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When Terra revealed to her parents she’d submitted an application to join the Conservation Order - a sect part of the Viltrum Empire to monitor the planets they’d helped via checking the equipment they’d left was still in working order, be it solar collectors or ocean turbines, she’d been nervous. It was true she used a false name to avoid any favoritism in being accepted into the program, but there was the apprehension that any sooner reveal would lead to a huge argument from her parents, that the Emperor’s daughter had more important things to be doing than mundane labor.
For all the nail biting and nerves, her parents were cautiously supportive. Mom assured Terra it was a good idea, at her age she had dedicated time to volunteer her powers in another country. “It’ll just be…planets, instead of Africa,” Mom said. Dad remained quiet.
Sure that her overprotective Dad was having a meltdown and would confront Terra alone, instead some time later Terra entered her bedroom, in various stages of being packed, noticing a small box sitting on her bed. A note attached read:
I know you’re excited to wear whatever you want when you leave (definitely, she was so sick of monotone tunics and made sure to mention it) but why don’t you go ahead and try this on? Not to be biased, but I think you’ll like it.
Love, Dad
Now examining herself in a full-length mirror, Terra doesn’t know if she should be embarrassed or not, wearing a version of her Dad’s old superhero costume. Terra didn't figure her Dad wanted to keep such a tie to his time as the superhero Invincible, let alone have his daughter wear a repurposed design.
At least it’s not grey.
She lifts the goggles above her forehead, the yellow headband contrasting with her short dark hair as she twists around. The body suit is form fitting, reminding Terra of a long sleeved one-piece swimsuit, elastic but its material interwoven with something that won’t tear easily with tight adorning gloves. She runs her palm down her neck, an angular yellow square stopping above her chest, a V of bright blue enclosing it before what completes the first letter of the hero’s namesake tapers to her stomach in the same yellow, the rest of the outfit a sleek black.
The boots are kinda cool. Turquoise and knee length, the knee pads will come in handy if she’ll be kneeling a lot when fixing equipment.
Terra is about to be 18, but she’s not above striking a few quick poses, an amused smile growing as she dons the goggles again and decides to find Mom to see her reaction before Dad's, and maybe apologize for calling her parent’s outfits silly when she was a kid. Terra wonders if Mom would give her a version of the Atom Eve costume, remembering how she’d admired the pink outfit.
Unsure of where to find her, Terra wanders through the massive flagship of the Viltrum Empire that houses her parents and a number of other figures in the upper echelon. People mostly come and go however, a rendezvous point so to say, their only one, really. The planet Viltrum was abandoned for centuries, finally destroyed by her family during a battle before she was born, so they’re sort of a wandering race.
Wandering race or no, she’s not expecting to see the figure rounding a corner the same moment Terra is.
“Ursaal! Wow, hi!”
The last time they’d spoken was a video call for a brief catch up and oooh’s and ahhh’s over the pretty world Ursaal was on. She was part of a delegation that Terra guiltily tuned out on, distracted by the views. Something something peace talks, gosh that ocean is beautiful, does Ursaal like them? Would she ever want to swim in one? Should I ask her some time to go with me–
…Anyways, it was nowhere near the planet they’re currently stationed above. Terra was raised here on Talescria until she was 7 and misses it from time to time, but hasn’t been back given that Uncle Oliver is gone and her parent’s friend Allen, an Unopan that leads the planetary group Coalition of Planets here, was much too busy to spend time with their daughter.
She’s brought back to reality as Ursaal regards her with an odd expression. “Terra, it’s good to see you…but what are you wearing?”
“Um.”
Never mind. This outfit is embarrassing. Terra quickly takes off her eye wear.
Ursaal has gotten taller, an unique aspect of her Thraxan heritage is the growth rate being vastly different than either of Terra’s counterparts. Neither humans nor Viltrumites grew at such a rapid rate; a six month old baby would resemble a two year old with a matching intelligence. The accelerated growth tapers by the time they appear as a young teenager, it’s what Ursaal looked like when Terra met her, nearly ten years ago. Despite being younger than Terra, she now easily passes as someone about to enter early adulthood.
Ursaal’s eyebrows furrow. “Wait, didn't your father wear this once?”
“Yeah, uh.” Terra twists the goggles in her hands. “Guess he's passing down the torch or something before I go.”
“You're leaving?” Ursaal asks.
“I signed up for a group that handles upkeep on the planets Viltrum sends aid to. There’s a ship here I’ll be boarding in a few days.” Terra explains, subtly keen to see what the girl’s response will be.
She doesn’t need Ursaal’s approval exactly, though Terra has always harbored a deep respect for her. By the time Terra was struggling in training tunics, mostly because the clothes sucked, Ursaal was a recognized member of their race and much admired.
