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As Earth pulled her in, as their little transport pod sank through the atmosphere following the weight of gravity, Miorine found herself staring. Not at the view, though. Not at the planet to which she’d desperately longed to escape, but the wall to her right. The completely blank, unadorned metal wall, only notable in that it and its sibling walls were the only things preventing her, Guel, and Kenanji from dying in about three different ways at once. Prospera would be fine, though. She was down in the cargo hold, in Aerial, probably recalibrating it from-
Miorine cut that thought off at the root, before it could go any further.
Why was she looking at the wall, though? There was literally an entire planet looming below her, dragging her down into itself. A planet she’d yearned after for years, and she was finally here. So why wasn’t she looking?
Why did something still feel wrong?
When they landed, when they were all taken to the complex she’d acquired for them, she thought it might’ve been the gravity itself. That was why they were taking a day to acclimate before actually meeting with the protestors, after all. Asticassia’s spin gravity was calibrated to standard, to nine-point-eight-one meters per second squared, to Earth’s gravity, but Spacians like her still needed time to get used to the real thing, usually. On their way down, Kenanji had been taking a jab at his own weight, but only partially. What he said was still true.
Miorine was finding it to be… maybe half-true. Intuitively she knew it was the same, practically speaking, except for the Coriolis effect. Her inner ear wasn’t quite used to that not being there, at least not noticeably. Earth’s own Coriolis was far too large-scale to actually affect something the size of a person, it preferred meddling in bigger things, like the oceans, or the weather. Sometimes her balance was a little off, but that was about it.
Except that wasn’t it.
Something else was still wrong. She still found herself occasionally looking to her side, as if there was something she expected to be there, and when she went on a night walk -escorted, of course- to clear her head, get used to the air, see what little sights there were… Miorine often found herself reaching out to something that wasn’t there. Every time she did, gravity pulled her back down.
It wasn’t until she was on her way to the negotiations that Miorine realized what was wrong, that she realized what was missing.
Who was missing.
The moment she’d pulled up that silly GUND-Arm commercial, to try and ground herself in reality, in the morals and standards Prospera had subtly mocked her for, it’d clicked. That it hadn’t clicked days ago only made the realization worse.
Suletta wasn’t here.
When she was reaching out, when she was looking to her side, Miorine was looking for her. Because of course she was! Because she’d gone from wanting to be on Earth by herself, alone and independent, to wanting to be there with her. Everything had changed with Suletta’s arrival, even Miorine herself. Especially Miorine herself.
This hurts, she thought to herself, drawing her wayward arm back in, burying her head in her hands. Why did I come here? Why couldn’t I have come here with her?
She knew why.
“I had to do it,” she muttered to herself, quietly enough that even she could barely hear. If she hadn’t, Suletta would be the one bearing the Gundam’s curse, Suletta would've been the one with the weight of whatever Prospera had been preparing her for on her shoulders. That was Miorine’s task now, she’d made sure of it. She only regretted that the weight of it, just like the weight of Earth itself, dragged her down and away from the woman she loved.
Her second muttering of I had to do it was tainted somewhat by the knowledge, the surety that as much as doing this hurt her, as much as being apart hurt her… it would be hurting Suletta more.
When the car arrived at its destination with angry protestors and painted signs surrounding her and her convoy, after Guel and Kenanji ran off somewhere, Miorine stepped out. With one hand she shielded herself from the sun's blinding rays, and with her other… Miorine was reaching out again, unconsciously trying to hold her hand. It wasn’t there, just like always.
The weight of gravity pulled her back down, just like always.
Later, after long enough that everyone had needed a couple breaks, Miorine stared out the window, letting herself reflect as sunset approached. In her would-be role as President, she had failed. Sort of. Partially a success, given that the protests would be stopping if and until she was actually elected, but she still counted that as a failure. It hadn’t worked out as well as she’d hoped. In her role as CEO, however… in her role as a developer of medical technology, she had succeeded greatly.
That the lead organizer of the protests was a doctor had been a known quantity -the Benerit Group kept a list of profiles on those notable figures for… reasons that probably weren’t as well-intentioned as she hoped- but she hadn’t expected nearly that many questions. They had been so detailed, so expertise-specific, that Miorine hadn’t actually been able to answer all of them with the information she had at hand. That was fine, though. It was a good thing, even.
Whenever she openly admitted that she didn’t know, that she would’ve been able to answer to his satisfaction if she had the rest of her coworkers with her, it simply drove home her point better. Miorine was sure that with each unanswered question, the others around her grew more sure that she was right, that Earthians and Spacians working together could achieve great things. After all, why would someone like her need to rely on Earthians so much, why would she fall back on them for knowledge and advice so often if she didn’t respect them, see them as equals?
And as she looked out into the sunset, with a touch of optimism now lingering, Miorine smiled. There was another thing she’d picked up in her time here, another silver lining to things. Another thing that should’ve been obvious from the start.
Whether or not you wanted to, everything revolved around the sun. Everything came back to it, one way or another. Even from a distance, the sun interfered with things, affected things, changed things. Even from a distance, the sun pulled you into its warmth.
When the door opened, when the representatives returned to the ballroom for a third round of discussion, Miorine didn’t bother putting her poker face back on, didn’t bother letting her smile fade. Why would she? Even with the suffering all around her, deep within her, there was a glimmering ray of hope.
The sun had a gravity all of its own.