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Truth be told, it was not easy being a princess. There were a million things that you were expected to do, a thousand standards that you had to live up to. Princesses were expected to be lovely, kind, and incredibly selfless. Though fairly pretty and with an innate kindness inherited from her mother, Chibiusa had never quite been selfless - something none of her parents could understand. She always wanted to do things that were nearly impossible for someone in her situation and was never happy just being the princess. There was peace, and it grated on the senshi in her.

Now, she'd had all the fight she could handle for awhile, and was simply exhausted. Queen Beryl had possessed so much more power and capability than had been previously known or expected and had, quite thoroughly, trounced the little princess of Crystal Tokyo into the ground. Business finished, caring very little about the state of Ray Gordon's extracurricular activities, Black Lady had simply teleported straight onto her couch and fallen onto the sheet, caring little about the blood transferred from her cuts to the fabric. They could always simply buy another, and she was exhausted.

It was only then, head cradled on a convenient pile of pillows, breath rasping still from the heat and pain in her chest, that the rabbit-haired young woman realized that there was nobody home. No movement in the bedroom, in fact the door was wide open. "Raaaaaaaaay?" No answer. Sighing almost dramatically, the girl simply curled into a ball, still powered-up, and waited. He'd have to come home eventually.

Wiseman was hurt? How did he get hurt? Chronos, Aries, and one of the Gemini senshi had been absolutely unable to even get a hit off on him, and here he was in front of her, bleeding from what looked like several shallow cuts. This was more disturbing to her than any run-in with the Negaverse Queen and her own moderate grade of injury. "Wha-" was all that escaped her lips before a painful fit of coughing came over her, ending with ragged gasps of pain and the reopening of a few of the deeper cuts that started to again slowly seep blood through the sheer parts of her dress which were stained in rusty patches from each wound. One stocking was all but missing entirely, a large chunk of it having been scraped away during a careful dodge on the side of Destiny Tower.

In all, it had been fairly shameful.

Trying again, she answered his question first. "Not so bad. This one is not so good." Lightly her torso twisted to show the deep cut that Beryl had first made to demonstrate her power. "And here." Very lightly, like it was made of cracked glass, fingers rested on the center of her chest. "Got a beam and a hand in there. Not nice. Hurts to breathe. What did you do?" The youthful lady's voice was rougher, raspier, lending to the idea that her internal injuries might possibly be worse than anything on the exterior. Two of the cuts were deep enough to be potentially requiring stitches, but at the delicate way she moved, it made you wonder.

But of course, she was generally unconcerned for herself and sitting up very slowly, started to pry at his own injuries to see firsthand if the blood was his, or some other unfortunate creature's. You could never be sure, in this day and age.

At the hiss, her hand drew back and was tucked in behind her back to show that she wouldn't be doing it again, another one of those charmingly childish things Black Lady did. The stroke was a surprise and like always when it came to any affection, the girl responded to it like a sun-starved flower and smiled to herself for a moment before the follow-up question had her eyes shifting away and her face screwed into an expression that was so comically guilty that it would have been amusing in a different situation. The silence stretched between them for almost a whole minute before the young woman caved and words assaulted Wiseman's ears.

"You cannot be mad, I did not know and am sorry! I was on the tower," pause for light coughing and a wince, "and then Beryl was there. She was just talking, I did not think it bad!" After all, they were supposedly allies, and having never met her, this Moon Princess has been totally unknowledgeable of the massive chip on the buxom woman's shoulder. "She attacked! Said such bad things, I did a bad one too. Fought back. She took me to the Negaverse. She thought I was mama! I did not think she was so dumb. Lots of power. Not much brains." But it had been intimidating enough to serve its purpose and even though a wary truce had been reached between the two women, Black Lady had no desire to again put herself in the queen's presence. "She stopped after that. Thinks I'm weak, not important. So stupid." Red eyes rolled and almost as if Beryl had heard the derisive insult towards her intellect, lungs started to burn a bit more.

