Beneath the Sakura Trees, (Open)

[Mizuki Oshiro]

Sailor Venus' eyes widened as she saw the lightening coming in her direction. A hand gripped the General's wrist, tryign to free her neck from his grip. She was starting to lose air, and she wasn't that good at holding her breath.

Great. So this was how she was going to end it. Being fried and suffocated to death. Eyes shut tight as she saw the lightning drawing nearer to her body, but for some reason it didn't come. She could hear it, but she couldn't feel it. Was this how death felt? Slowly opening an eye, she peeked - just a glimpse to make sure she was dead, expecting to see her body lying on the ground, freshly cooked and burnt. But here she was, still standing in front of the General with his hand still around her neck.

Somehow the lightning had been deflected. For that she was extremely grateful. She had no idea how she was not turned into BBQ, but with all the breath in her, she cried out "Venus Crescent Beam Smash!" Dropping her katana, she put both hands together, finger pointing at the General and since he was close enough, she pressed the point to his chest. A bright ball of yellow light began to glow from her fingertips and then turning into a beam of light, stopping shortly at the General's chest, giving him a direct hit.

[Uhm.. well since no one else is posting in this thread >_> *moves it along*]

[Maeve Keavy]

“Try not t’break ‘er again, aye, broheim?” Maeve grinned as she slapped hands with Osumo. He was one of the regular’s at Ma’s pub. His truck had kicked off it’s u-bolt and managed to fuck up the timing. Maeve had agreed to try her hand at it. Getting a replacement u-bolt was what took the most time. She had a touch when it came to timing. It could take some people days to find a set of numbers that worked all right, but given a few moments, Maeve could get the hunk of junk purring like a kitten.

She had promised Osumo that she would look at his truck before she had offered herself to the aliens. She still had some time to burn before she was supposed to meet them. She could always stop by and pick up her pants. Yuri, that spectacular gay boy, had said he’d get them cleaned asap. Maeve thought she should drop by the apartment to check on Tentacle Boy, but as odd as it would be for her to admit, she knew that he would be down there long before she was. He took the whole senshi thing to heart, his angst ridden long suffering heart, but to heart none the less.

Taking a drag off her smoke and lost in thoughts, Maeve cut through the temple’s grounds. She paused when she reached the edges of the sakura grove. It was an open area not unfamiliar from tai chi and dog walking, but something was up. She changed her path towards it while continually nursing her cigarette.

“Oh piss off!” She groaned as she saw what Lady Luck had led her too. Four, five people in tacky suits were attempting to beat the fear of God out of what very well could be one of her mates. She had only seen Aiden in his senshi get up. The poor bloke with the wolves could very well be Sloan or Jared. There wasn’t much a resemblance from behind, but then again, she knew she looked different when she got into this shit.

She crouched down and crossed herself. She murmured softly, “Hail Mary, bless’d among women, protect with the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Three in one,” her body began to tingle with these words. She knew she was phasing out of one body and into another. “One in three. Change me now. So mote it be.” She felt the surge of an internal supernova. “Iron Mouse make up.” Every time, it felt like someone had punched her in the chest.

She stood and felt the rouge cloak ruffle in the spring breeze, and she weighed the iron whip in her hand. The part of her she knew was rather petrified, but the senshi side was humming with electricity. That portion of her was revved, and her rods were thrown.

Not allowing herself to hesitate, she sprinted to dark haired man and yelled as he was blasted by some dried up bitch in a bad dress. Maeve, or more the instinct of Iron Mouse, scampered to the fallen man and noticed all of the women were badly dressed, and the man was acting all chummy with them. Clearly, they were together. And there was no way the good guys could have such bad fashion. Beyond that, they looked nothing like her. The poor fried bloke looked more like her.

She pulled her cloak out to create a thin barrier and leaned in to offer him a hand. “Are you aright, mate?” Even his facial structure didn’t look like Sloan or Jared. But they were in Tokyo to lend a hand to the senshi who didn’t know their arse from their tits. Maybe this was one of those boys.