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Hello everyone! Sailor Kerberos again. You all may remember me and my world from Sheep Shearing In Space 2k26. This time, I’d like to invite you all to celebrate the summer with a little recreation of an old festival on my world. Arts, crafts, food, drink, and dancing! No alcohol because your host is sober and boring, sorry. But feel free to bring your favorite foods and share them! I look forward to seeing you all there!

The central plaza of the Kerberan capitol was set up for a party. Days of work, on his world and on Earth, to decorate with floral garlands and fairy lights, to set up tables to eat at and to serve from, to make the food and drinks he intended to present to his guests. Tables decorated with vases of glowing asphodel and little string lights, and garlands laid on the edges of the flower-shaped, mosaic-tiled fountain with its stalks of asphodel as statuary in the center that were the centerpiece of the plaza.

So if Kerberos looked a little tired, perhaps the reason was obvious.

Still, despite it all, he was smiling as he greeted his visitors.

“Hello, everyone!” He spread his hands, ever the eager host. “I’m glad to welcome some of you back, and eager to welcome others to my world for the first time. A thousand years ago, my people had a festival to celebrate the end of summer and the turning of the seasons, and those loved and lost in the year prior, that they called the Bloom-and-Wither Festival, and I thought that although it’s a bit early, I’d love to celebrate it with all of you.”

It felt a little silly, but others had done it before, and welcoming people to his world remained one of Kerberos’s favorite things.

“It’s not what it was, of course. There would have been performances, parties, vendors and such—the sort of thing you’d imagine for a week-long festival. But for one day, I thought we could do a smaller version.” He laughed, good-naturedly. “Being only one person, I can’t exactly recreate the whole experience. But we have some of the highlights. I’ve set up food and drinks, and two traditional Kerberan crafts from the festival—memorial papers and preserved flowers.”

He walked over to the table nearest him, resting his fingers on the cloth. It was long, set with plenty of chairs, and baskets of plucked glowing asphodel blossoms and little dishes of water that seemed to shimmer in the evernight of Kerberos.

“Here’s where you can preserve yourself a little Kerberan asphodel night light. Over there,” he gestured to another long table set up with markers, strips of seed paper, and small pots full of soil, “you can participate in an old Kerberan memorial tradition. And so as to avoid being a complete bummer, over there,” he gestured to a table full of food set up next to a dance floor surrounded by places to sit, “we have a dance floor and some food and drink. There are instructions at our little craft table,s but please feel free to call me over if you need help or just want to chat!”

He paused, briefly.

“Oh, and there’s some snacks for the wildlife, too. Please do feed the critters, they’re super friendly.”

He clapped his hands and then gestured, broadly.

”Please, enjoy the party!”

Whoa.

That was really the only thought Andromeda had initially. Was just. Whoa. She'd been curious when she'd received the message with the invitation, and at first wasn't sure if it was even meant for her. But it seemed fine, yeah? She didn't get a weird look from the host or escorted away. She was also glad she had made it, as she had rushed to make something when she saw 'bring your favorite foods and share them'. Don't mind if I do, really.

But this place... it was amazing. Green eyes were wide and her mouth slightly agape as she admired what was around them, taking it all in. This is where he was from? "Incredible..." She whispered, unaware she had said it out loud. She stepped forward to gently plop a tall box she had been carrying onto the table, quietly taking a few moments to carefully take it apart and reveal a two-tiered cake. The bottom was round, with multiple shades of blue in a gradient from bottom to top, and then decorated to look like a stylized sun. The second smaller tier was offset from the center, placed to one side, with that same blue gradient and fluffy white clouds. She felt it was on the simpler side, but she'd made it on very short notice.

