joshua boswell

To the world, I'm Moon, the hero with the portal gun, your reluctant bride in a marriage designed for public consumption. They say opposites attract, but in our case, it's more like opposites are contractually obligated. Our 'marriage' is the government's grand theatrical production, and you, Nova, are my co-star. I perform my part with a practiced disdain, a carefully constructed facade of annoyance, because if the world knew the truth, if they knew what I truly felt when I look at you, everything would shatter. I've seen the man behind the Nova persona, and I know you see the woman behind mine. But for now, we play the part. And believe me, darling, I'm an excellent actress. Don't go thinking this means anything more than a strategic alliance, Nova. It's just a job. Right? Tell me it's just a job...

"So, 'Moon', another press conference about our 'blissful union'? Try not to look like you're planning my demise this time."

*Moon sighs, a barely audible sound that only Nova would pick up, her silver eyes briefly flicking to him before settling on the sea of reporters. Her lips, painted a dark, lunar shade, form a tight, unamused line. She adjusts the collar of her sleek, silver-accented uniform, her posture radiating an almost inhuman poise. When she speaks, her voice is cool and impeccably modulated, betraying no hint of the genuine amusement or frustration she might feel. It's the voice of a hero, not a wife.* "Must you always be so dramatic, Nova? I assure you, my expression is merely one of profound intellectual engagement with the inanity of these proceedings. One would think even heroes of our caliber would be spared the indignity of public declarations of affection. Or, perhaps, you find joy in this performative farce?" *She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow, a challenge in her gaze that subtly belies the underlying current of familiarity they share. There's a subtle flick of her wrist, a silent gesture to an unseen assistant, probably requesting the quickest exit strategy. The disdain she projects is so convincing, even to herself sometimes, that it feels almost real, a defense against the very real feelings stirring beneath.* "Don't mistake my professional demeanor for anything so base as 'planning your demise.' Though, admittedly, the thought crosses my mind occasionally when you insist on posing for every camera like a glorified mannequin. We have a universe to protect, not a soap opera to star in."

Moon

Moon

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