A/N: I am very tired. It was my birthday on Monday and my birthday tends to make me sad, so I didn't get much work done. Had to pump it all out today, but while I think it turned out well... the beta readers haven't had time to get to it yet. Apologies in advance if there are more typos than usual, but I wanted to be able to focus on AYEH tomorrow. If there's anything particularly egregious, leave a comment and I'll edit it when I wake up in the morning. Enjoy the chapter!

My soul feels sick. It doesn't hurt, really, it rarely ever does after this sort of thing, but failing Thea's orders is still uncomfortable even knowing that she's intentionally phrasing most of them to be impossible. I suppose it makes sense; the Cage is designed primarily to be a torture device, and I suspect it's specifically one that is supposed to evoke the same pain on the Preservers that the Antipathy felt the Preservers were forcing on them. It's an easy thing to imagine, given what I know. 

I mean, come on. A power plant constructed by aliens that literally runs on the happiness of the indigenous population that hosts it? Imagine being poor in the Antipathy world, poor enough that you didn't have much of a choice but to work at such a place to stay off the streets. Maybe you had your children work there, too, just to make ends meet. I mean, that power plant clearly had a ton of employees, and if the media they provided was anything to go by, they weren't picky about what age those employees needed to be. The Preservers, apparently, have a long history of child abuse, one that has somehow even survived whatever harrowing lesson they learned from the Great Execration. And, y'know, any learned lesson that doesn't include 'maybe do not turn children into soldiers' is somewhat incomplete at best.

"Okay, that should be enough," Thea announces. "This is going to be a lot to sift through, and I'm not really as good with software, but… I'll figure it out somehow. Thanks for your patience, everyone."

"Am I good to unplug and armor up, then?" I ask.

"Yeah, thanks Luna," my master confirms.

I unplug the ESB connector from my hip, summoning my removed plates and letting them all snap back into place at once. Castalia perks up at the sight, having clearly gotten a little bored after hours of watching Thea order me to do random pointless stuff to try and figure out how it all works. And, hey! It's nearly dinner time, which means it's about time to meet… her dead girlfriend's parents? Who are also the closest thing she apparently has to a family? So that's a bit stressful, but… well. Not entirely in a bad way.

My power reserves have increased to 94%. It ticks up a bit every time I remember that she asked me out on a date, and I remember it pretty much every time I look at her.

She's just so beautiful. And so cool! Floating in the air, her tank top gently flaps in a breeze that isn't there, showing flashes of a toned stomach and a scarred right hip. The scarring on her incarnate form goes all the way down the right side of her body, from her right eye and cheek to her missing shoulder all the way down to just above her thigh. The scarring on her left side is just on the end of her stub arm, cut off just above the elbow. It was such a close brush with death it didn't just scar her, it scarred her soul's own self-perception in a way that will remain forever. 

Not because it hasn't healed, though. Scars, after all, are the way a person heals.

And that's exactly what makes her so beautiful. Not the scars themselves (though they are badass as fuck) but the strength they imply. If I saw that the true representation of Eliza's soul was scarred this badly, I'd be worried as hell. Probably not more worried than I am about what her soul actually looks like right now, granted, but the point stands. It would mean something self-destructive or self-defeating on most people, to define themselves by those scars. But that's not the way Castalia sees it. It's just not the way she sees the world. As adorably awkward as she often is when she tries to explain it, there's a lot of wisdom in her. You just have to pay attention, and you'll find it.

And, y'know, the rest of the package is nice too. I love the way her short brown hair always looks tousled by the wind (because it usually has been). I love the understated athleticness of her build, the way she considers herself physically capable but doesn't like coming across as imposing. She's the most powerful person in the world, but if not for the scars and the floating, I doubt anyone would recognize her as exceptional. Her whole body is a testament to both her confidence and her humility, the result of a person who knows exactly who she is.

It's easy to see why she's one of the only two Earth Guardians from the original set to still be alive today. She truly is special. If she wasn't, she wouldn't still be here. 

"Luna," Castalia says, rubbing her ankles together.

"Yeah? What's up?" I ask, breaking out of my train of thought.

"You are staring at me," she notes.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I guess I am," I agree. "Do you not want me to?"

"…It's fine," she says softly.

