umber of themes used: (x6). Members used: Vexen (x1), Axel (x2), Roxas (x1), Luxord (x3), Larxene (x3), Demyx (x1), Xigbar (x3), Saïx (x1), Marluxia (x3), Xaldin (x1), Zexion (x1), Xemnas (x1), Lexaeus (x1) Pairing(s): Implied MarluxiaXLarxene and MarluxiaXLarxeneXLuxord (triangle)
A Little Extra
---------------------------------------
Sixth Theme Set
---------------------------------------
3. Light
Gloved fingers idly flipped another page of the book he was holding onto. Zexion was bored out of his mind despite how little of the words he was actually absorbing from the book.
Then again, this was the sixth time he was reading the blasted book. He scrunched his nose up at the number and briefly looked at the tarnished cover. He read the title and disgustingly flipped it back open to the page he wasn't even skimming anymore. NINTH time.
Zexion threw back the book and leaned heavily into the overstuffed cushion he was seated in. Darkness help him if there was a NEW book he could waste his time with rather than the now seemingly limited collection of the library.
Large library or not, having practically every hour of the day to read quickly depleted any so-called 'gargantuan' library of its textual supplies. Zexion placed a frustrated hand on his head and pressed an angry thumb into the furrow of his brow.
With a sharp stinging sensation now firmly rooted between his eyes, he looked back up at the library's ceiling through watery eyes. Sweet Darkness, end my boredom, PLEASE. Give me a mission, send the Keyblade Wielder, SEND ONE OF THE OBNOXIOUS NEOPHYTES.
No senior member or underling Nobody came bearing a request for a mission. No spiky haired, chipper boy brandishing an oversized key came breaking down the doors. No over-sentimental, annoying or destructive Neophyte came busting through the quiet library walls.
Zexion briefly mused to himself in his mild irritation of everything if he could possibly suffocate himself if he pushed himself hard enough into the well-weathered seat. He twitched at how degraded his thoughts had become and contented himself with digging his fingers into his seat, half-hoping something morbidly exciting might spawn from the sadistic action.
Nothing happened.
The schemer ran his hands through his blue hair in an attempt to scratch out the thoughts of boredom that had burrowed themselves deeply into his mind.
He heard a familiar ring of arrogant laughter fill the air.
With practically rabid anticipation, Zexion snapped his hands back into his lap to fake his usual detachment.
Moments later, Xigbar phased into existence. He shook his foot as if it were covered with water after he tugged the last part of himself through the small portal. The sniper doubled over as he continued to cackle, Zexion was still ecstatically glaring at him as he impatiently waited for the other to tell him to do something, insult him, ANYTHING.
Xigbar clutched his stomach as his laughter finally met its downwards slope. "MAN, you wouldn't believe the conversation Xemnas, Xaldin and I had!"
Zexion leapt out of his seat, yelling despite himself, a mad gleam in his visible blue eye, "REALLY WHAT WOULD THAT BE?! TELL ME TELL ME!"
The sniper recoiled from the blue haired boy, a fearful gawk apparent on his face and slack jaw, "Uh...man, Zexion...are ya...ok?"
The schemer gave him a smile that threatened to rip at the very corners of his face. "Of course I am! Why wouldn't I?! I'm not CLOAKED out of my BORE."
Zexion expressed a sort of hyper squeak-laugh that would have given even Demyx's optimism a run for its money.
The back of Xigbar's hand connected heavily with Zexion's face and his body collided into the momentously bleak carpet of the library floor.
Zexion blinked at the sight of why the floor had suddenly become a wall, as well as why there was a stinging sensation on the left side of his face.
Xigbar clicked his tongue over the schemer's leveled form, "Damn, way to prove me right that ANYONE can snap like a freaking twig! I wouldn't be surprised if it was from being cooped up in here all day long!" The brunette stroked his chin quizzically, "Hmm, wonder if Luxord has any betting tables set up on that?"
The blue haired boy mumbled incoherently from his place on the floor. Xigbar quirked a black eyebrow, "Whaddya mean reading's the only thing you can do?"
A few more mumbles came from the boy on the floor.
