852/Uninvited

Uninvited
Date of Scene:	12 January 2016
Location:	Paris
Synopsis:	Wherein Usagi is stalked and buys her stalker coffee and an eclair. The conversation is disjointed and sad. Mindbendingly heartbreakingly gloriously sad.
Cast of Characters:	Mamoru Chiba, Usagi Tsukino

---

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
It's amazing how much renewed confidence can change someone's appearance. For example, if they walk into a bakery, the slump of their shoulder and distance expression wouldn't be as noticeable if they didn't walk out of said bakery with a straight spine and a determined look in their eye.

Usagi is just this way! And the air is crisp and fresh, not dreadfully freezing, and she breathes in a deep lungful as she spins in place.

And oh! The bridge again! Slosh splash through the slush! It's so pretty here! She wonders what Mamo-chan would want to be doing, if he were here. Look at this pretty river with her? Go to that fancy museum with the Mona Lisa? (Lurv? Loovray? Something!)

A brief bit of melancholy settles over her as she looks down into the water, but for the first time, thinking about him doesn't break her heart all over again!

She gives a soft sigh and pulls out the pocket watch, tracing her fingers lightly over the glass that housed the clockface.

...tick.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
And again.

tick

And then it's just running, as if it had never stopped in the first place.

tick... tick... tick... tick...

If she should stop where she is, it's like the sound surrounding her just falls away, and there's only the ticking of that pocketwatch and her heartbeat, heavy in her throat, her chest.

ba-dum

Like one drop of india ink splashed into a glass of crystal clear water, the sensation of darkness is perceptible in her vicinity.

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
Usagi does stop. Of course she does. The clock is ticking again, and even if it weren't now one of the two only sounds in her ears, it would be all she'd be listening to.

People are moving around her, silent and splashed in a monochromatic grey for all she was aware. They're huddled against the wet winter weather, sloshing through slush and snow, hunched against the cold.

She probably stands out a little, spine straight except where her neck is bowed to stare at the watch, a splash of pale pink wool and pretty pink boots against the grey backdrop.

The ends of her loosened hair dances with slush as she turns her head, trying to find the source of that sudden splash of darkness.

"Hello?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
There's no answer.

The cold wind tugs at her hair, at her clothing.

tick... tick... tick... tick...

The darkness is a feeling, sourceless and ephemeral, blowing on the freezing winter air. It's a familiar darkness; it belongs to her enemies.

tick

She turns her head all around, but no one is looking at her, no one is noticing her at all. She may as well be in a completely different world, one in which she is the only source of vivid color, of life, and everything else is ghosts and photographs. Perhaps she's the same to them, to the people trudging through the grey winter slush and shivering.

tick

One of many people her gaze skims over is a boy who's also stopped, there at the other end of the bridge, motionless and looking at the water; he's got on a dark grey peacoat and a light grey scarf, a black hat pulled down over his hair and ears, black leather gloves; he's leaning against the rail. His face is turned away from her.

tick

Really, except for his motionlessness, he's as monochrome and stark as the rest; as much a part of the landscape as the cars parked half in snowbanks.

tick

It's just that when her eyes travel that space again, he's gone.

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
She shivers and pulls her coat more tightly to her, telling herself it's because of the cold.

For a moment, it looks like she's texting someone. That would be the smart thing to do, one would think.

But no. Makoto's asleep, poor dear, and Ami and Rei are either talking or napping, and Minako...

Well. Suffice it to say, she is not texting anyone. She has a map on her screen, looking for the nearest park.

If this feeling is what she thinks it is, a less crowded place would be preferable. And not many people go to the park in the winter, right?

She slips her phone back in her purse as she shoulders it and picks up her shopping bag.

She tucks her hand under her fuzzy pink hat, ear against the pocket watch, and takes a step forward. And another.

They are determined steps, but she's obviously just a tourist. A strange girl with ridiculously long blonde hair, but a tourist nonetheless.

