|neviot (e_witness) wrote,|
@ 2006-05-26 19:33:00
|Entry tags:||fanfiction, sailor moon, slash, writing|
Can you tell I'm succeeding at resisting the lure of the computer? ^__^ In fact, I've even managed to get out a 1000 word drabble. I have no idea if there are such things (I've only heard "drabble" used to mean "100 words"), but I wrote one anyway. It's the first Sailor Moon fanfiction I've written in five years, and I'm not embarassed to admit it. I'm not.
Warnings: The following story is slash (male/male pairing), so ignore/skip/move on if you'd like. (I understand perfectly. This is the first time I myself have written one of the like.)
WIth that, may I present the crappily titled "Reconciliation"...
Moonlight spilled from the latticed opening near the ceiling, casting a crisscrossed box of pale light against the cold grayness of the bare cell. The otherwise dark-stained cement stretched from one impenetrable wall no more than five feet to a row of steel bars, as inflexible as a line of battle-worn soldiers ready to fire. With two more stark gray walls thrown up on either side, the sole occupant of the cell was hemmed in worse than chickens in a coop. Even chickens had a better window than that microscopic, barred aperture above his seated figure.
Zoisite had barely been in the cell for two days, but already he thought he was likely to lose his mind in the tiny enclosure with only steel gray bars as companions. Normally, he’d unabashedly chatter aloud to himself to fill in the silence. Somehow, though, the total stillness of the cell was so eerie Zoisite couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth and disturb the evils in the cell his mind had conjured up. Kunzite would have been impressed with his rare display of restraint.
Thinking of Kunzite only made things worse. The older General had stood beside him when Queen Beryl sentenced him to indeterminate days of imprisonment for losing his temper and botching an otherwise flawless operation. Had it just been for her displeasure, Zoisite thought he might not have been so bitter about his punishment. But his sworn Queen was not alone in castigating him. Kunzite’s handsome, stone-chiseled features had remained as impassive as ever and never once turned towards him, but Zoisite had long since been able to see past his lover’s unshakable façade. He’d read the condemnation there and knew with a pang that he had fouled up.
His expression twisted at the memory, a wounded look climbing into his eyes. He knew Kunzite disapproved of his lack of control on his emotions, but his lover had never, never outright blamed him for failing a mission.
“Damnit,” Zoisite hissed between clenched teeth, startling himself with the sudden explicative. Irate eyes warily scanned the surrounding shadows as he continued under his breath, “You know I was pushed too far. That Sailor Chit had no right—no right—”
The slender man broke off, his eyebrows trembling in indignation. “I was defending you for the love of—you know I hate it—I can’t stand it when those brats—for Selene’s sake, you know I can’t control myself!”
His head dropped into his curled up knees, a surge of blood pounding through his temples. He pressed his eyes closed, violently restraining the sudden humiliating fluid burning at the edge of his vision. Voice muffled against the rough, unwashed fabric at his thighs, he let out a jagged whisper, “Damnit.”
The air stirred some feet in front of him beyond the bars, a painfully familiar aura prickling his senses. Muscles tensing, Zoisite slowly lifted his head, eyes searching, seeking of their own accord, finally latching onto the sight of the imposing figure doused in shadow. Signature silver hair framed the emotionless features. Zoisite felt his heart turn at the sight of his beloved, and his breath inadvertently quickened.
“I see you’re making the most of your redemption,” Kunzite’s noncommittal voice rang in the silence, flat blue eyes sweeping over Zoisite’s huddled form.
Zoisite cringed at the older general’s blunt observation but resisted the impulse to shrink further within himself. Instead, he unraveled himself from that pathetic, helpless position until he stood his full height. Though he was an unimpressive 5’5”, the crown of his head barely reaching Kunzite’s shoulder, he determinedly leveled his gaze with Kunzite’s. “Why are you here?” he forced out, striving for a tone balanced between pragmatism and indifference.
“Am I not allowed to visit you?” Kunzite had yet to move an inch. Not even the flicker of an eyelash.
“I didn’t expect you.” Stay calm. He’s here, isn’t he? So play his game.
“I don’t blame you.”
Zoisite’s jaw clenched, hard. “You—are you here for something?” You do blame me, you asshole.
“You’ve repeated yourself.”
“I—this…” Zoisite trembled with the strain of unspoken words and worried that his control was leaking. Damn it, stay calm!
Kunzite stepped forward, the shadows falling away. Eyebrows raised, he murmured, “This imprisonment has done nothing for you…”
“I know! Kunzite—I can’t. There are some—people who can do everything. They just put their mind to it, put reason before emotion, and they succeed. Human icebergs.” Zoisite laughed, too sharply. “Nothing touches them; nothing sways them. That’s—who they are. But others aren’t the same. They don’t have that control.” A plaintive note entered his voice, and his eyes jerked away from Kunzite. “They make mistakes. They—fail. They can be hurt—”
The rattle of metal against metal interrupted Zoisite, drawing his attention to the key in Kunzite’s hand, already fitted into the lock and turning. At the click of the lock unbolted, the heavy barred door was pushed open, scraping the cement floor.
Zoisite’s eyes flew to Kunzite’s, shock stripping him of speech and movement.
The silver-haired general didn’t return the gaze but instead pulled the key out of the lock and returned it to an inconspicuous pouch at his waist. Only then did he move into the dank cell, stepping so close to Zoisite they shared the same polluted air.
Uncertain, Zoisite shifted on his feet, avoiding Kunzite’s eyes. His lover was no longer displeased, he felt sure, but he had no idea what was expected of him.
Kunzite raised a finger to Zoisite’s cheek and let it linger, waiting for the other to look up before speaking. “Queen Beryl allowed me to release you as long as you agreed to devise a new plot to ensnare the troublesome Sailor Soldiers.” His next words were slow and measured. “I pleaded on your behalf.”
Zoisite’s eyes widened as he was pulled into a tight embrace, and they watered at Kunzite’s next words. “Don’t think icebergs can’t melt.”