2508/Dissidents: Nemesis

Dissidents: Nemesis
Date of Scene:	05 May 2025
Location:	Plot Room 1
Synopsis:	After being introduced to the King of the Crystal Palace, Zoisite is left in the library to hunt through the system for any information on the dissidents of the Black Moon Clan. Nephrite and Rashmi decide to join him on this. Suspicions arrise.
Cast of Characters:	Zoisite, Rashmi Terios, Nephrite
Tinyplot:	Black Moon Clan
Tinyplot2:	BMC: Dimension Future

---

Zoisite has posed:
Once King Endymion stepped away, Kunzite and Zoisite had a small moment together where the older Shitennou assisted in recharging his phone and any other devices needed for the gathering of information. And then a small kiss was given before Kunzite parted.

This was when the youngest of the Elite turned towards the sea of monitors and control panel at the back of the library. A nod before his approach, sliding the gloves off of both his hands.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
Having promised to tell the story to King Endymion when he had some rest, a free moment, and less noise thrown his way, Rashmi turned and made her way to a terminal near Zoisite. Her huge, armored tome floats down from behind her shoulder, flipping both its covers open and coming to rest at a perfect reading-stand angle... and then a multitude of holographic 'screens' bwip to life above the pages.

For the moment, she seems content to navigate the 'old-fashioned' way; search-engine term skill alone.

Zoisite taking off his gloves earns a curious look, and a raised eyebrow. It *could* be just 'I don't trust future touch-screens to not be more futuristic,' but, it could also be not that!

Discovering which is what will be interesting enough on its own, to keep an eye on the boy over.

Nephrite has posed:
Impressive as all this technology looks, Nephrite must confess, they held no charms to him. He would infinitely prefer a book.

He is, however, a Knight of Intelligence-- a secret keeper, a gatherer of smithereens, and of pertinent information to his Prince. It was his business, in the courts of ancient times, to know who and what and why. To connect rumour to result. To uncover deceptions, reveal mysteries, and trace leads. His is the business of understanding why people do what they inevitably do, and to manage it to their benefit.

So it is understandable that he is here, alongside the screens, with gloved hands held in militaristic fashion behind the small of his back. Watching over Zoisite like a hawk.

It isn't just the psyche of the enemy he needs to navigate.

Zoisite has posed:
Gloves were neatly tucked into his belt, long delicate fingers slide over the console for a moment, searching for the current of energy it had. Neutral, be it electric or crystalline. Get acquainted with it. He was no wielder of electricity like Jupiter, but for some reason, his talents with telepathy still granted him this grace when it came to technology.

A small nod to his modern thirst in knowledge.

He could feel the presence of the other two around him as well. Rashmi, always hovering close. Even if he wished to fuck with her, much of this journey did not give him time to play cat and mouse. No, his focus was much more raw and clear as to who he really was, an unfortunate open book study for anyone nearby if they wished to look in. This would make things more difficult when they returned to their time, yet this current mission was much more important. So he did not mind her presence.

What he did mind was Nephrite's. Lips twitched slightly but said nothing at that moment towards his roommate. Mind returned to the focus on the advanced machine in front of him before closing his eyes. His fingers pressed over the smooth of the console--

TZZTZzz- His fingers glowed a soft blue light, so did his eyes, hidden behind his eyelids.

A vicious flicker of all the monitors, halting whatever they were showing even if someone was touching the screens. Then a rapid dumping of everything was seen. Fast, frantic, an opening and searching of files and data through the servers in which Zoisite could reach. Anything about the dissidents that would eventually become the Black Moon Clan. Especially them leaving Earth.

"This will only take a moment." Zoisite added, controlled breathing. Eyes moved rapidly under the lids.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
Her first thought, upon seeing Zoisite magically manipulate the Castle's information systems like Coco swam through the ocean waters was; '...Magic is *so awesome.*'

...Her second thought was; '...Man, that is *cheating!*'

But it didn't stop her from accomplishing her task in her own manner, even if it the search-and-download stage *was* glacially slow by comparison.

So instead of voicing her second thought, she paused, and her book flipped itself over of its own accord. With a tap, she extracted a softly glowing cube, then another resulted in what was likely her cellphone, and a third a jar of loose tea and bamboo travel tea set.

"If you want someplace else to put all that," she says into the thrumming silence, "Nicomachea's paired with my phone; he can drop everything into that cube, it's made to store data."

One assumes, given that it's the analog of a thumbdrive created by an alien civilization that uses magic to navigate spacetime, that it... probably has more space than a paltry few gigabytes.

Catching the movement of brown hair out of the corner of her eye, she turns to look back, and gives Nephrite a sincere, warm smile. "And how are *you* holding up?"

Nephrite has posed:
"Handsomely." Nephrite smiles at Rashmi with an incline of his head, revealing very little of his tension with the other Shitennou just now. "But, if you're about to make some tea... I wouldn't refuse a cup."

Perhaps in a point of very slight warning he adds, with a tilt of his head towards Zoisite, "But, now you know better than to leave any of your personal items alone around this one. He's a menace for changing a calendar and contacts around, amongst other things."

Zoisite has posed:
"Fuck off, Nephrite. I can hear you." Zoisite muttered, breathing still very slow and focused, as though he very almost asleep. Mind slipping deep into the servers and plucking at anything he can get his metaphorical fingers on. Too fast, too urgent for him to have an appropriate reaction in the physical, but what he was seeing was already ingrained in his mind. Perks of the magical telepathy granted to him.

But... He still smelled the tea. Head lifting slightly, pointy nose in the air. "May I also have a cup, Rashmi?" It was a quiet request. He knew he would need one after this.

"Also, is Nicomachea available for me to have and connect to my phone? Or do you have a spare you would not miss?" Vague, calm, but it was an urgent question.

Due to the amount of information his mind was going through, so much discarded but some retained, it was like all Zoisite could do was be physically vulnerable in that moment.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"No, but that's why I'm letting you have *my* phone," Rashmi answers, glancing back at Nephrite and smiling. "I'd be willing to bet he can pull the data off as fast as you put it on, and one of his special talents is--

    << *BONG!* >> << CONFIRMED, >> says the book, in a voice very much like a kindly, elder English professor warming up to his favorite subject and about to launch into the most interesting lecture you've ever heard. << DEVICES MOST OFTEN ARE CONSTRUCTED SUCH THAT FORM DICTATES FUNCTION. THUS, IT IS MY PURPOSE TO ANALYZE, COLLATE, AND DISSEMINATE HELPFUL INFORMATION. >>

"--or I can let him talk about his favorite thing, sure, that too," Rashmi mutters, though it's quite a fond exasperation. "Anyway he keeps one metaphorical foot in my cell phone, so I'm not really worried about anyone changing *anything* that can't be set back a nanosecond later. Also, absolutely people can have tea! Nicomachea? Bucket."

