"home isn't a place. home is the people who love you." — @eterknows, as adam grayskull / he-man.
earth runs a million miles a minute, but teela's learned to use them wisely. (get up. get coffee. nine-to-five. gym. read, research, and research some more. sleep. repeat the whole thing tomorrow.) adam, on the other hand, has decided to use his the way that most men do— selfishly.
long gone is the boy she'd once remembered. the boy she'd drawn, memorized, and dreamed about. in his place is a prince. in his place is a liar. he'd found earth — found teela, — and found himself an absence of truth, too. omitting key details and running headfirst into a whirlwind of exploration. what's this, where's that, is this really where you live ... the works. she'd been glad to answer. even happier to show. i'd never forgotten you, here's the proof, i've been looking / hoping / waiting, waiting, waiting—
home is the people who love you, but what happens when they're gone? eternia sits somewhere far in the sky, dangling over stars like some fast escape in the night, but her home is years away. minutes and seconds and memories collected to her nightstand, but nowhere more. her dad, lost to grief. her mother, lost to the universe. adam, lost to her recollection. long gone is the boy she'd remembered. in his place, a stranger stands.
"i waited." her voice is a snarl, snapping out into the air with all the strength of a whip and the bite of a dog. "my whole life, i waited— and you let me parade you around my life as if i wasn't going home to a wreckage." her features shatter, melt, and meld back together in a kaleidoscope of pain. a picture-perfect image of betrayal. "home — the home i remember — is gone." an inhale, trembling. "with or without eternia."
