A/N: I wanted to start a new story one night, and this morning I just got around to it after a trip to the DMV. But anyways, it's around Roxas and Larxene; but not a Roxene, okay? Just wanted to make that a little clear, heh.
"Not good enough," she growled into his ear. "Try again."
The young boy rose, panting, back onto his feet; his spiky blond hair was even more out of place than was natural for even him. His blue eyes closed to slits in an unexperienced glare.
She laughed, a beautiful sound that bit like splintering ice. "You really think you can faze me with that little face, kid?" she mocked. "You look like you're staring into the sun, or at least like you have something in your eye." When she saw the boy's eyes widen to their regular size, she said, "Hurry it up, Roxas. I could've finished you already."
"You wouldn't dare," Roxas shot back. "You know you're not supposed to tear me apart."
"That's funny," she giggled. "You act like all those stereo-type teens who have an attitude with everybody. Tell me, Roxas," she asked, her blue eyes glittering with mischievous malice, "is this a teen phase you're going through?"
Roxas gritted his teeth and charged at Larxene, Oathkeeper and Oblivion at his sides. He slashed with the dark Keyblade, and growled in frustration when Larxene dodged nimbly out of the way, her eyes laughing at him. Laughing! It was agonizing; torturous, even. Laughing, mocking, demeaning; stop it! Stop it! Stop stop stop!
Roxas whipped toward Larxene and swung down his Keyblade.
Larxene was completely caught off guard by the ferocity in his blue eyes; she was flung back to reality by the ripping of her coat and flesh. A cry was uttered from her throat, and she staggered back, holding her flooding arm. With her right hand flashing kunai, she expertly flew them to Roxas's feet; the boy fell.
"Better," was all she said as she passed the boy, who was holding his foot to try and stop the blood as the kunai dematerialized back to their mistress.
She was behind him, he knew; her presence frightened him right now. He quickly turned his head to look at her; her blue eyes were trained on his face, unreadable. Her fine lips curved into a sort of smile that made her face remind Roxas of a fox.
"Tell me, Roxas," she said once again, but this time her question was, "do you dream a lot?"
"What?" he breathed irritably.
"Do you dream a lot?" she repeated. There was something strange in her eyes now, a sort of veiled twinkle.
"I... No, I don't. I hardly ever have dreams. And when I do, I can barely recall them," he answered cautiously. By now he was already broken into telling the truth to his fellow Organization members, but right now he could not keep out an edge of caution from his tone. One never knew with Larxene...
Larxene nodded. "Come with me. And that's an order, in case you were thinking of refusing me." She turned on her heel and, still holding her bleeding arm, walked through a swirling vortex, Roxas warily following suit.
Her room felt warm, something he hadn't expected. Yet there was an air of danger about, as if one shouldn't be here. "Why are we here?" Roxas asked in a neutral manner, limping closer to Larxene.
Larxene didn't answer him, only removed her coat to dress her arm with gauze and bandages. When she had finished tending to her arm, she tossed the supplies to Roxas, and then crouched down to dig under her bed for something. Roxas heard her mutter, "Stupid kid."
He frowned as he finished wrapping his foot. His mind briefly buzzed over Larxene's strange out-of-the-blue question on whether or not he dreamed a lot. His crashing train of thought was interrupted when Larxene withdrew her torso from under her bed, a small box in her hands. She opened the small wooden thing, painted black, and took out a small vile. She swirled the liquid inside, the deep red substance sloshing inside, as if begging to be let out.
"Can you tell me what this is?" she asked Roxas, in the manner of a mentor.
"It looks like blood," he ventured.
"It's not," she answered flatly, as if she knew he would say that answer. "It's a special mixture that plays a key part in one's next dream. Simply take a sip, and the next thing you think about will be what you dream about. Would you like to try some?" She held out the vile, her eyes half-closed, her lips smiling that fox smile.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her face.
"I take it from these spiritual villagers in one world. I always go there almost every month. Now, would you like some? I'm sure you'll be intrigued by the results you get," she added fleetingly. "Once you take a sip, you'll feel drowsy right away, but you'll only fall asleep when you think of something."
Roxas's eyes slowly trailed down her arm and finally to her hand, her slender fingers holding the vile containing the precious liquid. When his hands twitched and rose, she cut off his actions with a sudden hard look and said:
"But be forewarned: for when you fall asleep with your thought, there is no guarantee your dream will be a satisfying one. There is always the chance of a nightmare."
Roxas gulped, but nonetheless took the vile, knowing that if he refused now, Larxene would view him as even more of a silly child.
The red liquid tingled on his tongue like a spicy cinnamon, with an undercoated layer of something rustic and warm. His eyes drooped, and he knew he had to think of something before he could sleep. Sleep and dream. For once he was in control of what he could dream about, so to speak. His thought slipped from his lips for Larxene to hear:
"Twilight."
A/N: Lately, I've been obsessed with dreams. More than usual, I mean. And I do believe Nightwish is proving to be a sort of influence on me... But, yeah, this isn't a Roxene, okay? Even though I sort of find this coupling interesting, I won't make this fic a Roxene. -laughs-
