"Then you are welcome until you return to your world," Zoisite says. It must be true; how else can he be looking at a copy of himself that he already knows is not an impostor? He nods, and his hands drift back to the keys. They can still speak while he plays.
The musician glances away every now and then, to give at least some of his attention to his visitor. "We have met before," he observes.
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.
That he comes with a more peaceful mindset towards Zoisite is due to the tentative peace with the one in his own world; with the pale shitennou no longer preaching against Mercury, the shitennou have begun to settle, in a way. It means that upon finding himself facing his old friend's counterpart, he is not actively aggressive, merely neutral, and he stands by the door, simply listening to the bits of melody that are played.
Zoisite's facing away from Kunzite. His hands find their positions without looking, from long-ingrained memory of the black and white keys that provide his gateway to his private world.
That he's aware of the other's presence, he signals only after writing down another few measures of the composition and the slightly louder scratch of his quill than normal.
"Kunzite. You will not enter?" It's voiced as a question, making it even an invitation.
"I was merely listening," he answers, and steps inside the door casually, the folds of his cloak swirling down and around him as he stands straight, rather than leaning against the frame. Then he moves to the piano, to stand to Zoisite's side, and lets his eyes roam over what has been written so far.
"Jadeite has been disturbed since waking up from his dreams. It will soothe him to a peaceful and restful sleep." Zoisite sees no reason to hide this, not even any qualm of tact.
He hesitates before saying more, however, because he is unsure himself of the rest. "And... I feel it will be needed."
Calming, soothing, the quelling of anger and banking of fiery tempers.
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"You have come to listen?" he asks, letting the air carry his words back to his alternate.
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The musician glances away every now and then, to give at least some of his attention to his visitor. "We have met before," he observes.
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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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"My dreams are ended," Zoisite says softly, sifting through his memories of the past weeks to realize which Kunzite he's speaking to.
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"You should already know that." As if he can truly blame the man in front of him for not knowing the events of another world.
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That he's aware of the other's presence, he signals only after writing down another few measures of the composition and the slightly louder scratch of his quill than normal.
"Kunzite. You will not enter?" It's voiced as a question, making it even an invitation.
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"What might the reason be for such a song?"
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He hesitates before saying more, however, because he is unsure himself of the rest. "And... I feel it will be needed."
Calming, soothing, the quelling of anger and banking of fiery tempers.
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