Terra knew the loyal soldier would never lay a harmful hand against her, despite their shaky past, though found the prospect mildly terrifying all the same and kept her distance. But then they’d actually started talking and for her coolness and composure, Ursaal was never condescending or put Terra on some impossible pedestal. As she's gotten older the respect has shifted to admiring more than just the girl's personality traits, but that's not something Terra is going to unpack right now.
“Ah. The Conservation Order? Some of my siblings volunteer for the program.”
‘Some’ could mean hundreds or even thousands. “How many do you have anyways, Ursaal?”
“2,360,” the girl answers easily.
Terra’s eyebrows shoot up. “You have the exact number?”
“I know all their names too.” And it seems Ursaal can’t help but tease, “though their attire is purely Viltrum oriented.”
“Oh, I’m probably not even going to wear this thing. I’m no superhero.”
“You should. It’s cute.”
Cute. Cute. Little kid cute? Look how adorable Terra Grayson is dressing up like her Daddy? Or is it cute like…
Unbidden, Terra’s cheeks begin to warm. She hopes Ursaal doesn’t notice.
“So what brings you here? Are you here to visit Allen?” Terra guesses, eager to change the topic. Or perhaps Ursaal is here to see off some of her family embarking on the same journey Terra is.
Ursaal shifts, for the first time looking uncomfortable. “Well, today is the anniversary of the battle between my father and the Coalition of Planets and Viltrumites. I’m expected to make a speech in remembrance.”
How could Terra possibly forget? Lost in her own personal ongoings, something her Dad nagged her about. As my daughter you have a duty, you represent so much more than yourself, so on and so forth. He’s right this time, she thinks glumly.
“For our empire, ten years is infinitesimal; but a decade is, as I’m told, a relevant milestone for many species.” Ursaal says.
The reminder of the longevity for those with Viltrumite blood still gives Terra pause, she guesses it won't click until she's a hundred and still looks under thirty, if she ends up inheriting the ability.
Ursaal continues, softer, “however, honoring those we’ve lost I can’t disagree with.”
Terra swallows, feeling all the more guilty and like a total ass for forgetting the date. Dad’s recent absent mindedness stems from more than the shock of Terra leaving. Grandpa Nolan and Uncle Oliver died during the conflict.
“So is the speech ready?” Terra questions, mostly to distract herself from the memories that she still cringes away from. Being so young when it happened, what remains is a kaleidoscope horror show, quick flashes of the helpless child she’d been and the horrific violence.
Ursaal’s eyes dart away. “Not…really,” she says at length.
For all the difficult memories Terra deals with, it can’t be any easier for Ursaal, who had contributed to the violence to begin with.
“You should ask my Dad, he’s the master of making up speeches on the fly.” Terra suggests kindly. She had long forgiven Ursaal’s part in the battle her father Thragg started, and Dad doubly so.
Ursaal frowns, shaking her head, disturbing flat tresses of raven locks that make up the short hairstyle she’s always had. Terra recently tried to emulate it, but her own hair is wavy and fluffs out despite any attempts to flatten it.
“Your father rules over all Viltrumites, but I represent my people, my siblings that are both Viltrumite and Thraxan. What my father did, the pain we caused, I have to bear it.” Ursaal says, her earlier friendliness overshadowed by the weight she insists on carrying.
“Sure, but that’s a lot for one person.” It’s not discussed much, but Terra knows Grandpa Nolan did some horrible things on Earth, and Dad dealt with the fallout. But Grandpa felt bad and changed his ways. Terra doesn't know if Thragg would have ever tried to make amends. By Ursaal’s haunted expression, she doubts now is a good time to ask.
“Forgiveness is earned, not given. It’s important that I acknowledge it, it’s alright, really.” It definitely isn’t, the wan smile Ursaal gives twists Terra’s heart more than the tangled mess the goggle’s straps have become. “I should leave you to finish getting ready for your trip. I hope to see you at the assembly.”
Suddenly antsy, worrying that she won’t know the next time she’ll see Ursaal after today and Terra needs to do something, the words come out before Terra can stop them.
“Can I take you out?” She blurts. Ursaal blinks. Terra Grayson you are hopeless.
“For - lunch, there’s this diner above orbit I’ve been to with Allen and I figure we can figure out your speech together, if you want, or just eat while you work on it by yourself and–”
Ursaal's smile turns genuine, so sweet Terra tries not to melt on the spot and halts her rambling. “I’d love that, thank you,” Ursaal interrupts gently, though sends Terra a wry look. “But you might want to change, Invincible.”
Terra groans, “of course you remember the name too. It’s just Terra, okay?”
“If you insist.”
Excusing herself to change out of the outfit, a giddiness flutters in Terra’s stomach. No matter what, because of their heritage, Terra will have a long number of decades to spend time with the girl she’s ever growing more fond of.