This time, there's a bit of theatrics as Rashmi pulls a half-full bucket of Jadeite's ice from the book's crystal. "Solar Shield -- Blaze Shift. Cooking parameters, if you please?"

With a cheerful << *BONG!* >> a bowl-sized and -shaped half-dome of light appears within arm's reach of Rashmi, then just... lights itself on fire, and Rashmi starts feeding chunks of ice into it.

Nephrite has posed:
Nephrite, privately, imagines the owl from a children's book that he knows.

"Even all this time later, I'm still just as fascinated by the abilities of Device users as I was when I first encountered..." That is a thought that almost gets away from him. The very last thing he wants is to start down the wrong side of memory lane, to the inspirations taken from the Barriers and Zero Time that nearly brought Midnight Tokyo into being, and he refrains. He clears his throat.

"Thank you, Rashmi-san."

Zoisite has posed:
"Hm," Zoisite hums, a small fraction of his mind set aside to consider what he could do instead before finally shaking his head slowly. "Thank you, Rashmi. Instead, could you do something for me?"

Before she answered, he turns his head like he wanted to point towards the leather hip pack that hung off the small of his back. "Pull my phone and unlock it? Password, 1949. Place it on the console, please."

It would be the first item easily reachable in his pack. Lock screen in a picture of his room window, full of saplings and the pot of beautifully flowering violets. The only one. Once unlocked, the his background was a candid picture of Mamoru and the rest of the Shitennou all eating dinner in their Prince's apartment. It seemed, that evening, they were having a hot pot. One had a face stuffed full, another blowing at cooked meat that still steamed, another drinking, and so on.

A happy bond. Not so long ago.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"You are," Rashmi says with a grin to Nephrite, "always welcome, Nephrite-san. Both of you."

As the ice becomes water and slowly becomes boiling water, Rashmi nods in answer to the request, unzipping the hip pack and extracting the phone as politely as possible, then unlocks it. "Nicomachea: Wipe the last five seconds of my sensory recording from memory, please."

The cheerful << *BONG!* >> almost covers up the fond laughter at the background. It's *always* nice to see Mamoru having a good time, and illuminating to see the other boys comfortable and happy, and it's with the phone oriented for best viewing of the picture, that she sets it on the console as directed, then moves along to open the jar.

A *strong* waft of Assam tea, and citrusy cardamom and orange-peel floats up into the vicinity, as Rashmi starts measuring out tea into a bamboo strainer pod, which gets plopped into the thermos.

"Devices *are* fascinating," she says after a moment's contemplation of the steaming water in the burning, holographic brazier. "Honestly the whole TSAB seems pretty incredible. They use magic to power *entire starships,* and their nation *spans dimensions.* Just figuring out the hardware as much as I have, makes me feel like I've poked my head into the window of something *astounding.*"

Nephrite has posed:
"I'll confess, I never quite wrapped my head around certain things," Nephrite acknowledges, eased by Rashmi's humbleness and understanding. "But perhaps that's for the better. Between you and I, I'm quite okay to go on living my life with a little bit of mystery, there."

His gaze, too, turns to the phone. The picture it has revealed. He looks like an idiot, and he is drinking-- guzzling from the last of the Sake bottle in an attempt to make Mamoru laugh. It's a mixed feeling, to see it-- he remembers the promise he made to Naru, and failed to keep.

One of many things in a series of disappointments, there. One of the people, a dear friend, that he had left behind when he went overseas. Removing himself from the lives of others, for a time. Distancing himself from those he thought he could only continue to hurt.

But there they are, together. The four-- *five* of them. Happy enough. Healing what was fractured. Finding their way again.

Sapphire eyes lift to Zoisite, because this is *his* phone. His priorities. A sigh, heavier than it ought to be, leaves his nose.

Zoisite has posed:
"Thank you." Zoisite could feel the moment this phone was placed on the console, his connection leaping through the back like it was charging it's battery wirelessly.

It's screen, like the monitors, also began to move quickly, like a finger rapidly swiping left to right, up and down, clicking through setting and beginning to erase several if not 95% of his applications on his phone. Space, he needed space and memory for everything.

Music, pictures, where would he put those? Of course he had back up of his files and pictures back in his room, except for the more recent photos. But those were small details in the middle of so much chaos that needed to be fixed. And this was clearly much more important.

Shifting about, he was finally able to gather all of the information he wanted and felt would be convincing, compressing, making folders and transferring everything back and forth from server of origin to memory bank and copying everything onto his own phone.

It took about a few minutes something that would, in normal time, take hours. Without much ceremony, Zoisite disconnected himself and fell ass first on the floor with a massive headache and nausea.

"Ough--"

On the main monitor, there were two folders. DISSIDENTS: NEMESIS and ZOI: FOR KING ENDYMION.

Were anyone to click on the first folder, it was all the research information Zoisite gathered on the Black Moon Clan before they lost contact with them twenty five years ago. The other folder was much more private, full of other folders that brimmed with music from their own time, and some of Zoisite's musical practices.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
Rashmi is, one could say, a student of the Teenage Sigh. It's such a versatile and nuanced language all its own, with minor variations in attack, sustain, and decline -- not to mention vocalization -- that can translate into wildly different emotional expressions. So when the redhead believes she just heard Teenage Sigh #64 (guilt-ridden nostalgia), she can't help but glance back over her shoulder again, raising an eyebrow in silent question. There is no prying, though, and *no* speaking the question aloud. The relationship between these two, in her munificent experience, is fraught more often than not, and best not to give a gremlin ammunition.

"Aperture: 2mm," she says, holding the Thermos close enough to the burning Shield to ensure accuracy, but far enough away that the heat won't touch it, and obligingly a tiny hole opens up in the very middle, allowing boiling-hot water to pour through into the container. Once done, she dismisses the Shield, then sets the bottle on the table to steep--

At which point Zoi pitches over onto the floor, causing Rashmi to drop right down next to him, but not, repeat, *not* putting hands on the boy. "Can I help?" she asks instead, in the measured gentleness of someone who is *not* panicking, or is at least good enough at shoving panic under the bed to Handle The Issue. "Tea won't be ready for a couple minutes, and it's studyin' tea. I can make something lighter, but it'll take a bit."

Nephrite has posed:
Nephrite barely has time to register the small and tactful look Rashmi sends him before Zoisite is on the floor, but here she would recieve yet another fine specimen of a sigh-- one far more obvious. That of an older brother resigned to looking after a younger one, when they're overdoing something and it ends with a recoil.

"Can you get this idiot a chair?" He lowers to settle hands beneath Zoisite's arms and moves to lift him back up onto his feet, rather unceremoniously.

