2014-06-09 - Buy Me A New One
| Title: Buy Me A New One | |
|---|---|
| Summary: Westar has decided that homework causes grief and misery. Mamoru is in the wrong place at the wrong time, doing exactly the wrong thing (see: reading)! Then ZOISITE COMES TO SAVE HIS BACON. Obviously, this can't be real. Right? Right? | |
| Who: | |
| Where: Yamanote High City | |
| OOC - IC Date: 26 January 2014 - 6/9/14 | |
<Pose Tracker> Mamoru Chiba [Ohtori Academy (11)] has posed.
It is a sunny winter afternoon! A Sunday, no less. That means school starts tomorrow. That means Mamoru's actually been done with his for-real homework for the weekend for nearly two days, and what he's doing now is either extra credit or trying to stay ahead of the class.
Or possibly he's just reading for fun, since he's a nerd and does that with astonishing frequency.
Innocently sitting on a park bench with _Godel, Escher, Bach_ open on one knee, stylish glasses lacking in anything resembling smudges and peacoat classically well-fitting, he really does look like an intellectual snob.
Until he laughs at something in the book. Then he looks like an intellectual doofus.
The snow still left on the ground melts slowly, trickling in lazy rivulets toward the gutters; people pass by on the sidewalk just over there, ignoring everything that's not what they're immediately thinking about, which is a lot of random stuff, generally.
Mamoru actually claps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from guffawing over the self-referential conversations between the tortoise and the crab.
<Pose Tracker> Westar [None] has posed.
Hayato Nishi has been exploring Tokyo. Humans are puzzling, and he knows books cannot hope to explain them. Learn by doing, learn by finding things for himself. So he has gone to the parks, and the markets, and generally just observed for the day.
He has observed that these things called 'onigiri' are actually pretty tasty.
He has observed that Earth's vehicle drivers are horribly disorganized.
And he has observed that humans seem to despair over something called 'homework'.
It is with this third lesson in mind that he has set an impulsive plan into action. Forget the fortune-telling, and put aside the Nakewameke that Eas insisted on using first. He is Westar, an executive chosen by Mobius-sama personally, and he would not have been assigned this mission if he could not do it! All he needs to do is find the method that works for him, instead of trying to understand Soular's books...
Speaking of which, there's a teenager with a book. Reading...something complicated. Time to see if this plan will work better than the fortune-telling. Hidden behind a tree, he claps his hands and whispers.
"Switch! Over!"
A shadow looms over Mamoru and his book, and a muscular arm reaches past his head to snatch the book out of his hands. A towering figure, who some might describe as a 'beefy hunk', garbed in a black outfit trimmed with gold and a white cape. Short pale green hair tops a sneering face, as he holds the book up out of Mamoru's seated reach. "Hmph. Complicated. Is this book important to you?"
<Pose Tracker> Mamoru Chiba [Ohtori Academy (11)] has posed.
Some people actually enjoy homework-- arguably because they're soft in the head, but generally because even if they don't agree with teachers all the time, they love learning. Mamoru Chiba is one such puzzling human. He doesn't look up until the looming shadow falls across him, and then he looks up -- just as the book's swiped neatly out of his hands.
The question's so startlingly out of the blue that the teenager can't help but answer it honestly. Which is with total confusion. "A-aah?" he blinks, not even annoyed yet. "Important how?"
Suddenly the annoyance kicks in, and he stands up. He's also tall as hell, but in comparison, he's a beanpole. It's like a Charles Atlas ad from a vintage comic book. "Do I know you?" he asks irritably, reaching for the book.
<Pose Tracker> Westar [None] has posed.
Of the three executives of Labyrinth, one enjoys books. One does not care. And the third, who stands before Mamoru, cannot fathom why anyone would attach import to the written word. Without even sparing the book a second glance, Westar flings it behind him with no little force. High and far, the book flies, likely to wind up tangled among some tree branches.
"If it is important to you, then you will despair at its loss - cry, wail, wallow in misery!" The yellow diamond-shaped belt buckle of the Labyrinth executive's outfit shines in anticipation - and Westar slams his now-empty hand against his chest. "I am Westar! Denizen of Labyrinth, and faithful servant of Supreme Ruler Mobius!"
And then, Westar takes a step in towards Mamoru, that grinning face coming uncomfortably close. "So, with your book gone...how do you feel?"
