Reaching the top of the stairs, Sailor Tempesti was unsurprised to find an enormous, heavy metal door. As was the case with so many of the physical barriers on this planet, it seemed as though something had cleared the path for her. The door stood ajar in its frame, almost comically thick with countless complex looking mechanisms visible on its back. The decorative, cast metal botanical elements seemed more like an afterthought than anything else. Like decorating razor wire with ribbons and lace. Elysia’s memories being what they were, it might have been funny to imagine thinking someone as emotionally fragile needed to be contained under this level of security. There had to be Sailor Tempestis who were more dangerous, of course, but she found it difficult to imagine Elysia being dangerous outside of the specific circumstances under which she had become dangerous. She sighed, wondering if she was close to pushing as hard against becoming Elysia as Elysia had against becoming Sotiria.

On the other side of the enormous security door, Tempesti found herself in another stone chamber. The walls and ceilings exhibited the same intricate craftsmanship as the rest of the Tower but its floors bore no mosaics, composed instead of a pale, rough stone. It had to be something tied in with the heaviness of the fortifications. Maybe something to prevent the guards from losing traction in the event of a runaway senshi. Not that she’d have gotten far with another one of those doors in her path, or with the number of guards for whom she saw decrepit accommodations. It had to be a dull job, sitting watch for a rebellion that would never come. In Elysia’s memories they were little more than furniture, silent figures averting their gaze when they weren’t simply blending into the rest of the environment. None of them even had names and none of them appeared in more than one memory. Tempesti wondered if they chose this post. If it was considered a good or a bad assignment. If their families were proud of them for dedicating their time to keeping one person imprisoned. She couldn’t tell if the bitterness she felt was Elysia’s or her own. Maybe it was a mingling of the both of them. As far as she was aware, she would never experience memories from any of her lives before Elysia and for that she was deeply grateful. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if some of the resentment she had to have felt across those centuries still seeped in silently, wordlessly. The anger the only language they had left to them. Or maybe the knowledge that they’d imprisoned so many based solely on superstition was enough to raise her own bile.

Ultimately, those were questions for another day. Today was for her greenhouse. Elysia’s greenhouse. Every green shoot that awaited her study. And her mother’s. It was almost easier to consider the scarier parts of her ancient past than to consider how that conversation was going to go. Yep. Problems for another day.