Zoisite has posed:
Gods, he wanted to throw up while his mind still tried to slow down. Eyes still shut as he knew he would projectile bile otherwise--and Nephrite's delicate handling of him was not helping his stomach at all.

"You're such a boar--argh--" He would have preferred to stay on the floor before getting up but too late for that now.

"Chamomile. I need my head to stop." Was his reply to Rashmi.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"I can do that," Rashmi affirms, scooting to fetch a chair from parts nearby, and return in time to hear Zoisite's request. She does *not* give Nephrite a precise readback -- that she can indeed get this idiot a chair -- though it would have been the perfect time to. Perhaps later, when sniping becomes an expression of fondness *as well as* irritation.

This... was not expected, and she turns to her book, poking her way through a list helpfully brought up on one of the screens. "Chamomile, chamomile... hmmmm.... Oh! ...Well it's not tea, but--"

A tap, and a small candy box is extracted from the Device, flipped open... then presented to the hopefully-now-seated Zoisite. Five of the eight partitions are empty, but the last three have little wagashi nestled in them, cheerfully flower-shaped; two white and yellow, one cool green. "...Chamomile and mint wagashi," she admits. "Because math finals last term were *brutal* for me. If they help, they're yours."

"...Also," she says, looking over her shoulder. "With the understanding that I *will* be exploded if I touch the other one... Can I have a look at the Dissidents folder?"

Nephrite has posed:
"It's all public information, go ahead." Nephrite reminds, perhaps a little insensitive of Zoisite's efforts to collect and organise it efficiently, but he too needs to see what was found. "I want to know what we're really dealing with here."

He's settled Zoisite into the chair without grace, and in fact settled his hands upon his shoulders as if to hold him in it. He leans forward over Zoisite's shoulder, looming over him to give him a pointed look.

"Anything particularly important that stands out to you, Zoisite?" There's subtext to that question. "Anyone that grabbed your focus?"

Zoisite has posed:
"No use of me answering then." Mutters as Nephrite decided to step in. Yes, it was insensitive to him personally as his original intent was of a specific kind besides just getting it for others sake. Also those hands on his shoulders were particularly heavy.

"The one for his Majesty is just music from my phone. I thought he would find some solace in it." A hand lifted to his face, rubbing against his eyelids and pinching the bridge of his nose. The sweet smell of wagashi did help some though. He was quietly thankful for that. "So if you need my particular taste in music, then go ahead. I don't care."

He did. He cared immensely but the headache made him not want to argue the point right now.

"Nephrite do you mind? You weight like an elephant." A snip. Not his brightest. "...There's official documentations of the dissidents that left Earth to chartered colonies within the Empire, as his Majesty stated. They were not meant to land on Nemesis. In fact the colonies lost contact with the ship." A cough, stomach still settling.

"There's schematics and pictures of the ship in the folder, news articles of when they left. All communications between the ship and colonies were documented. Even the passengers. They all had names, they had children... about 30 children and 186 adults in total. Possibly more since the ship was self sufficient. They had plenty of supplies. Water, food..."

"The ship in the picture matches exactly the one the Black Moon Clan uses."

Slowly, he tried opening his eyes. "Maybe I have my phone? I don't think this boar will let me move from here."

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"Opening other peoples' mail is *rude.* Also illegal," is all Rashmi says regarding the King Endymion file. Possibly because she judges it the quickest way to keep Zoisite from worrying about her intentions, and the Dissidents file is quickly accessed from her own terminal... But then Zoisite himself starts to summarize its contents, then ask for his phone back, which Rashmi immediately turns to take care of... and collect tea and cups in the process.

Turns out the thermos is smaller than it looks, for the bottom third is actually a pair of bamboo cups, and all of the tea within is poured out and offered to the boys. For herself, she absently plucks a melon soda -- cold when it went in, if the beading water on the side is any indication -- and considers things.

"...I thought it was pretty strange, when Endymion-sama never mentioned the person tat was already *on* Nemesis, but it could have just been distraction and upset. But if you don't know the story... There was someone already there. Someone who was *so evil* that the Queen *un-abolished the death penalty in his specific case.* And then exiled him there when *It didn't work.*"

Unscrewing the cap of her soda, she takes a thoughtful sip. "So that makes me wonder... if the ship wasn't *supposed* to go to Nemesis... D'you think when Earth lost contact, was when he *made* contact?"

Nephrite has posed:
Nephrite eased up only slightly, keeping on hand upon Zoisite's shoulder. He took his tea, a small thanking issued. A sip was followed by a considerate tilt of his head.

"Who better to target than a group already at odds with his enemies?" Nephrite agreed, arching a brow knowingly-- that was an interesting point, perhaps, in terms of any sympathy Zoisite may still be carrying. Such as that business with the Boule Brothers, who so resembled Kunzite, and were destroyed before Zoisite could be satisfied that they were not somehow connected to him.

"It being an uninhabitable planet, if he had the means-- and clearly the power-- to exempt them... or arm them with unique resources, like that fantastic spire of death out there..." He clicked his tongue distastefully, lifting the cup to his mouth. "That's quite the base of operations."

Zoisite has posed:
When Rashmi returned his phone to him, he was able to look up at her as he spoke. "Thank you." Squinting still, but able to connect eye to eye.

"Death Phantom. Banished. He was the only one supposed to reside there. It would make sense that all communications stopped if he got ahold of that ship... But I can only guess how many are still alive, if any besides the ones we know of right now." He looked over his phone, making sure everything needed was on there.

PDFs, videos, pictures that he was now flipping through before settling on one set. Of a couple with white hair that resembled Kunzite so, so much.

A shivering inhale, aching mind returning to the twins. Twisting dying bodies, eyes and mouths open wide as crimson light left them. Air left him then. His chest ached now, heart filled with questions, to his conversation with Makoto when he was left alone after the battle against the Boule Brothers.

What if...

"The people on that ship believed much in violence, murder, another atrocities as part of humanity's progress. Peace being the unnatural option. They were primed for manipulation... Especially the children." What is it was so strong, and there is no chance to even talk to them like he was with Saphir. What then? Even if they were imprisoned for the rest of their lives as criminals, at least a chance was given.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"...And Death Phantom had however long to just... saturate the world in Dark Energy..." Rashmi murmurs, looking down at her soda. She sits in silence for a moment, then takes in a breath.

"...When they attacked the baseball game... One of my friends was there. She said that at one point, she got... pulled into some kind of mental projection. Memories of a blasted world, where the air hurt to breathe and even the water was so saturated with Dark Energy that you could feel it poisoning you, even as it was the only thing that let you survive." Frowning down at her sweet, joy-flavored drink, as if it alone were responsible for the memory, she looks up at the two boys.

"...Feels like all he'd need to get into their heads is... it's the King and Queen's fault they're even on that world, and the rest could take care of itself. Just... feed their resentment, feed that power, feed that hate, and the army can sustain itself."

