Welcome to Gaia! ::

*cracks up laughing*

With ears pricked and mane flying, a beautiful, old bay mare galloped to the top of a distant cliff. For a moment, her long, slender body hung in midair between the rough canyon walls, then sofly thumped to the ground. She began to gallop, and the feeling of fresh mountain air in her nostrils almost made her feel like a young filly again after being cooped up in the barn all winter.

She cantered alont the edge of a shallow ravine, then stopped to graze on the luscious green grass growing there. Suddenly, she snapped her head up, testing the gentle evening breeze that was blowing from the north. Smelling a lurking danger upon her, she quickly backtracked the way she had come, galloping the long road back home to her eleven-year old master.

As she neared her home, she was met by a little blonde haired boy wearing a pair of overalls, two sizes too big for him.

"Hiya there, Sunrise! Back so soon? Didn't expect to see you till at least morning!" Pete Theller greeted his favorite horse, grabbing onto the excited mare's halter at the same time. Attaching a rope to the halter, Pete let her back to her stall where a steaming corn mash was waiting.

As Sunrise began to eat, Pete filled a large pail of water for her, then began to clean up the burrs that had gotten entangled in the old horse's mane and tail.

"Boy, are you a mess, old girl! I never knew a horse could get that dirty in my entire life!" exclaimed David Theller, Pete's father.

David was a hard working man of about forty years. He had spent the best years of his life taking care of army horses before he was sent home, because of an accident that had killed his older son, Bane, his first wife, and had almost killed him, while his forces were on a secret war simulation in the mountains. When he arrived, the first thing he did was build a house, and two years later, he married his childhood sweetheart, Valery Donaldson. They soon gave birth to Pete and, a year later, his sister Sandra Anne. David taught them everything he knew, and the two learned quickly to love the outdoors.

"Your mama's got supper on right now. Should we go ahead and eat, or wait for you?" David softly questioned as he patted Sunrise's muddy neck.

"Go ahead and eat. Right now it looks like I"m going to have my work cut out for me. I'll just warm it up after I'm done," Pete answered as he picked up a soft rag and began wiping the caked mud off the mare's back.

"Don't stay up too late. Remember, you and i have to go to town early in order to get all the groceries your mom wants, and you still have to finish your chore," his father reminded him as as he left the barn and started toward the house.

Looking at his watch, Pete knew he would have to hurry if he wanted to watch his favorite TV show at eight o'clock, and right now it was about six-thirty. If he hurried, he could be done by seven forty-five, he hoped. He still had to finish milking the cows and get the horses in the barn for the night. With a new determination, Pete began to hum as he worked on the mare. About an hour and a half later, as Pete was walking towards the house, he heard a frightened whinny coming from the barn. Running back, he saw what had happened. Bruiser, the family gold retriever, had accidentally knocked over a bucket of nails, and the noise was what had spooked the animals.

Taking Bruiser by the collar, and grabbing a stout rope, Pete lead him to the dog houses that were built for him and Dolly (a black lab) and tied him to his stake.

"I don't want you to spook the horses any more, ya hear? I've had a feeling all day that something was going to happen tonight, and I don't want that something involving you, understand?" Pete said, as he rubbed the dog's head in a repentive gesture. "And to be on the safe side," Pete said as he spotted Dolly, "I'm going to tie you up too. We don't need two dead dogs on this ranch. It's hard enough getting money around here, let alone having to train new guard dogs. You two have saved our skins more times than you'll ever realize, so please don't let yourselves get killed." He rubbed them both between the ears, giggling as they lick his face.

All of a sudden, Bruiser stood still for a moment, looking beyond Pete into the darkness beyond, then leaped to the end of his rope, showing a tooth-filled mouth to the moonlit night. Dolly, too, began to snarl and growl, daring the invisible danger to show it's face. She tore away from the boy's grasp, before he could finish tying the knot in the rope, and disappeared into the darkness, her voice fading as she ran. Feeling something was after the horses, Bruiser tried to run to the barn, but was checked violently by the rope on his collar. He became more and more frantic with every second, so the boy hurried to untie him, cursing the fact the knot had tightened with each of Bruiser's attempts to free himself. After what felt like ages, the dog was finally free. He started towards the barn, but turned on his heels halfway there, following Dolly's trail instead.

