1277/Cough It Up, My Prince

Cough It Up, My Prince
Date of Scene:	14 March 2024
Location:	Dorms #2
Synopsis:	Zoisite makes a promise and gets a crystal.
Cast of Characters:	Mamoru Chiba, Zoisite
Tinyplot:	Rainbow Crystals

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Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It was a wonderful day. It was a normal day. Mamoru sits back in his desk chair and rubs his face, then looks out the window at the fading daylight into twilight, picking up the blue rainbow crystal from his desk and rolling it over his knuckles like a coin, absent and unerring.

He's got a notebook full of his neat handwriting on one side, his tablet on the other side, his laptop in the middle, and his phone really quietly playing some rhythmic mathematical solo piano.

He's in a t-shirt, jeans, and sock feet, and his glasses are a little smudged.

Zoisite has posed:
    A single sakura petal twists lightly in the air, floating by between Mamoru and the many things occupying his attention at his desk.

    And then Zoisite clears his throat politely, from where he's perched on the edge of Mamoru's bed. He's foregone the chunky sweater from earlier, instead opting for a light dress shirt, but he's still in his skinny pants and boots, legs folded primly as he rests his chin against his hand. "Hello, my prince," he says.

    At least this time isn't murmured with intent. Now it's a breezy greeting, though Zoisite's still smiling through it, impishly. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Mamoru rolls his head back and around almost before the sakura petal falls, swiping his hand up through the air and somehow managing to sleight-of-hand the blue crystal away out of sight despite having short sleeves. He turns in his non-swivel desk chair and adjusts his glasses, smiling crookedly. "You can just call me Endymion, I know you want to," he says, resting his head on one fist, elbow on his desk.

Zoisite has posed:
    "What I want isn't as important as your safety, and unlike some of us," Zoisite's nose definitely sticks up in the air here, "I don't want to announce to the public at large who you truly are until such a time as the threats we're facing have been eliminated."

    He leans forward, so that he's nearly in Mamoru's personal space, reaching out to tap his fingers against the desk top. "Speaking of your safety," he continues, "How long have you been carrying that crystal around, really?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"She knows who I am, Zoi, the only thing they don't know about is Tuxedo Mask," says Mamoru tiredly, and now he's rolling the crystal across his knuckles again, and he sounds just like Endymion of so long ago, chafing under what he feels is overprotectiveness. "Not even Takashi knows about Tuxedo Mask. I was so surprised. I thought for sure he'd see through the new henshin..."

And then Zoisite's almost in his personal space, and Mamoru doesn't lean back, he just takes off his glasses so he feels slightly less crowded. "The blue one? I've been carrying since we got it, maybe a week ago? That's when I handed the red one off to Jadeite. I gave Kunzite the violet one not long after we found it. They don't stay in magical containment, I can't keep them in my henshin pocket or my hat, and I am not leaving them in here. They know where I live. Thetis flooded precisely my half of this room."

Zoisite has posed:
    The invasion of personal space is only momentary, and doesn't involve any physical contact. But Zoisite's made his point, and as he leans back his eyes land on the glint of crystal moving over Mamoru's knuckles, causing them to narrow. "Hm," is all he says to that, at first.

    "She might be our most important enemy," he eventually manages to grit out, and Zoi's shoulders do a thing, sort of a quick scrunching up, which is the only sign of the shiver that had worked up his spine, the goosebumps on his skin at even acknowledging that salient point, "But she certainly isn't our only one." He tucks his arms against his chest, and his eyes go closed while the rest of his expression pinches slightly.

    His mouth opens once, but he apparently decides against what he was going to say, so he just inhales through his nose and opens his eyes to look at Mamoru.

    And Zoi would never lower himself to the point of pleading, but there is a flash of concern, something just shy of desperation in his look before he feigns disinterest, eyes roving around the room for something else to focus on instead. "I'm just trying to be smart about it, that's all. I am rather good at that, you know."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"'Endymion' only means anything to us, the Senshi, and the Dark Kingdom," Mamoru says gently, vanishing the stone again -- this time so he can sit up, sit forward, and reach out to lightly touch whatever of Zoisite is closest. Knee, hand, arm, shoulder, whatever. His voice is soft. "And it's my name. I like hearing it."

Then he lets his hand drop, and his hands are in his lap for a second as he looks down at them. Then he looks back up, and he holds out the pretty blue crystal in the palm of his hand. "You can take it. Just make sure you don't leave it anywhere they know about, or where it can be easily found."

