( Endymion could bring it all back to him )
Theme: Snowdrop (#35) – theme taken from 101_Kisses
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rating: PG
He shivered violently, not wanting to go down but having nowhere else to go.
The ground below him rumbled like a stomach.
'Angrily digesting Dark Kingdom agents and a other-worldly phenomenon bent on taking over the world,' he could not help thinking.
Kunzite sighed, scuffing his shoes into the soft snow and squatting to rest his head in his hands.
How had it all gone so wrong? How had it come to this point, where only two lived? How had they managed to estrange themselves from each other?
How had they ended up in this hellhole?
Kunzite struggled to remember. What had she said? Their bodies were hers? Had there been a time when they weren't?
Kunzite could no longer recall any time before the senshi, before Beryl and Metallia, before the Arctic Circle. But he caught glimpses.
Images of a family. Of Endymion. Of enjoying Tokyo, instead of conquering it.
Ever since Sailor Moon had used the ginzuishou - had it been a trick? Was she weakening him? Or could these be memories? Certainly he wasn't born into servitude! He was one of the Shitennou; he-
A bit of snow dropped onto his sleeve. Looking up, Prince Endymion gazed at him, blankly, but with distaste. Endymion shook his own wrist delicately, and more snow flung to the ground, little peaks, barely discernable at certain angles in the immaculate frost.
The snow melted into a careless splatter and stained Kunzite's uniform darkly.
"Beryl wants you," Endymion intoned apathetically. "Now."
Kunzite looked hard at Endymion, straightening up and wringing the tightness from his limbs. If he could remember something, couldn't Endymion? If there was something to remember. Something to hold onto. Something worth fighting for.
Endymion stared back with darkened blues, somehow pale in their near blackness. His arm lifted heavily, and Kunzite watched, hypnotized. Convinced something was happening. Endymion wouldn't stare at him otherwise. Endymion wouldn't touch him otherwise. There had been something before. Endymion could bring it all back to him.
Instead, Endymion touched the middle of Kunzite's forehead briefly, where the pink stone glimmered blindingly in the sunlight.
Kunzite batted his hand away angrily and turned around.
This was no time to be messing about. Beryl had called for him.
He had work to do.
end