The sniper huffed and folded his arms together. He moodily flicked his nose up to the air as if to stave off a foul stench, "Tch, you should be worshiping me for the fact you don't have to do any more exploration duty, Heartless extermination and stuff! -My suggestion for a light work load has NOTHING to do with you driving yourself insane from lack of other things to do!"
Ineloquent and hypocritical as Xigbar was, he had proven a greater undeniable point.
Zexion gave him an apologetic glance from his shameful position on the ground, "You're right Xigbar, I was acting childish." The scrawny man pfted and waved his hand at his friend's verbal amend.
The schemer gave a deep sigh as he plucked himself off of the carpet. The blue haired boy dusted himself off and straightened out his coat mundanely.
Xigbar rolled his head from side to side as he collected his scattered thoughts back up again. Upon cracking his neck enough times, he snapped his fingers in triumph having rediscovered his direction of conversation.
The blue haired boy diverted his attention from the persistent wrinkles in his jacket back to his brusque friend.
The sniper jerked his hand out suddenly and snatched a tiny spring of twirling shadows out of the air. A mass of oily rags formed into existence in his palms. He offered it off-handedly with a small movement to Zexion, "Little something I found on one of my patrols."
Zexion stared at the wrapped bundle with a surprised expression. Xigbar tossed it at him, and he felt metal slosh against him as he caught it.
"Think you can rebuild these relics?"
Zexion unwrapped the cloth and peered at the contents inside. A plethora of components were coupled carelessly together in the makeshift bag. A set of boldly silver plates with the numerals of one through six engraved into them were what drew his attention the most. The schemer smiled meagerly to himself.
Hmph, looks like Xigbar's typical hint of an apology- those airsoft guns from back when he used to force us to participate in his hellish scrimmages.
Before he knew it, Zexion had spread out all of the different parts and was beginning his methods of trial-and-error to piece them back together. He recalled that Xigbar was still hovering over his shoulder and looked wanly at the other five still incomplete practice firearms. A lazy thought crossed his mind as he reached for a part that resembled the chamber that would snap into the gun's belly, "Was I really acting that...crazy?"
Xigbar scoffed, and held his hand on the trigger of an invisible gun to his own head, "Let's just say if you act like that again, I'll put you out of your misery myself."
CLICK.
The blue haired boy smirked at his handiwork, and handed the finished gun for Xigbar to inspect, "Let me guess, you'd spout out a cheesy 'Lights out' right before you'd mercifully send a bullet through my skull?"
Xigbar flashed a crooked grin as he pulled back the top sleeve to expel nonexistent shells from an empty magazine, "No it'd be more like 'Lights out pipsqueak'."
---------------------------------------
7. Heaven
The three of them were huddled around an open picnic basket that was on top of the thick checkered blanket they had brought along to act as a buffer against the dew-laden grass of the vast fields.
In each of their starkly black gloves hands was a homemade sandwich. Axel helped himself to another just as he had finished loudly chomping down its predecessor.
Roxas squirmed in his seat, his own sandwich relatively untouched, the slices of ham, lettuce, tomato and mayo waited exposed from the first and only bite he had taken. He looked nervously to Demyx who had popped open a can of grape soda and was downing its fizzy contents. The blond took a gulp, "Uh guys, w-where did you say you got all of this stuff?"
Axel wolfed down his sandwich with great relish and smacked each of his fingers for any sandwich crumbs he'd missed while he had been devouring his food. The redhead shrugged guiltlessly, "Ask Demyx. ...Hey Roxas you gonna eat that?" He reached out a hand for the uneaten sandwich and Roxas shied it away from him. The fire user gave him a cross pout then rolled onto his back to stare at the cloudless sky.
Roxas turned his attention to the other blond who was still draining down soda as if he were expecting something enlightening to occur if he could drink everything in the basket in one go. "Demyx, I don't want to sound accusing or anything, but where did you get all of this...stuff?"
The musician paused, another can of fruity soda delayed from being emptied into his mouth. He glanced up to the sky thoughtfully before diverting his eyes back to Roxas to answer, "Vexen gave it to me." He smiled and craned his head back to deplete the soda of its liquid contents.
Halfway through the can, Roxas blurted a disbelieving, "Vexen??" Demyx pried himself away from the can and politely gave Roxas a scrutinizing look of question, "He's actually pretty nice once you get to know him." He went back to drinking his soda.
