Her voice sounds over the diminuendo of his music as the notes fade. Zoisite marks down the next few measures on his manuscript. Only then does he turn just his head, to look at Nehellenia over his shoulder.
"Who are you?" The words are mild, but they conceal a wariness, a watchfulness, a readiness.
The enemy is called the Dead Moon. Zoisite freezes noticeably. She is...!
He makes his move immediately. Zoisite vanishes, and reappears just behind Nehellenia. He reaches out to grab and hold her from behind, his dagger already in his hand to hold to her throat.
"I refuse," Zoisite says, and his lips form an unsettling smirk. She's lucky it's only at her neck, and not in it. It's the furthest he's willing to go in giving her a chance to explain herself. For a second, he's tempted to press just a little bit - there - but he doesn't. He won't, yet.
The dagger does not move. A part of him, despite his true intention not to harm her if she's truly an alternate and not his enemy, would like to; he'd like to see the crimson line across her neck that would be a sign he is not helpless, not ineffectual, not a failed guardian.
He also doesn't mind the blood of an enemy.
"I wish you to tell me about your dream magic," he says simply. "How it is done." He should be able to combat it with his music, if this happens again.
She's right, of course; it's simply his power. This, then, is simply hers. No rituals like Beryl's or the magic Kunzite sometimes used, no cursed object waiting for its victim. Zoisite nods.
"Dreams, too, are carried on the air," he remarks a bit cryptically. It gives him hope. He should have a strong weapon in the battles ahead. He ignores the offer of demonstration, unsure whether to accept it yet.
"That is what I intend," Zoisite acknowledges. "I will fight those spells."
The others will fight the remless, the Amazon Trio, Zirconia and Nehellenia herself. He will do what he can to support them with his own strengths; it's always been like that, ever since the distant past.
He glances down at the weapon still held there, and smirks. He'll take his time deciding whether to let her go. After a long moment, he finally does. He releases his grip, and steps back.
He frowns. "You would not hold me that easily again," Zoisite says. Something strange flickers in his eyes as he says it; anger, perhaps. Perhaps it's an anger strong enough to make him emerge.
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"Who are you?" The words are mild, but they conceal a wariness, a watchfulness, a readiness.
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He makes his move immediately. Zoisite vanishes, and reappears just behind Nehellenia. He reaches out to grab and hold her from behind, his dagger already in his hand to hold to her throat.
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"I would like you to answer my questions."
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He also doesn't mind the blood of an enemy.
"I wish you to tell me about your dream magic," he says simply. "How it is done." He should be able to combat it with his music, if this happens again.
Reply
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"Dreams, too, are carried on the air," he remarks a bit cryptically. It gives him hope. He should have a strong weapon in the battles ahead. He ignores the offer of demonstration, unsure whether to accept it yet.
Reply
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The others will fight the remless, the Amazon Trio, Zirconia and Nehellenia herself. He will do what he can to support them with his own strengths; it's always been like that, ever since the distant past.
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