Zoisite's palace. There was an observation not too long ago that Mamoru does tend to play favorites with the palaces, and to a certain extent it's true. Zoisite's is the most luxuriously appointed, and the combination of its quality of greenery -- lush and vivid and everywhere -- the brilliant colored light from the stained glass windows, and the feeling of secret rich seclusion with vast ancient ever-changing steadiness, all mingle to create the place the prince feels the most comfortable when he's unwell and alone.
It's not so very green, now.
The light's muted, the inside of the castle dark under the overcast sky; the ground is dry and the grass becoming brittle.
Earlier, Mamoru had been curled up against the roosting raven, reading some escapist fiction or other on his kindle; when Usagi arrives, he's just sitting on the wide stone steps out front with his arms around his knees, leaning against a pillar and watching the patterns of dark spots appear on the ground as it begins to drizzle.
After revelations, both obvious and not really, that have come to light not long ago, Usagi's feeling about how Zoisite's palace looks. She stops just before the courtyard's entrance, a worried frown on her face as she looks around.th a small sigh, she continues forward, shifting a bag of goodies under her arm as she works loose the bobby pins in her hair.
(Hair petting can be theraputic for the petter and pettee, and maybe he'll take the hint?)
Plink, plonk.
One or two fall as she walks, but she'll get them later.
"Zoisite cannot be happy about this."
As she sits, she worms and wiggles her head beneath one of his arms despite it being a bit of a tight fight.
And with him not being well, with the palace looking as it does, and with Naru and everything else, it probably really shouldn't be a sudden calm when she's snuggled against him. But, well, he's her happy place.
As Mamoru watches Usagi approach, some of the clouds disperse-- granted, only some of those on his face, but things are at least a little brighter. His expression doesn't change much, but it goes from listlessness with a side of tension to something both reactive and gentle, and the corners of his eyes soften. It's not a terribly tight fit when she wriggles her way under his arm, since he let go where his hand clasped his other wrist-- and when she's properly curled in against his side, his arm drapes properly around her.
That's not tight either, but it doesn't hurt any more than just sitting there does; it's more comfortable, just because she's there.
"They're all failing. I'm draining their resources and it's not working to help much anymore," he says without heat, without fuss: just an observation. "Once I leave they'll be able to commit to keeping what's happening to the planet from touching its magic. Buy more time. But I'm selfish. I want the rest of today here with you."
His hand isn't moving, but it's warm and flat and wide against her, on skin and cloth.
She sags, just a little, against him as her fingers tighten against his shirt and her shoulders droop.
She knew, of course, that it was only a matter of time, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less.
But, of course, even though he likely feels she Does Not Want, she knows that he's not exactly looking forward to it, either. So she perks a little and shifts against him, her elbow resting on his shoulder as her fingers sift through his hair. "Well, they have really soft blankets. And if you need to type something, I'm sure even Luna would volunteer. Especially if you want to look up kitten videos." She lowers her voice in a whisper. "Don't tell her I told you, but she gets all mushy around kittens."
Mamoru laughs, bending his head a little to kiss the top of hers, even as her fingers are in his hair. "That's ridiculously adorable. I'd definitely be down with Luna clicking on kitten videos for me."
He doesn't talk about how soft blankets will be too heavy, or about how it's not just his joints anymore, and how even here he's had to take something to rewire his pain receptors into remembering that touch itself isn't an attack. It doesn't hurt right now, and that's what's important right now. Tomorrow things will be bad, but today they're still tolerable, and that's what he's focusing on: the warmth of her against him, the light delicacy of her fingers in his hair, her scent so close and her voice-- all of her-- so soft.
He leans his face into her hair, eyelashes wet, and his heart is full and his throat is closed with the intensity of how much he loves her. That's what comes through, that's what shines so brightly. "I'm so lucky," he breathes out, barely a whisper. "With you-- and everyone-- I'm so happy. Even if things are frightening right now, everything is so much better than it was."
Usagi gives a small giggle. And then another as the mental image of Luna wailing about how adorable kitten in bowls are as she clicks through pictures and videos, probably not giving Mamoru time to properly bask on a few. "Do you think she'll forget how to can?"
The fingers not in his hair play softly against his jaw. She feels warm and loved and love, and she knows that even during the bad times, when things get so scary that all she wants to do is hide under her covers, she'll still be able to have this bright, warm light.
She's very determined to chop down the beanstalk now. And beat up Fiore until he's good again. (Why fix a tactic that ain't broke?)
"I have a new plan, now." It's a very good plan! "It's my 'Try to Make Mamo-chan Happier Than He Is Right Now' plan." She pulls back, just, only to lightly boop her nose against his. "Because in my professional opinion, a Happy Mamo-chan is one of the best things in the world. Even better than cake."
And there it is. He kisses the top of her head, and then carefully bows his head, moving it to one side, so he can kiss the side of her neck right where her jaw meets her ear. "I hope," he murmurs, bright amusement in his voice, "that me being secretly happy most of the time and only being embarrassingly happy some of the time is acceptable. I have a reputation to maintain."
It's only guiding, suggesting; he doesn't pull her closer, but he shifts position so he's unfolded, and lets her know with a light touch here, a mild tug there, where he wants her to settle closer to him.
The growing brightness of both of their hearts-- much like Madoka's henshin into Madokami in Jadeite's palace the other day-- has a definite effect on their surroundings; the air is clearer and the drizzle stops, clouds in the sky moving aside to let patches of sunlight touch on the beleaguered greenery and casting it in a brilliant verdant glow. Everything is still and hushed, as if the palace holds its breath.
"Let's forget everything for a little while," he whispers.
Usagi beams as she nuzzles against his cheek, his lips tickling her skin. "Mamo-chan. Those embarrassingly happy bits are like special levels in Sailor V! Totally worth it."
She's easy to guide and easy to coax. After all, being closer to him is always her goal. When she settles again she's surrounded by his warmth.
She's nuzzling his cheek again when he speaks, and her cheeks grow a bright pink as she smiles. "I can do that."
She's not sure if its a shift that's noticeable to him, but suddenly, all of her focus is on him. All that energy usually reserved for putting off homework, or reading a manga, or annoying her brother is being shifted and redirected. And for the moment, all there is is him.
And so frequently lately, Mamoru hasn't even had that kind of attentive capacity-- but bit by bit, her own focus is helping him to gather the remaining fragments of his and bring his full attention to bear on her in turn. It's always easier with help. It's always easier with Usagi. It's always, always easier to focus on her anyway--
--and without even the realization it's going on, the half-dream stuff of the palaces, drunk on their love and their reflected reinforcement of each other, guides the shift of another focus:
It's Endymion's arms that find the strength to gather Usagi in and lift her up as he bends his head to kiss her, then touch his forehead to hers, smiling. It's Endymion's rich dark blue jacket with the gold trim that he cradles her against, forgetting the bag of goodies she brought. It's Endymion who stands, carrying Usagi in to Zoisite's castle and moving the small door in the big door closed with his foot, starting to grin.
And it's Mamoru's secret smile, just for her, that that grin turns into once they're across the main room and headed for the staircase.
The place unfolds for them, the most accomodating of the half-forgotten dreams of what was once and may be again. Where they pass through, the colors are brighter and the shadows warmer, lit and revivified by the brilliance of Usagi's warm silver glow. There were reasons beyond security that Serenity's mother locked these places to the Senshi instead of their owners, after all.
These two, they give each other the strength they need.
"I think," Mamoru whispers against Usagi's hair, "there's a room here with bunny sheets."