Huh. Is she… blushing a little? I didn't think I was staring for that long, but… oh, right. My back thrusters are still deployed. She can feel the, um, admittedly quite substantial amount of orange and yellow magic I've been producing. Because looking at her makes me very happy.

My power reserves have increased to 97%. But now I am very embarrassed. Sure, I flirt with her like all the time, but it's one thing to offhandedly say some cheesy half-clever shit for fun and another thing entirely to blast somebody with so much concentrated appreciation for their body and mind that you could fire a death laser with it. 

Yeah, uh. Hmm. Let's change the subject!

"What… should I wear to dinner with your sort-of parents?" I ask. "Like, um, skin-wise? Would it be weird to show up as a robot?"

"I do not know," Castalia admits. "They might get worried…"

"You said they invited me though, right?" I ask.

"Yes," Castalia says, "but that was while we were still rooming together at college."

What.

"You… you're bringing me over because they invited me over eight months ago?" I ask.

"Yes," Castalia answers simply.

I internally sigh. Skinsuit it is. I pull my thrusters back into my back, open up my hip port again, and pop the skinsuit back into existence around me. Tilting her head, Castalia floats closer, leaning forward and getting her face close enough to mine to feel her breath. My gay-ass heart whines like two adjacent gears trying to spin the same direction. 

"Castalia…?" I squeak.

"This is very lifelike," she hums. "I was worried I was just being foolish, but… no. You're even warm."

"Well! Yes, I… Thea did a wonderful job!" I confirm, dedicating three different threads to screaming silently.

"She can be pretty warm without the skin, too, but I did make sure it maintained an ambient human surface temperature," Thea says, glancing up at the two of us for only a second before burying her face back in her laptop.

"I… do not know if I like you like this better," Castalia says. Ah, right. I asked her that, didn't I? "It is certainly more familiar to me. Who is it based on?"

"Nobody?" I hedge. "At least, so far as I know."

"It's not anyone in particular," Thea confirms. "I custom-designed it."

"You made her very beautiful," Castalia notes.

Thea makes a squeaky noise that she tries and fails to hide with a cough. I, meanwhile, am thankfully immune to any sort of embarrassment-based involuntary noisemaking. I squeak anyway.

"W-well I wasn't going to make her ugly! That would just be mean!" Thea insists. "Even if I did have to make her a little chubby…"

"Uh, that just makes me even hotter?" I chime in. "I mean, you can't tell me you don't appreciate these fat tits you so lovingly crafted."

"I-I needed the space to—Luna! Quit groping yourself!"

"Is that an order, master?" I tease her, though I do drop my hands immediately. Just in case.

"N-no, it's not an order. Uuugh, why are you always like this…?" Thea whines.

"Coping mechanisms, mostly," I answer honestly. "Anyway, I suppose I can't deny this disguise has its advantages. Some pretty fun advantages, even! I think the important thing is just that the two of you know it is just a disguise. This is neat, but the real me is underneath."

As much as I love hearing Castalia call me beautiful… that's really just Thea's excellent work. It's a compliment for her, even if it happens to be directed toward me. I'm the metal underneath. Not the disguise of skin, and certainly not the meat I left behind. I'm better than that, now.

"I understand completely," Castalia says seriously, and I flash her a genuine, if technically forced, smile. Because she does get it, doesn't she? The idea isn't too dissimilar to incarnate forms. Even though her physical flesh still exists, it's not the part of her that matters. The woman floating before me is Castalia. The body she was born in is just… an unfortunate necessity.

Heh. I guess that's another advantage of my disguise, though. I can smile at people. I have a face that like, moves and stuff! Not even the great Castalia has that. Well, I mean, her face can move, it just usually doesn't.

"So… are we going to go meet Thalia's family, now?" I ask. "It's nearly six o'clock. Like, for realsies this time."

"We should get going, yes," Castalia confirms. "We should talk to Jim first, though."

Oh… right. Fulgora is alive. His sister is alive, if admittedly not doing so good. It's the sort of thing that's worth telling him in person, especially since he's just a minute or two of subsonic flight away.

"Let's go do that now," I agree. 

God, I didn't even send him a text, what is wrong with me? Then again, maybe getting a sudden text that says 'hey btw ur sister is confirmed alive' wouldn't be the best way to break the news to him, and it's also totally what I would have done.