Her eyes are not sight seeing. Not taking in the architectural differences between Paris and her home. But she is looking.

And she tries not to, but when she reaches where the boy had been, the one who vanished, her eyes wander the ground and the rail, searching for clues that would place him...somewhere else.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
tick

There are footprints where he had been standing; there are damp spots on the railing where the warmth of his arms through his coat melted the ice covering it.

tick

There are no footprints through the slush and snow leading toward, or away from, that spot.

tick

The darkness is gentle, attentive. Present. It follows her. She's being watched.

tick... tick... tick...

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
Her brows furrow together in confusion at the lack of prints leading away as she traces the damp indentations on the rail's snow. But really, why is she surprised.

She sighs, and resigns herself to the fact that she may never have a normal vacation ever again.

But how could anyone possibly know she's here? Sailor Moon hasn't made an appearance, though she's sure if they had Sailor Teleported here it would have saved a bit on airfare. (Not that she's complaining! She's never flown in a plane that long before.)

She continues to listen to the ticking. Sometimes, she has to jerk herself out of a daze, eyes almost sliding close. It wouldn't do to get hit by a bus her first day here.

And soon, though the darkness doesn't leave, her feeling of being threatened does. Not completely, of course, but the muscles in her shoulders relax and her steps slow.

She stops in front of a cafe, looks it up and down, and sighs.

"Well, if you're going to be following me, you may as well have something warm to drink."

She enters the cafe. When she comes out some moments later, she sets half the order down on a table outside. A coffee and an eclair. Hers is almost the same, except for cocoa again.

"It's okay if you don't want it. I'll eat it if you don't."

There's also the possibility she's being paranoid.

Then again, there's also the possibility she'd win the lottery.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
She noticed, and she's calling him out. The watch is still ticking. She's calling him out, and the sense of danger spikes, the sense of there's something wrong.

Outside the cafe again, the world is quiet again, quieter than it should be. There's silence, yes, and no answer, no answer--

...

(this is back-of-neck-prickling, this is goosebumps, this is adrenaline)

quiet and low and right next to her ear

"Do you feed all your stalkers? Be careful, they might follow you home."

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
And she feels it all, as she waits, and the longer she's left waiting and alone, the more tense she becomes.

She's a coiled spring, ready to--

"AIEEEE!" She shrieks, and though she knows that voice, perhaps better than her own, it still startles her. Or maybe that's what startles her most of all.

Without thinking, without looking, she spins, punch aimed at a jaw.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
And there's a slow clapping from about six feet away as her fist swings through empty air. There's the boy from the bridge, faint smile on his face, hat over his ears and hair-- no sunglasses, not on a day as dreary as this. It is, of course, the corrupted Endymion. His eyes are, at least, the greyish rusty red. "Better," he says like an art critic or a particularly judgemental senpai.

And then he's walking closer again, but he skirts her and goes for the hot drink and the eclair. "You look different with your hair down," he tells her. "Also, dry. I take it your angry friend has been giving you lessons in how to react to threats? Not that I meant to be threatening last time, I swear I was just dropping you off."

A pause, and he sips the drink contemplatively. "Usagi, you said, right? What were you doing about twenty minutes ago?"

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
She pants some, and her hand clutches over her heart. "Jeeze, don't sneak up on a girl!"

She allows her shock, and the moment one usually needed to place someone to give him a once over. (Man...even with those eyes...So dreamy! No! Bad Usagi!)

She gently wrings a bit of her hair at his observation, cheeks turning a bit pink. And then he brings up the rain.

She opens her mouth to speak, but remembers Kunzite's warning.

So instead, she gives him an apologetic smile.

"She's just...really protective of me. And I'd been going through some stuff, and looking back, I know it wasn't you. So I'm sorry." And then the smile is grateful. "And I know you were! Really, thank you for that! I'm kind of afraid of thunder."

A slight nose tilt, as though it weren't the most obvious thing in the world to him.