<Pose Tracker> Mamoru Chiba [Ohtori Academy (11)] has posed.
"I-- what?" asks the teenager faintly, brows knitting. Mamoru would be sputtering if it had more force and less bafflement. He's looking up and up and far behind Westar at where calculus says his book landed. "Uh. Annoyed, I'll have to either climb a tree or buy a new copy, and then find my place again. Mostly inconvenienced. Is this a thing?"
The question seems earnest, at least. Mamoru pushes his glasses up and starts walking past Westar toward the resting place of his complicated paperback tome. (It's a big book.) He's still talking as he goes, though; it's a conversation, and he's probably dreaming, and two-sided dream conversations are super rare. "What I mean is, is this going to be a thing? Extradimensional villains stealing books. I'm not really sure what your goal is, here."
<Pose Tracker> Westar [None] has posed.
That...was honestly not the reaction Westar was expecting. He blinks in bafflement as Mamoru starts to walk past him, babbling about whether or not the thing that's happening is actually a thing...and then there's a low growl of irritation. Soular and Eas are one thing, but random Earth civilians mocking him? That will not stand.
A meaty hand falls on Mamoru's shoulder, gripping tightly, and spinning the spindly boy around to face Westar. The grin is gone, and his expression is somewhere between 'irritation' and 'anger'. "My goal? It is to gather misery and sorrow. Since you don't seem to care about that book..." Another meaty hand grabs the front of Mamoru's shirt in a fierce grip. "...then make this simple and tell me what would make you miserable."
<Pose Tracker> Mamoru Chiba [Ohtori Academy (11)] has posed.
Spun and grabbed, Mamoru can only stare in astonishment for a second before he reaches up to try and pry Westar's hand off his shirt. Or lose his shirt, depending on what seems more possible in the overarching plan of not dying, which sort of popped up right then.
The aggravation is gone from his voice, and Mamoru gives up on trying to pry that hand away, taking his glasses off instead. Precautionary measure. "That's a pretty solid goal. Uh, let's see. What would make me miserable."
Finger lifted, the teenager's giving this serious thought. And also casually unbuttoning his shirt with his other hand, for ease of 'maybe if I get loose I can run'. He's dreaming, this has to be a dream, it's so surreal-- so random--
He tells the truth, blue eyes serious. "The girl I like thinking I'm a burden. That would make me miserable."
It's in my dreams I find the right moment.
<Pose Tracker> Zoe Palissandre [None] has posed.
School starts tomorrow, which means Zoisite has a lot of work to do. See, one of the perils of being undercover is the sheer quantities of time and effort it takes to maintain your identities. In the Shitennou's case, that involves a double portion of schoolwork: Professor Izono's lesson plans, lecture notes, administrata, and the like plus Zoë's homework. He's gotten some of it farmed out, naturally (imagine a youma's shock when its task for the day is not energy theft but trigonometry), but...
But screw it, it's a lovely winter afternoon and the crêpe stand's siren song wafted through space to reach his ear all the way at Point D.
Accordingly, Zoë Palissandre is currently strolling through the park, her whipped cream-and-strawberry-topped ice cream crêpe ensconced in both hands. It has a few bites taken out, but is mostly intact; one fat red berry has been neatly decapitated by perfectly-aligned teeth, and its juice now tints the redhead's lips. She's got to be careful with it, lest any dairy glop down onto her short pleated skirt, heathered grey tights, or the knit legwarmers peeking up over her tan leather boots. Ahh, though, it's so good that it might not matter even if some did--
- *whistle*
- *SPLOP*
Occupied as they are, Mamoru and Westar might not hear the shriek that follows the latter's discarding of that poor book.
However...
Some moments later, Westar will find a hand clamping down on his massive bicep. It's slender, delicate, with manicured nails: saffron dotted with lilac.
Behind him, its owner interrupts. "Excusez-moi. Were you the one who threw this book?"
Mamoru's book, its pages now smeared with dirty whipped cream, lands with a thud on the bench behind the men.
<Pose Tracker> Westar [None] has posed.
...well, that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. "Making someone else miserable would make you miserable?" The unbuttoning of the shirt is interrupted by Westar's grip tightening, starting to lift the tall boy by the front of his shirt, and he might just have enough muscle to do this. "Start making sense-"
A hand grips his arm, and Westar can't help but look towards its owner. Someone's interrupting him and asking a stupid question - from the looks of things, some girl. The one the guy was talking about? Eh, doesn't matter. "Yeah. What does it matter to you?" He sneers, and turns his attention back to the boy in his grip.
