《 PRINCESS OF LIGHT? 》 divinehope.
She’s a woman of many masks. Sailor Cosmos is a legend, essentially her own mythos across the universe at large; Usagi has yet to cross paths with anyone that didn’t either know who she is or have some variation of legend about her, the guardian of the stars and keeper of the balance. She’s been hailed as a saviour, a protector, welcomed with open arms wherever she may wander. Every time she repels one of Chaos’ attempts to besiege the universe or even simply rescues someone from a perilous situation, she is met with praise and gratitude from people all around. The tales of her have spread far and wide, making her a figure even larger than life, a mysterious sailor soldier clad in white, an angel of light guarding the cosmos against evil.
She supposes that the tales are even further elevated thanks to her thousand years of reign as Neo-Queen Serenity. Often in the same breath that one hears her name, they hear mention of her status of Queen, of the planet she completely recreated, the billions she saved. A goddess walking the planet called Earth, adorned with a crown of light—this is the same saviour that eventually ascended to the heavens, the stars themselves shaping to her will so that she could walk amongst them. They say her eyes reflect the universe, showing every single star as it shines—they say she’s so in tune with our stars that she mourns every star that fades and returns to the cauldron. Have you heard about Sailor Cosmos, the Queen that stepped down from her throne to fight for us?
Yet, no one knows the real her—not any more, as even her friends eventually passed away from old age, just as her beloved husband had. Tsukino Usagi is none of those things. The last word any of her friends would use to describe her is “regal,” and they’d probably laugh in the face of anyone to talk about her like she was so creature of legend instead of a massive crybaby that hates confrontation. Sure, she’s not afraid to stand up when it’s necessary, but that doesn’t mean she’s this stalwart soldier that stares the darkness down every second of every day. In a way, it feels like by stepping up as Sailor Cosmos—and even Neo-Queen Serenity—meant shedding her own humanity, losing all of the things that made her who she is, so that she didn’t fail to meet the countless expectations thrust upon her.
No matter how many hundreds of years pass, Usagi has yet to shed the “childish” aspect of her personality despite how much it threatens the expectations of others. It’s difficult for her to constantly fight to maintain composure, to seem as someone so inherently different from who she is—Sailor Cosmos is not goofy, animated, excited. She is mysterious and serious and stern in all things, a guardian to be taken seriously. Usagi is just… not.
She can feel the heat of a blush crawling up her neck, mortification burning the tips of her ears, and Usagi swears that she can hear him mocking her in his mind. She hates not being taken seriously! Hates it with a passion. Mamoru had grown out of his condescending phase with her pretty quickly, realising just how upset it always made her, and it’s been a long, long time since someone has looked at her with anything short of either respect of fear. The idea of him looking down on her, of underestimating her, has her fingers curling into fists at her sides as she stares up at him. ( A memory flashes in her minds eye: Seiya and Mamoru lounging in the room just out of sight of the address balcony, laughing at her once she’d flopped to the floor, free of the public eye, and wailed about how scary it was all the way up there. ) The unimpressed raise of his eyebrow makes her feel fifteen again, back when her worries were only about failing tests and being late to school… and, well, she doesn’t really hate it.
Still, it takes every single ounce of self control that she’s refined in these thousands of years not to bristle like a cat at his clear dismissal, a string of shrieked words of anger burning on the tip of her tongue. Usagi works her jaw, irritation curling in her chest, because she knows that he knows that she knows, and just having to think such a confusing sentence makes her want to reach up with her fingers curled like claws and throttle him where he stands. It’s been a long, long time since someone has infuriated her so thoroughly and completely, and she’s torn between amazement at the feeling and downright murderous intent.
Instead, she snaps her hand out to snag a single white rose from close by, uncaring if she’s supposed to have him get it for her or not, and places it firmly onto the counter top between them. Despite struggling to keep her chin held high and her shoulders straight, embarrassment making her wish she could curl in on herself or simply retreat, Usagi bites her tongue with enough force to really hurt and maintains eye contact with stubborn determination painted across the lines of her expression.
❛ One rose then, please. ❜ Her words are saccharine, dripping with false cheer that doesn’t match the clearly forced smile twisting her lips. Her eyes glitter like the night sky, the stars of the cosmos above boring up at him as if the force of her stare alone might set him on fire, and Usagi sends a grateful prayer up to Seiya for having instilled such stubborn nerve within her over their years together.
