Welcome to Gaia! ::

Noticing the widening distance between them, Xyla slowed just enough to keep Phedre in sight.

“You know…” she mused, “the funny thing about moments worth having is that they rarely wait for the people who insist on arriving fashionably late.”

While still donning her glamour, she spun around and began walking backwards several paces as though the possibility of tripping had never occurred to her.

“Though, perhaps this one is feeling unusually patient.” Zinkenite had promised he’d be there waiting, but even he had his limits.

“I do wonder,” Xyla tapped her chin with an index finger. “If a bell rings and no one is there to hear it… has the moment been missed, or merely given to someone else?”

“I said I’d give you an hour, and at least twenty minutes of that has been spent wandering around aimlessly.” They’d made so many turns that Phedre had lost track of where they were. “You have yet to tell me where it is we’re going.”

A quiet laugh escaped Xyla. “Aimlesly?” she echoed. “Goodness, no. Every step has been exactly where I intended it to be.”

Her shoulders rose and fell in a gentle shrug.

“Had I told you the destination, you might have spent the entire walk trying to decide whether you wished to come.” Her golden eyes were alight with a playful glint. “This way… You only have to decide whether you’re glad you did.”

Phedre offered no reply, falling silent as she trailed behind Xyla.

The rhythm of their footsteps filled the space between them, leaving her mind free to wander to the countless worries that had settled upon her shoulders. Her grandfather’s health had continued to decline these last few months. Some days he recognized her immediately; on others, she was forced to endure the quiet ache of introducing her to the only family she ever felt close to.

You have to think about the future, sweetheart.

His words had become almost routine during his more lucid days. Days when he still remembered the acres of land he’d promised her, and they would sit outside on the porch swing, brainstorming all the things she could build there. He wouldn’t be around forever, and wanted her to have something lasting.

That future, however, seemed to have everyone making plans on her behalf.

Both her parents had been insisting that she expand her small portfolio of rental homes she already owned and managed. Her grandfather wanted her to consider a partnership with the grandson of one of his oldest friends and business partners. Tomorrow’s meeting was supposed to be the beginning of that conversation… and, if her family had their way, perhaps something more.

Absolutely not.

If she honored her grandfather's request and attended the meeting, the conversation would remain professional—even if she was the only one at the table who believed it should.

“Hickory Dicory Dock,” Xyla’s voice cut through the silence, and in the next breath her glamour faded. “The mouse ran up the clock,” as if on queue, the large clock tower began to chime loudly.

“The clock struck ten and down it ran.” She leapt atop a newspaper stand, her tail swaying slowly over the edge of it. ”Hickory Dickory Dock”

Phedre looked up at the towering building, silhouetted by streaks of bright colors from the meteor shower happening overhead.

”This is where you wanted to take me?”

Xyla merely smiled.

Before, while glamoured, she hadn’t known whether Zinkenite had arrived. Now, in her feline form, she could sense his aura radiating close by.

A faint, humorless smile crossed Phedre’s lips, “If this is our destination, I admit, I’m feeling rather disappointed.

Xyla looked up toward the tower before returning her gaze to Phedre.

“I did promise to show you, not tell you.” She smiled. “If you’re quite certain there’s nothing here worth seeing, then by all means… power up. Teleport away and spend the rest of the evening wondering what you missed.”

“Let no one say that you are anything but an enigma, Xyla. You are a master of mystery and inconveniences.” Phedre felt more than a little exasperated by their exchange and the time wasted to get here. Perhaps it was the wine that was making her feel more irritable than usual. “At least the weather was compromising.”

“Fine then,” from her purse, Phedre withdrew her henshin pen and in the blink of an eye her civilian attire gave way to her Senshi uniform.

It felt heavier than usual against the warmth of the summer evening, but the sensation didn’t linger overlong before she realized they weren’t alone.

An aura lingered nearby, not much stronger than her own, but unmistakably there.

Her heart skipped once before beginning again with an uneasy rhythm.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, her eyes drifted toward Xyla, who simply smiled up at her with that same infuriatingly satisfied Cheshire grin she’d been wearing since they left the restaurant.

An understanding settled over Meridiana. She closed her eyes with a quiet sigh, feeling every bit the fool for not having pieced it together sooner.

“Who,” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“There now,” Xyla purred. “That is finally the right question.”

“If I am Alice…” her voice scarcely rose above a whisper. “...then you must be the White Rabbit.”

A faint, humorless smile touched her lips.

“Always appearing just long enough to remind me you exist before disappearing again.”

Meridiana’s arms felt impossibly heavy at her sides.

She wanted to cross the distance between them. To reach out and prove to herself that he wasn’t another memory her mind had conjured from loneliness.

Instead, she remained rooted where she stood.

“I want to be angry at you.” The confession escaped before she could stop it.

A tightness settled in her throat, stealing each breath before it could fully fill her lungs. “I practiced it, you know.” A small brittle laugh escaped her, a fragile sound, as though she were about to break. “Over and over, I imagined all the things I’d say if you ever came back.”

Her eyes searched his face but each time they threatened to meet his gaze, they faltered.

“You never asked me to wait.” She swallowed hard, lifting a hand to brush away the tear gathering at the corner of her eye before it could fall. “You never asked me not to, either…”

Meridiana’s voice broke on the last word.

“I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.”

The silence stretched between them.

Her mind insisted she keep her distance. There were questions that deserved answers, and nearly two years of absence that could not be undone by an apology and a picnic beneath the stars.

Her heart, however, did not care much for reason.

One tentative step became another until she stopped only a foot away. Her gaze remained lowered as though afraid that meeting his eyes might unravel what little composure she had left.

“If…” her voice caught in her throat. “If there’s anything I can fault you for… it’s that you sent the wrong messenger.”