And then she looks over her shoulder, in the direction of the obelisk, as though she can see it through the bookshelves and crystal walls. "Yeah," she says, musingly. "...That's gotta go."

Nephrite has posed:
"Sometimes, suffering in and of itself can become a badge of superiority... strength being all that mattered in a world like that. Surviving where nothing else can, and a generation that doesn't know any different-- even the ones who remember Earth, memories are easily altered by that kind of power and antipathy. We know that all too well."

Nephrite's gaze traced the image of the pair, noting their resemblances to Kunzite. It brought into sharp relief the possibility that such a reincarnated child could have easily perished on that world. Then again, being Kunzite... perhaps he may have risen up high in the ranks. Higher than the Boule brothers, at any rate. But there was likely no way to salvage him, even if he did.

Not enough time, and far too much programming to undo. Too dangerous to take chances with, even if only fuelled by Dark Energy. If they discovered any of the Shitennou had been reborn amongst the Black Moon Clan, the swiftest and simplest mercy they could offer was death. To save them further shame, to free them of whatever hold plagued them-- this eternal curse of being manipulated against their purpose.

Three for three, in a world like this? He would not hesitate. If they dared to be reborn again after that, it would at least be into peace.

"The weakest perish, and the most 'worthy' come out on top... I can imagine the sort of things they've been told. Taught to think that chaos and hardship is where where power is born and innovations are made... People being pressed to their limits and forced to evolve beyond them." His mouth ticks. "They could see Crystal Tokyo as a place where cowards cling to the legs of the King and Queen, and humanity becomes stagnant and dependant. Coddled like children... even stunted."

Small Lady may have even been useful in strengthening such a delusion, but he doesn't voice this aloud. Nephrite can see the bottom of the lie, as if this is all a great test-- a gauntlet for survivors. A reassertion of 'natural order', as Zoisite suggests.

Zoisite has posed:
Zoisite listened carefully to the extra information Rashmi shared about her friend having felt what Nemesis was like. He remember what it was like to have nothing but Dark Energy in his veins, living off of it like it was a drug.

"Hate is a power emotion. It consumes completely if you let it." Zoisite nodded, eyes still looking at the picture of the parents. Took him another moment before swiping away, to another couple that seemed rather similar to one of the Specter Sisters. Koan. The sneers on their faces were catlike, sharp. He could see the resemblance.

"Retaliation comes next. Wanting to see it all burn. Doesn't matter if the people you love die in pursuit of it, you also expect to die just as long as you can guarantee the end of that which you hate the most."

Weapons lifted towards the Moon. Clouds painted red. Murky memories, but that what he could remember was so vivid. Of Prince Endymion defending the Princess only to be cut down....

Eyes closed again, dry swallow with his knuckles now pressed against his mouth. The information about the dissidents continued to itch as his brain where the dull ache continued.

"But that means, the Black Moon Clan might not be the only threat we are facing. If they are just being used as fodder to get the work done, that just means someone else much stronger is behind them." Eyes opened again, finger swiping to the next picture. This family resembled Saphir. Dark eyes, blue hues, pale skin.

"Would you remember your own? I wonder..."

Rashmi Terios has posed:
While its quite clear the subject matter doesn't sit well with her... This is important information. Not just to figure out who they're up against, but to understand them. and if you understand someone, you have a better chance of out-thinking, out-strategizing someone... And maybe even out-maneuvering their defenses, to present them with a choice they'd otherwise refuse.

So Rashmi assumes her attentive, Good Listening posture as Nephrite speaks, both filing the information away herself, and having Nicomachea transcribe it into notes for her to review later, but giving them both her total attention. And when Zoisite picks up the thread, her attention turns to him... which is how she marks the closing eyes, sees him press his fist to his mouth. What's roiling in his gut has little and less to do with his technopathic strains; this, she knows as certainly as she knows Nephrite was just beating himself up earlier.

"It means," she says, voice quiet, "that the Black Moon Clan almost certainly isn't the greatest threat... But it's the one we can reach right now. And maybe..."

'Reach' was a very, very deliberate word choice, with many layers of meaning. She saw the blue-haired family, after all. She heard the question pose by Zoisite. And she has Deep Feelings on the matter of Dark-energy poisoned, possessed people who are also powerful threats.

"I think it would be worth trying, Zoisite-san. They deserve the choice too. But... the Droids," she trails off, gesturing in the vague direction of Outside. "...they worry me the most. Not the mass-produced ones, but... Like the Spectre Sisters. How many times did they die? And is the original body still alive, or at least kept in stasis, so whoever's in charge of remaking them has a template to work from?"

Nephrite has posed:
That family of blue hues and paleness are familiar, and Nephrite's gaze narrows upon it over Zoisite's shoulder. Awareness trickles through him, and he gleans something of the direction in which the other's mind is headed.

"You realise this is tantamount to getting through cult programming, at the very least?" To say nothing of the effects of being held in the grip of Dark Energies, and to become warped within the use of such power.

"I'm not wholly certain 'choice' is the operative word here-- they may not even have the perspective to understand that there *is* one. You may as well be trying to convince a Sparkle to turn against everything they know, and take the Dark path." He frowned, and motioned his tea. "You're a lot more likely to get you and the people with you blasted to bits, on this one. Or worse--"

A nod to Rashmi's point about the droids, then, "What if one of us gets captured for wasting our breath, Zoisite? What happens if they put you on a block and have one of those things running around and causing havoc?" Sapphire eyes regarded the seated Shitennou. "Unless you know something we don't?"

Zoisite has posed:
Hand against his mouth tightened at the notion that Rashmi was correct in her assumptions. How bold of her, and how utterly accurate. If only he could claw himself out of this situation, run to--where? A world that was dying had nowhere safe to huddle up. And why run from something more sympathetic than a person who might be willing to think similar to himself in this case.

Unlike Nephrite, who almost loomed over him like a harsh reminder of what they were in the past. Hammering down that they lacked time. That this was a losing battle, if it truly was what Zoisite wanted to pursue.

Did he dare speak a word? It would be easier to lie, but such a thing would be short lived. Perhaps only worsen the situation. In fact, were he to face Kunzite or his prince, would he be able to do the same? Lie?

No. No he wouldn't.

Index finger pressed on the small power button of his phone, shutting it off completely to save its battery. The picture of the blue haired family blinking out into the dark.

"I only know as much as either of you. This information is new to me." A pause then, like he was bracing. "...Tell me something, both of you. Clearly you both are intelligent, but perhaps will not see eye to eye. If there is a glimmer of hope, would you pursue it?"