Pete ran after them, following their trail of barks and howls, and soon ran out of breath. When he stopped, he realized he was on the old road that ran to his house. It was surrounded by deep woods, which would soon be bursting with color as the summer faded to fall. They echoed with childhood memories, especially of when the weather was calm, his mom allowed him to camp in a clearing not far from the farm, where he loved to watch the stars appear as the moon rose over the horizon. Looking up at the moon now, he saw a greenish glow, and remembered stories he'd heard of odd thing happening when the moon was that same color, and he briefly wondered if this would prove to be such a night.

As he stood there, he realized the dogs had gone silent. Warily, he continued again, walking slowly, listening for any sound. He found soon found himself at his favorite clearing, but saw a weird glow radiating from it the closer he got. As he peeked through the bushs, the strangest sight came into view. He saw an old fashioned army encamped there, the uniforms of a regiment long gone, the men hurrying from tent to tent. They wore bright red shirts, brimming with medals, and a yellow sash that ran from their right shoulder to left hip, their polished black boots tucked neatly into navy blue pants....but it wasn't the uniforms that caught his attention, as much as it was the fires, which glowed an eery green.

Shaking his head, as if to clear it from a fog, he turns his eyes away from the fires, and sees a corral nearby, filled with all types of horses. Appoloosas, pintos, roans, palminos, and two or three rare albinos were huddled nervously together, acting as if they were going to be butchered. Looking closer, he noticed something else as well...they were half-starved, their ribs showing plainly in the light of the fires. Though there was plenty of grass and hay around, none were grazing. Many looked sick, oozing sores covering their bodies, and their sickly smell forced the boy to sneak back the way he'd come.

A few yards away, he whistled softly for the dogs, and was abruptly seized from behind, and driven back into the crowded clearing. Action stopped as he appeared, and for the first time he realized exactly what he was seeing...these were corpses. Their skin was gray, and on some, parts had fallen off revealing the bone underneath. He had heard stories of such, passing them off as just stories. No one had known when the phenomenon started, and no one cared to find out, because anyone that ventured into the woods to find out the truth, never returned.

As the horrific sight raced through his mind, Pete began to struggle away from his captors, towards the shelter of the woods. A crack was heard, as a sharp pain creased through his head, and blackness washed over him like a freshly washed blanket.

He awoke some time later with a sharp headache, that felt as if a truck had run over him, and his sore muscles screamed with agony as he tried to shift to a better position, but thick ropes kept his hands and feet bound securely to a chair. Looking around, he found himself on a rather large tent, filled with books a papers. In the corner, he saw another green fire burning, casting eerie shadows on the translucent walls, and the smell of simmering food, in the pot suspended above it, was ambrosial to the boy's empty stomach.

"Well, looky what we have here," said a husky voice. The boy turned his head to the right, just enough to see a rather tall man, with midnight black hair and eyes that reflected the darkness of his soul, pull back a tent flap and enter. As he stood before the boy, he saw that the clothes looked neatly washed and pressed, the medals reflecting the firelight in the corner. A slight wind sprang up, briefly rattling the tent, but feel quiet once more as the man smiled evilly, putting one cold hand under the boy's chin. "A new recruit, just ripe for picking. Can't get much better in these parts."

As Pete pulls his head back from the man's touch, he laughs, the sound grating to the boy's ear drums. "I might as well introduce myself. I am General Amos Canney. Ever heard of me? No? Well maybe this will jog your memory a bit. There was a story about me once. A true one. I'd murdered my patrol for retreating from what could of been a perfect victory. Aaah, so you do know it, I can by the way you breathe, just as I thought you would. They stood in the way of victory, but that is behind me now. The time is almost come, and only one thing keeps me from becoming victorious....you." The General turned away from the boy, and begins to stir the food in the pot, his face hidden from view, his voice quiet and but powerful as he speaks once more. "And now that I have you, nothing will keep me from my Grand Victory. But let's do away with the formalities, and cut down to business, shall we? Any last requests before you die?" He turns his head to face the boy, at this last remark.

"Where are my dogs? What have you done to them?" Pete yells angrily.

He chuckles softly, his hand never leaving the ladle. "All in good time, my boy. You will know in good time, but I warn you, the answer is not what a child like you should hear. Do you still want to know, my good lad?"

"Yes," came the small, but determined, reply.

"RIGHT HERE!" the man shoves the pot of food towards the boy. "I hope that satisfied you, cause soon you'll be seeing them, real soon, up close and personal." He pulls out a jeweled dagger from the sheath in his belt, his laughter growing from a chuckle to a loud cawing as he approached the boy. The hilt, inlaid with what looked to be red rubys, pulsed with a low glow as dark as blood. The boy struggled to free himself, but his gaze was locked on the knife, almost hypnotized by the pulse.