He's so quiet, looking away for a moment. "I don't know how much Kazuo remembers, but I know he's not very like the Kunzite who rode herd on us. I think he's happier. I think he's healthier. He still wears a mask but it's not so complete..." He takes a breath and sighs it out, brief and sharp. He laces his fingers together. "And he had a ready response for what to do if I got hurt. Again. I'm sorry about what I did, Zoi, in front of you, for you, without you wanting it. Not sorry for doing it, but about what I did to you with it."

Zoisite has posed:
    Whether or not Zoisite is even moved by what Mamoru says isn't clear, as his face remains poised and non-emoting. Not until Mamoru's hand lands on his, and that unleashes the angry tangle of Zoisite's emotions. Guilt and fury and frustration war with each other but it's the overpowering grief that washes it all away for a second or two, at least until Zoi takes in a breath, gets himself under control, and briefly turns his hand over so their palms touch, his fingers gripping Mamo's wrist like a lifeline.

    Then, in that moment, his emotions have crystalized into determination.

    "You will never have to do anything like that ever again," he swears, not just a promise, but a solemn oath, and then he disconnects the physical contact before Mamoru can get anything more from him. Instead Zoisite receives something, the crystal, which he takes at once and stares at, so delicate in the palm of his hand.

    Then, given his current outfit, there's not much to do but slide it into the pocket of his pants, before he folds his hands over his knee primly. "Thank you," he says, ever-so-pleased, and adds on a purr of, "Endymion," with a little moue of delight to accompany.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
There's at least some matching guilt, there, from Mamoru's quarter; he doesn't even realize his other hand's come up reflexively to cover his heart--

--and Zoisite swears an oath, and somehow Endymion looks chastened, even if it's not quite right, not actually what Zoisite meant to do, with that oath. But he already said he was sorry, he's not going to say it again and again. 'Never have to do anything like that again' -- is that really something his prettiest guardian can promise?

Then Zoisite lets go and Mamoru gives him the crystal and there's such smug delight that the prince can't help but pfft out a low laugh. "You're welcome. But bear in mind, Usa already has one. And Ami has one. There are two left out there, and ideally we get them both. I'm going to end up with another crystal, Zoisite."

Zoisite has posed:
    Zoisite doesn't address Mamoru's guilt. He doesn't address his own guilt, either, to be fair. No more than his oath does, at least, which is just as much about his allegiance to the side of light and goodness.

    "Mmhmm, we'll see," he says, rather than point out any of the number of other allies who he'd rather see take up the additional danger of having a crystal on their person. Zoisite knows better than to do that, so he just demures. "You should get back to studying. Once I'm enrolled, you're going to have to keep up with me, you know. And I expect great things from my prince."

    Though he has no actual doubts about Mamoru's scholastic abilities, of course. It's a fairly obvious play at distraction, for Zoisite.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
This is where that prince -- who doesn't seem to have nearly as much of a problem with being called that when he's not IN PUBLIC, or IN PUBLIC AND IT'S LIKE THAT -- rolls his eyes with his entire body. Every single thing about his body language is drawling 'really?' in the single most archly dubious manner possible -- to the point that Endymion doesn't even bother saying it out loud.

"Sure," he says instead.

Then he leans closer to Zoisite, closer, closer-- closer-- definitely in his personal space, braced on the seat and back of the chair so he doesn't fall, closer-- and unless Zoisite chickens out and moves away, he breathily murmurs, "Promises, promises," right next to the blond's ear.

Zoisite has posed:
    Zoisite shrugs one shoulder in an elegant motion, his chin lifting just so with the movement. Seems they've reached an impasse, but one he's choosing not to acknowledge aloud. Which means he can still think of himself as being the one who's won, and frankly, that's what matters.

    He still has his hands folded over his knees, sitting so prim and proper, that if he tried to lean back he'd probably topple over. But he doesn't lean back. Zoisite, chicken out? Absolutely not. His eyes narrow into slits and he peers at Mamoru through them, and the murmur has his lips pursing.

    Oh, how he wants to react. But he only lifts a hand to sweep through his hair, tucking some behind his ear, and he hums out a "Oh, you'll see. Just you wait until I'm your classmate, my prince, and then the real fun will begin."

    And then, Zoisite's high-pitched laugher filling the room, he disappears in a flurry of sakura petals that swirl around Mamoru in his chair until they slowly drift to the floor and disappear.