<Pose Tracker> Mamoru Chiba [Ohtori Academy (11)] has posed.
Basically what's going through Mamoru's head right now is a combination of 'oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck' and 'I can't reach my pockets with my coat jacked up into my armpits like this, how the hell am I going to get my Sailor Moon Signal Watch, I can't just henshin right here on the street with everyone looking including this jerk and Zoisite--'
AND ZOISITE.
If it were possible, Mamoru's eyes widen even further, and now it's not just a sort of 'blindingly quickly running through possible escape plans and potential ways to deal with this without getting killed' expression he's got on his face.
He's afraid, and he can't entirely hide it.
And that's what's behind his eyes when Westar looks back at him. He's sure as hell not going to try and answer.
<Pose Tracker> Zoe Palissandre [None] has posed.
Something at the back of Zoisite's mind registers, albeit briefly, that he's seen this mint-haired oaf before. Unfortunately, it slots in beneath his need for extremely petty revenge slash vindication, and thus goes unremarked-upon for the time being.
Except for a streak of melting ice cream down his temple, the Shitennou's porcelain-pale face has reddened with anger -- but when Westar verbally shrugs him off, all the colour bleeds away. Only those poison-green eyes -- now so vivid as to be nearly luminous -- retain any.
Mamoru, who's pissed Zoisite off like this a time or two, will probably recognise what's transpiring.
"It matters because that was my crêpe, you incomparable imbecile!!" Zoë shrieks, clamping down harder on Westar's arm and wrenching backward, hauling the massive Labyrinth executive over her shoulder in an enraged and not-at-all-zen judo flip without thought to Mamoru's precarious situation (sorry Mamoru (not sorry)).
Standing over Westar, the Ohtori student draws herself up to her full height (all of 5'9" in those heels). Her hair in all its sunset glory has pulled free of the fluffy scarf loosely wrapped around her neck and over her shoulders; it hangs around her downturned face like fire seeping down from a burning ceiling. "Torment Chiba all you like, but leave me out of it!!"
Gosh, Mamoru, doesn't this scene seem familiar...
<Pose Tracker> Westar [None] has posed.
Westar looks into Mamoru's eyes, sees the fear there, and grins. It is not a pleasant grin. It is a savage one, promising violence and bloodlust. One that, paired with the muscular body it is attached to, composes an honest threat.
Maybe this is the girl Mamoru was talking about - what do you know, the boy really does fear being a burden. Regardless, it's great to finally get some respect. Finally, Westar has someone who will do the right thing and produce some Misery Energy for the Sorrow Gauge. The direct approach works, and now-
Now, Westar is airborne. Caught completely off guard by the sudden attack, his grip on Mamoru loosens, and the two go in separate directions. Westar manages to land more or less on his feet, skidding some distance before coming to a halt - and what happened to his target isn't an immediate concern. She is.
"Che, whatever a crêpe is, that was a dumb book. What's your deal with this guy anyway, are you the girl he doesn't want to be a burden to or something?" Because, if so...then the girl being hurt would cause the boy despair, right? Dirt flies as Westar springs forward, throwing an inelegant, wild punch. Easily dodged by anyone on his level, of course, but for some ordinary teenage girl?
<Pose Tracker> Mamoru Chiba [Ohtori Academy (11)] has posed.
Torment Chiba all you want--
He doesn't know. Zoisite doesn't know, doesn't know he knows, all of the above. Mamoru did, indeed, go flying; he did, indeed, land appallingly gracelessly; his book is, indeed, totally ruined.
But instead of being smart and scrambling the hell away from the brewing fight-- he will in a minute, he swears he will-- he picks himself up slowly, trying not to call attention to himself any more than can be helped by existing in the same slice of time and space.
Zoisite saw how protective he got over Usagi. It would be out of character for what Mamoru expects Zoisite's estimation of what kind of person he is for him to run away and let Zoe Palissandre fight this brodude on her own. But 'she' did just judo flip Westar.
And Luna told him to GTFO if Zoisite came anywhere near him.
And it's only common sense.
But mystery. And familiarity. And patterns of behavior.
Mamoru decides to take the best of both worlds route, and edges back a ways to watch from behind a tree with his finger on the 'omg sailor senshi help' button of his moon-kitty-gimped comm^H^H^H^H tracking bug.