Axel leaned over to Roxas, and behind the shield of his hand muttered, "Any bets he's just giving him bribes because he hasn't figured out a way to kill him yet?"
Roxas looked at him open-mouthed, his sandwich nearly slipping out of his loosened grasp. The fire user snickered as he returned back to his sky gazing, "Roxas, its just a joke...anyway, hurry up and finish your food."
The blond gave his sandwich another desperate look as if it held the truth. The same combination of a lettuce, tomato, ham and mayo looked back at him. Sighing, he reluctantly munched away at his lunch.
After finishing his sandwich, he saw that Demyx was still chugging his sodas. How he was still going at the pace he was and still had drinks to go through, he didn't understand or really want to know. He looked to Axel who was still staring up at the perfectly blue sky and he was compelled to do the same.
He didn't know how long he had been staring up at the sky, but Demyx's voice came from the side as if he too were gazing at the sky with them, "Hard to believe, isn't it? That something so normal feels kind of special doesn't it?"
Axel's voice came from the other side of him, "Well yeah, its all work in the Organization, what do you expect? We can't afford to stop and have picnics everyday."
There was silence among them with only the wind whispering amongst the green blades infrequently to break the tranquility.
Roxas found himself thinking thoughts of why anything was the way it was. The existence of the Organization. Gathering hearts night and day. Destroying the things called Heartless at every turn. All for what?
"What is Kingdom Hearts?" He found himself involuntarily asking out loud.
He felt the weight of the ground shift uncomfortably around him. He mentally frowned at himself for asking such a heavy question at a time like that.
He heard Axel take a deep breath of air and reply in the grimly morose tone he rarely used, "I don't know Roxas, but it's something powerful. Something probably a lot bigger then any of us."
"...It's another name for heaven."
Roxas turned his head to see that Demyx had been the one who had said it.
Demyx continued to talk, voice taking the scarce, but truly candid value of earnest hope, "Why else would we, a group full of so many different people, want to get it? It's gotta be heaven. Just think, when we finally get it we can have as many picnics as we want. Every single day of the year."
---------------------------------------
12. Insanity
This was the last straw. The last thing that pushed her over the edge to commit bloody murder. The last remark that was going to make her thunder-kunai his sorry ass to hell, Non-Existence and back to hell again.
Larxene glared at the wretched bouquet that sat at the foot of her door. It was the typical bouquet, wrapped in a crisp skin of clear wrapping, with the tasteful arrangement of vibrant colors poking out of the top, cute little green stems peeking out of the bottom. There was even a provocative piece of paper that proclaimed an endearing message in curly blue writing, "To my Sweetest Maiden who stole my adoration faster then the lightning she commands, From your doting Admirer".
The blonde clenched her teeth tighter, the veins under her eyes straining to the achieve her nth degree of displeasure.
She heard a vulgar jeer from Axel who had been passing by, "Heh heh heh! Looks like someone is scoring some TONIIIIIIGHT!" He enthusiastically thrust his skinny hips to the air to articulate his point. She shot him a venomous glare that would have killed a small mother and child.
The blonde yanked her weapons out of the void, "WHAT HE'S GETTING IS ME RIPPING HIM A NEW ONE!"
Larxene threw the entire handful of knives at him with the greatest strength she could muster. The offending redhead shrieked a high falsetto and narrowly dodged the actuate embodiments of volt laced pain.
Seeing that he was unharmed, Axel ceased acting fearful enough to flash her an accusing smirk, "Sounds kink-" A thunderbolt roared over him and he quit his euphemistic mockery. He was gone before the energy tore an angry crater into the ground. The grey wisps of his retreating portal weren't even there as the smoke from the blast cleared.
With a loud huff of vexation, Larxene shifted back to the most plightful knot of her baneful situation. The wretched bouquet continued to lie on the floor, silently laughing at her as if it had done nothing wrong.
She snatched up the flowery gift and stomped down the halls. A trail of withering petals from the blooms being viciously strangled followed after her loud boot claps. There was only one person who was egotistical enough to pull a stunt like that on her- and with flowers no less.
"OPEN UP YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
He yawned stickily at the sound of angry thumps and muffled but still shrill explicatives. He contemplated actually letting the damn thing in just to knock it a good one, but decided it wasn't worth dignifying the offender with decapitation.