Rashmi Terios has posed:
Round-lensed glasses catch the light momentarily, as Rashmi turns her head up to regard Nephrite fully. "First of all," she notes, raising a finger, "bold of you to assume it hasn't already happened, in both directions. I've seen people fall by being possessed, I have been possessed, and I've seen people turn to Obsidian out of desperation. I've also helped people get out from under there, of their own free will, twice now. One of whom came here with us. So... I know we don't have time for the proper deprogramming efforts, but no effort to free someone from the Dark is wasted effort. And I know a lot of people who'd agree."

At which point she turns to Zoisite, and nods. "Without question, I would," she answers. "Even if you only think about it strategically, it's the smart play. Remove an enemy, or remove an enemy and maybe gain a powerful ally? It'd be an eay choice even if I didn't start from the assumption that everyone deserves a way out of the Dark."

At which point she looks back up at Nephrite, and her smile becomes a touch crooked. "But that's just how I'm wired," she says, referring to the last conversation the trio had. "Even if you can't save everyone... you need to try. So... yeah. I'd pursue a glimmer of hope, and I'd stand right next to anyone else who tried."

Nephrite has posed:
"What if trying gets the people that are crucial to things killed? Or captured? Or fallen themselves? It's all good and well for you to sit there and play bright sides, you're firm in your convictions already." Sapphire eyes narrow at Rashmi now rather sharply. "It's bold of you to assume Zoisite's ready to look at things quite the same way or for that same reason, or speak to us as if Obsidian wasn't what we fought our way free of. As if we don't know. As if we're not the most vulnerable to dangerous sympathies."

His hand tightens on upon the shoulder. "Hope isn't some vague thing in the distance without definition. It's situational and ever changing. It isn't fixed. Smart play-- as if they're not thinking the same thing, looking at certain people in our group." He snorts derisively.

"These elites from amongst the children... they've been in this their whole lives. It's their whole worldview. They're very good at what they do and it's a little late in the game-- and a little too many bodies on the pile-- to take big risks. I'm not moving to lift a finger for any of them until I see good reason to, and I don't. My choice is Earth, it is Endymion, it is Small Lady-- and the promise we made her to all get through this in one piece. If an enemy has better senses to come to reason, they'll seek us out and bring plenty to the table with them, if they want to keep their neck. Until then, this is war. We are the hope for this world, and we were never entitled to second chances."

His gaze drops to Zoisite. "And I don't want to watch you waste yours on something foolish, for seeing what isn't there."

Zoisite has posed:
As hands tightened on his shoulders, Zoisite tensed--not out of fear, but at the weight it brought. Again, a damn reminder of what they were, who they used to be, and what they are now. In return, his own muscles tensed a bit, hearing both of them speak to their convictions. At least he was correct in assuming that neither of the two would see eye to eye.

How funny it was that he wanted to agree more with Rashmi then instead of Nephrite. Of all the times he would've jumped on the opportunity to tear into something, someone, even finding some sick joy in pulling Calavera's earrings through flesh, it was now that Zoisite decided to buckle.

Stupid boy he was. So stupid.

Yet he turns from his seat, lifting his head to Nephrite, studying the man. Every bit of those sapphire eyes meant each word with steel'd conviction. Pride. This Shitennou was not one to falter. Strangely though, it was the one person that possibly knew Zoisite the best by simply coexisting around each other. For better or for worse.

"Perhaps I'm not ready to look at these things, but what if I did see a spec of it?" Or a wish for it? Confusing understanding with the possibility of salvation was a dangerous thing.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"You are right about one thing, Zoisite-san," Rashmi says, somehow managing to keep her voice calm and even a bit light. "We don't see eye to eye. And honestly? I'm glad, because you're right, Nephrite-san; I haven't lived your lives. Compared to the both of you, I should barely have any right to say I'm even half-qualified to fight that--"

She waves her hand, once again, in the general direction of the obelisk. "--out there. But I'm not making assumptions. Our opinions were asked, and I'm giving mine. Try to save everyone you can, but minimize threats whenever possible. You know you best, both of you. And you're worried about confusing possibility with certainty, which... yeah that's always a bad idea, in any direction. So..."

Taking a breath, she turns her dark brown eyes back to Zoisite. "I'd ask what speck you saw, that might be hope, Zoisite-san. If you don't know if it's real or not? Getting verification might help. Three heads are, after all, better than one."

Under all of the rhetoric, her answer's pretty simple; if you don't know, ask. And as she sips at her soda, her eyes are curious. Not suspicious, as if believing there's something he's not telling her.

She knows there is, and is neither upset nor surprised.

Nephrite has posed:
Nephrite has not shown anger towards either of them yet, his facade never quite breaching past furrowed brows or concerned frowns. Deeper down beneath everything else, beneath the ties of honour and duty-- and their unique connection to this awful situation-- he is *worried* about what Zoisite will do.

Already, Zoisite's instability has shown itself. Already he has wobbled, and the trust in him extends only so far. Nephrite knows that there has been a deep, internal struggle for Zoisite that has been going on for months. He knows that the other Shitennou is trying, and he never faults him for that.

He worries still that Zoisite isn't wholly out of the woods, and is easily tempted to regress. He worries about the thin line it sometimes is-- as they're now speaking of it-- between compassion and vulnerability; about manipulations, about the nature of what it means to defect from a philosophy or cause and why. He worries that Rashmi's candidness and example may only serve to inadvertently encourage Zoisite's unreliability, and is relieved-- mildly-- when she at least diverts him away from making such decisions on his own.

Underneath everything, Nephrite's advice isn't so dissimilar, but it's more weighted towards Zoisite in particular: *You're not far enough along in your own journey, yet. You're not sure enough of your own footing on this side of the fight, yet. Leave it to people who are.*

"Regardless, our hands as Shitennou are tied. For the moment, we follow orders, Zoisite. Any betrayal, any secret or unnecessary risk... no matter how small you think it is or how big you feel the pay off may be. If you act on it alone, even if you were right, it *will* cost you." He warned quietly. "So you'd better start explaining yourself."

Zoisite has posed:
No. No their hands were not tied. Maybe Nephrite's was by the standards the man wanted to live in, but Zoisite refused to see himself as tied to concepts that could morph when needed--which alluded to why he had a harder time finding his footing in the new side he was on. Not progressing as fast as he should, always causing problems and fights and disagreements.

And Rashmi was correct in suggesting that three minds were better than one. Diverse minds would be able to see something the other couldn't. Suspicions, benefit of the doubt, pull apart angles he was unable to due to his own past.

Gods, he was still anxious in hearing what he did not want to hear.

You'd better start explaining yourself always a brute in words, Nephrite was. But like Zoisite, it was clear in intent. His own nails wanted to dig into the wood of the chair as his head lowered.

"I went ahead scouting after the group of survivors were found. I didn't much care to be around them, and I am one of the faster fighters to deal with droids. Once I teleport, they can't keep track of me, no matter how hard they try." A cynical little smile, cruel to himself more than anything. "I ran into Saphir..." This came out as a whisper.