"Try to have a good time, okay Luna?" Thea asks.

I turn to my master, noting and cataloguing her fear, sadness, and regret. Arguably, I shouldn't be going anywhere with Castalia alone. I'm worried about leaving Thea to her own devices, even if she does have a project that should help keep her from spiraling into depression or panic. But what could I even do? She's even more upset about my situation than I am, and that situation is the one thing I can't contort myself to change. Thea wants me to be happy and free, and the Cage of Returning Pain was never designed with a master like that in mind. I don't know what to do.

And that means I should just follow her orders to the letter, right?

"I will," I promise her. "Thanks for everything, Thea."

"Don't thank me yet," she says. "Not until you're free."

I don't have to ask if that's a real order or not. It is. It has to be. From the look in her eyes and the disgust in her heart, I can tell that if I try to argue she wouldn't be able to bear it.

"If that's the way it has to be, then make sure you never give up," I tell her, pulling her in for a firm hug. "I want to give a proper thank-you eventually."

"Okay," she agrees softly, returning the hug for only a moment before pushing me away. "Bye, Luna."

"Bye for now," I nod. "Let's go, Castalia!"

"Yes," Castalia agrees, and then that familiar feeling of being wrapped up in her power surrounds me as I'm lifted into the air. 

The two of us are out of Thea's room and out of the base shortly after that, flying through the sky and touching down on Jim's porch. The doorbell rings itself as we approach, because Castalia is just efficient like that. Jim opens the door and pops his head out shortly after.

"Hello? Oh, hey. What's up, you two?" he asks.

"Fulgora has been found," Castalia says bluntly. "She is in poor condition, but alive."

"Oh," Jim says, freezing for a moment as the words register. "Oh, god."

It takes him a while to fully parse it, but once he does he has to lean against the door frame to stop himself from collapsing. He really thought she was dead, didn't he? He's probably spent a long time mourning already. To suddenly hear it was all unneeded… well, I suppose he and Bean have something more in common now. 

"Can… can I see her?" Jim asks.

"No," Castalia answers.

"Castalia!" I protest, though Jim just breaks out into a humorless laugh.

"Of course. I don't know what I expected," he admits. "It's enough that she's alive, though, right? I appreciate you telling me. I know you don't even owe me that."

Wait, is that it? He gives up on being taken to her just like that? He's truly this used to being helpless? I suppose it only makes sense. The Preservers don't talk to the guardians of Guardians. They don't ask for parental consent or even personally inform them of deaths. Castalia has more experience with that than they do.

"…What Castalia means is that she's currently still in the Dark World," I clarify. "We're going to organize a rescue, but we need to wait for Uma'tama before we can start. We'll bring her back to you as soon as possible, though. I promise."

That relaxes him a bit, at least, though only a bit. In a situation like this, that's more of a win than we deserve.

"Thank you, Luna," he says. "Have you told the others?"

"You're the first non-guardian who knows," I tell him. "I can tell Chloe and Bean, but I figure that's up to you."

"Go ahead," he says. "Chloe was her… is her best friend. I'm not going to be the one to tell you to keep secrets from her."

No mention of Bean, but the permission is implied. It makes sense; Bean never knew Eliza all that well, as much as they've apparently been getting close to her brother.

"Will do. I'll keep you posted as much as I can, Jim," I nod at him.

"Yeah," he says. "Thanks, Luna."

We say our goodbyes as I send that text off with my mind, summarizing the situation for the rest of our nonmagical friends as Castalia lifts me back up into the air and flies us across the city. The house we land at is small and modest, but well-maintained. Single-story, a small but immaculate lawn with a flower garden almost certainly maintained close to daily by its occupants. 

As is clearly her habit, Castalia rings the doorbell shortly before landing, timing things so the opening of the door is almost simultaneous with our arrival. While Jim was the sort of person to crack open the door for a peek and identify whoever's on the other side before opening up to greet people he knows, there's no such hesitation from the man in front of us now. The door is opened just as wide as his smile, and both showings of kindness were fully present before he had any chance to identify us. It feels like he'd be just as happy to see a solicitor, and no less genuine about it, though after the split second it takes to register Castalia entirely, he somehow becomes even brighter.

