Title: Scars

Theme: Fresh

Lick, flip, fold, turn.

Setsuna sat on the floor bent over the low coffee table, magazines spread across the surface and pooling onto the floor. Dark finger tips ran along the glossy paper tracing the latest fashions. Hair ribbons, gauzy skirts, polka dots, cardigans with whimsical shaped plastic buttons in off beat colors contrasting against the sweater fabric. Fashion, Setsuna loved fashion. It was ever changing, ever flowing, moving like a tangible stream of time.

"Setsuna-mama," called a soft voice of the highest pitch. Violet eyes surrounded by a mess of black peered from a doorway, unconsciously tugging at the hem of a frilled pink nightshirt.

"Ruffles, pink, pastel," the Guardian of Time checked off in her head, "Last week." Hotaru took her silence as approval and approached the make-shift workbench in the middle of the living room.

"Blue, cotton, stripes next week. Size bigger," Setsuna tutted as the little girl flopped herself to the ground, large eyes lining the top of the table.

"Couldn't sleep?" Bobble.

"Bad dream?" Bobble.

Hotaru pitched her head to the side as Setsuna waited, the reincarnation of death absently picking at a scab on her elbow. All Haruka's doing, of course. "Sweetie, if it itches we can put something on it."

"No," Hotaru replied slowly, immediately stopping by placing both hands on the table and leaning towards her curious adopted mother. Setsuna leaned forward in response. "Michiru-mama says it'll fall off, is that true?"

"Yes, so you should not pick at it and let it fall off naturally."

"Is it true that Haruka-papa really got a time out?" Setsuna nodded, noticing a slight bemusement slip into the corners of the child's face. She was certain the former Sailor Soldier would be devastated at Hotaru's expression.

"What happens if I pick at it?"

"It'll form a scar on your skin."

"What's a scar?" Setsuna hesitated, placing both hands in her lap.

"It's those lines you had on your body, those cuts and scratches from the explosion and the machinery later implanted into your body. Faded lines, taunt and white against your already ghostly skin, that you covered...arms, legs, and all..." Setsuna itched her leg, focusing on the sensation of her pink painted nail rubbing against her skin through the fabric of her pants.

Anything to keep that imprint of Hotaru far away from her wide eyed and scar-less daughter. Her reborn daughter. Her new daughter.

"It's a mark that won't go away for a very long time, so that's why it's best to let it fall off on its own."

"What happens when it does that?"

"Fresh and new skin will show, like the scab had never been there." Fresh. She wanted her daughter to look fresh. "Maybe green, floral print, cut into a jumper."

Hotaru placed her arms behind her, leaning back with her palms pressed firmly into the carpet. She rolled her head from side to side, her petite neck swiveling as the weight shifted. Finally she pushed herself back to the table, nodding her head. "Okay."

"Okay," Setsuna smiled, flipping the page of her magazine.