Her blush deepens, because he remembered her name. Not quite the same, but still hers, and he remembered, and the rose on her cheeks could be blamed by the cold and a random cute boy knowing her name.

"Um, yeah. That's me." She clears her throat and takes a sip of cocoa. "I didn't quiet catch yours..."

Or did she?

If she did, she was too scared to notice because thunder!

Man, dual-identities is tough.

She blinks, though, and looks up at him, a bit startled. "Twenty minutes ago?" She taps her chin in thought. "I think I was still in the cafe." Remembering that she's Sailor Fucking Moon, oh yeah! "Why?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Endymion," says the Dark Prince easily, taking the seat she'd put things down in front of, and taking off and pocketing his gloves. Yeah: he's even rocking stylish winter outerwear, how the hell. But you shouldn't wear gloves to eat an eclair. Those dark reddish eyes glance up at her as he deliberately takes a bite of eclair at her, studying her face, noting the blush.

Tiny smirk.

He does know he's beautiful. Hell even Sailor Moon k--

Suddenly he glances down again and thinks about fried chicken, and he laughs a little to himself, but takes the coffee in his hands anyway and just holds it, stealing its warmth and not looking at her. It feels dangerous to look at her right now.

"In the cafe doing what?" he asks, though, not quite pressing. Not quite looking. "Something happened. And I think it was you that did it. It's the only thing that makes sense. I didn't know you were here, I just came looking for-- whatever made me come here, like I was called, and then there you were."

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
Usagi, of course, is enthralled. Because Pretty Boy (who will one day remember her!) doing pretty, bitey things.

And she catches that smirk, and her blush deepens, and her eyes are on her cup of cocoa before his are on his coffee.

"Pleased to meet you, Endymion." Tiny voice. Shy voice.

She does, however, jerk her head up as he finishes talking. Called? Could it have been when she poked the bond?

Nope, don't look at it, don't touch it, don't even think about it. Kunzite was very clear on things.

So she feigns innocence, taking that time where she figures out what to say to appear as she's going over her mind what she'd been doing. "Um...ate a meat pie. Had an eclair. Some cocoa."

Speaking of, she takes a bite of her own eclair. She's not near as deliberate about it as he is, and does not hide her happy, yummy squirms.

"Could it have been something else? Like...indigestion?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
The boy glances up at her happy-wiggling in her seat as she ears her own pastry, then lets out a quiet laugh and sips at his coffee. "You're right. It sounds like a terrible line from some made-for-TV sci-fi movie."

That's not what she said, but she obviously doesn't know what he's talking about so--

--it must be pure coincidence. That she's here. And was so close to where he felt that fiery tearing gentle stabbing pull from, a pain meant to be something else but touching something that hurts so badly he's still trying to edit it out of his recollection.

He looks at the eclair, and isn't very hungry anymore.

"Sorry to bother you. If you see me again, you should find your angry friend and keep her with you. I'm not always myself," Endymion says, finally. And he stands up from his chair and wraps the eclair up in the napkin, carefully gooey-side-up, then puts it in his pocket and picks up his coffee. "I'm serious. Please be careful, okay?"

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
She licks a dallop of filling from her finger as she giggles at his comment. "Maybe!" At least he still watches those! Happy!

And then he's lost in thought, and she's so sorry she can't tell him what it is he's looking for. She wishes she could help take that look off his face. Because he's not Mamoru, but he is. She sees bits and pieces of him here and there, along with someone she knows only from dreams. And she's not so stupid as to believe that that's all there is to the boy sitting in front of her. She knows he's not technically good right now. Just as can feel he's not technically evil. (Lawful Neutral?) But her strongest instinct is telling her to fret and worry over him, to brush her fingers through his hair, tell him everything will be okay.

But she can't.

So instead, she's quiet, too.

Until he gets up to leave.

Her look could be mistaken for barely masked fear, which it is, but not of him. For him. He doesn't like the blackouts, and he's so smart he wants to figure everything out. But if he did that...