"He didn't let his droids attack me, permitted me to approach. Like at the shrine, he was willing to talk and listen." Calm, patient, showing what he took as signs of the two finding an equal footing. "I asked him if I brought him evidence of him being manipulated, would he consider it? He said yes. He's willing to look, Nephrite. I cannot... not try to give this to him." Zoisite pulled the phone off the table and pressed it against his middle.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
'I ran into Saphir.'

Oh boy those are some complicated feelings, and briefly Rashmi glances up at Nephrite's face, to gauge his reaction. Then she nods to herself, taking a deep breath.

"Usa-chan and I agree on a lot," she begins, with the tiniest of raised-hand gestures to ask for forbearance while she finds her words. "...But there's a lot we don't agree on too. Like... I knew about Mistress 9 -- in the abstract, not her name or anything -- way before she did, and she was furious about that. More at the Outers than at me, but we did argue about it."

Tucking her hair behind her ear, the redhead gives a soft, rueful laugh. "And, honestly... It was irresponsible, to take what was basically a super-powerful Daimon time-bomb and let it sleep in their house. It was a big, big risk. But it was a risk that ended up paying off, and the reason we took that risk was because to do otherwise would be to condemn a sweet, innocent girl to a life of loneliness and misery. But it could have gone so... so wrong."

Looking up, she ducks her head a bit, in an attempt to meet Zoisite's eyes. "I won't say don't try, Zoisite-san. I'm just saying you need to be sure it's worth the risk... And you need to have backup when you try. ...Also you need to listen to Nephrite-san, and think very hard about if you're doing this for him, or you. Because doing it for him is more likely to arrive at an answer you can live with."

Nephrite has posed:
There was an incredibly heavy silence from Nephrite. He wishes he were more surprised as Zoisite's lingering gaze upon those photos reverberates in his mind; little talks at shrines, or hidden in the ruins of a city. Secrets, dangerous secrets. Things spoken about that Zoisite could not even be fully relied upon to convey honestly.

He took a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose, absorbing what Zoisite had said-- what Rashmi admitted to. It only served to add a sickly twist to his stomach. Anything as long as the means justified their ends, it sounded like. If the end results were warm and fuzzy, no matter the damage done between, all was well.

Now, he simply trusted both of them less.

"Saphir is not a sweet innocent girl. He isn't a time-bomb. He isn't hiding another personality in his back pocket. He's a dangerous radical and an active participant in unfolding atrocities, who is very nearly succeeding in completely wiping this planet of life. It is holding on by a *gossamer* thread."

"Perhaps I'm the cynic in the room, but these situations sound nothing alike, except perhaps in where *lying to Usagi at the risk of her family* seems to be a common thread." Nephrite remarked blithely, and sounded exceedingly tired. "And Zoisite certainly can't afford to start on *that* foot. Cutting it close to home enough, as is."

He said that last a little flippantly, something of a softening, but the hook of it would snag where intended.

Nephrite shook his head, downing tea, and sighed through his nose. "What kind of evidence is he asking for? And, why would he trust you to give him anything that isn't doctored propaganda?" Gods themselves forbid he was angling to get access to anything or anyone significant.

Zoisite has posed:
"I did not lie to Usagi." It came through his teeth, his mind grabbing at it like an accusation. "She could barely speak or come up with appropriate questions that mattered when Saphir was present the first time. She and half the other mahou stared at the dead android, asking why and when will this end. But she was there to see me talk to him as Mamoru took care of my fractured spine." Frustration was seeping, quiet, but defensively as well.

"I agree that Saphir is not Hotaru. Hatoru is still a child, there's grace afforded there. A mind can be changed. But Saphir has shown himself to be logical, willing to listen, see if it will change his mind." Even if Rashmi tried to look at him, Zoisite turned his head away.

Too close. Too vulnerable. He was too open in that moment. If Mamoru were there, the prince would see the chaos in his mind, trying to connect why he was starting to care this much. Misunderstandings, to memories long lost and only a shadowy figure standing there that meant the world to him. Saphir reminding him of that person.

Was he doing this for Saphir or himself?

Couldn't the answer be both?

"The evidence wasn't specified. I just offered to find anything I could. I'm aware he can reject it based on propaganda alone, but all he believes in is also word of mouth." Mind raced now. "He said himself and the others were raised by Death Phantom. They believe they were meant for Nemesis all along. They have no idea of the original route. They were not meant for Nemesis, Nephrite."

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"So... Our suppositions are pretty on target," Rashmi says. "If, of course, we're accepting that he's telling the truth. Which there's a chance he might not be. And going back and forth on that will get nobody anywhere." It's not lost on her that Zoisite looks away, and she sits back in her chair, conceding to his discomfort.

She looks up to Nephrite, nodding agreement. "That is a very good point too. Keeping secrets is an incredibly bad idea right now, right or wrong. And I think... I want to drill down to the thing that matters most here. Answer that, and I think both of us will be in a position to give you actual advice, not just interrogating your thoughts."

"Zoisite-san... To the best of your ability, can you tell me what the best possible outcome of him being convinced would be?"

She's talked about hope, and the right thing to do, and her beliefs... But the strategic outcome hasn't been featured very much. And it is almost as important as the rest.

For her, at least. But she has always been clear about her priorities.

Nephrite has posed:
"They may not have been meant for Nemesis, but they got it." Nephrite murmured quietly.

Lived experiences, and washes of dark magic and resources, that leave their mark and are not easily undone. Even if he granted Zoisite that Saphir was some rare exception, that a fault in his rigid logic could pull the twine holding his violent worldview together loose, that unravelling could be equally as volatile. There was nothing to say that Zoisite, or whoever was nearest to blame for these revelations, wouldn't immediately be caught on the receiving end of a mental break, or the lashing out of vicious denial.

It was all so uncertain, even when the truth was finally offered to those deceived. Sometimes, the truth made things more complicated and confusing. He could already see how an angry mind could rearrange things, shift blame further, to say that Death Phantom was in the position he was to take advantage of that ship, because of the Queen. That not enough was done to prevent this. Whatever was convenient to continue undermining her.

But Zoisite wasn't goig to hear any of that, either. Nephrite could already tell that he was fixated on an idea-- on a personal goal-- and he had the suspicion the very little would turn it aside now, no matter what was said. The defensiveness was too present.

"Right. That, and why *you* seem so invested in convincing Saphir. Not the rest of us, or why Rashmi might consider it-- *you.* You still haven't explained *why* he is even giving you the opportunity to sway him."

Zoisite has posed:
"I don't know why he's giving me the opportunity, besides us connecting." Unfortunately, he can only take guesses now that his head was nothing but shambles. "I can't give you any more than that."

