[013 ☿] Even if the two of us are ever torn apart, I swear that I will change the world.

[waterfell]

The forest is quiet, and green. A cloaked man heads towards an altar in a clearing, already laid out with candles and, crosswise, his sword in its sheath. He takes a deep, cleansing breath, and picks it up

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[reverse_destiny]

[Sora is silent. He stands behind her, hands in pockets. Won't say a word, but his presence should say enough. Need someone to keep you company?]

[waterfell]

[She does. If she feels at a loss, suddenly appearing this way before someone she's normally so strong in front of, it takes second place to that utter need. She turns, finally, away from the memorial and to Sora.]

This is where someone important to me is at rest.

[She can admit that importance to Sora, somehow, as she could to few others.]

[whitleas]

[Whitlea tries to stop him, at first, screaming out a "NO!", but her voice goes unheard--of course, she can't change the past--and she finds herself on the same side of the chasm as Mercury, and the only one that can possibly hear her frantic shouts for a stranger is the wind.

Then the forest changes, and suddenly she's by her friend's side, watching her tend to the grave site. She waits for a moment, then takes off her hat as she approaches, staying silent for a good while before speaking.]

...hey.

[waterfell]

[She takes a long breath before answering, so that the eyes she shows will be dry and the voice she uses will be steady.]

Whitlea. [It's been some time since they've met; nostalgia is showing itself through her dreams again, she concludes.]

A warrior is at rest in this place.

[whitleas]

I can tell. [She kneels down, places her hat down on the grave. It's only a gesture, but nonetheless, she feels as if this is all she can do for him.

But for her...well, she can try to be her shoulder.] You gonna be okay?

[waterfell]

[There's only ever been one answer to that.]

I'm fine. This was his own decision.

[hisdreamsmyfate]

[Zack doesn't have much to offer *but* sympathy. He's seen this type of thing before, had experienced it for himself. But his mentor didn't even have enough honour left to deal the blow himself. Zack had been forced to, and...

Well. Here they were.

He steps forward silently, a boquet of sunflowers held carefully in his arms. And whether she protests it or not, he gently lays them over the gravesite as well, shifting his hand to rest upon her shoulder.]

[waterfell]

[There are those who'd say Kunzite has no honor left himself. He is a man who went against his sworn lord, who struck him down. He is the example and epitome of everything base and ignoble and dishonorable and wrong.

Unless the bonds of another lifetime don't matter anymore. Unless a lord who turned his back on his men is no longer a lord at all. Unless there is nothing between them now but cold hard vengeance for the lives Endymion's choices cost.

Mercury glances up from the flowers as they lay on the ground, to the hands that placed them there, to Zack.]

Sunflowers? [Warmth, something sorely lacking in the life of the Dark Kingdom. Adoration; perhaps it was apt. Longevity, a cruel irony - and yet, she suspects Kunzite would appreciate it, this man who never asked to be revived again at the whim of a hated witch.

This man who loved flowers and greenery, and the sea.]

You chose them well.

[hisdreamsmyfate]

[He never knew Kunzite. And in the waking world, he probably never would. He was important to a friend, a life lost far too young and soon - an addition to his memorial was about the best the SOLDIER could offer, and he carefully stands as to not disturb the arrangement.]

Peg it down to habit. And besides... they look good here, huh?

[He tries to smile, though there's not much to truly be happy about. If either of them could be at peace, Kunzite included, then it was enough.

Bright blue eyes look to the other again, watching her gently.]

I'm sorry things came to this.

[waterfell]

[Zack is the sort of man who would been under Kunzite's training in the past, when Kunzite had still been capable of being the strict but kindly mentor to his charges.]

He, from the beginning, intended for me to live.

[It seems like such a strange thing to say. But why else is she here? Whatever she may make of this end of events, she will live.]

[findmyownreason]

He feels like he's late, though he can't understand why he feels that way. He's missed something - or almost missed something - very important yet again. He's in his regular day wear, black, silver wolf, but his arm's in a sling on one side, bandaged to the shoulder and there's a dark wing of leather that tucks inward on that side. He doesn't seem aware of either deviation however. Instead all he's paying attention to is the woman in front of the memorial stone.

He understands that.

Not her specific pain but he's close enough to his own to understand a little at least. So the tread of his boots is slow but steady as he approaches, careful not to disturb the flowers of ice and light and they don't stop until he's directly behind her. Close enough that a step back, a step forward, would bring them into contact. It's too close, too personal an invasion of her space but he can't seem to help it. He doesn't touch though, doesn't speak. Unsure of his welcome or even if he has a right to be here.

It's just that he can't not be

[waterfell]

At first, she doesn't even move. She might as well be a statue herself, carved from ice or maybe from the marble in that place where she first met the man resting here. She stays where she is, looking elsewhere so she doesn't have to see the disapproval, the turning away she assumes will come.

There is a question she needs the answer to, more desperately than she could ever say even if she ever would. It's such a telling question, and that's why she can only ask it to him, a safe person who only exists in dreams and a person she would like to convince herself might just tell her the truth. Might tell her why, even with Kunzite, it ended in her not being enough to stay for. It ended in being left.

Her voice is quiet, but steady. "Do you think I'm just the sort of person no one could want to be with?"

[findmyownreason]

His eyes come up at her question and fix on the back of her head, even as his pale brows slowly sink over his eyes in confusion. He doesn't answer right away though. Not because he doesn't know the answer but because blurting something out wouldn't be treating her question with the seriousness that it deserves. Against his back, the wing shifts a little, a whisper of leather.

"I think," his voice is soft, very low, and he pauses, terrible with words and aware of his failing, trying to collect his words so they'll make sense. "I don't think he wanted to leave you. You're not an easy person to leave."

[waterfell]

The trouble with trying to believe that is that he did leave. And despite her efforts, she is still too emotional to notice one thing: If he had no thought for her, why not leave immediately once the circumstances leading to it had arisen in his world?

He'd stayed, those months at least, for her. She had been enough to live for. But just as she's never known there was a chance she could have grasped for freedom and a peaceful future, she's never known it.

As for it not being easy to leave her... well. Kunzite is far from the only person to have done it, starting with her own father, who left the family. "It seems easy enough," she says evenly.