The general raised the knife till it was level with the boy's throat, the cutting edge of it glowing brighter with every second. Faster and faster it began to throb, in time with the boy's heartbeat, waiting for the moment when it would strike, reducing it's victim to a bloody mound on the cold, unforgiving ground. Waiting....waiting.....

As Pete watched the knife, he slowly lost all sightof everything around him, but the slow coming of his death. He sat transfixed as the knife drew lower towards his throat. Lower.....lower....

A bloodcurdling scream shattered the early morning silence. Though some people heard it, they didn't bother finding out what had happened, for they already knew. They quickly got back to their errands, know that this was only the begining of the end for this old town. Many more horrors would soon make their way here and destroy them, no matter what they did. Many, many more.

About two miles away, an old man was sitting on his porch, drinking his coffee, and enjoying the sunrise. Faintly, from the forest, he heard the scream drift over the trees. He sipped his drink calmly, as the sound of it echoed away into the distant hills. Just as the last of it faded away, the old man picked up his drink and walked back inside his house. Halfway in, he paused, and whispered, "They're back."

gonk there's no more to the story?!?! crying

Oh btw I like the poem too- it's very different from the story....

Hm, I should get around to posting my actual stories here... I warn they're all pretty depressing though....

Ok I have yet to dig out any of my writings. sweatdrop For awhile I was posting poems in my journal. I haven't written any new ones tho.

crying Yeah, I know the feeling, Dez-chan so much of my stuff is either lost or incomplete, sheesh gonk

Living on Borrowed Time

~ 500 D.C. ~

The ominous storm clouds swirled in the sky as heavy rain began to fall to the dead, barren earth. The stale, cold air blew whirlwinds across the land. Where once was a lake, was now a big dry, dusty hole in the dirt. Two lone figures stood. The dead earth, once their home, left nothing to be desired; only death and despair. A plague had ravished their village, their home, taking everything they loved with it. It left nothing but the two figures. It left them with the life of immortality. Left them only to spend their lonesome lives with each other, never knowing what death would be like.

The two figures, young girls, would have to travel the world to find another home, where no one would find their secret, and where they could hide for all eternity. They had to find the one place where they would be accepted if someone found out about them.

The girls had wandered throughout the entire planet, trying to find their place, but never achieving it. They had wandered for thousands of years, searching, always searching. They had wandered across places that people would die to see, to explore, to study. They had even watched the evolution of a new race, a more superior race.

The new race had heightened senses. They could hear a pin drop four miles away. They could see a lady bug fall to the ground on the other side of the world, and smell a rose that had bloomed not three miles away. This new race had intrigued the eldest of the two friends.

Not 300 years had the new race evolved, 200 of which the girls lived with them. The eldest of the two was the first to wed. She wed the leader, Gregory Klovis, the strongest. For 198 years did they live happily, and for 198 years did the eldest keep a secret from the younger. Her husband had turned her, turned her into one of them, had turned her into a vampire.

The younger stayed immortal, untouched by the tainted hands of the vampires, and the elder was to live a cursed life, a tainted life, always craving something she could not have at least, for now.


~ 4400 D.C. ~


Young children ran through the dirty streets of Cal Mandu, while poor unfortunate souls scrounged around asking passersby for food or money while casinos lined streets all across town. Bright lights illuminated the dark aura surrounding the city, and loud, boisterous music cut though the black, gloomy lives of the people who lived there.

A lot has changed since that town came to be. That was their original village, over run by thieving werewolves. The leader, Latavian Savorse, was the ruler of that little city. His minions ran the casinos, hotels, and the stores. His minions made the lives of the innocent people who lived there, miserable.

Two young visiting girls meander through the never ending labyrinth of alleyways that coursed through the heart of the city. Many people lost themselves in that labyrinth never to be found. But these two girls were different. They had wandered these streets before; they knew every crack and crevasse. They were part of the city. Not by population, but by their souls. This land, this land that Cal Mandu was built upon, was once their home, their original home, not Vanearth, where they have been living for 3700 years. Yes, these were the two who saw the birth of it all.

Khitie Ethrin-Klovis, the eldest, the vampire, was forever held in the eyes of being 16. People were known to stop and stare when she ambled past. With her short, spiky metallic black hair, her long chin-length blood red bangs, and her cat-like blood red eyes, it wasn't uncommon.

