May 04, 2010 21:21
mercury/mizuno ami (waterfell),
moon/tsukino usagi (rabbitofjustice),
endymion (aroyal_pain),
beryl (red_gem_queen),
luna (epilepticshiny),
beryl akamine (dress_up_queen),
kunzite (kingoftruth),
mercury (queenofkindness),
kunzite (earthvictorious),
mizuno ami (infectiousagent),
nephrite/sorano mari (firehairheart)
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Comments 120
Ami comes clad just like any other member of Kunzite's retinue, thanks to quick action with her teletia-S. She approaches him respectfully, fan hiding much of her face, and she bends down towards him as if she's one of those carrying messages from one of the other noble households.
"Mercury is here." He'll recognize her voice, of course, she assumes; and they can enjoy this sight together. She certainly plans to.
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Ami herself knows better, of course, and enters their easy conspiracy with a light heart. But it turns more serious as she gives proper attention to the proclamation. When the pyre is lit, she does not turn away from it.
"She thought she would take this planet," she remarks.
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"You should not fatigue yourself so." The words are a bit louder, just as casual, and cause the eyes of several passing servants to widen. "You will be no good to me if you do not relax to enjoy the sentencing, and learn the lesson our king has so wisely put before us."
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The knowledge that this protects her princess is what keeps Mercury steady, though she's grateful for Nephrite's presence nearby. Trained not to fidget, she manages to hold herself still, but her face blanches of its color as soon as Beryl's sentence begins.
It's barbaric. Instead of a ritual of purification or a banishment, it's to be death. Instead of a quick, clean death, it's to be a drawn-out and horrific one. Why?! Despite her outward calm, her hands properly folded in her lap dig deep into her thighs. Sometimes, she believes she will never understand the primitive and wild people of Earth or their rough way of life.
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She does love Nephrite. She loves him so much. She does. But to see herself replaced, by some other copy of herself, and such a dark copy. Kunzite really has changed, and she doesn't know how to help him.
Perhaps her eyes linger too long. But she nods, to herself it seems, and turns back to the proceedings before saying something quiet to Nephrite, to reassure herself of his presence beside her at least.
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The process itself fails to capture his interest; he is long familiar with it. But the sight of Beryl, clinging to dignity as exposed and inadequate as the garment she wears, stirs that vengeance lust and sates it at the same time. It's a potent mixture.
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"Kunzite. Do you enjoy the view?"
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"Very much," he acknowledges easily. "I thought I'd share in your joy." As if he'd planned this arrival. He hadn't, of course.
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Oh yes, that would have been a fate he would have rather reveled in watching, and the dark look of amusement in his eyes proclaims that fact easily. Of course, those eyes also watch his counterpart carefully. Until he can be sure, he will not leave the man unattended when his master is so near.
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Whoever she is, she handles the sight before her better than might be expected. She does not shrink away or turn away, though the line of her shoulders is no longer perfectly straight and her expression can't stop itself from becoming a troubled mask.
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"You would do well to hide yourself, before an overzealous warrior decides to make the execution all the merrier." Who that warrior might be, is left quite to her imagination.
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"I have disrupted no peace nor committed any crime against this world or any other. Would you execute me, Kunzite?"
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He moves around her, to stand before her, between she and the crowd gathering at his arrival and her appearance, and pins that dark gaze upon her.
"I will execute only those who deserve their fate. As my own king has declared, mercy will no longer be given. As for you... I merely intend to escort you to safe quarters. It would not do for a... noble woman to be injured or murdered by an overzealous warrior who mistakes her for the one to be executed upon this day."
"I expect the same courtesy from you that you would be given from me were our positions reversed."
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He stands at a respectful semi-attention as his father reads out the royal proclamation, his seriousness a mirror of the attitude of his double within the royal enclosure.
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"Master."
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The unspoken invitation to retreat to the palace, a place far more guarded, as well as emptied for the execution, is in his eyes.
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