"I wasn't sure the vibe, but I thought what's a party without cake? I hope it's okay." She explained as she carefully slid the box out from under the cake and let the plate sit neatly upon the table, folding up the empty box and tucking it away. It was then she heard something about feeding critters and she looked curious, stepping back away from the table in search of a critter in question. The first one she saw was fascinating. An... owl? An owl, but a cat? But an owl. Andromeda couldn't help but giggle with utter childish delight as she stooped down, bending her knees and sitting back on her heels as she balanced her weight on the balls of her feet. "What are you, you little cutie!" She gasped, reaching a gloved hand out toward the creature that wandered toward her. It nibbled gently at her gloved fingertip for a moment before tilting its head to fit it against her hand. Her heart melted, and Andromeda made a quiet little squealing sound as she gently pet the owlcat.

"This is so beautiful, Kerberos! Thank you for inviting us! I've only been to my own homeworld, I didn't know what anyone else's was like. You said this was early for this festival though? When is it supposed to be?" A pause, then her eyes widened as a thought seemed to strike her. "Oh! Uh. Sorry. I'm Sailor Andromeda, by the way! It's very nice to meet you!"

"I did! I happened to have some extra supplies to make cake on hand, so I thought why not!" Andromeda explained with a wide smile as she watched the little owlcat pick food off her gloved palm. Oh how cute! Her other hand reached over to gently stroke the top of its head with one finger, giggling with glee at how soft it was.

At talk of their homeworlds she looked up to Kerberos, nodding a bit. In comparison hers was definitely... unique. "It's not really... much to look at right now. I've only been able to visit the one time so far. But I've got some ideas. Sadly it's a lot of rubble at the moment, it kind of broke my heart to see it for the first time." Kind of? Andromeda you broke down and started scream sobbing. "But I wonder if maybe I can like, I don't know. Fix it up? Maybe fix some of it. I'm hardly a builder or a sculptor or anything like that, but I could figure something out." As he explained the usual timing of the holiday she nodded slowly. Made sense. She wondered if Andromeda had any holidays like that. How did Kerberos know? Was it because it had taken her so long to get awakened? Did she miss a window of opportunity somewhere? Hmm...

"What was that about 'Sheep Shearing in Space' by the way?" It sounded like a funny story, it'd made her curious.

"Well, thank you so much," Kerberos told Andromeda. "The effort really shows." He gave her a playful smile. "Try scratching behind his ear. They make the cutest little chirp-purrs when they're happy." Which was kinda fascinating for a creature that was pretty obviously a stealth predator, but then, regular cats were supposed to be, too, and they purred all the time.

"A lot of our worlds start out that way," Kerberos said. "The whole universe was pretty badly ravaged a long time ago--my world was a wreck the first time I visited." Ten years ago, or so. "But the love you put into it, it'll give back. And it's not all your own skills. That fountain over there," he gestured to it, "was a broken wreck the first time I found it. But I spent time here. Cleaned up the worst mess. Interacted with what was still standing. and things started to put themselves back together. The glowing asphodel started blooming again. And then a few years ago, animals started coming back, too. Now....I think I could live up here, if I wanted." Certainly the appearance of larger animals--sheep, wolves, deer, and he swore he'd seen a horse once--suggested his world was healthy enoguh to support more life.

"So give it time. It'll get there." He hoped that was reassuring. Certainly starting from ruins wasn't easy.

"As for the sheep--they're natives here, and sheep need to be sheared yearly going into summer or the poor things suffer from the heat. So I invited people up here in, oh, April or so? To help. Because I am one me and there are a pretty decent number of sheep." He laughed a little, at the memory. "It was genuinely a joy."

Bacchus's arrival drew Kerberos's attention, and he clapped his hands in delight.

"Oh, those look delicious! Love a good pastry, please feel free to add them to the table." He'd have to grab one, for certain. And the second gift, he took with gentle care, eyes wide. "And I'll have to find somewhere fitting to display this. What a lovely piece. You made it?" It did have the distinct air of being created by hand, and Bacchus seemed very seriously apologetic. "It mare than makes up for a minor slight, I promise. You had no way to know, and I was able to give the mead to a friend, so it didn't go unappreciated. Please, enjoy the festivities."

alekto

"So are they like... all about death?"