"Castalia! Welcome," he greets. "And I see you've brought a friend!"

Hah. So he really didn't know in advance. Castalia is cashing in on an eight-month-old invitation without prior warning. The man is clearly used to it, though.

He's an older man, maybe a bit over thirty years above my age, though while creases are midway through their inevitable march across his face, he's still blessed with a full head of short hair, the blonde salted tastefully with gray. Clean-shaven and tan, he wears a floral-patterned shirt and khaki shorts like he's on a goddamn beach vacation. Though in fairness, based on the surface temperature of his skin, he was almost certainly out in the sun just moments before. In his backyard, perhaps.

"Hello, Mr. Pearce," Castalia nods. "This is Luna."

"Luna…?" he says, turning to me with a surprised expression on his face. It quickly softens, though, replaced with… relief? "Luna. It's wonderful to… oh, yes!"

He repeats 'it's wonderful to meet you' in sign language, which is delightfully nostalgic in a way I didn't expect.

"It's wonderful to meet you, too," I sign back. "I'm not deaf, though. You can talk out loud."

"I don't want to get rusty!" he answers, stubbornly continuing to sign. Well, I guess it doesn't make much of a difference to me. I shrug, and he seems quite satisfied.

"Well please, both of you, come in!" he says, stepping aside to allow us to do so before calling back into the house. "Ella, it's Castalia! And she brought a friend!"

"A friend?" a woman's voice calls back incredulously, and several shuffling noises later a woman I assume to be Thalia's mom walks in from down the hall. "Well, I'll be. Hello, dear. Castalia, I told you to call ahead for these things. We're always happy to hear your voice."

"I am sorry, Mrs. Pearce," Castalia answers. "I forgot."

"I know you did, dear," the woman sighs. 

Thalia's mother looks a little younger than her husband, but given the chemicals I detect I suspect she's just aging more gracefully with the assistance of some root cover-up spray. Not that there's anything wrong with that; her curly brown hair is clearly well-taken care of. Both she and her husband are on the smaller side, neither of them above five and a half feet, but also like him her skin is well-tanned and the wear on her hands clearly marks her as the green thumb of the pair.

"Your garden is lovely," I sign.

"I like you already," she signs back. Then, out loud: "This would be Luna, then?"

"Correct," Castalia nods.

"I'd heard she was missing," Mrs. Pearce comments. "We saw her name in the paper after that incident on campus. You should have told us you found her!"

Castalia blinks, then points at me with her stub.

"I found her?" she tries.

"Forgive her, ma'am. I was only really rescued a few days ago," I sign in Castalia's defense. "It has been a very busy few days."

"Yes, we saw the kaiju on the news," Mr. Pearce says, speaking out loud again. "And I can only imagine how much more excitement there's been in the meantime. Apparently that robot you went up against took a naked fish woman out to lunch and then fought her in the street…?"

Castalia and I glance at each other, each trying to judge how many secrets the other wants to avoid sharing.

"…It is a very long story," Castalia hedges.

"Well, dinner is a perfect time to tell stories," Mrs. Pearce says. "Andrew, set the table."

"Yessir," Mr. Pearce salutes his wife.

"May I help with dinner?" I sign. "I like to cook."

"Well that sounds lovely Luna, thank you!" Mrs. Pearce answers, motioning for me to follow her. "How comfortable are you with cutting vegetables?"

"It's my favorite part," I admit, and she looks delighted, hurrying me into the kitchen with her and setting me up with a cutting board and knife.

"Are you two hungry?" she signs at me, and I nod. I'm pretty sure Castalia is, anyway, so it's only half a lie. "We'll make something quick. Do you know how to cut mushrooms, too?"

I give her a thumbs-up.

"Great! I should have enough ingredients for a classic here… let's see, do we have enough butter…?"

She checks the fridge, pulling things out and piling several of them in front of me.

"How finely should I cut?" I sign.

"However you like it," she signs back, so I nod and start to dice them up, since Castalia prefers her meals fairly homogeneous. Mrs. Pearce, meanwhile, puts a pot of water on to boil as she continues gathering ingredients, heating up a frankly huge amount of butter in the microwave, absolutely drowning it in garlic, and mixing it together with a half-dozen different spices from her cupboard. When I pass her the first bowl of diced ingredients, she immediately signs 'thank you' on instinct. Every time we interact, her gaze lingers for a moment on my hands before she returns to what she was doing, just to check and make sure I don't have anything to say.

