2927/Earthly Colors

Earthly Colors
Date of Scene:	02 February 2026
Location:	Mamoru's Apartment
Synopsis:	In which Izou discovers Kazuo's secret vice: ... making ... patchwork stuffed toys. Also, being a complete sap where it comes to his boyfr-- wait, no, that one's not a discovery, Izou knew that already.
Cast of Characters:	Kazuo Saitou, Zoisite

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Kazuo Saitou has posed:
It's almost a pleasant afternoon, provided one stays in the sun - the temperature is up in the fifties, and while rain's expected in not too long, it's not here yet, so there's actual sun to stay in. That may be why Kazuo has emerged from his gothden - ahem, the server room - and is half-sprawled out in a chair in the social area of the rooftop garden, frowning at something in his hands. Something dark. Something spiky.

Something decidedly less ominous than those words would imply, because it's also rather decidedly cloth, dangling awkwardly from his hands as he examines a bit of it, exhales, and then reaches for the seam ripper on the table he's commandeered next to him.

There is a literal sewing box next to him. Also a sketchbook held open with a couple of smaller books for weights to keep the wind from flipping pages on him. Also a box of ...

... those are literally pieces of some of Mamoru's old T-shirts, just hemmed carefully to keep the knit of the cloth from coming undone.

Kazuo tears open a short but weirdly curved seam, tugs the severed threads out, tucks them into a pocket, and starts pinning the thing back together for a second try, measuring against his thumbnail and looking like he wants, very much, to be muttering to himself. Possibly swearing. Possibly threatening the ... spiky T-shirt thing.

Maybe he spent too long inside this winter.

Zoisite has posed:
Too long inside was always a concern for those that could go stir crazy, especially with a winter that could get heavy snowfall and temperatures that did not encourage much outings.

Perhaps it was good then that Izou felt some need to travel between apartments--his own and Mamoru's. Checking up on the prince, of course, but a lot of the time it was him coming back around to spend time with his boyfriend. Keep company in the server room, nose into manual books, or make coffee and tea.

Which was what he was doing at that moment, having teleported himself into the server room with two mugs, only to find it empty. Well, only for an instance, really. Green eyes caught a glimpse of ivory strands on the rooftop camera and was quick to turn around and exit.

Carefully managing both mugs in his grasp, Izou opened the door to the rooftop, finding Kazuo fast at work on something.

"A new project?" Question was shaped with a smile as he approached, gaze already searching over Kazuo's shoulder to find out what's in progress. "I brought you some coffee." Mug is offered.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Kazuo lifts his head as the door opens, and sets aside the whateveritis that he's holding. Topology only takes one so far, when something's unfinished and inside-out. "Thank you, Izou." The name's gentle when he says it, always; accompanied by a small but appreciative smile.

(He's spent time traveling between the two as well - being a quiet audience when Izou practices, one who delights when a run goes just as Izou meant to, but remembers for him when he grows frustrated that mistakes are the price of - and method of - getting better; keeping him company when he'd prefer not to be alone; taking Izou's hands to warm cold fingers; asking sometimes about how he protects his instruments from the weather, and what he does for his gardens in the winter; once, claiming straight-faced that his snake missed Izou so he brought her to visit.)

Kazuo reaches with both hands for the coffee - but takes the mug in one, and claims Izou's hand in the other, leaning forward in the chair (shifting to make sure that if Izou steps forward in turn, Kazuo's knees won't be in the way) till he can kiss the back of Izou's fingers lightly before letting go.

"A new project. A ridiculous project. Usagi's been upset lately; when she was younger, she had her heart set on a normal life, and she's realizing that it's less and less likely that she'll have one. She and Mamoru have been working it out, but it'll take time for her to settle down. So I thought it might be good to give her something small and cute and a little ridiculous, that might still give her some understanding that there will be normal parts to her life, and that there will be parts better than normal.

"... so I'm making her a patchwork Mamoru doll."

That is the point at which someone might realize that the seam he's fighting with is for a little stuffed version of Mamoru's more than a little ridiculous cowlick. Apparently this is, somehow, part of Kunzite's skillset in this life. Somehow.

Zoisite has posed:
A normal life.

One could question what exactly entailed a normal life at all. In the mind of a girl like Usagi, possibly the mundane and the uninteresting. Someone that had stability since the start, and the chance to actually have that, were fate not in the way. Part of Izou's mind found he could easily feel jealousy or a cruel smugness at the thought of it, and yet it all dispersed like dust to a breeze in his mind simply due to him not wanting to entertain such thoughts. There was no point to it.

None of them would ever have normal lives, only fragments here and there, like Kazuo said.

That would definitely be enough.

Fingers still felt the warmth of lips as he pulled a chair near and next to Kazuo, sitting down with gaze still inspecting what was set aside. Patchwork Mamoru.

A doll.

It was easy to see the revelation of such talents click into place on Izou's expression, eyes widening a tad before his green eyes bounced back to his boyfriend. Realization, charmed, and small soft lips turning from smile to eye reaching grin at what exactly was happening and why.

"It's not ridiculous, it's thoughtful. A Mamoru doll will definitely make her happy, especially when they are not side by side. At least it will make her think of everything they've talked about, reminding her that she isn't alone in this journey."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
The inside-out partly-finished doll shell is tucked inside the box of scraps (not, to make it clear, in a cave, or making a power suit). Kazuo stretches a little, then turns to look at Izou. Conversation drifts for a moment, because he's looking at Izou's eyes, and that grin, and words are shunted off into a mental buffer to be taken out and reviewed only after he's soaked in the green for a moment.