He grumbled to himself as he rolled to the other side of his bed to go back to sleep. It'd been a very long and sleepless mission. Whatever dull-witted creature that was knocking at his door had better grow bored with disturbing him if they didn't want a maiming helping of-
His murky blue eyes snapped open as he heard an all too familiar sound of darkness spilling into his room. Throwing off the sheet with great force, he whirled around to get a face full of a royally pissed Larxene and a painful close-up of roses, lilies, irises and other classifications of color blinding blooms.
Marluxia snarled as the bouquet was shoved into his face by a very angry Savage Nymph. He tore off the flowers just in time for Larxene to rush up to him, blonde brows steeply angled and green eyes blazing with absolute loathing and static infused rage. She screeched at him as she stabbed an accusing finger harshly into his chest at each word, "STOP SENDING ME THESE DAMN FLOWERS YOU LONELY, PATHETIC-"
"SHUT UP!" The next thing she knew, she was being slammed down, her shoulders pinned crushingly to the floor.
Larxene glared back at Marluxia's seethingly murderous sneer. He growled at her, tone curling into deadlier spikes of level hostility, "I did not send you any freaking flowers you self-absorbed, conceited little-"
"Perhaps I should visit at a less inconvenient hour of the day?"
The assassin and the nymph broke their previously locked glares to see Luxord standing at the door with his ever present aristocratic bluff of a poker-face.
Marluxia peeled his hands from her shoulders and slowly got to his feet. Larxene followed in gaping suit.
The gambler scooted backward to the door, his head bowed to obscure his quiet and practically giddy-sounding chuckles, "My gravest apologies for having interrupted you amorous lovebirds and your...mutually appreciative activities. I always knew you were at each other's throats, but not in that fashion- no, not ever! Ah well, I take my leave then- best of luck to you both!"
Luxord gave a gratified wink and gentlemanly smile to both of them before slamming the door shut.
Marluxia and Larxene stared where the gambler had been and then to each other.
They both made a break for the door and ended up crashing into it. They cursed and battled each other to get out of the suddenly putrid room first.
The door managed to swing open amidst their mortal combat and they both stumbled boisterously out into the hall. The two of them chased after the retreating and chuckling shadow of Luxord, their weapons brandished and respective elements dancing madly around them.
Their yelled death threats trailed down the halls until there was nothing but faint echoes.
A scrawny man and a leanly built subordinate emerged out from the blindside of a faceless gargoyle the color of eggshells.
Yellow eyes flicked skeptically from the widely ajar door to the partly singed petals that were littering the floor, "...Are you certain the Superior authorizes this sort of underhanded method?"
The sniper snickered and clapped Saïx confidently on the shoulder, "Of course he does! We want all the neophytes to be able to frolic together like good little children after all!"
Saïx evaluated the situation introspectively. After drawing many inconclusive conclusions, he regarded the senior member with an inflection of skepticism in his typical deadpan, "But, even if Marluxia and Larxene are not bickering, they are about to cause great damage to Luxord, perhaps even Axel as well."
Xigbar overlooked the other's observations and laughed to himself as he rubbed his hands together anxiously like a madman, "Heheheheh, 50-to-1 that the allegedly sexually ambiguous Marluxia would NEVER get into close contact with man-hater Larxene, man I can almost taste the 100,000 munny now..."
Saïx's mild cautions continued to be greatly ignored as the sniper stalked down the hall, still rubbing his black paws together and muttering about the spoils he was about to collect on.
The obedient berserker was left to himself in the now empty halls. He began to question why he even bothered to listen to the only elder member who was radically unstable mentally.
Because it's fun.
Saïx wrinkled his brows together at how delightfully his inner thoughts had answered him. He pressed his bare wrist to his forehead and noticed it felt warmer then usual.
Feeling a spur of precaution, Saïx began to make his way down to the labs where Vexen resided. "I need to make sure this...insanity is not contagious."
---------------------------------------
32. Night
In their reclusive world that had abandoned the sun and moon, there was nothing to truly dictate night or day. In light of this, an instinctive hour system had been implemented based on the members that milled about in the main hall of the castle.
