View source for 790/Things You Used to Do

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/01/03
|Location=Pikarigaoka - Clover Tower
|Synopsis=Kunzite tracks down Zoisite to do damage control. He's had a lot of practice, even if stresses are exponentially higher than they've ever been.
|Cast of Characters=109, 132
|pretty=yes
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{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:132|Zoisite (132)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>Zoisite's got everything aligned, and he's half-pleased and half-discontent, and if he can keep control of ''just this one thing'', it'll be fine. He'll get past this, find the stupid Silver Crystal, be the one to present it to the Queen, get Kunzite back on his side, depose the creep, regain his standing, and never have to think about monster princes ever again.<br /><br />He's perched in midair in the evening sky, floating near the massive flower-like leaves of the universe's most idiotic television broadcasting station and trying to convince himself he's gloating, not flipflopping between sulking and simmering with hatred.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:109|Kunihiro Saito (109)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>It will be fine. Everything will be fine.<br /><br />The hint of deepening shadows in the corner of his eye is just a symptom of that, isn't it?<br /><br />Kunzite manifests in a place where the tower's own structure conceals him from the ground and from the tourists, off to one side of Zoisite. Not in front of him, where he'd demand the other General's instant focus. Not out of sight altogether, which would be inviting attack on the instant, before identification could even be made. Just far enough into peripheral vision to be recognized out of long habit. His tone matches his arrival, clear enough to carry, calm enough to suggest no particular urgency. "Zoisite."<br /><br />At least this way, whatever gets thrown at him will be on ''purpose''.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:132|Zoisite (132)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>The beautiful boy's green eyes widen, then narrow, and he tenses from warring internal reactions before tossing his head and deliberately looking away from Kunzite, the hand his chin had been in reaching up to take the end of his ponytail between delicate gloved fingers and twist it. Around and around and around. "Kunzite," he responds sweetly, venomously. He doesn't look at the white-haired General.<br /><br />What does he want? What could he be here for? Is he here on his own recognizance, is he here because of that Prince? Is he here to help, to sabotage, to repair, to destroy?<br /><br />The uncertainty in his posture is something very, very few people would be able to actually pick up on. The rage is corralled, reined in, controlled and coated in honey. The fear is buried. The unhappiness is dismissed. Zoisite says nothing further, letting Kunzite dig his own grave or pull himself out as he will.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:109|Kunihiro Saito (109)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>Acknowledgment enough. Not the word aloud, but the gesture - not just the twisting at his hair, but which particular locks. There are signals in these things, if one watches closely enough.<br /><br />Kunzite's sphere of shadow drifts closer, coming to the edge of what's currently safe for him. On the one hand, it has a larger profile than Zoisite's slim body; Kunzite's never been as adept in the air as the trickster-General. On the other - as the night settles in, it will grow less obvious. Cityglow makes it never entirely concealed, but one more shadow against a sky that no longer has visible stars is nothing to be concerned about. As long, of course, as one avoids the Moon.<br /><br />"That look never suits you," he comments. As if nothing of his had been destroyed, or half-broken, or left still smoldering when he found it. "I'd rather you be at your best tomorrow. It's a good lure; you should be able to smile over it."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:132|Zoisite (132)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>The hand twirling and tugging at his ponytail tightens briefly into a fist, and Zoisite half-smiles despite himself, then bows his head and works on the smile; the more real he tries to make it, the more fake it gets. He gives up on it, piqued, and simmers. He still refuses to look at the older man.<br /><br />"You're well used to playing with fire," he says softly, emotion packed and layered tightly, confused and confusing, a powderkeg of warning and disaster. "And with beautiful monsters in love with lies. But are you so easily fooled?" he wonders.<br /><br />Finally he glances over his shoulder, and his bright eyes are full of rage, of worry, and of burning and destructive jealousy, overflowing and furious and as much protective as punishing. The boy straightens out lazily, stretching a little. "Whatever that thing is," he says lightly, "it's going to kill you."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:109|Kunihiro Saito (109)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>He can't see the twitch of eyebrows, mild irritation, rather more amusement and indulgence. But he knows the tone. Gentle and edged at once. "Do you think I'm fooled at all?" Kunzite asks. "He's Beryl's toy, not mine. I gave him to her for a reason." And that last word conveys far more than it ought, shaded almost imperceptibly faintly with warmth, with focus above and beyond the usual even for him, with a buried glowing anger of his own.<br /><br />He's talking to the reason. And the reason can tell.<br /><br />It's only when Zoisite glances back at him that Kunzite extends a hand toward him. "It's going to kill someone," he agrees, half-deflects. "I don't intend either of us to be standing in the way when the time comes."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:132|Zoisite (132)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>Zoisite regards that hand for a moment, watches, considers, all while Kunzite's patiently keeping it out for him.<br /><br />And oh, oh how he missed him. If it's true, all the better. If it's only a little true, true enough, then--<br /><br />--then that's good enough.<br /><br />The boy unfolds the rest of the way, then teleports: this is the kind without the sakura petals, this is the kind without the deadly gentleness and understated, ominous theatrics. This is the kind that's instant relocation, used in combat, used to fight incredibly dirty. But this time?<br /><br />This time it's to bypass the outstretched arm entirely, to bypass the sphere (if the offer is as open as it looks, he can, he CAN still teleport through that barrier) and appear in Kunzite's space, and attach to him, and bury his face in the white-haired Shitennou's jacket.<br /><br />His voice is muffled, petulant; his small hands have grabbed fistfuls of fabric, wrinkling Kunzite's impeccable image. "You still need to get me something pretty."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:109|Kunihiro Saito (109)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>One arm is already folding in around him, hand clasping Zoisite's opposite shoulder. The other hand is touching his hair - no. Is tucking something into his hair. "Do I." The flowers are white and star-shaped, jasmine-scented, night-blooming. Both poisonous and addictive.<br /><br />"I have something else for you, later. If you didn't set it on fire yet." There's humor in that voice, as Kunzite settles one hand over his other, keeping Zoisite close. "But it'll wait till your gambit's played out. I don't want you distracted. The situation here is particularly volatile. I'd like to be there tomorrow, in case backup would be useful. But my presence might catalyze trouble, too. You know your plans; it's your decision. Everything else can wait till after."<br> <br>
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