Exhausted with this hasty deliverance of details, she fell back again into her comforting nest of pillows, hand clamped around her arm before it could bleed too much all over the couch. Sheets were easy to explain away. The purchase of a new sofa, not so much. "I am sorry." It was a lame finish, but it was all she could do, red eyes staring at the ceiling. It was a familiar feeling for the princess, and she was a pro at being truly sorry for things that called for a bit more than a simple apology.

Had she been the age she claimed to be, Black Lady would have suddenly had a massive sense of irony and chagrin at not only the light touches, but the eventual request. However, it was a child's mind inside that body and instead she could only feel a sense of blissful comfort every time he touched her cheek or head, like a child that was sick with a fever and was being carefully cared for by someone who loved you. Any evil inside the girl was always generally Evil Lite, and she only ever craved affection and longed to return it. Unfortunately, in either of his forms, Wiseman was not the sort to ever accept such demonstrative emotions.

Nodding slowly, she considered her injuries. The only thing that would cause her a serious issue was perhaps raising her arms above her head to pull most of the dress off, something that could potentially be helped with. "I think? Arms don't go so high, you can pull the dress?" Raising up again slowly, fingers unhooked the ruined lace of one stocking and the slightly more whole counterpart, already sliding them down her legs. Crystals jingled together lightly as the bowed belt was removed and then all that remained was the main dress which was bunched around her waist while she waited expectantly for the promised robe. It wasn't so dire really, there was no interest in Wiseman for her lovely adult body, it was almost as if she was totally sexless in front of him.

But if it was important to him that she wear the robe, she would do so. Keeping Wiseman Happy was one of Black Lady's main directives, especially seeing how much she owed him. A large piling of misery, physical and mental, at what she'd gotten into didn't hurt that, not one bit.

While Wiseman had always been rather sympathetic to her poor unfortunate circumstances, this new level of tenderness being aimed in her direction was tearing down any resistance she might have had. As Blanche, it was much easier to indulge in a fit of petulance, or tears, really any strong emotion because really nobody cared about Blanche Williams or anything she did. But as Black Lady, she was a Serenity, she was a power to be reckoned with and had to don the mantle that came with it.

In the little living room, the moonlight that was the only light on either of the two adult figures in the room started to sparkle just a bit on the Lady's cheeks as soft tears welled and ran down her face. She didn't make a sound, none of the shuddering breaths that usually came with weeping - in fact Black Lady wasn't breathing at all, holding her lungs full of air against the sobs that would wrack her abused body if she let them. A explosive exhalation, one shakily inhaled breath, and her voice came softly, repeating over and over in Japanese how very sorry she was, just two words 'gomen ne'. Realizing that this meant nothing to him, she tried again in English, her voice quiet to minimize the pain as she breathed softly and slowly. "I am sorry. I didn't want to...to bother? Then she stopped. I came home." Pulling one slim hand from his, terrycloth rubbed her cheek to wipe away the tears. It was already stained with blood, a little saltwater wouldn't hurt it.

"I will not do it again, promise. No more." Lightly, she hooked her pinkie with his to seal the deal and smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. The lady had no intentions of ever going near Beryl again of her own volition, but whether the queen wanted her was another story entirely. Lightly, her features were touched with a puzzled look then, and a wary glance. "What is...a hos-hospital? I will go, but I do not know what it is!" The pronunciation on her tongue was thick, this was not a word that she'd used or heard much before. This was a careful question, trying to get them back on a footing they were both comfortable with.

It really would not do for her to throw herself into Wiseman's arms and cry like a little girl, no matter how badly she longed to. In that moment, she missed her mother and her father with a poignant ache, almost as painful as the one Beryl had left behind. But they were gone, and she was left to make them proud. She would, or she'd die trying.

Doctors, that was familiar. There were a few words that had been installed by magical means into Chibiusa's brain, delivering the very essentials of the English language. You asked for a doctor when you were hurt, something that might have very well happened to the human Blanche when she was not in her powered form and needed to get help. Doctors were at a hospital, that was good to know and she quietly processed this information.