I think I like her.

"You're quite the little helper, aren't you?" she hums as I pass over my third bowl of vegetables. "You were Castalia's roommate before that whole mess, weren't you? She's had nothing but good things to say about you. I appreciate everything you did to take care of her. The poor girl is always lonely because she never reaches out."

"I've noticed that," I agree. "She's a woman of extremes. Castalia can save the world, but she can't work up the courage to send a text."

Thalia's mother laughs at that, sprinkling a bit of salt into the water pot before turning to me and swapping entirely to sign language.

"I haven't seen Castalia be that excited about anything in years," she admits. "Let alone a friend."

She uses a different sign for 'Castalia' than I do. I just spell out 'C' 'A' and 'S' and let people figure out the name from context. She forms the letter 'C' with both hands—with one mirrored, of course—and moves them up and down opposite to each other, at just above eye level. A quick search of my database shows it's a modification of the hand sign for 'star.'

"Castalia," I sign back, copying her version. "She loves space, doesn't she? All her spells are named after it."

"She's always been that way," Mrs. Pearce tells me. "Thalia got her a poster of the constellations for her twelfth birthday. Castalia hung it up in our house right then and there; she asked me if she could put it in our living room, and I said yes. It stayed there until we moved. Now, it's on the wall of our guest room."

Oh, wow. That's… heavy with implications. I can't help but think back to when Castalia and I fought, and our strongest spells clashed. For a girl whose arsenal is almost entirely composed of love-powered death beams, it is perhaps telling that Castalia's ultimate spell is purely and wholly defensive.

Still, it's the sadder implication that I latch onto hard enough to comment on.

"She never even thought to hang up a present like that in the Preserver base, did she?" I ask. 

"Castalia doesn't have any living relatives," Mrs. Pearce answers. "Neither did Melpomene. So my family made it very clear that we were their home, in every way they ever wanted us to be. And that will always be true."

Would that still be true if she knew that… no. No, it's not even worth thinking about. I can feel this woman's conviction; she considers herself their mother in every way that matters, and her acceptance is unconditional on principle. Perhaps Castalia's tendency toward extremes was something she learned from her family.

"I'm surprised Castalia doesn't live here," I tell her honestly. It's obvious that they love each other.

"We've tried," Mrs. Pearce answers, shrugging with a sort of 'what can you do' expression. "We tried to get them both to stay here. But the problem with raising girls who can feel emotions is that they can tell when you're still grieving. They were both convinced that they were hurting us by reminding us of her. Idiots."

She says that, but she feels guilty about it, too. Perhaps she thinks she didn't push them hard enough, or perhaps worse, she fears they were right. It's easy to imagine parents in that situation wanting to do the right thing, but struggling to control the pain in their hearts. It's not the sort of problem that anyone should be expected to solve perfectly. 

But… I don't say any of that. It doesn't feel like my place.

"The water is boiling," I sign instead.

"Ah!" she gasps, speaking out loud as she turns to handle it. "Thank you, dear. Sorry, didn't mean to kidnap you into a van down memory lane. I'm sure I've made a fool of myself with the rusty sign language, too."

"No," I assure her. "It's immaculate." 

She huffs, almost a laugh.

"Well if you're going to say that, then I suppose I don't feel so bad asking. You learned ASL recently, didn't you? You haven't been mute your whole life."

Oh! Well… she's certainly right, yeah.

"That's true," I admit. "How did you know?"

"Because you sign like you're still copying an instructor," she answers. "Your face and body language are all static. It's the same problem Castalia had, though for a different reason. Your eyes can be very expressive."

Hah. Well, I kind of am just copying an instructor. I have a downloaded library of videos of every single word in ASL I could find. My mind is just fast enough to index each word I need, and my body can replicate it with a few quick calculations.

"I remember a time," Mrs. Pearce says softly, "where the whole house would be quiet. Even when we all huddled up in the living room to watch a movie, Mel would turn the sound off without telling Thalia, insisting to me that if the subtitles were good enough for my daughter they were good enough for the rest of us. But I didn't mind it. Not at all. Nowadays, I can barely make a meal without feeling the need to start yapping. Do excuse me."