Early morning is when Lexaeus and Xaldin are typically the most notably active. Usually they talk with each other while they minutely spruce up the castle from the previous day's disorder. They are the first ones up because they systematically take turns breaking out the materials necessary for breakfast rather then relying on the Dusks or other Nobody Underlings. They consider a 'human touch' necessary when it comes to activities such as making food. Also because the Nobody Underlings for the most part do not possess opposable thumbs and it would be most unwise if things that lacked proper grip were left with sharp objects and a far from lucid thought process.
The following phase is dubbed the in-between of early and late morning. The next group that emerges from their sleeping lairs are Xigbar, Demyx and Zexion. Xigbar and Demyx converse with each other loudly enough to give a fanatic stadium decent competition. Amidst this, Zexion pretends to devote his attention to nursing a muffin or piece of cold toast for breakfast. Despite his outer facade of indifference, he actually takes a twisted interest in their capricious chatter. No matter how ridiculous he usually tries to pass off their random topics, he finds the two extroverts entertaining.
By late morning, everyone has more or less been woken up. The only difference is where their presences are in the main hall. The late morning group consists predictably of Axel toting along a grumpy and groggy Roxas. They usually settle into playing some sort of trivial game for the majority of the day. Demyx is also present during this, sometimes watching Axel and Roxas bicker over their table games of wars or trying to occupy his compulsively artistic self. Every once in a while, Demyx disappears from the main hall during the late morning, no one typically knows where he goes until some time later- usually with an extremely irate Vexen in tow. However, despite the others' half-baked concern, it's a magic trick of his that they prefer not to know.
Around the vague noontime Xemnas finally finds reasonable excuse to come out of his fortified study. He prowls around the main hall and assigns orders to the other twelve from noon until the afternoon. Zexion can intermittently be found talking with Lexaeus as well as Luxord over statistics and the odd conundrum from the worlds they explore. Once more, Vexen resurfaces from his lab for a mental break and talks with usually Zexion, Lexaeus, Luxord and ruefully, Xemnas himself.
At the afternoon, Axel and Roxas are just about closing their games which inevitably end in an 'ongoing draw' as Axel likes to perpetuate. The entire Organization in fact gathers in the main hall at the practiced prospect of dinner. Usually Demyx or Xigbar do the honors of kindly screaming at the top of their lungs to cajole the group into the main hall as they wait for supper like good little children. On a daily basis two members draw straws for who makes dinner for that particular day. Often times, the three who are in charge of cooking is some combination of Saïx, Vexen and Xaldin- coincidentally the three who have the best cooking skills in terms of dinner cuisine. Not that anyone complains about this unless Vexen is in a particularly a foul mood from Demyx being too blunderingly intrusive in his labs.
After dinner is completely done it is what would most accurately be deemed sunset. The dishes and mundane cleanup is left to the Dusks and the other Nobody Underlings. Saïx drifts off from the dining room to hang around in the previously deserted main hall. He then embarks on his favorite pastime, staring wordlessly out of the window, a reference text in his hand and an expression rivaling a child wondering where St. Nick has gone on Christmas. During this time is when Marluxia for once, stays in the main hall long enough to have a reasonable discussion with Luxord until Larxene decides to ruthlessly chip in her two cents.
The elder members surprisingly are the ones that begin the procession back to their own rooms. Xaldin and Lexaeus are the first and foremost abiders of 'early to bed and early to rise'. Xemnas is also prompt in his departure, but no one knows when or if he even sleeps in his study given his rather infamous bouts of wandering through the castle at ungodly hours and moments. Vexen has an erratic sleep schedule but he always scurries back to his room (which is really the lab), roughly half an hour after dinner ends. Zexion hovers around to eavesdrop on the others before yawning loudly and stalking back to his room. Almost uncharacteristically, Xigbar is the one that plays the part of the responsible chaperon and ushers many of the younger members back to their rooms. Specifically Axel, Demyx, Luxord, Marluxia and Roxas, and in a manner that gives new meaning to 'human endangerment'.
He leaves Saïx and Larxene alone because of the pet-like favoritism Xemnas has for the berserker and for the bitter rivalry Xigbar has with the prankster. Larxene merely continues to sit in the main hall, lounging in one of the many couches, a book caressed in her lap. She's engrossed in her book and doesn't offer a word to any of the others regardless of the manner in how they are filtered out one by one.