It was a question whispered politely to Creedence, so as to avoid being callous.

"I mean, I get that they've got a lot of dead people to think about and there's not exactly gonna be space baby showers happening any time soon, but still."

Alekto looked around her, her eyebrows furrowing above her veil, which combined with the screaming-mouth illusion of the latter made her look vaguely alarmed by the proceedings. She had had enough practice, by now, to figure out how to hold Creedence without jabbing her with various parts of her chaotic fuku, and while there was always a vague temptation to accidentally-on-purpose forget, she resisted it more from a sense of respect for the goings-on than out of any desire to protect the cat's feelings.

---

maus

He felt a little naked arriving without Joy - who had bullied into him into most of his cosmic participation - but he had done so, partly out of a desire to evade her future chiding and partly because he'd recognized the name of the host.

Kerberos. He'd seen that name, when he'd been skimming back through old Connections posts, and he'd hesitated over it. He had his excuses for avoiding a meeting (what if he no longer haunted that park? He had work; he had projects; ) but even Maus knew that the primary reason for the avoidance had been a sudden, ineffable fear that finally meeting someone who shared his situation in some way would not yield the kind of relief he was inexplicably hoping for. Why would it, after all? It was a silly, childish sort of hope. This guy was so settled he wasn't just gainfully employed, he was reaching out to others about it.

Still, here he was, on the grounds that it might be easier to scout this out on a less personal basis, and he was accordingly waiting for an opening to speak to the busy host as he cast his eyes around the scenery, with a vaguely sinking feeling at the theme of the goings-on. Tempesti had not been the kindest experience, and here he was, on another wasteland of total ruin, expected to find some way to leverage the emptiness where his memories ought to be for the sake of respectful grief he couldn't muster.

"Maus," he offered, as soon as there was an opening that didn't involve interrupting someone else, sticking out a hand with a smile that was its usual friendly sunshine. "Knight of Tea," he added, dutifully adhering to his promise to Tea even in her absence and breezing past it as quick as he could to avoid inviting questions. Being an Earth knight without any green on him was useful for dodging the obvious, anyway. "Thanks for having us. I think I remember reading something about bioluminescent bunnies," he added. "I'll be at my most self-controlled and resist kidnapping any."

"Actually, I'm doing okay, I think? Getting used to everything still. I just realized I never caught your name though," Andromeda explained cheerfully to Bacchus. Maybe he would be in a more pleasant mood at a party than the middle of the street with a crazy maid b***h. She was about to say something else when a familiar voice reached her, and she perked up to look to Tempesti, brightening up even more. Oh! A friendly face! "Tempesti! Hi!" Unlike Bacchus, Tempesti got a hug in greeting.

As she released the other senshi and leaned back to watch the man in brown and the one in purple. Knight of.. Tea? Her brow furrowed with a confused look as she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Who are they?" She asked the senshi around her, trying very hard not to seem rude. Sure, she and the other Senshi all looked different from each other, but those two looked extra different. And they felt different, too.

Kua'kua

On Kua'kua, they had never had a need for a celebration of mass death. Kuanian lives were short, but they were full; death was just a thing that happened, part of the cycle. As normal as entering your cocoon and emerging a more fully realized version of yourself. An individual's death was sad for those left behind, sad for the absence that individual brought, but - they were an individual.

Before Chaos came, Kua'kua had never seen so much death in one place, at one time. There were no rituals for a mourning so deep, so all-encompassing. Kalani wouldn't have even known how to construct one.

(But maybe, a quiet voice in the back of her mind said, she could learn. Maybe it would help...)

For now, though, she would be content with joining others in their remembrances, and offering her own where she could find the space. While it was not as cheerful as the event at the Garde had been, it was not exactly terribly somber, either, and that made it difficult for Kua'kua to gauge how she should move through the space.

So, she kind of didn't. She kept herself away from the throng of people that surrounded their host and contented herself with observation: she always needed to learn more about how humans worked, so that she could better blend in, better contribute, to Earth and her household.