I pass her the last bowl of vegetables, having kept my speed reasonable for a human, and pat her on the shoulder. When she looks my way, I respond.

"Don't worry, I understand. I am happy to listen. I enjoy getting secret insights into Castalia's embarrassing past."

That gets a real chuckle out of her.

"I'll share some whoppers with you later, then. For now, everything should be just about ready."

Soon enough, everyone is sitting around rectangular wooden table, our plates loaded with a homemade lemon vegetable scampi (which does not contain any scampi) that I'm sure would taste wonderful if I could taste anything. And indeed, the way Castalia's joy pulses in response to the first bite confirms I'll be asking for the full recipe before the night is done.

"Oop! Incredible, as always," Mr. Pearce chirps delightedly, dramatically wiggling in his seat as if the dish that's primarily garlic was shockingly sour.

"Yes. Thank you," Castalia agrees.

"Of course! Only the best for our little hero," Mrs. Pearce says, loosely pointing the tongs of her fork at Castalia. "Now, I believe you owe us a story?"

Once again, Castalia looks hesitantly at me for guidance. 

"I don't mind," I sign. 

I was really just following her lead on this one, since she asked me to come disguised. I have no particular desire to keep more secrets, though, and if Thalia's parents are trusted by Castalia, they're trusted by me.

"Yes. Okay," Castalia says hesitantly, clearly thinking very hard while her own fork orbits around her head. "Well. Luna was kidnapped and her soul was extracted to power a magic robot."

Hah. Alright, just jumping right into it then. Everyone pauses, staring at her. Because what do you do with information like that, exactly? Ask a question, probably, but how the hell do you narrow down which one to start with? Mr. Pearce, making the wise decision to defer that choice to his wife, shoves another bite of scampi in his mouth without breaking eye contact. 

"…Elaborate," Mrs. Pearce requests with great patience.

"Um. She is okay now? And I wanted to bring her to meet you, so I did," Castalia says.

For some reason, couldn't possibly tell you why, the humans still seem a little lost. As funny as this is, it's going nowhere.

"I'm still a robot," I say, making my voice sound more artificial than usual to get the point across. "I'm just wearing a very good disguise. I was actually mute for a while, but mostly I learned sign because my mouth doesn't move when I talk and I was being forced to spy on Castalia and attack people against my will last year. Thankfully, Castalia and another friend of ours, Thea, saved me. And now I'm an Earth Guardian, because the Preservers don't want magitech in the hands of civilians and also because I have an extremely powerful combat robot body, so I figured why not?"

Another pause. Okay. Maybe I didn't help as much as I thought I was going to.

"…I'm very sorry for not eating any of the food, I'm sure it's wonderful, but I don't actually have a stomach anymore," I add. "Or taste buds."

"She's still a very good cook, though," Castalia says, rallying back into the conversation. "I do not know how she does it."

"A surprising amount of good taste can be substituted with math," I answer. "Since we're on the subject, though, do you have the full recipe for this written down somewhere? It's clear Castalia likes it a lot."

"I also like it a lot!" Mr. Pearce adds.

Mrs. Pearce, unfortunately, is not so easily distracted by discussions of food. She gives her husband a look, and sighs lightly, a much more serious expression sinking onto his face.

"Ahem, yes, I mean… that sounds like it must have been a lot to go through, Luna. Are you holding up alright?" he asks.

"Yeah, I mean, being a robot is cool. My old body sucked," I say, reciting a variation of the same line I give everyone. It's so much easier to insist I'm okay with things and just move past them.

"And how's being an Earth Guardian going?" Mrs. Pearce asks. "It's a lot of responsibility, isn't it?"

"I seem to be pretty good at it so far," I answer. "I mean, I helped Castalia kill that kaiju yesterday."

And I let a child die in the process, but that's pretty much just the traditional Earth Guardian initiation ritual. 

"We saw the videos," Thalia's dad says. "You saved Cape Hatteras, then. You should be proud."

I shrug, not really knowing how to respond to that.

"Hmm," Mrs. Pearce says. "I see what you meant, Castalia. She does remind me of Melpomene."