The request for Blanche was not surprising, and while Wiseman moved away to fetch something from the bathroom, the young woman powered down into her human form. This provided her with clothing again, though it was thankfully only in the form of a ribbed tank and easily discarded pajama pants. She'd been prepared for a night at home when the date had come about, and of course she hadn't bothered to change - in fact she'd just immediately teleported out in a minor snit. All that was minor now in the face of yet more trouble she'd gotten herself into, and she sighed softly into the pillow she'd snagged to bury her face in with shame.

Blanche lifted her face a bit, chin resting on the pillowcase as he came back with the odd-looking kit and bottle. It seemed relatively harmless, which was why she winced and hissed lightly at the liquid that was bubbling on her skin and cleaning the rough scrapes. "No, she was...surprised? She thought I was Serenity. Asked how many times she had to kill me before I stayed dead." Everyone thought she was the mythical, magical Moon Princess that would save the world. Little did they know how badly she wanted to destroy it, and reduce everything on it to fine ash. Lips curled a little at the last comment, derisive as her breathing eased again a bit. "I have never died. Not at all."

Almost didn't count.

Blanche was fairly certain that no matter what she did, it was still going to burn in her wounds like the devil's own fire, but he was trying and that was important. It did help to focus not on her own injuries, but his, and silently she wondered if he might let her use the liquid in the brown bottle on his own scratches. The probability was some number around the range of zero, possibly lower into what was a statistic impossibility. It was obvious that her luck, on a whole, was less than stellar. At this point, she probably even had luck on layaway somewhere and was paying off to get even the smallest amount back.

Taking a few deep and slow breaths to ease the burn in her lungs long enough to talk, Blanche twirled a long pink pigtail around her fingers almost smugly. "Negatrash, mama told me. Maybe Beryl did not want to listen to him? Fake queens are worst, very jealous, do not like to listen to people. She wants to know why you need me, because I am so weak. Even if I am a princess, I am not a good one, she said. She is not a lady at all." The strand of hair was flicked almost angrily over her shoulder, tossed like she would throw something much more substantial right into the face of the Negaverse queen. She was not weak, she was simply caught off-guard and didn't want to draw too much attention to herself! Then the woman had gone absolutely insane, taking the fight down into the streets! Alright, so she'd fought back a little, but what could you do when your family's honor was at stake?

But she'd been so easily thrown into the pavement, that hand in her chest, the burning shot that was even hours later causing the elegant Blanche agony. Doubt rose and lightly she pulled the hair forth again, tugging on it lightly before speaking in a soft voice. "Am I weak, Wiseman? No good?" He hadn't really given her anything to do, minor tasks that could have been done in less time on his own, usually diversions to get her away from their home for a time. Was she truly so useless?

'It's just you and me' had been the words that had pulled her from her almost catatonic state, eyes blank as a slate, making you wonder if there was a really a brain inside her pretty little head. At the time, there hadn't been. There were only feelings, dragging her down and slowly drowning her in them over and over, overwhelming the young teenager from Crystal Tokyo. Wiseman had tried a few things, general greetings and even an insult or two that garnered almost no success. Then he'd crooned out that phrase, and the girl's eyes had turned on him, blinking a few times before they cleared and thought returned to claim its hold once again on the princess.

Blanche didn't quite believe him that he would have taken her if she had no use whatsoever other than her pretty face, but it was a comforting thought that she wrapped around herself, a mental layer of fuzziness over terrycloth. Though it was true that even without her own power, she was confusing as hell to the senshi, and that in and of itself was valuable. Reassurances garnered a smile, and so when he asked her the preliminary question, the princess was feeling quite happy. The person who cared about her most didn't see her as some weakling toy princess, and that was really all that mattered to her.

Inspecting her bandaged legs lightly, the pink-haired woman's tone was a great deal lighter than it had been previously, though just as raspy. "If I can, I will." Simple as that for her, really. Perhaps service through gratitude was slavery, but she didn't see it that way.