"If I can do it," he says, "I'm planning to add some motifs to it, later on. Things that emphasize family, balance, wishes for wholeness. Resilience. I don't know if she'll be able to read them directly, but she's played enough with fashion and read enough manga that she might get the meaning anyhow. That things don't have to work out the way we thought we wanted them to, in order to work out well."

He reaches across at the end of the sentence. Lays fingers on Izou's nearer hand or forearm, if he can.

Zoisite has posed:
Touch to forearm, one that made him look down to those fingers and picture them sewing--rougher than his, capable if talents he would not be able to match and was all the more enchanted by this fact.

"They sort of have a child already in Small Lady, and a bigger family with the senshi and us around them. And her own biological one. That will always be part of her life." Eyes drift to his tea then, the steam sharply visible against the cold air.

"I'm surprised she's been down about that at all. She seemed the most put together and normal out of all of us." But a shrug punctuates this as he looks back up to Kazuo.

"Embroidery then? What kind of designs were you thinking of?"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"In many ways, she is. That also meant that she has more at risk than many of us. Friends without power. Biological family." Fingertips stroke lightly - whether it's to soothe the repetition of family-by-blood, or whether it's to reassure Izou that he is valued just as highly, or just for the sake of the gesture in and of itself. Touching. "She hates when they're threatened. They will never not be threatened. She stopped being able to ignore that, I think, and it's taking her some time to adjust."

A breath. Half-change of topic, and Kazuo glances back toward the box for a moment. "Just traditional patterns, simple ones. Some of them were made to strengthen patchwork in the first place. Linked circles on the doll itself, for wholeness and satisfaction, lacking nothing. Maybe make a yukata for it if I can put together enough in the right colors, and add a wave pattern to that, for resilience. It's not something I've done before, but it should be manageable. Presuming I don't continually stick needles in seams the wrong way and break them. The needles for it are long. And I don't trust my luck. Which means that I don't trust Anko not to try to startle me at the wrong moments just so that I'll bribe her with more fish to make her stop."

A beat. "I will not, in fact, bribe her with more fish. But hope springs eternal."

Zoisite has posed:
Were Kazuo able to see in Izou's mind, perhaps then it'd be known that he was not worried about where he stood in Usagi's life. To him, such thoughts were always reserved for Mamoru, Kazuo, and the rest of the Shitennou. His link to the princess was already bound through this alone. No, his mind mostly kept quiet what biological family really meant--something not always pleasant.

"Earthly colors, for the yukata." Izou murmurs, nodding as the stitches were explained to him. Circlets and waves, unbreaking and strong. A continuousness like a cycle, which seemed to match their lives. More impotantly, Mamoru's and Usagi's.

"If you need peace when working on it, you know you could slide into my apartment. With presentations done, I can focus more on Blue and you for a while. Which means... no Anko allowed."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Kazuo's smile is genuine, is warm. "Don't tempt me too much," he says, in a tone which invites the opposite. "I'd wind up going to your apartment to work on it, and then having to leave your apartment to work on it."

He glances away, then, and takes a moment to sip coffee. Then again, Izou brought the coffee; maybe that's not taking his attention off Izou after all. "You're welcome to look through the pieces I have, if you'd have advice on the colors. You have a far better sense than i do on that kind of thing. That's ... why I haven't been working with these lately. I gave Mamoru one a long time ago, but every time I've thought I should make one for you, I haven't been able to think of what would be good enough."

Zoisite has posed:
Maybe that was true that he would distract Kazuo too much. But it was not a rejection of the invite, especially when what he wanted most was for it to also be a home for the two of them. A seamless connection from Mamoru's to his own and back again, where peace can be found among the many potted plants and sheets of music and anything else Kazuo would want to add.

And yet, such thoughts of peace halted when the thoughts of something not being good enough was brought up. Izou felt himself furrow, placing his mug of tea on the table before covering Kazuo's hand with his own. Squeezing it softly.

"Anything you make would be good enough for me."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Coffee too is set down; Kazuo turns again, placing his own hand over Izou's, so that each of them has one of the other's caught. Presses Izou's hand lightly. "I wish I could give you beautiful things." A breath. "Could make you beautiful things. I can give them, but they're only what I've found, not -- well." He shakes his head. Lets out a slow breath.

Lower, quiet: "I want to give you everything. I suppose I should stop worrying about not living up to that."

Zoisite has posed:
"I've had access to everything before." Admits as quiet as Kazuo confessed, the cold pressure of memories and the sweet ache of knowing what his boyfriend was trying to convey. "It's not..."

Izou shook his head then, eyes averting like he wanted to look away at what once was, blurry sparks of marble floors and crystal chandeliers. Cold. Cold. Cold.

"I ran away with Mamoru, left everything behind." Gaze returned to Kazuo then. "Don't worry about reaching up, you've soared past that a long time ago."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Kazuo almost-smiles - almost, because of the way Izou's voice went quiet, because of the way he looked away. "I want to give you everything," he says, "that would bring you joy." And with that he rises; reclaims his hand, but only to pull his chair closer beside Izou's, so that he can settle again and lean lightly against Izou's shoulder. He'd probably put his arm around Izou, too. But that would require reclaiming both hands, and the one Izou covered is staying exactly where it is. Resting against forearm. A spot of pressure, of presence, of warmth.

He nearly wants to change then and there, to have the cape to draw around them both. But being closer is a start.