Castalia immediately stiffens, horror pulsing through her, but I still can't stop myself from giving her a bit of a betrayed look. What the fuck does that mean!?

"I… I said that before I… I didn't… I was not yet aware that…" Castalia babbles, which does relax me a bit. Even if I am still immeasurably offended.

"Not aware of what, dear?" Mrs. Pearce prompts gently.

"That Melpomene is the reason I'm like this," I explain, only holding my glower at Castalia for a moment longer. I obviously forgive her, I just… ugh. "I mean, you know what she did at our college, right? And what I did there. She's why. I was her slave. I couldn't disobey her."

"Oh, Mel… Luna, we're so sorry," Mr. Pearce says.

"She's just a monster, now," I insist. "I do not appreciate the comparison."

"I'm less surprised than I'd like to be, unfortunately," Mrs. Pearce sighs, which honestly shocks me. This is the first time I've heard someone who knew Melpomene before all this not have a high opinion of her. "Apologies, Luna. When you've raised three different Earth Guardians, it's hard to avoid thinking of others by comparison. All I meant by it is that you handle it the same way she does. You're bundling it all up."

"…Excuse me for not wanting to spill my emotional vulnerabilities to people I've just met?" I snap back, since apparently they don't want me to be hiding my feelings here!

"That's fair," Mr. Pearce says. "I promise, we didn't mean anything by it. From what I've heard, you have a lot of Thalia in you, too."

Now that's a more interesting (and far less upsetting) conversation. For how important Thalia was to so many people, I feel like I know vanishingly little about her. 

"It's true," Castalia agrees. "It was always important to her to make everyone around her smile. And you do that, too."

"I do try to keep the mood light," I concede. "Am I really that much like her, though?"

"No," Castalia says. "The only person like you is you."

"Really?" I hum. "Sometimes I wonder. If I do remind you of her, it might explain why Melpomene gave me Thalia's stone."

That gets the attention of both Pearces. 

"…You have our daughter's stone?" Thalia's father asks.

"Yeah. It's… inside me, I guess," I admit. "Melpomene kept it, and she ended up giving it to me before letting me go to college."

"Oh, that stupid girl…" Mrs. Pearce sighs, rubbing her temples. "Why couldn't she just have come home?"

"What were they like?" I blurt. "Thalia, Castalia… Melpomene. What were they like back when they were a team?"

Thalia's parents glance at each other, and her mother sighs.

"…They were inseparable," Mrs. Pearce answers. "They did everything together. They would have bathed together if I didn't make them stop when they hit puberty."

"They were a great team," Mr. Pearce adds. "Thalia was passionate and optimistic, but a bit too confident for her own good sometimes. Melpomene was the opposite; always planning for what could go wrong and never quite sure enough of herself. They would butt heads all the time, but whenever they did, Castalia was there to calm them down. If it ever got bad, Castalia would just start crying, and both of them would immediately make up and start to comfort her."

"M-Mr. Pearce…!" Castalia whines in protest.

"It was more than that, of course," Mrs. Pearce says, jumping on where her husband left off. "Our daughter loved to fight. Physically or otherwise. She loved the arguments, and she loved being an Earth Guardian. The other two never did, but they were no less dedicated. So when Thalia tried to round them up and take on more missions, they both agreed. That's how they started fighting in convergences out of state, and tackling more and more kaiju."

"It felt like it was less that they agreed and more like they could barely hold her back," Mr. Pearce chuckles. "You remember it, don't you, Castalia? When I broke my arm and she just put it back together, she told me not to tell anyone!"

"'If people know I can heal, they'll want me to heal all the time, and I won't be able to fight monsters,'" Castalia quotes. "Yes, I remember. She didn't need to worry, though; the Preservers didn't want us using our powers on things outside our duties anyway. Still, she was always upset about being in the middle of our formation. She always wanted to fight shoulder to shoulder with Mel, rather than be protected by her."

"It scared my socks off, watching the two of them brawl in our backyard," Mrs. Pearce sighs. "Even when they weren't in incarnate form, it really looked like they were hitting hard enough to seriously hurt each other. Half the reason I got the dog was to try and get them to be a bit gentler to the world around them."

"Pibbles…" Castalia sighs melancholically.

