with a shock of straw-
coloured hair and too-big eyes, and he had fallen in love with her as
she embraced the little commoner like she would a younger brother,
uncaring of status, with an easy affection that came from a generous
heart.
She had still seemed healthy-- rosy-cheeked and brilliant-eyed-- when he
had secured her hand in marriage. Her father, the lord of Sylvania
manor, smiled and promised a sizable dowry, and Nigel had kissed her
palm... the gesture seeming oddly familiar, though he had no idea why.
"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!"
Two months later, when he had returned from his travels to claim his
bride, Sylvania was a town of the dead. Nigel stumbled blindly,
despairingly into the small graveyard in the back of the monastery, and
read the inscription on a newly-turned grave.
Lady Maeryn of Sylvania, aged fifteen, had died of the plague, roses
still blooming on her cheeks like a bridal flush, too early to feel his
kiss. She had been doomed since the day they had met in the village.
-BLUES-
Marietta Kingsley first saw Nathaniel Starr through the smoke and
glamour of a nightclub, and when he noticed, he returned her coquettish
smile with a lazy smirk, rising from his chair and walking towards her
at a slow, informal saunter. In the background, the powerful alto voice
of the blues singer on the stage warbled about hard times and lost love,
and really, perhaps they should have noticed that sign.
But they didn't, and when he asked her to dance, she agreed. They moved
languidly to the beat, and he was the envy of all the fellows who would
have given anything to be graced with that slow, rose-lipped smile. He
brought her hand to his lips at the end of the dance, and she blushed,
wondering at the oddly familiar sensation.
She graciously welcomed him the next day, when he came calling with a
bouquet of blue orchids with an exotic, decadent fragrance. A whirlwind
affair, but Marietta never waffled over life. She kissed him brazenly at
the door, rouge smudging wantonly over both their faces, and a month
later, they celebrated their engagement in the most glamourous party
that the town had seen all year.
And the last. Two weeks later, a day after Black Tuesday, just as they
walked past, an armed, desperate farmer who'd just learnt of his
foreclosure opened fire upon the street. And like they had lived, they
fell in a blaze of smoke and blood-red, out with a bang.
-JADED-
Nick met Lita on the playground of Porter Elementary School. Not that
recesses lasted long, because it was a bad neighborhood, and even the
high fences couldn't keep out everything.
But at seven and six respectively, Nick and Lita were still too young to
understand, really. His mother carefully never told him that he had a
father. The school was frigid during wintertime and the bathrooms had no
toilet paper, but during recess, he could always play with her on the
rusty swingset and pretend that he was soaring to the stars, away from
the cracks in the windows and the graffiti on the walls and the bigger
kids who carried razors in their pockets.
Nick finally met his father one night at blood-red sunset. He'd been
fifteen, and when he'd heard his mother screaming, he'd dashed in,
forgetting the cardinal rule of living in this city. His father, a
drunken brute too far gone to know or care, turned at the sound of the
interloper and fired.
Lita didn't cry at his funeral, didn't make any reaction to the police
and camera crews of a city finally pretending to care, didn't answer any
questions. In the chaos, she disappeared into the night, and even when
she had to sell herself to keep alive, she never cried or smiled...
until a customer had kissed her palm and she'd shivered at the
wrongness, sobbing afterwards in the dark until she threw up.
-GOLD-
When Earth entered the new Golden Age, the wedding of Neo-King Endymion
and Neo-Queen Serenity was celebrated in great pomp and splendour, and
Crystal Tokyo gleamed and sparkled like a beacon of hope in the sunset.
Lady Makoto, the senshi of defense in her queen's guard, met Lord
Nephrite, general of North America, on one of the balconies of the
palace. She set down her champagne glass, and gave him her hand, and
when he bowed and pressed a kiss to her palm, her eyes widened behind
the emerald-studded mask that she wore.
He, too, froze for a moment as he stood back upright. Blue eyes met
green in the peaceful, golden glow of the setting sun, and both felt the
beginnings of a smile curving across their faces.
"This... is going to seem utterly strange, and perhaps a little rude,
milady," he said softly as he took a step forward. "But... I've got this
great subconscious memory of places I've never been."
For some reason, his confirmation made that slight smile bloom into
giddiness on her face, and she stepped closer as well, reaching out her
fingers to trace his cheek. "Me too," she whispered softly into the
night air, her eyes radiant. He grinned, cupping her face with his
fingers and untying the ribbons that held her mask in place before
kissing her lips.
"Welcome back," she whispered against his mouth, tangling her fingers in
his hair. "This time it's forever."
~fin
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