Her "sister", Zoee Clyde, was also held forever in the eyes of being 15. She also received many stares, but she was more accustomed to them than her sister. Zoee had an accident when she was around the age of 5, which turned her bangs electric blue. No one understood why, but she had forever the blue bangs. The rest of her hair was blond, which hung down about to mid-back and was almost always braided, only letting her bangs hang free, in her face. Her eyes caught the most attention; they were wolf-like and were the shade of an icy sky. Now, the two of them weren't really sisters, but since they grew up together, and were now immortal together, they just figured it easier to call each other a sister.

They wound through the labyrinth, helping the lost and the crazy find their way out. Unseen to them and to the eyes of the stragglers, was Latavian Savorse. He had always watched over them, unseen, unknown of, and unheard. Over the years he had grown accustomed to having them wander his town; his golden eyes lingering over every move that the two made.

He could smell that the elder had been taken by one of the vampires. Ugh, vampires he thought. He involuntarily shuttered as he thought of the relationships between the vampires and the werewolves. Many vampires and werewolves still felt animosity towards each other. That was how the wars came to be.

The wars began when Verisai, the female elder of the vampires, and Kihrdam, the male elder of the werewolves, began getting intimate. No one knew of the secret relations between the two elders until the mixed race, the Cunri, became known to the other two races. The Cunri were interbred, as a small community on their own. A few years after Verisai and Kihrdam noticed their mistake, they forbade the Cunri to interact with the other species and when the Cunri disobeyed those orders, Verisai and Kihrdam waged war on their children. The war between the three species has been waging for 3000 years. Even today, the hostilities between the vampires, werewolves, and Cunri held strong and sharp.

Three miles past the outskirts of Cal Mandu lay the ruins of one Cunri village. Scattered across the barren earth lay the disgruntled, misshapen skulls and bones of various Cunri that had fallen in the first raid of the war. The Cunri were an ugly race. The eye sockets were sunk into their head, only leaving beady black eyes. Their muzzle wasn't really a muzzle at all. It was more of an elongated human nose. Cunri skin had the colourings of a Caucasian human but was the texture of a wolf. They stood as though they had weights hanging from their necks. Cunri arms were humanized, but they would walk on their toes, much like that of a wolf.

That village was the only one that was discovered. 3000 years, and only one village was found. 3000 years, and only a third of the Cunri population had been destroyed. 3000 years, and still the freedom wished for has not become. But ‘twas only the freedom wished for by Khitie and her sister.

Latavian Savorse had suffered great loses during the first 3000 years of the war. Before the wars began he had a great population. A growing population of 20,000 werewolves, but after the first raid, the population shrank to a mere 5,000. They would soon become a lost race. Latavian knew that, and that is why he monitored the comings and goings of those who visited. That's why he pushed the mere mortals, who took up residence there in Cal Mandu, into utmost insanity.

He sat in the shadows, his golden hair, which was held out of his face tied with a black velvet ribbon; lay softly over his shoulder, while his golden eyes held for him the rays of the sun. Across his lap lay the one thing his father left for him, the black-bladed broadsword, Black Lightning. His clothing, delicately and intricately designed, held the shape of a silver moon across the back of his tunic. Latavian's father was Kihrdam. Kihrdam had passed through to the light 200 years back, leaving Latavian the rule of all werewolves.

He rested his back against a cool, damp, brick wall, his eyes burning into the two young girls that slowly ambled past. He had noticed for some while that both had weapons of sorts. The eldest, the vampire whore, had what looked like a longsword, and the younger, the pure one, carried a black iron katana. He had no idea to what extent either woman had with training. It would be much fun to find out how good they are with their swords, but it might be just as fun to see how good they are in bed, too, he thought as he chuckled below his breath. He quietly noted as the vampire whore looked in his general direction with a sense of worry on her face. Um, this might be a tiny bloody problem. He bounded high towards the roof and caught his feet on the end of the ledge in the shadows and planted his hands on the wall opposite him. He held fast there waiting until the 'vampire whore' as he termed her, passed.

Khitie heard a slight breathy sound come from the alley behind she and her sister. "Zoee, hold up a moment." She turned away from the fruit stand they were standing in front of, and went to check out the alleyway. She pulled the moonlight silver blade she justly named her b*****d Sword from the leather sheath strapped to her back, and slowly slinked into the alley. The darkness welcomed her as her blood red cat eyes adjusted to the change in light. All around her were cold, damp bricks, lifeless rats, empty garbage cans, and the occasional human corpse. Nothing alive, that she could feel, was in that alleyway, so Khitie returned her sword to its sheath, gave the alley one last look around, and headed back to her sister.