As for Rashmi's question, that also caused his muscles to stiffen, eyes to close. He needed to be honest in this, even if he was hoping for better than the odds that he could realistically see. The time they had would more than likely not allow for generous opportunities... Not when so much was happening between the battles, the movements of both sides, and what else would be in store for them.

And Zoisite knew what he would do is any of that was leveled towards Mamoru. He would have no choice. But until then...

"Very unlikely." Mutters. "That's less than 10. Perhaps less than 5. But chances are... grim."

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"Not the chance," Rashmi says gently. "But what the outcome of that best-case chance would be. You've talked to him more than either of us, so you're the one to ask. Would he want to join our side? Would he walk away? Would he sabotage them? Assuming the best possible outcome happens... what does that mean for us?"

Rashmi looks up at Nephrite, and nods. It had occurred to her to ask... but... voicing the question would be a risk, if it had anything to do with his past. Still... the answer needs to be voiced, so Rashmi takes a deep breath, screwing up her courage. "And Nephrite-san's question is a good one, Zoisite-san... We need to hear why it's important to you. More... you need to say it aloud, so you can hear it too. If you'd rather, I'll leave the room. I can understand if it's too personal for me to be around, and I can promise you I won't eavesdrop. I have a space dragon Tamagotchi I can spend time with."

And she is, once again, completely sincere. She understands the kind of vulnerability that would mean, and she very well understands what an outsider she is in this context. She's kept secrets, and she can understand when her absence would serve better than her presence.

Nephrite has posed:
It is only now that Nephrite seems to soften, even in the slightest. It is not concession in any form, and it is not him being swayed from his concerns or his position behind them. But tea is finished, and cup is set aside.

His hands are set again to Zoisite's shoulders, but they do not hold him down or exert weight or expectation. They do not squeeze him with frustrations, or quietly warn him against foolishness.

For a moment, Nephrite is quiet, and his hands rest gentler.

Zoisite has posed:
He's been forcing his breathing to be slow and deliberate for a minute or two now, listening to Rashmi, clarifying what the two were asking of him. It didn't make it any better, but it was something.

"Saphir cares for his brother. If he were to take in anything, he wouldn't leave without first trying to bring his brother along. It would not be dissimilar to myself and Mamoru, of the rest of my brothers." Nods, eyes opening. Not to look at Rashmi but at some point in the library. "But that's the best case, knowing that he has those he cares for among the ranks."

This is when he does turn to look at the girl in front of him. No mask on his face, no confidence. Zoisite was raw, all defenses down and unable to really pretend in that moment. Tired. "I can't answer the last question with you here, Rashmi. I already showed you too much of me. Not this... Let me keep this between me and Nephrite. Please."

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"Absolutely," Rashmi says in answer to that raw, tired honesty, without a single gram of hesitation. She gets up from her chair, looks around... and points to a study desk well out of quiet earshot, but visible from their current spot.

"I'll be over there. When it's okay for me to come back, just call my name, and Nicomachea will tell me it's okay to log out."

And without another word, she turns away from the conversation, crossing the future library to sit down at the desk, elbows on surface, chin in hands. A bright yellow band of light covers her eyes and ears, as she logs into the 'game' Chrono created as a gift for her, and sinks into her Device's telepathic interface to spend time with Anaxalotyth of the Silver Flame, Hope On Bright Wings, She Who Bites The Shadow.

Some girls are Horse Girls. Rashmi is absolutely a Dragon Girl.

But while so engaged, the redhead does mull over the best-case scenario; a Saphir, who would at least try to get his brother out, but stay by that brother's side. Depending on who that brother is... the chance is vanishingly slim that it would meaningfully affect their operations, but it might alter the color of their conflict.

It's not much of a win... But how would it help Zoisite to make the attempt regardless?

Nephrite has posed:
Sapphire eyes watch Rashmi go, noting the strange wrap of light around her senses and parsing *space dragon tamagotchi* into that, somewhere in the back of his mind. Well, it was a detail he'd remember, going forward, at any rate.

And, sapphire eyes close. He doesn't sigh, but he feels heavier than he should; the weight of what he knows he's about to carry, perhaps.

"Do you want a response to this, or do you just want me to hear it?" He asks mutedly.

Zoisite has posed:
"Hear it." Quick was his reply. Phone warm against his middle. "Then you can tell me whatever you think I should hear."

Between the battle with the twins, his words exchanged with Makoto, with Saphir, seeing the survivors and the stated this particular world was in, the stressors that were non-stop... He needed to spill what was already on the tip of his tongue. Were he more honest, he would have spoken to Mamoru, or Kunzite about this. But those two perhaps needed one another more than he did. And Jadeite could barely hold himself together as it was.

Strange how Nephrite seemed to always be the one he picked for these, when he could afford it.

"I don't remember much about our past selves. I think you know this. Everything's muddled, besides what Beryl wanted us to know. And when I first spoke to Saphir, I could barely see him. Kunzite had to hold me together, so I wasn't in more pain." The fracture, and the embarrassment Mamoru had put him through. Him being married to Kazuo... Gods.

"But this time, I got a better look at him. Voice to face. Something in the back of my mind clicked, but I can't see what it is or what it means. Just that... he reminds me of someone. Someone I held dear to me. It's... They speak so similar."

Nephrite has posed:
Blue haired, logical, involved in the construction and deployment of magically aided technologies, and evidently, loyal to their own.

It didn't take much for Nephrite himself to suppose that the resemblance may have been to a distant shadow of the Princess of Mercury. But Zoisite's own fractured memories of that time were deeply confused, no doubt. He understood that each of them had been heavily impacted in targeted ways, and that Witch's deceptions had left all four of them with different illusions to the same end.

All trapped in their own version of the lie Beryl cultivated, and ensnared thereafter by the demon's power flowing through them.

"So, you're chasing the shape of a memory?" He asked, though it sounded more like an observation of the fact.

Zoisite has posed:
He was. But words didn't come out of him. Zoisite leaned forward, arms crossing over his knees and forehead pressed over his arms, phone still secure in his grasp.

"I know it's not him." Logical, of course not. He would know. He would feel it in his bones, wouldn't he? Or would it be something tricky, like with the twins? And faulty memories played a part in this, he was sure. However, Saphir pinged close to something personal. Zoisite couldn't dare say he liked these qualities in a person, in an enemy, without sounding compromised again.

"Whatever was there in the past was lost. That much I know." Voice muffled. "He's the closest I have felt it in a long time..."

Nephrite has posed:
"I know the feeling," Nephrite granted, because he truly did-- he had been drawn towards Naru Osaka by the same mistaken and fleeting nostalgia. At the time, she too had been his enemy and, despite his best attempts to merely take advantage of her, her care had won her ground. They had become unlikely friends.

