Your muse finds mine like this:
What is your muse’s reaction?
"Oh," she smiled politely. The girl who consistently receives perfect marks on all of her tests. Of course she would be recognized by different people. People always had seemed to know of her but never really knew her. At least she had Usagi and the girls. Friends… Friends that weren’t books. What a wonderful experience that had been.
"Only for Calculus," she chuckled lightly as if it was an inside joke. Calculus, Calculus. Jazz and Calculus. They seemed to go so well together. She could easily appreciate both. One for the sweet melodies that she could listen to, and the other for the many pathways that it had led to and the many doors it had opened for exploration especially in the scientific fields.
"Alex-san?" she tried it out, although, her Japanese accent was a bit heavy. After all, the only English that Ami had practiced had been in books. A book couldn’t exactly correct a person on pronuciation.
"It is a pleasure meeting you," she stood up and gave a small, polite bow to the other.
Alex didn’t know why the other students talked about how unapproachable and cold Ami was. Yes, there was an air of seriousness about her, but when she giggled he couldn’t help but smile.
Calculus and jazz. That was an interesting combo if ever he heard one. Something as square as math with the free form musicality of jazz? He wondered how that would work. It obviously did for Ami. Alex left himself a mental reminder to do some research.
"Hey, you got it right! For some reason it takes people a while to properly say my name. When I first got here, there was a guy in my class who called me T Rex." He chuckled, remembering.
"This’ll sound weird, but is there anything you want to hear? There’s nothing worse than hearing something you don’t want to." He tapped his fingers to his thumb as his stomach lurched.
Your muse finds my muse curled up on the bed, crying. Send me a number between 1-35 and I will generate a response. You can send ‘Hush’ for a a randomized response.
|'Memories of Sorrow'|
All he could do was sit.
Emile stared blankly across the battlefield, sat among Lunarians and Earthlings, the silence deafening. Quietly, he removed his cape and let it slide off his shoulders.
The threat of an invasion from Earth was very real, and he was on the very real front lines fighting on the wrong side. With his branding still fresh on his body, he and 200 other turned soldiers fought their brothers-in-arms, killing many in the name of Queen Beryl. His first serious battle, and it was fought for entirely the wrong reasons.
The teen shuddered, choking back a surprise sob. The brainwashing may have turned him and and made him revel in felling his fellow Lunarians, but it didn’t let his conscience forget what their faces looked like. Emile vividly remembered cutting down friends who died with his name on their lips, surprise and pain on their faces. Kurtis, Alton, Hatim, Maks. He remembered the whisper of “traitor” in the chaos of battle.
Now here he was, removing his bloodied battered armor slowly and methodically, without emotion. Shaking fingers undid gauntlet buckles, dropping the metal onto the cobbled moon rock. He didn’t deserve to call himself a Lunarian with everything he had done. Wearing the armor weighed heavy on his already sorrowful heart; it had to be done away with.
As he removed his armor, he began to tremble, mumbling apologies.
There was blood on his hands, and it stained his soul. There wasn’t a priest in the galaxy that could save him.