It was nice also that some faces were becoming familiar. Tempesti, for one; perhaps when Tempesti had a moment alone, she would ask how her homeworld was doing, after they had cleared those terrible machines away.

For another - Maus. Kua'kua raised her eyebrows slightly and surreptitiously glanced around, automatically looking for Lady Joy, but the diminutive Earth Knight was nowhere to be seen. Maus must have come on his own, which made her take a half-step in his direction, but she watched as he began speaking with the one whose planet they were on, and held back. Let him greet their host. Perhaps they were friends, and perhaps he would be willing to introduce Kua'kua as well. As she watched him, she realized - he looked different. Had he become taller? No, humans didn't do that past a certain age, as far as Kua'kua knew. What was it?

Oh. It was his outfit. He had--yes. She tugged self-consciously on her own newly upgraded (re-upgraded?) uniform; his had changed as well, which meant he had grown in strength. Kua'kua felt a strange surge of pride for her friend: they had fought together on more than one occasion, and each time she had been impressed with his efforts. She was sure that whatever new abilities he had been granted would only serve him better.

She hadn't yet had a chance to use her own old-new abilities. She was in no hurry to change that. Kua'kua had forgotten what being more powerful felt like, if she was being honest with herself: she'd regressed after her planet died, and when she found herself on Earth, she had been, frankly, amazed that she could power up at all, what with the planet in the shape it was in. She had been grateful for that, for anything the planet could spare her. And now it had given her - more. All she'd had to do was relive her greatest mistake.

All she had to do now was be worthy of it, somehow.

Deep Space Sailor Jörmungandr

This time, Jörmungandr was not nearly so disappointed by the lack of alcohol on Kerberos. He simply had to accept it, he supposed; the current Sailor Kerberos was dry, and that meant none of the lovely wines and infusions that he had once enjoyed on his occasional visits to the planet.

But he remembered the Bloom-and-Wither Festival. The name had conjured memories of music and dancing, of celebrating those who had gone and those who remained, and the joy of simply spending time in community.

It would not be the same, Jörmungandr knew. There would be fewer people, for one; even if this Kerberos had been a long survivor, like Jörmungandr, he would still have been alone. No locals to liven up the place, and days of the festivities gone. Things lost to time, and to the fall of so many worlds, and the vagaries and cruelties of...fate, or luck, or whatever one decided to call it when one was pinning the blame for terrible things happening on a cosmic factor out of one's control.

But even considering that his primary objective of getting his hands on some local spirits had failed on his first visit, Jörmungandr still rather liked the quiet planet with its lovely night sky and glowing flora and fauna. And maybe, truth be told, he needed to be somewhere other than Earth that was alive.

He wasn't one for hope, but it was nice to remember that there were still lights in the universe. Candles against the approaching dark. Perhaps literal, in this case.

He remembered the little lights, remembered the process of making one from the last time he'd visited. Honestly, it was part of the reason he'd come; getting to set one of those cute little lights on his nightstand in Murikabushi's home might make it feel that little bit more like home. And past it--well.

There were the memorial slips. He could have made a whole garden of them, he knew, but perhaps there were a few...very specific names that he itched to write down. Weights that he carried a little closer to his heart.

But that was for later. Before him first was the table with glowing asphodel blossoms and the magic that would preserve them as little lights. Exactly those candles against the darkness encroaching across the universe.

Honestly, the symbolism was a little on the nose, if he thought about it too long. But then again, perhaps that was alright. It wouldn't change anything, it wouldn't break through the tidal wave of Chaos, but perhaps a little light while they fought wasn't the worst thing.

After all, Jörmungandr certainly wasn't going to lay down and give up. Chaos was coming, its progression inevitable, but that didn't mean he was going to lay down and wait for it to get him. That would be boring.

No, instead, like a little glowing flower, he would fight the darkness. And like the people that had once attended this party, he would dance. Better to make the most of what he had.

He set his little flower on the drying rack with a tiny smile. Yes, that would make a fine souvenir.