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Fic: Endless Waltz
Title blatantly stolen from Gundam Wing. Nothing belongs to me except the idea.
It had been over a century since Hotaru had visited New York, but the city was much the same. True, there were differences in buildings and technology, but the attitude was just as she left it. After all the change, it was a comforting thing.
She ensconced herself in the Ritz, letting herself sink into the luxurious sheets and sleep soundly despite her fears. It left her feeling refreshed that evening, ready to face whatever would come.
Mishka Pavlova was easy to find -- her picture all over the American Ballet Company's posters. The same bright blue eyes and blonde hair. And, irony of ironies, a red bow in her hair for a production of The Nutcracker that was quickly approaching.
Hotaru slipped into rehearsal under the guise of a patron, her eyes following the blonde onstage. The dance was still rough, but Mishka moved fluidly. Once again, Hotaru was struck by how different the senshi were now.
It was disconcerting to watch someone who seemed so familiar and foreign at the same time. Leaving the theatre before the dancers finished, Hotaru blended into the shadows by the stage door. Not long after, the blonde exited, leaving Hotaru to trail after her as she made her way home.
They had almost reached the subway when Mishka was pulled into an alley. Hotaru quickened her pace as she heard a scream, almost knowing what she'd find.
A youma, of course, though it was pitiful compared to others she had eliminated. She removed her glaive, needing only one slash to decapitate it. The youma disintegrated before it even hit the floor.
With a flick of her wrist, Hotaru put the glaive back into her subspace pocket and detransformed with little fanfare. The blonde was looking at her with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open in such shock that it made Hotaru nervous.
"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.
"What was that? Who are you? What did you do?" the blonde fired back rapidly. Her features had changed from shock to suspicion.
Hotaru sighed. "It's a long story. I actually would like to speak to you, though."
Mishka looked even more wary. "I don't think --"
"Not now, of course." Hotaru was trying to ease some of her suspicions. "I've got a room at the Ritz. I'll be there for a week or so. Come find me and I'll explain." Pulling out a sheet of paper, she scribbled down her room number and laptop extension. "Get home safe."
The blonde nodded dumbly and pocketed the slip of paper. Hotaru faded back into the shadows of the street and watched her leave.
She still wasn't sure that awakening Mishka was a good idea. No matter Setsuna's protests to the contrary, she didn't think the blonde was ready either.
It had been over a century since Hotaru had visited New York, but the city was much the same. True, there were differences in buildings and technology, but the attitude was just as she left it. After all the change, it was a comforting thing.
She ensconced herself in the Ritz, letting herself sink into the luxurious sheets and sleep soundly despite her fears. It left her feeling refreshed that evening, ready to face whatever would come.
Mishka Pavlova was easy to find -- her picture all over the American Ballet Company's posters. The same bright blue eyes and blonde hair. And, irony of ironies, a red bow in her hair for a production of The Nutcracker that was quickly approaching.
Hotaru slipped into rehearsal under the guise of a patron, her eyes following the blonde onstage. The dance was still rough, but Mishka moved fluidly. Once again, Hotaru was struck by how different the senshi were now.
It was disconcerting to watch someone who seemed so familiar and foreign at the same time. Leaving the theatre before the dancers finished, Hotaru blended into the shadows by the stage door. Not long after, the blonde exited, leaving Hotaru to trail after her as she made her way home.
They had almost reached the subway when Mishka was pulled into an alley. Hotaru quickened her pace as she heard a scream, almost knowing what she'd find.
A youma, of course, though it was pitiful compared to others she had eliminated. She removed her glaive, needing only one slash to decapitate it. The youma disintegrated before it even hit the floor.
With a flick of her wrist, Hotaru put the glaive back into her subspace pocket and detransformed with little fanfare. The blonde was looking at her with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open in such shock that it made Hotaru nervous.
"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.
"What was that? Who are you? What did you do?" the blonde fired back rapidly. Her features had changed from shock to suspicion.
Hotaru sighed. "It's a long story. I actually would like to speak to you, though."
Mishka looked even more wary. "I don't think --"
"Not now, of course." Hotaru was trying to ease some of her suspicions. "I've got a room at the Ritz. I'll be there for a week or so. Come find me and I'll explain." Pulling out a sheet of paper, she scribbled down her room number and laptop extension. "Get home safe."
The blonde nodded dumbly and pocketed the slip of paper. Hotaru faded back into the shadows of the street and watched her leave.
She still wasn't sure that awakening Mishka was a good idea. No matter Setsuna's protests to the contrary, she didn't think the blonde was ready either.
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