#kingofthefareast

DUCKWORTH. -Has your muse ever thought about committing or committed a crime?

Oh this is gonna get daaaark. So Nsfw tag.

Multiple.

Let’s start with the obvious: he is - along with the rest of the Shitennou - a war criminal. They broke oaths of loyalty, lead a coup against their kingdom’s (by extension, planet’s?) monarchy and then extended their reach to the moon. While I’m sure that they could have labeled the movement a Revolution if it was contained to Earth, the fact it got to the Moon makes things sticky. Without deep contexts, I can’t say how many or which war crimes they likely committed outside the killing of civilians (and whether or not the term genocide could be applied to their intent). Yes, they were influenced by an outside power, but that’s pretty par for the course when it comes to war. 

     ¸ .  . ¸ . ✩   This is going to be awkward no matter what she does. The girl kicks her heels a little, eyes staring at her sneakers like the cut of her laces held all the answers. How do you even do this right? Hi, sorry me and my friends killed you?

No, best to do it like a bandaid, right? Tear it off real fast, and cry after. ‘ Hello, ah, Kunzite? Or, uh, do you have another name I can call you? ’ Okay, maybe cry now, not after. She clenches her shaking fists before forcing her head up with the biggest smile she can manage. ‘ I’m Usagi, but you probably already knew that, and ━ ’

Getting worse, going bad, alarm bells going off in her head as her smile starts to crack around the edges, ‘ Glad we could meet each other with you not trying to kill me! ’ S m o o t h.

@kingofthefareast

Mamoru was in desperate need of some coffee. Having just come from a rather exhausting 9 hour day of classes and interning, he needed a pick me up. Wiping he brow while he walked under an umbrella, he was thankful to spot a cafe nearby.

Walking inside, he quickly made his way to the counter, closing his umbrella and brushing some raven locks from his deep blue eyes. He glanced at the menu, thinking on what he wanted. A few beats passed, before he suddenly got a strange sensation. 

There had been a time back when Taiki had been more than welcomed to the palace but it appeared as if alliance were waning. The Kinmoku Ambassador watched on toward the general and raised a fine brow for a moment. Had she strayed too close to something that wished to be left alone? She wasn't sure. Nonetheless, she took a step back at his words and gave a calm nod of her head in understanding.

       Jadeite was right, and Zoisite was loathed to admit it. Endymion was acting out as per his age, but without regard to where he stood in the grand scheme of things. The Prince did not seem to realize that a shaky monarchy was poised to settle upon his shoulders, and a people ultimately distrustful of a foreign power - the same one that he was flirting with - looking to him for either guidance or blood to wet their blades.

       The youngest of the Generals stewed on the matter in stern silence, gently prodding the tiny metal ball that held his tea leaves with a spoon and watching the liquid darken not unlike their current predicament.

       The witch had foretold this.

       “He won’t.” Zoisite finally removed the tea from the water. “And I have been meaning to bring this to the attention of the others. The Prince is no longer caring for the needs of his people, nor taking an interest in anything other than his own desires. Unless he proves himself otherwise, and unless the King is willing to take action in the interests of his country...”

       He did not want to say it. What Zoisite was about to suggest was treason. Should Jadeite tell anyone or there be an ounce of disagreement, he would hang for it, or worse.

☕ - reassuring touch, such as holding their hand, gripping their shoulder, guiding them by the arm or by a hand on the small of their back, etc

❤ - gentle or loving touch (romantic or platonic!), such as face caressing, holding your muse, rubbing their back, petting their hair, hugging them tightly, etc 

        His nerves were up, and it showed. Why should Zoisite not be nervous? They were on the brink of possible war! The Prince was wayward, and the mess that was being caused by it was placed in their hands.

        With the title came responsibility, but there had never been any indication that such a large portion of it would crop up so soon.

        But, in these times of crisis, brotherhood prevailed. Zoisite was pulled from his shaking, disoriented thoughts by the weight of a hand. It was gentle, caring, reassuring. Steadying. Not nearly as large a hand as Kunzite or Nephrite, but it held it’s own weight.

        Zoisite looked up into familiar blue eyes. Jadeite, the ambitious. The hand on his shoulder belonged to him. Truly, a brother in arts.

        He could not help how he clung to such affection. Zosiite turned and almost bypassed the hand on his shoulder, going for a hug. It was tight, needy, grounding. War would be upon them if the barest thing went wrong... and for just a minute, he needed something solid and familiar to cling to.

This response gets quite a reaction out of Zoisite, who is frustrated that he would have to start over and repeat himself. Why must he do things like this? He gives an almost deadpan stare, and crosses his arms, fingers tapping rhythmically against his forearm.