❛ and then you can tell me where you came from and why you’re here. ❜ Her false smile drops from her lips as she narrows her eyes, leaning in close to stare up at him with eyes far too aged for such a young countenance. She has to fight the urge to pop up onto her tip toes to really drive the point home, cursing their height difference with every fiber of her being. Strands of liquid moonlight spill over her shoulders and onto the counter, nearly forming a curtain around the single white flower on the countertop between her two hands, planted on either side. ❛ Because your presence here alone is basically a beacon for Chaos, and it is my job to contain it. ❜
Her anger reminds him of her, of a girl he's long since said goodbye. How many years has it been since he's talked to her? No, more like, how many centuries has it been since he's seen her? It's been too long, understanding that while he may still love her, he's said his goodbye that day. Their memories and their time as guardians of Cross academy have long since ended, and there's nothing that could change that.
Still, it's not to say that it isn't refreshing. In the entirety of Zero's life, since he's gained immortality, he hasn't been able to take back what's lost from the endless bouts of combat and missions to take down the rogue vampires that threaten the worlds that both he and the Red Mage are aware. However, he's not about to give information to a powerful being of this world simply because she asked.
Zero doesn't miss the way her blood rushes through her, the sound reminding him of his ever-present hunger for blood.
He subtly arches a brow, watching as she snags a rose and places it on the surface before him. In some fashion, he could almost consider it cute with how she's acting. It's only when he reaches forward to grab the rose, lifting his gaze to meet hers, that he senses something else altogether. The power that rolls off of her in waves, something he feels is a contradiction to the entity of his own presence clashes. His eye twitches minutely, and the outer edges of his irises bleed a faint red glow.
Nevertheless, he has to give credit where credit's due. This girl is facing him with the risk of possible danger, not knowing what he is. His brow remains arched, waiting for her to finish the rest of her most imperative demand.
❛ 'Basically', ❜ he echoes. Zero leaves the rose on the counter, turns where he stands to the rack behind him filled with an assortment of ribbons. He snips off a pastel pink ribbon and turns back to the counter where the rose rests. With purpose, he leaves the girl in suspense before he continues with the rest of his reply. Long fingers, almost delicate for a man, make quick work of the ribbon. Once properly tied off with a pretty bow, the white rose is now set on what appears to be a long clip. He finally rests his hands on the counter and lifts his gaze to the girl. Zero leans forward, his hands sliding further away from him that he's almost eye-level with the silver-white blonde.
❛ But, that doesn't mean that I am a beacon, does it? ❜ he asks. Unflinching despite the age that's seen into glimmering eyes, one Zero finds familiar and yet, strange, his own is reflected back. Bone-weary, perhaps even hopelessness, makes his lilac irises seem lonely. The sharp crimson that tinged the edges of his irises fade, and he leans forward, silvery lashes long for a male that emphasizes his strange beauty. ❛ Princess, making demands of someone you’ve just met isn’t the best way to start off if you want those questions answered. ❜
He draws back, lifts the clip and clips it neatly into the front of her left hair bun. It’s a swift move of his hand, precise, and he crosses his arms. It’s almost practiced, used to the action, but the actual story is that he’s used to helping the Red Mage with her long hair. Haunted memories tinged the edge of his mind’s eye, memories that he shoves back into the box it came from.
❛ That’s on the house, ❜ he says without missing a beat. ❛ The shopkeep would probably yell at me if I didn’t gift you a flower. ❜ Zero sighs, looking less than displeased with what he’s about to say next. It’s as though he’s resigned, but not without the discontent that shows how unused to this he is.
❛ If you must know the ‘where’ and ‘why’ of my being here, is it unreasonable that I ask if you could wait until the end of my work shift? ❜
At the mention, Zero refocuses his attention on a man in a suit entering the shop. Looking apologetic as though he might be interrupting something, the hunter says to the customer in a louder voice, ❛ Apologies, but I’ll be right with you. ❜
Zero moves around the counter, bowing close to the woman with a murmur right by her ear, ❛ Don’t worry—I won’t run. ❜
He smirks, leaves her there, and attends to the fretting and worrying man.
