Dark Water Full Power

Was looking, and sticks his tongue back out at Rubeus.

Jadeite didn’t understand the opposition, but he was going to. That was his job  as a spy, as an infiltrator, as a diplomat, an ambassador, etc, etc, all the pretty names and ugly ones, at the end of the day that was what he always did. He got to know what the other side wanted, whoever the other side was, so he could take that back to his leaders and they could use it to get rid of the opposition. 

Of course, he didn’t really remember much about the fact that he’d done all this before - like everyone else who’d been purified, he didn’t remember any life but this one - but he’d heard about it, from the few records that were around, and it fit with his skills. 

Those at least didn’t rely on memories.

This did. Infiltration, and investigation, he needed memories - not his, but those from Nemesis. How could he understand if he didn’t hear what motivated the people?

His hair is black, dull and nondescript dyed instead of magic’d, cut in a bland, average cut, his eyes still blue but dull, his features made bland, nose a little busted, lips a little chapped, brows bushy - nothing about him is fancy, but he also isn’t too perfectly average. Just a regular person, a little hard to pick out of a crowd. His clothes are overlarge and patched, and his hood is tucked over his head - fitted to the people who sat in bars on Crystal Tokyo - and who scrabbled over supplies in Nemesis, according to rumor.

That’s where he was. Nemesis, shipped hidden with a garbage truck, stranded for the next round of days, to collect information before he headed back to Earth to report. 

And unfortunately, in a country striken by so much horror and scarcity, a person would survive and thrive only by force. But force doesn’t necessarily mean physical muscles, but also wisdom and relying on one’s skills.

If what they needed at this point was someone reliable and relatively honest to ensure no suspect contraband arrived within the planet - there was always contraband, and that she understood, but she needed to keep tabs on that too. Berthier would take charge of that. She went over the items carefully, asking for detailed information and taking detailed notes of everything. She even confiscated a small container of illegal make up. Good. She had been in need of that.

Because Nemesis didn’t have many options on who to trade with, even though Crystal Tokyo and the planet had begin opening borders to one another, her dull job only took a few hours. But instead of teleporting back to her base, she decided to walk back – it had been a long while since she spent any longer than necessary in the streets.

The streets of Nemesis weren’t safe, even for someone as high rank as her, but she didn’t fear civilians as much as she feared the changes that were happening so fast.

Of course it was every Nemesian’s dream to have respect from the rest of the Universe, and access to resources too. But she didn’t approve of such a close relationship with Earth. And in days, she’d be going there. To Earth. To Crystal Tokyo.

On Earth, he would offer an impish grin, a flick of the eyes, and then disappear, to see if this pretty lady would follow after him. On Earth, he would scowl and duck, disappear through the nearest door and dare anyone to keep track. 

On Nemesis, either choice could be suspicious. He’s already seen that. There’s no casual, easy joy on Nemesis, not out in the open at least. It’s a grim and dismal place and he can easily say he hates it already, but most people don’t just duck away from eyes either - that was weakness, and so far it seemed like people relied on force to get things done, here in Nemesis. 

He needed some force of his own - or at least, some grit. He cocks his head and keeps looking, raising a brow as if to say, ‘what? is there a problem?’.

“Because you’re going to love it,” he said with the utmost confidence. After the ever-charming Setsuna had taken him to what he had considered a wildly exotic restaurant, Rubeus was determined to recreate his new favorite dish for one of his favorite, and supposedly most adventurous people.

He had been told by countless people that he had the run of the castle’s kitchens if he so wished, and so after much sweating and rumination, he had produced a salad of beets, microgreens, goat cheese, and strawberries marinated in balsamic vingegar. Placing the plate in front of Berthier, he stared impatiently at her, waiting for her judgement.

But Rubeus seemed...eager? There was something off about him, something almost casual she barely recognized. The last time she had seen him was when they were still children. Most times, especially in the last few years, their interactions had been nearly strictly about warfare. She imagined the general would be miserable in those circumstances without any action, but Rubeus seemed to be occupying himself with other things.

And he seemed happy.

Berthier immediately held up her pocket mirror to see whether she looked awful, and Calaveras was absolutely wrong. She still looked flawless.

She made a mental note to ask for this skin care product, though.