“The moment I saw Xyla, I thought I was being toyed with.” She let out a slow breath. “If Abbie had come instead, I would have known you were home. I don’t think I would’ve been so reluctant to follow.”

Meridiana’s hand rose hesitantly, as though asking permission without words. Fingertips brushed lightly against the fabric of his coat before she drew a shaking breath. Slowly, almost fearfully, she surrendered to the impulse she’d been fighting since the moment she’d sensed his aura and slipped both arms around his waist.

“You’re really here,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it aloud might somehow make Zinkenite disappear again.

Tears slipped free despite her best efforts to hold them back, carrying with them two years of worry, uncertainty, and quiet heartache that she had never allowed herself to fully grieve.

Meridiana’s grip loosened just enough for her to draw a slow, steadying breath. Only then did she remember that they weren’t alone.

Her gaze drifted to where Xyla had been sitting quietly nearby, watching their reunion with unmistakable satisfaction. The Mauvian had tested her patience from the moment she’d appeared at the restaurant, but… she’d brought her here. For that, Meridiana owed her more than she could easily put into words.

“Xyla, I-”

Before she could finish her sentence, the cheshire-like cat closed her golden eyes and lifted her nose into the air. “I accept gifts of gratitude in the form of cake,” she declared matter-of-factly. “Particularly since I was denied a slice of the last one.”

For the first time that evening, Meridiana laughed without reservation. “That’s fair,” she replied.

Xyla stood, her tail curling into a lazy questionmark. “The debt is cake-shaped. Do remember.”

She looked skyward for a moment, watching another meteor streak overhead. “Neither of you happens to know someone who can stop time, do you?” Xyla wondered aloud, her gaze shifting then over to the clock tower that now read 10:08.

“ Or persuade a clock to linger just a little longer?” A thoughtful hum followed. “It seems dreadfully inconsiderate that the nicest moments are always the shortest.”

Her tail gave a lazy flick. “Perhaps if asked politely enough, it might forget to chime.” Her Cheshire-like smile returned as she turned her back to the two.

“I will take my leave now. You both know where best to find me.” In the same chair she’d kept warm for two years. Zinkenite had once promised her a space of her own but his sudden leave meant no room was found and so his office had become hers in the time of his absence.

Silence settled around them once more.

Meridiana watched the place where Xyla had vanished for a moment longer before turning back to Zinkenite. Reluctantly, she eased her arms from around his waist, though she remained close enough that only a breath separated them.

Slowly, almost reverently, she reached up. Her fingers found the edge of the dark fabric concealing the lower half of his face.

She hesitated, as though silently asking permission.

Then, with the gentlest touch, she lowered it just enough to see the face that had lived only in memory for far too long.

Meridiana searched his face as though committing every familiar feature to memory once more.



And behind it all, the quiet weight of someone who had spent a lifetime carrying responsibilities few could ever understand.

Her fingertips rose to his cheek, where she traced its contour with the gentlest touch, as though reassuring herself he wouldn’t simply vanish beneath her hand.

There was a time when she would never have thought to hesitate. Fearless in her approach, she had always acted first and sorted through the consequences later. But that version of herself felt like someone she’d left behind long ago.

Before his unexpected departure, he had shared with her his feelings as they sparred together in the warehouse. But they’d barely been given the chance to explore what those feelings might become before duty stole him away.

Time had a cruel way of filling silence with questions and thoughts. Ones she’d dare not give voice to out of fear that speaking them aloud might somehow make them true.

A smile, small but genuine, finally found its way to her lips.

“Hi, handsome,” Meridiana spoke just as softly as she brushed an errant strand of hair from his forehead before leaning in. “I’ve missed you.”

She hesitated only long enough to search his eyes before closing the distance between them with a soft kiss.

The kiss left her feeling wonderfully breathless.

For too long she’d become accustomed to the quiet ache of missing him that she’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to simply be near him. The warmth of his embrace, the steady beat beneath her fingertips as they rested against his chest, and the flutter now dancing wildly through her own.

It felt as though her heart had spent two years merely enduring and had suddenly remembered what it meant to live again.

Meridiana searched for something clever to say, but her thoughts were hopelessly scattered.

A soft laugh escaped her at her inability to find the right words, and instead, she nodded once.

“That…” Her smile softened into a more tender expression. “...and perhaps a few more than that..”

Heat bloomed across her cheeks as she hid her face against the fabric of his shirt. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I find myself reluctant to let you go just yet.” The admission was barely above a whisper as her arms tightened ever so slightly around his waist.

She hadn’t forgotten about the blanket or tea waiting only a few steps away.

But after wondering for so long if she’d ever see him again, Meridiana found herself wishing only for another moment before the rest of the world was invited back in.

Dancing had never been one of her talents. However, she knew enough not to step on his feet… which, in her opinion, already counted as a success. Besides, she found she preferred following. It freed her from worrying about where to go next and allowed her to simply enjoy being close to him.

A teasing smile tugged at her lips.

“I’m sorry to report that the interest compounded monthly for the first year…” She looked up at him innocently. “Then weekly after that.”

Meridiana let the silence linger just long enough to watch his reaction before relenting with a small laugh.

“Though,” she conceded, “considering the effort you’ve put into this evening, I suppose I could be persuaded to forgive half the debt.”

“Interrogate me if you must.” Meridiana’s smile took on a playful challenge.

Her free hand slid a little higher, idly brushing her fingertips over the lapel of his jacket before coming to rest against his chest. “Just don’t be disappointed if I prove rather difficult to crack.”

Her smile softened into something far more affectionate.

“Although…” Her fingers drifted higher, brushing lightly against the mask that gathered around his neck and the shorter strands of hair that curled there. “...I suppose it might depend on your methods.”