Latavian landed softly on the dirty, disease infected ground only moments after the vampire whore had left. Jesus, can that woman get any bloody testier than she already is? But then again, her companion, Zoee she called her, is beautiful.


~ 4401 D.C. ~


The earth below the continent of Vanearth shifted only the slightest, hinting that something was coming. Dark clouds slowly filtered out of the sky, as the bloody orange ball pushed its way into the ice blue sky. The stale, dry wind tugged at the yellow and orange leaves hanging loosely on the dying brown trees.

Gregory Klovis sat in his home staring blankly over the rune stones that he threw. The stones predicted death and rebirth. It unnerved him to no end. He worriedly ran his calloused hand through the silver bangs that hung by his shoulders. His silver dragonesque eyes stripped of all thought and emotion, blankly staring into the void of the future. He came to the realization of what he was attempting and came to his right mind as he heard the door to his house being opened quietly.

"I'm home dear." Khitie opened the front door quietly and stepped in.

"Welcome home, my love." Gregory stood out of his chair and took his life mate in his arms. He gave her a light kiss, released her, and took her longsword.

"Mother!" A young Ashe ran into the room after hearing his mother's voice.

"My little Ashe, did you behave today?" She took her son in her arms and ruffled his silver bangs.

Ashe was only 17 years of age. But he had the wisdom and knowledge of a mere mortal nearing death. His eyes were a mixture of both his parents. Gregory had silver dragonesque eyes, while Khitie had blood red cat eyes. The hair on his head was like Zoee's in a way. His bangs were silver, like his father's, but the rest of his hair was metallic black, like his mother's. Ashe always kept his shoulder length hair out of his way, by tying the hair away in a silver ribbon to hang at the base of his neck. Like his mother, a greatsword that his grandmother, Verisai, had left him, hung across his back.

"Mother, I am nearing the age of the Dhirk. I may be your son, but please once I take my life mate at the ceremony, I won't permit you to call me that ever again." His metallic blood red eyes flashed angrily.

"No matter how old you may be, my son, you will always be my little Ashe. You can't change that, no matter how hard you try." She released her son and turned away from him. She slowly walked to where her sword hung, retrieved it, and then left the house quietly.

"Must you always aggravate your mother, Ashe?" Gregory lightly clapped the back of his son's head. He wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a steaming cup of Don Moal. He came back to his chair and resumed looking at the ruins. Your mother is more important to you than you think, my son. I hope you realize that soon, before anything happens.

The streets lining the alleyways and travel ways were cramped and crowded. The sky was dark and dreary when Khitie reentered the town square. Mothers and children hurried through the dank passageways to reach their homes before the rain fell. She wandered to the dampening fountain in the middle of the square and sat on the wet ledge. My own son hates me. What did I do to make him hate me? And the age of the Dhirk is nothing to feel proud over. Ashe will have many hardships ahead of him. I only hope that he can survive them. Khitie sat, to absorbed in her thoughts to hear Starlight sit beside her.

Starlight's silver braid lay plastered to her midnight black tunic and her metallic black panther-like eyes stared patiently into the bleak alleyways. They sat in silence, one deep in the void of thought, the other in the void of the night. A thunder crack was the only thing that broke the silence between them and lightning lit up the near abandoned marketplace.

Starlight broke the silence with a deep sigh. Her black eyes wandered the heavens, as if searching for the answers. "It's Ashe, isn't it?" There I have finally asked.

Khitie was silent for a few moments then tucked a stray tendril of blood red hair behind her ear. Her eyes stared blankly into the dark night sky, and rain fell into her eyes. "I'm not of your world. You know this, and except this. Why is it you can, and my own son can't?"

Starlight's black panther-like eyes stayed clear of emotion. "I think it's because he feels threatened by your superiority. By knowing the idea that his mother came from an ancient civilization that became extinct close to 4,200 years in the past."

"That explains nothing! Ashe hates me only because I do not approve of the Dhirk ceremony. He hates me because I am better with the sword than he." The tears slowly began to flow from her eyes, mixing with the rain. Her pain, her fear, showed clearly through her eyes and her body posture.

Starlight sat quietly listening to Khitie's confession. "Ah, yes the Dhirk ceremony."

