I love Vexen. I'm not sure why, but...he's just my favorite Nobody out of the entire Organization. So I decided to write something in his point of view. I'm not sure if it's short enough to be considered a drabble, but either way.
When Vexen thought about it, he realized...he wasn't anything like Even at all.
He remembered Even well enough. Long, blue hair, tiny little eyes like a fox, and a warm, hopelessly cheerful smile constantly on his face. The man always had his face buried in a romance novel, and with his attention divided between his tales of chivalry and his pressing work as one of Ansem's laboratory assistants, Even found himself losing his valuables--such as his keys--quite a lot. It couldn't be helped when he had his head in the clouds.
Thinking about how he'd originated from that man embarrassed Vexen. In fact, the Frozen Scholar took immense pleasure in acknowledging that he was quite unlike his predecessor in most manners possible. While Even was thoughtful, modest, and considerate, but inevitably clumsy, Vexen was the exact opposite.
Vexen was thoughtful, yes; but only when it came to himself. Vexen was modest, yes; but only when it came to taking note of others' accomplishments, and it couldn't really be called modesty when you were undermining what someone else had achieved. As for being considerate...Vexen knew nothing of the sort.
There were a few similarities, however, that Vexen had acquired from his past and his memories as Even, and it thoroughly dismayed him. The primary one was the sharp, Icelandic accent he'd had since his inception. His voice was different from Even's, and that much, he was grateful for...but the damn accent just wouldn't go away. Nor would knowledge of the language itself, but that part was actually quite alright with Vexen. Knowledge was power.
And then there was the affinity for writing notes as fast and as passionately as possible. Even loved taking down notes, and he loved digressing upon those notes. Vexen couldn't help it; he loved it, too. They both loved classical history, they both loved opera music...they both loved the snow. And Vexen would be damned if they didn't both love science.
No matter. At least there were much more distinct differences between the two. Like pride. Vexen was proud of himself... His demeanor consisted of pride and arrogance--and a lack of commitment towards anything if it didn't have to do with (A) himself or (B) science. That pride was what enabled him to dote upon Even and scoff whenever he took note of how the hopeless man had been so...so very much the antithesis. No, maybe Vexen was the antithesis. But either way, that was the one thing Vexen could lay claim to that Even never could: Pride.
And as he leaned with his back against the railing of one of Castle Oblivion's many balconies, carelessly lighting his cigarette, which was another thing Even would never do ("Not in a million years!" as the devout researcher used to say), Vexen--with a disdainful smirk--was quite proud to chalk down another victory over his Other. Another little habit that differentiated between the two.
Now...he just hoped to God he wouldn't revert back to the bastard once he found himself a heart.
Haha, I just noticed; without the author's notes, the word count is "509." 509 BC was the year of the Rape of Lucretia by Tarquinius Superbus. I thought it would be interesting to take note of, since Vexen claims to like classical history. Not a very nice date to remember, sure, but still!