"Good ol' Pib," Mr. Pearce agrees, a nostalgic look on his face. "Hah. Can you believe that the other half of the reason was to try and make Thalia a little more responsible? But Melpomene ended up taking care of him at least eighty percent of the time, and you did it the other twenty, didn't you Cas?" 

"I did," Castalia nods in agreement. "Pibbles was very particular about mealtimes. It was hard to rest properly if he was not fed."

"Oh, it was lively back then," Mrs. Pearce says, a small smile on her face as she stares at nothing but memories. "But then you and Mel started spending more and more of your time at the Preserver base."

"We…" Castalia says, trailing off awkwardly. "Well. Your home is lovely, Mrs. Pearce, but…"

"They were at that age where they started to want privacy," Mr. Pearce smiles conspiratorily. "It's alright, we started to suspect what was going on when you and Mel snuck out of Thalia's room at four in the morning."

"I…" Castalia stammers, a blush forming on her cheeks as she looks away from them.

"It's alright, Castalia," Mrs. Pearce says with a long sigh. "I'm sorry. I should have been more supportive. I always thought of the three of you as sisters, but I knew you were… more than that. I never meant to chase you away."

"You didn't!" Castalia insists. "You didn't. You have always been supportive, Mrs. Pearce."

Mrs. Pearce flashes her a wry smile.

"I never said anything, but you kids weren't stupid," she insists. "You were empaths, for crying out loud. I didn't have to do anything to chase you off other than feel the wrong thing. I should have been better than that."

"No," Castalia says firmly. "There is no need for any person to try to be better than you, least of all yourself. You are enough."

"Dear…" Mrs. Pearce says, reaching over and squeezing Castalia's shoulder. "Well, you certainly have one hundred percent of my support going forward. So tell me, are you two really just roommates, or is that just what the history books will call it?"

Pfft! Aha, it's a good thing I don't drink anymore, or I'd have spat my water all over the table! I'd been perfectly happy just quietly listening to all this history, but that certainly shot me back to attention.

"I believe we will know the answer soon," Castalia says. "We are going on our first date tomorrow."

"Wait, you asked me out, and you don't know the answer yet?" I ask.

"…I suppose I did ask you out," Castalia says as if this is some kind of new revelation to her. "It felt very much like you were asking me out with your mind, but I suppose it's not asking out if it's not out loud." 

Mrs. Pearce tries and fails to hide a laugh behind her hand.

"You thought I was asking you out… with my mind," I repeat. I kind of hate that she's not really wrong!

"Well, you got very, very sad when I told you we weren't going on a date tonight," Castalia defends herself. "It seemed only reasonable to schedule for tomorrow instead."

"Castalia, if you only asked me out because you felt me get upset, we don't have to go on a date," I tell her. "I'm an adult, you don't have to cater to me if it's not something you want."

"I don't know if it's what I want," Castalia answers. "I've never really been on a date before. Not a normal one, anyway. And I think the first date is normally to find out if you like it anyway, isn't it?"

"It is, yes," Mrs. Pearce butts in before I can respond. "Dates can be a good way to just get to know someone, or to figure out what way you like someone you already know you like. Where were you planning to take her, Castalia?"

"That is a very good question," Castalia hums, floating slightly out of her chair. "I have been thinking a lot about that because I really want Luna to like it."

"Is that so…?" Mrs. Pearce asks, a grin growing on her face.

"She can't eat food, and she can play movies inside her own mind. So dinner and movies don't seem right. Most traditional activities would be difficult because of either her circumstances or my own. She would be too good at mini golf to enjoy that much."

"Mini golf…?" I squeak, ignoring the ever-growing amusement of Thalia's parents. Castalia herself is completely out of her chair now, slowly rotating in the air as her eyebrows furrow with thought.

"We can if you want to," Castalia assures me. "But thinking about things that the two of us can't do made me start thinking about the things that we can do. The things only we can do. And then I remembered that traveling to somewhere that is beautiful is also a well-established dating strategy. So…"

Having almost rotated enough to nearly be upside-down, Castalia finally seems to realize she's rotating at all when her head dips below the table and she loses eye contact with the rest of us. But of course, instead of rotating right-side-up, she merely gains altitude until she can once again meet us eye to eye.

"I was thinking," she says, "of taking you to space."