That ancient draw, pulling for a steadying connection. Looking for the threads of fate, the lifelines in the fog. Trails and clues back to the former self. Answers to burning questions, sometimes even finding the right question to an answer already held.

"What you're looking for? Saphir's not going to satisfy." He inclines his gaze to look at the top of Zoisite's head. "And in the interim, you'd gambling an obscene amount of your progress on a personal-- *warped*-- fascination."

Zoisite has posed:
"What if he does? What if he is another puzzle piece in whatever my life has become? I wouldn't be gambling my progress on him, Nephrite. This is what everyone's been preaching around me this whole time. Follow a sense of goodness in others? Reach out to redeem others?" Lifts his head, looking to the floor of the library. The patterns on the tiles were so intricate, shining in facets. So many facets.

"The one time I see that potential, it's smacked down. The twins are dead, that doesn't matter. But Saphir, even if it doesn't work out, at least I tried."

Nephrite has posed:
"What about any of this is goodness? What, because he's got a brother he's dedicated to? I would've ended the world with Hematite, if it meant that we did it together-- it didn't make it *good*."

Nephrite shakes his head as if he's speaking to a wall. "This bastard isn't just against the Queen and her Sailors, Zoisite, but even if he was, you're honour-bound to their service here." A frown sat heavily upon his features, puzzling over the man beneath his hands.

"They're destroying our Earth. He's attacking *our reborn Kingdom* and targeting *our Princess,* while everything that was ever once important to us is choked to death. The woman aligned with the memory you're chasing-- her counterpart is trapped in this palace, giving her all to hold down the fort until we *stop this*."

For a moment, he lifted his attention to the screens. "You're in a world that isn't even yours, looking for people you can't keep. You're playing demon's advocate for an enemy you feel drawn to because they're *somewhat similar* to a distant memory you're clinging to, through the haze of your past mistakes." He stated quietly.

"This isn't what they've been preaching, at all. I can't think of anything more selfish, Zoisite. You don't even know what redemption *looks* like."

Zoisite has posed:
"What is it that they're preaching then? Because I can't understand a damn thing about it anymore. I thought I understood it, but clearly I was wrong. From Rashmi to Usagi to any of the gods damned mahou in our timeline, none of it makes sense anymore." Head shakes, eyes close again.

"Nephrite... I couldn't give a damn about this world, outside of the few I'm here for. Were this ours, I would. But I don't feel anything for this one. It could crumble under our feet and all that I would pull from it would be our Princess. Nothing else." Like venom, it spilled with fangs and the bits of anger he did not know where to place. "The droids are made of the millions and millions of dead, all rotting. And I didn't feel an ounce of pity when I saw one up close."

"...even if this world's Mercury were to fade with it, I don't think I could care." Cold. Ice. He wanted to scratch the inside of his chest but he couldn't.

Nephrite has posed:
Being inside one of those Droids wasn't the healthiest experience, either, but Nephrite had possessed one anyway. Valuable intel, at the time, but *wrong*-- deeply off, awash in strange energies, in malice, in tech his mind couldn't comprehend. The lack of bodies, compared to the death toll-- the mess he'd heard about at the Shrine-- it didn't surprise Nephrite to hear it said.

Broken bodies, human scrap, salvaged into terrible machines.

It didn't bode well, this idea of hard logic and callousness in Saphir, but there too was a reflection of Zoisite's own feelings of disconnect. It confirmed something of Nephrite's worries, in where Zoisite could stumble here.

"It will get easier." Nephrite spoke remarkably patiently given the flashing of anger in the other. "There's so many people still trying to reach out to *you*. People who care about you, *in this moment*, Zoisite, and those people need you. Don't make the mistake of acting on this with the hope that Saphir could become one of them."

Zoisite has posed:
"I'm not foolish enough to think he would care about me. Doesn't change the fact that I want to reach out to him." He sits up, straightening himself as he turns around in his seat, looking up at the older Shitennou. "I know you, and Kunzite, Jadeite, Mamoru, even Minako care are about me. Rashmi too, for whatever reason. But the rest? Not really. They have no reason to reach out for me. "

A click of his thumb, lock screen coming to life as he looks down at it. Violets and saplings, that green curtain that was pulled off from the living area, now hanging on his window.

"I'm going to give this to him. What he does from then on is his decision." Another click. Off again before he puts his phone away for good in his pack.

Nephrite has posed:
"I don't know what you're foolish enough to do, right now," Nephrite folded his arms to peer at him, "But the fact that you've already decided to do as you like without even talking to Usagi or Mamoru tells me I'm wasting my breath, trying to prevent anything."

He turned from Zoisite now, unwilling to look at him for the moment.

"If you do anything to interfere with the battles from here on out based on misplaced sentiments, or this little diversion of yours? We're going to have a problem. If we get a chance to end Saphir and put a stop to these droids, I'm not going to hesitate."

A sigh, as he kept his back to the other. "You still haven't explained what you want. I'm starting to think you don't even know." A beat. "You may as well call Rashmi back. I'd rather do something useful than waste my time."

Zoisite has posed:
"Maybe I don't know what I want because nothing is a guarantee. What's the point if I'm going to lose it?" Mutters, leg bouncing.

"I'd talk to Mamoru, but not Usagi. She already gave me clear signs before that she wouldn't listen to me." Snip. "And I have made my decision to give this to him. If that's enough cause for you to consider me a waste of your time, then I'm not here to change your mind." Zoisite rose from his seat, hand pressed on the table to make sure he was recovered enough from his ordeal, then moves along.

"I'll leave you alone. At least you know what I plan to do."

Stepping away, Zoisite approaches Rashmi and places a hand gently on her shoulder, offering a quiet but thankful nod before continuing towards the exist of the library.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
The first time her name was uttered, it was low enough that Nicomachea dismissed it as part of the conversation, and not part of the parameters of interrupting his Master.

When the words 'call Rashmi back' were spoken, the Device alerted Rashmi to their presence... right about the time Anaxylotyth was doing a fairly complicated wingover maneuver, with Rashmi on her back. Time needed to be taken to land, and to tell the dragon just how special it was, and give it a treat of gems...

Culminating in the band disappearing from Rashmi's eyes in the real world, moments before Zoisite lays his hand on her shoulder, then passes on. "Wh-- hey-- wait--" she says, fumbling out of the chair before getting to her feet. "Zoisite-san!"

A private conversation, one exiting the library, a determined set to the shoulders... oh boy. "Just... Whatever you do, talk to Mamo-kun first. And *don't.* *Go.* *Alone.* Okay? Most of the worst things happen when *any* of us tries to go it alone."

Will he heed such simple advice? There's no way to know. He's been all stirred up and deep in his feelings this entire time, and Rashmi can't yet accurately gauge how much of a shield that is for blocking good advice.

But she can hope.