"I will." Her voice is soft. But then a little stronger. "But only if you promise me something, too."

She studies her cocoa. "You kind of remind me of a boy I know, the way you looked just then. He's super gorgeous, even more so than you," Blue eyes make all the difference! "And he's even smarter than he is beautiful. And he tries...if he can't figure something out, he obsesses. And he tries hard to figure everything out then and there. And he'll obsess and obsess and fret and he gets headaches and it's just a mess!" Okay, technically maybe that last part wasn't exactly true. "It's just...it comes to him when it needs to. So promise me? That you'll try not to obsess, if you are like him in that way?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It's something that hurts Kunzite to see, to know, as well. The worst part: he really is Mamoru, he really is Endymion, under and behind the corruption and confusion, shoved aside for the thing that wears his skin and speaks from his mouth when his presence is troublesome or inconvenient. Shackled will and shattered mind trying to glue itself together in the dark without making a sound--

Shades of grey and fractures, monochrome and shifting shadows, echoes that don't match the dimensions visible.

There's no question that the darkness that's still trying to smother him, that's resident in every cell of his body and that's wrapped his soul in a chokehold with his mind as its alarm system, is truly evil. The best he can manage is unconscious sabotage, and even that sometimes fails.

Endymion gives Usagi a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and he's motionless as he regards her. It's a moment before he says anything.

Eventually, quietly, "I am surrounded and defined by obsessions; I'm not afforded my own. I've become adept at forgetting, Usagi-chan. Please don't worry for me. Just watch your back."

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
She looks at him for a moment, eyes wide and watery as she takes what he says, rolls them around in her mind.

"I will."

It's what she can address without crying. Because she wants to, so bad, for that small smile and his words.

So she does. And it's a concious thing this time, doing so, because he's never been able to handle tears, her tears, and before he would just nope himself away.

So she's not crying for herself, seeking comfort. She's doing it for him, for 'defined by obsession' and forgetting and everything.

Quiet sobs as she tries to hide them, because even knowing she's doing it for him, she still doesn't want him to see.

"Who'd worry about a jerk like you?"

And she's crying more, hoping he'll leave before she does something stupid, before she ruins everything.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Endymion shifts uncomfortably at those wide, overbright eyes. She's looking at him. Like that. And something in him knows why and he can't let himself hear it, he can't let himself acknowledge it, he can't he can't he can't--

He can't.

He does what he can do.

Without thinking about it at all, studiously not thinking at all, he reaches into his subspace pocket, past Homura's birthday beers, past his hat, past his opera glasses and his bizarre collection of random 'pull out of cape' things--

--and he pulls out a girl's handkerchief with a little embroidered bunny head and 'Usagi Tsukino' in the corner, and he leans forward and presses it into her hands, and then he dissolves into the air like he was never there.

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
The longer he stays, the more she cries.

Just go! She wants to scream at him, to throw things at him, to chase him away.

She can't, of course, because she doesn't actually want any of that.

His fingers brush against hers when he gives her the handkerchief, and that brief moment of very warm contact will be what calms her down when he's gone.

She doesn't look at the handkerchief until he's gone, though her fingers automatically close around it, gripping the soft fabric in her hand.

When she finally does, her crying resolves more quickly than it otherwise would have.

Her handkerchief?

She's lost it ages ago, not knowing where or how. But she recognizes it immediately. It's her lucky one, and he's had it this entire time.

She doesn't go back right away, of course. She finishes the lingering tears, not forcing them to stop because they're for him, and she takes a few moments to compose herself. A few moments to look in more windows.

And she's pretty sure, really, that she's not going to tell anyone about this meeting.

Not because they'd be mad. (They would be, though!)

But because it wasn't a meeting of enemies. It hadn't been an attack.

And it wasn't because he had warned her to stay away. (Always protecting her!)

No.

Simply, she's not going to tell them because it had just been a very sad lost boy trying to figure out pieces he doesn't even know he's missing.