The Dhirk ceremony was a passing into adult hood. When a male becomes of age, he has to fight the strongest of his parents. The first to hit bone wins. The winner, if it be the son, has to wed one of the village virgins. The winner, if it be the parent, has to kill his/her son.
Starlight glanced to the sky when the rain had stopped. "You'll be going up against him won't you?"

Khitie stayed silent, and looked at the sky. The silver moon slowly showed itself as the thunder clouds dissipated. "Yes." Her voice cracked, and more tears fell to mix themselves with the water dripping from her bangs.


Zoee sat beneath the Kujinko tree in the Forest of Remembrance. Her flute was poised at her lips and a sad song issued forth. The song weaved itself throughout the air in the clearing, telling the forest a story. A story about her and Khitie's life.

Latavian lay in the high branches of the Kujinko tree, listening to the story. He listened to the sad times, and the joyful. He listened to the pain and he listened to the sorrow. He listened to the journey that she and her sister had taken and he listened to the losses that they suffered. He had listened to the new life that they had started, and how she knew that her sister was hiding something. So, the vampire whore hasn't told this little one that she has been turned, eh? I could have a little fun with this. He jumped off his high perch and landed quietly next to Zoee. "It is beautiful."

Zoee jumped a little, startled at the sudden intrusion. She brought her flute back down to rest in her lap, her cheeks becoming tinted with a little pink. "Thank you." Her voice was quiet and shaky.

She's even more beautiful when she blushes. "Where might you have learned to play like that? Even the most skilled musician, compares not with you."

She stared up into the canvas of the Kujinko tree, and admired the natural beauty that beamed through. She would always be amazed at the natural beauty that this continent contained, even during the wars that constantly went on between the Vampires, Werewolves and Cunri. She turned her gaze back to the man sitting next to her. I've heard about him from Khitie. I believe he is the leader of the Werewolves. His hair and eyes give it away. "I learned from my master long ago. My master being my father, that is. How did you learn to be so stealthy, Latavian? May I call you Latavian?"

OK this is just a little something that I started writting before we really got the first Sailor Moon rp going. I was bored at home and felt the need to write something. I of course am editing it for grammatical errors. Among other things such as using the wrong tense ..eheh yeah. Anyways, a little diddy about Usagi. Nothing special... sweatdrop
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a beautiful morning when Usagi awoke. The sun shinning brightly through her bedroom window warms her face as she sits up in bed. Yawning she lightly rubs the sleep from her tired eyes. She looks over at a picture resting on her nightstand. Reaching over to grasp the frame with a smile as she softly speaks to the photo, "Good morning Mamo-chan." After quickly hugging the picture to her chest she puts it back in its place.

Flipping back the covers Usagi scoots to the edge of the bed. A moment later she is slidding her feet into her fluffy pink bunny slippers. Grabbing her robe and wrapping it around her, she heads downstairs for breakfast. "Thank goodness it's the weekend," she whispers to herself as she waits for her toast.

Today's the day that she and Mamoru are going on a date. She can't believe that it's already time for the summer festival. It seems like ages since their last real date. She tries thinking of when that was but with little luck. Stuffing her toast in her mouth Usagi heads upstairs to get ready. Mamoru had promised to be there at 10:00 am to pick her up and it was already a quarter after nine.

Rummaging through her closet she looks for the perfect outfit. She pulls out a white blouse embroidered with tiny pink flowers along the collar. A thin pink bow in the center as well as at the end of each poofy sleeve. Moving a few more hangers down she finds a feminine pink flared skirt with a little lacy slip which peeks out from the bottom. With her clothes folded over her arm she makes her way to the bathroom to quickly wash, get dressed, and brush her teeth.

Feeling refreshed she begins brushing through her long soft blonde hair as she returns to her room. Finishing up her hair she adds matching pink ribbons to each bun. Applying a lightly scented strawberry lip gloss she smiles into the mirror making sure everything was in place. Usagi glances over at the time on her rooster alarm clock. "He should be here any minute," she thinks as she hurries down the stairs. No sooner had she reached the bottom there is a knock at the door. Grinning widely she walks over to open it.

There he is the love of her life, her one and only soul mate, standing before her. Eternally linked by destiny. Everything seemed like a beautiful dream which Usagi never wanted to end, "Mamo-chan, you're right on time! I just finished getting ready." Beaming up at him, she embraces him in a hug.

Mamoru smiles at his beautiful princess and gently squeezes her back, "Of course. When have I ever been late?"

Releasing him from her grip she giggles, "True, I'm the one who's always late."


(( ...and that is all I wrote at the time. sweatdrop ))