<Pose Tracker> Zoe Palissandre [None] has posed.
And just like that, Westar creates his opening. "Wh- no!! No I am not th-" Zoë sputters, pink blooming back into her cheeks -- before that massive fist plants a garden of scarlet along the line of her jaw and cuts a well of crimson, dark as hate, into the corner of her cupids-bow lips. She reels, sliding and staggering backward, but -- bizarrely -- that's all.
"My..." A manicured hand lifts, its sensitive fingertips gently probing jaw and lips and coming back red, "...face."
Zoisite looks up, rage simmering in his viridian eyes, concentrated on the hulking exec -- and then he glances to the side, to Mamoru. It's brief; a moment later, his gaze tracks back to Westar. Blood stains his woolly scarf.
By now, it's become apparent that he has a problem. Normally, Zoisite wouldn't have a problem transforming out of civilian guise in public; sometimes it's necessary. And boy, would he love to see the look on this big lug's face when he did. The seemingly normal civvie, secretly one of Dark Fall's highest-ranked generals?
But...
Alabaster nostrils widen in a soft snort. It's the harder choice -- the less satisfying choice -- but Zoisite didn't get to be one of the Shitennou by always taking the easy route. No, he got to be one of the Shitennou by--
"Mamoru-san, this empty-headed ox ruined my crêpe. Take me back to the cart and buy me a new one." Blood oozing from her split lip, the girl with the wild red curls stands straight and tall, defiant in her own way. "I will also want some water, and your handkerchief. I would like to salvage this scarf if I can. Maintenant, s'il vous plaît."
<Pose Tracker> Westar [None] has posed.
Westar, for his part, shakes out his hand for a moment before turning back to Zoisite. That wild grin is on his face for only a few moments more before he frowns. Really, with that kind of force, any normal human in the area would be out for the count. That, in turn, implies that this girl isn't normal.
One of Earth's heroes? Maybe even a member of Pretty Cure?
"Hmph! Well, whoever you are..." He crouches, bringing up his fists with a grin. "And whatever your connection to that guy is, beating one of you to a pulp should create plenty of mise-"
Westar blinks, suddenly, and looks around. Tough red-haired girl, check. Ruined book, check. Spindly scholar-guy...not check? There's a tree there, sure, but... "Bah, there's no point if he got away, and you're more angry than despairing. I'll deal with you two some other day."
With that, he leaps back - alighting briefly atop a lamppost - and then leaps out of the park entirely, off to who knows where.
<Pose Tracker> Mamoru Chiba [Ohtori Academy (11)] has posed.
Mamoru freezes behind that tree, for some unbelievable reason wanting to-- on a gut level-- intercede. Somehow get Zoe-- Zoisite-- out of the way of that oncoming train. The injustice of relative size? The disguise? The shitstorm that will potentially take out a couple of city blocks if it connects?
The fist is descending--
--out of the clear blue sky, and Zoisite's undercover. A courtesan doing a damned fine job of charming the defenses out of the so-called diplomat who's been looking for a chance to "remove the alien witch from influencing the prince", he's well placed to place a shiv well, and isn't defenseless in the slightest.
But he's one of Endymion's best friends. One of his guardians, one of his brothers in arms. And he doesn't see it. It's a suckerpunch, and it's-- to be honest, none of this is fair, that's how it works. But still it roils in the young prince's guts, demanding action, demanding intercession, even if it ruins all the carefully-laid plans of the youngest and most incisively cunning of the Shitennou.
Mine.
Endymion's face is a mask of rage as he starts to step out, but a strong hand grabs him by the arm; Kunzite's fingers are like steel pincers. The rage remains, silent and towering, as the fist connects. It bleeds off in a rush when Zoisite smiles at his attacker, green eyes hard and pleased, proof gained--
And Westar just takes off. Mamoru stares in disbelief, and then startles when "Zoe" addresses him. "Of course," he says almost absently, unable to keep his eyes off the wild-haired Dark General, at the spots of blood on the woolly scarf. He steps up, letting manners steer him, and leaves the ruined book where it is, taking out his handkerchief first. "Let's get you taken care of, ne? Cold water-- I'm sure they've got some at the crepe stand..."
Luna will, in fact, kill him.
Except this has to be a dream. Otherwise it doesn't make any sense at all.
