Another homecoming
Theme: Eyes (#10) – theme taken from 101_Kisses
Genre: General/slight humor
Rating: PG
Zoisite moved gingerly. Venus' boomerang was far more painful than he thought possible. He groaned, not quite sure where he hurt, but rather positive that he did.
He struggled to catch his breath, which, if he remembered correctly, he had lost when Venus had . . . Had she? Yes.
When she had killed him.
He was grateful to still be breathing and decided that before he jumped to the conclusion of being alive, he would make sure he could continue breathing. With ease. Eventually.
As he lay prone on the ground, he heard voices he knew.
"How long is this going to take?" That was definitely Nephrite – impatient as always.
"Venus decimated him, you fool. Give him time." Zoisite heard the frown in Jadeite's voice, but then again, his voice always sounded like that. "He hasn't taken half the time it took you, and I eventually had to _wake_ you."
A new voice interjected. "The transition itself is sudden. When it's unexpected, it's much harder. The spirit needs time to readjust and familiarize itself with the tangible, not to mention the adjustment of the whole to the new surroundings."
The sound was young, but the words were big. And wise, Zoisite supposed. But really, it was the bigness that got to him initially.
He could no longer fight the brightness blaring outside his lids. He stretched his body flat onto the ground and slowly peeked beneath his long lashes.
He blinked his eyes wider bit by bit to accustom them to what was indeed a brilliance unmatched even in Sailor Moon's world – except for the senshi attacks, which was an exception to a lot of things, including pain tolerance.
When his eyes finally came into focus, they were met with lightened caramel eyes, set in an upside down face, directly above his.
'Venus!'
Zoisite scrambled to his feet and stretched out an arm to summon an attack.
Nothing happened.
Quickly, he tried the other arm. That failing, he glanced about quickly and saw Jadeite and Nephrite lounging about as if they belonged, no more worried about him than . . . than they had ever been.
Which was not comforting. At all.
He look to the eyes that had, to be honest, scared the crap out of him.
Upon his knees, dressed entirely in white, a boy knelt. His hands folded in his lap, his scarily bright and familiar eyes inquiring. A spiral point protruded from his forehead, and Zoisite thought he could see wings folded behind the slight back.
"Zoisite," the boy began. "Welcome back."
end