“Have you noticed he’s been disappearing for hours at a time? I’ve seen him accompanied by someone. Well... not just someone. One of the Senshi. A tall one, with long green hair and dark skin. I can’t seem to remember her name.” She murmured.

Calaveras nodded taking a moment to remember those couple of moments she had seen Rubeus acting suspicious. “ He did seem to be lost in his own thoughts the other day.” But of course, Rubeus never really paid much attention to her. No one really did, Calaveras was probably to most ignored sister.

But him being involved in any way with a Senshi seemed a bit too much. “ That’s impossible, I cannot imagine such disgusting thing, Berthier. It would feel like treason. Perhaps Demando sent him? That can be the only explanation.” Calaveras almost gagged at the mere image of swimming with a Senshi.

“That’s what he implied,” Berthier nodded in agreement. “It’s not that I don’t believe Rubeus. But it worries me to think of him taking such a risk — especially when we’re in this Palace. It’s not like we’re the majority here. They are.

I know I’m overthinking, but they truly seemed friendly.” Berthier pondered, bitting her bottom lip.

“I’m not someone who just eats anything.”

“Peanut butter? Out of the jar? With a fork?”

“This looks… like it could be edible.”

“It’s four in the morning, why are you in the cupboards?”

“So here’s the legendary snack gremlin in it’s natural habitat.”

“You didn’t make this for me. You did not.”

“Nope don’t care how much you didn’t cook this correctly, I’m eating it.”

“You didn’t touch dinner all night but now you’re eating?”

“Is this a lack of appetite or a lack of fine taste?”

“Try it. Come on, I swear it won’t poison you.”

“We have all this food and I want none of this. Stupid brain and food wants.”

“You abducted ALL of my chips? You’re a monster.”

“I need you to stay out of the kitchen for uh… reasons.”

“Hmm is that pleasant aroma what you’re cooking or just you?”

“I don’t think this is how you make a salsa.”

“You’re making me try this odd combination… why?”

“What unholy abomination are you eating?”

“I’m eating… you know what, I don’t know either.”

“You made this, so I’m going to eat it. I’m not wasting your effort no matter how awful it is.”

“Huh. This doesn’t taste half bad.”

“I told you that probably wasn’t a wise decision to eat.”

“I’m gonna give this cupboard twenty minutes for it to put my snacks back or else.”

“Bold enough to take the snack out of my mouth huh?”

“I’m volunteering as tribute for your food experiments.”

Berthier immediately held up her pocket mirror to see whether she looked awful, and Calaveras was absolutely wrong. She still looked flawless.

She made a mental note to ask for this skin care product, though.

“Have you noticed he’s been disappearing for hours at a time? I’ve seen him accompanied by someone. Well... not just someone. One of the Senshi. A tall one, with long green hair and dark skin. I can’t seem to remember her name.” She murmured.

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Berthier immediately held up her pocket mirror to see whether she looked awful, and Calaveras was absolutely wrong. She still looked flawless.

Berthier immediately held up her pocket mirror to see whether she looked awful, and Calaveras was absolutely wrong. She still looked flawless.

Jadeite didn’t understand the opposition, but he was going to. That was his job  as a spy, as an infiltrator, as a diplomat, an ambassador, etc, etc, all the pretty names and ugly ones, at the end of the day that was what he always did. He got to know what the other side wanted, whoever the other side was, so he could take that back to his leaders and they could use it to get rid of the opposition. 

Of course, he didn’t really remember much about the fact that he’d done all this before - like everyone else who’d been purified, he didn’t remember any life but this one - but he’d heard about it, from the few records that were around, and it fit with his skills. 

Those at least didn’t rely on memories.

This did. Infiltration, and investigation, he needed memories - not his, but those from Nemesis. How could he understand if he didn’t hear what motivated the people?

His hair is black, dull and nondescript dyed instead of magic’d, cut in a bland, average cut, his eyes still blue but dull, his features made bland, nose a little busted, lips a little chapped, brows bushy - nothing about him is fancy, but he also isn’t too perfectly average. Just a regular person, a little hard to pick out of a crowd. His clothes are overlarge and patched, and his hood is tucked over his head - fitted to the people who sat in bars on Crystal Tokyo - and who scrabbled over supplies in Nemesis, according to rumor.

That’s where he was. Nemesis, shipped hidden with a garbage truck, stranded for the next round of days, to collect information before he headed back to Earth to report. 

