Composite – formed of distinct parts.
Allura liked Keith. She was really really fond of him. He was so strong, and such a good leader, and so smart, and just so… Keith. He was always working so hard to make sure everyone was getting better, always teaching them all. Allura really was fond of him. It's just that. . . sometimes it got in the way. He just didn't turn of Commander Keith for Keith Keith.
Like at one particular state dinner... Voltron had been on display in front of the castle, Romelle had brought some bottles from Pollux and convinced Nanny to let Allura have a few glasses of the "elixir," starlight pooled on the balcony, aided by a romantic full moon. And there was Keith, so very snappy looking in a red dress uniform. Romelle had convinced Allura to wear a white dress instead of pink with the single comment "Pink clashes with red." She'd made a joke about Allura blushing near Keith, but that had not factored in the decision.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked as she advanced onto the balcony where Keith was standing alone.
"Voltron," he said in what was nearly a happy sigh. Allura offered him a flute of Pollux Elixir.
"Really?" she asked, sounding interested.
"Yes. It's just so incredible how Voltron is such a perfect composite. Every little piece works so well together or apart, everything fits, everything is perfect. Even after the beatings that the lions get, they always come together and fit perfectly for the one."
"Yes," Allura said in the same tone of the first. "A perfect composite; two—or more—being one, perfectly, together…" She almost grumbled the "or more" part.
"And it's amazing how the lions work—each is so different, so specialized. We can't manage that! Each member of the team is always out of sync with everyone else, or messing up, or getting on someone's nerves. But not Voltron—never Voltron. He doesn't get it wrong like people!"
Allura drummed her fingers delicately on the balcony railing. "Well, not everybody is always so out of sync with everybody else," she said, taking a dainty sip from her own flute. She really must ask Romelle what this "elixir" was.
"Not like Voltron," Keith said confidently. "He doesn't get it wrong, ever. Even when pilots go bad, when it comes to him it always works out. The perfect composite, where everything always clicks…"
"You're right," Allura agreed, draining the last of the elixir from her flute. "People don't get it right. People miss things. Obvious things… and small, subtle, little things… They just get lost. But you certainly never get that with a giant composite robot." If Keith had been paying attention he may have detected a tart edge to her words—not quite bitter, but sort of left that taste in one's mouth.
"You sure don't," Keith agreed amiably and drained his flute. "Hm. Wonder what's in this wine Romelle brought."
"Elixir," Allura corrected, looking moodily at her empty flute.
Word count minus notes: 500
A/N: To clear up a few universe issues; one—Sven, Prince Lotor, and King Zarkon are all alive. Two—Allura's about seventeen, eighteenish. Three—the levels of OoCness is subject to change. Please enjoy.