And unfortunately, in a country striken by so much horror and scarcity, a person would survive and thrive only by force. But force doesn’t necessarily mean physical muscles, but also wisdom and relying on one’s skills.

If what they needed at this point was someone reliable and relatively honest to ensure no suspect contraband arrived within the planet - there was always contraband, and that she understood, but she needed to keep tabs on that too. Berthier would take charge of that. She went over the items carefully, asking for detailed information and taking detailed notes of everything. She even confiscated a small container of illegal make up. Good. She had been in need of that.

Because Nemesis didn’t have many options on who to trade with, even though Crystal Tokyo and the planet had begin opening borders to one another, her dull job only took a few hours. But instead of teleporting back to her base, she decided to walk back – it had been a long while since she spent any longer than necessary in the streets.

The streets of Nemesis weren’t safe, even for someone as high rank as her, but she didn’t fear civilians as much as she feared the changes that were happening so fast.

Of course it was every Nemesian’s dream to have respect from the rest of the Universe, and access to resources too. But she didn’t approve of such a close relationship with Earth. And in days, she’d be going there. To Earth. To Crystal Tokyo.

On Earth, he would offer an impish grin, a flick of the eyes, and then disappear, to see if this pretty lady would follow after him. On Earth, he would scowl and duck, disappear through the nearest door and dare anyone to keep track. 

On Nemesis, either choice could be suspicious. He’s already seen that. There’s no casual, easy joy on Nemesis, not out in the open at least. It’s a grim and dismal place and he can easily say he hates it already, but most people don’t just duck away from eyes either - that was weakness, and so far it seemed like people relied on force to get things done, here in Nemesis. 

He needed some force of his own - or at least, some grit. He cocks his head and keeps looking, raising a brow as if to say, ‘what? is there a problem?’.

Jadeite didn’t understand the opposition, but he was going to. That was his job  as a spy, as an infiltrator, as a diplomat, an ambassador, etc, etc, all the pretty names and ugly ones, at the end of the day that was what he always did. He got to know what the other side wanted, whoever the other side was, so he could take that back to his leaders and they could use it to get rid of the opposition. 

Of course, he didn’t really remember much about the fact that he’d done all this before - like everyone else who’d been purified, he didn’t remember any life but this one - but he’d heard about it, from the few records that were around, and it fit with his skills. 

Those at least didn’t rely on memories.

This did. Infiltration, and investigation, he needed memories - not his, but those from Nemesis. How could he understand if he didn’t hear what motivated the people?

His hair is black, dull and nondescript dyed instead of magic’d, cut in a bland, average cut, his eyes still blue but dull, his features made bland, nose a little busted, lips a little chapped, brows bushy - nothing about him is fancy, but he also isn’t too perfectly average. Just a regular person, a little hard to pick out of a crowd. His clothes are overlarge and patched, and his hood is tucked over his head - fitted to the people who sat in bars on Crystal Tokyo - and who scrabbled over supplies in Nemesis, according to rumor.

That’s where he was. Nemesis, shipped hidden with a garbage truck, stranded for the next round of days, to collect information before he headed back to Earth to report. 

And unfortunately, in a country striken by so much horror and scarcity, a person would survive and thrive only by force. But force doesn’t necessarily mean physical muscles, but also wisdom and relying on one’s skills.

If what they needed at this point was someone reliable and relatively honest to ensure no suspect contraband arrived within the planet - there was always contraband, and that she understood, but she needed to keep tabs on that too. Berthier would take charge of that. She went over the items carefully, asking for detailed information and taking detailed notes of everything. She even confiscated a small container of illegal make up. Good. She had been in need of that.

Because Nemesis didn’t have many options on who to trade with, even though Crystal Tokyo and the planet had begin opening borders to one another, her dull job only took a few hours. But instead of teleporting back to her base, she decided to walk back -- it had been a long while since she spent any longer than necessary in the streets.

The streets of Nemesis weren’t safe, even for someone as high rank as her, but she didn’t fear civilians as much as she feared the changes that were happening so fast.

Of course it was every Nemesian’s dream to have respect from the rest of the Universe, and access to resources too. But she didn’t approve of such a close relationship with Earth. And in days, she’d be going there. To Earth. To Crystal Tokyo.