An hour mirthlessly rolls by and the hall is soaked with the veil of an utterly dead void save for her and Saïx by the window.
She remains frozen like a perfect statue only breaking the illusion when she has to turn a page. Larxene continues to gravely read and plot her slow acts of vengeance like any properly evil young lady up until Saïx pads off to sleep.
A nonexistent bell tolls a resonating twelve times, and true nighttime falls upon their caged off world.
It is during this time when not even the Dusks or Creepers are stirring that she indulges in what she considers her darkest vice.
Today's particular book is actually one that she stole from Zexion's quarters. One that ironically talks about a very proper man who maintains a scandalous double life. His foremost persona plays by starched rules and the other epitomizes contrasting brutality and selfishness. She scoffs at reading the last page of the book and how Dr. Jekyll met his own experimental end. Larxene shuts the book with a cold snap. The idea that the book is somewhat reflective of her own situation mildly irks her, but the self-comforting devil in her reminds her that bookworm Zexion's choices in reading material aren't the best.
She stretches and lets out an unrestrained yawn as best she can in her current position. She has been sitting sideways so that her boot heels hang over the chair's arm. In flexing she sends a series of tired and chilling tingles through her joints and she ends up dropping the book over the edge of the chair. It claps pathetically to the floor, but she doesn't care much for a book that would be better categorized as a paperweight in her opinion.
Larxene eases back into her odd seating on her comfy throne. Blearily she looks back at the eternally boring interior of the main hall that is even more lifeless now that she is all alone and without an obscure distraction.
Reflexively she wants to check her wrist for the time despite how she knows she has no watch. None of them do, not even Luxord who is supposed to be the master of the element. So instead she glares angrily at the black of her glove to pass her idleness.
As if on cue the patter of a set of boots break the crisp silence. She sluggishly gets out of her seat and carefully dusts the wrinkles off her cloak.
As expected, a familiar black-hooded stranger is approaching her with even boot claps. He stops before her and bows lowly. One hand is tucked under where he bends at the waist and the other gloved hand is held open to accept hers.
He never says anything, but she knows what he is asking for. Every time she always takes his hand and they begin their unreal ritual of practiced foot steps to an imaginary but synchronized melody.
They twirl around fluidly through the entire body of the main hall. Boots lightly tap and clack over the sheenless surface of a floor pretending to play the part of a ballroom. His hand holding hers, its mate cupping the perfect small of her leather clad back. While they spin she unbars the locks that hold back her only true smile that had been buried since she'd lost her heart. It is the one true smile of happiness and unadulterated joy whose sanctity she holds on the same level as her pride.
They could almost be called as inviting as angels but they shared nothing in common with the Romantic fairytale of a concept. They continue to bob and weave their dance mimicking ravens and other graces associated with the advocates of gloom.
Upon the last reverberating note of their invisible orchestra, they slow to a stop. The silent music dies off, but they still are within each other's physical duet of an embrace. Larxene already knows the part that always follows after the conclusion of their dance. It's the event that exhilarates her yet she despises and dreads.
The conclusion of their custom ends with what should be a kiss, but rather he flees from her into the caressing chills of darkness. Today she ponders a bitter question that crosses her mind as they stand there in each other's arms silently.
'Will he run away again?'
The hiss of leather acts as a preamble for him to retreat. She grasps the sleeve of his jacket with the tightest ferocity. Larxene glowers at him, eyes narrowing into a sharply accusing glare. "Coward..." she forces out in an abrupt breath.
The lip of his hood bobs back as if her words had struck him. One of her hands sweeps out from its perch and latches onto the silver drawstrings of his hood. He pulls back but they swiftly reach their limit and he's shoved into an inescapable corner of his own garments. She forcefully drags him down and meets his lips in a desperate gnash of entanglement. She can taste nothing from him, only the sensation of their mouths pressing agonizingly together.
He stops moving as the finality of their broken taboo sinks into his reality. Slowly Larxene draws away from him and half glowers at him with the silent question of 'Now will you tell me who you are?'
Much to her memory of frustration, he takes small back steps from her and towards the door. Her brows draw together, an infuriated growl escapes from her throat. He doesn't pick up the pace, but he continues his backwards tread.
A familiar crackle and metal weight forms into her hand. She throws it at him and he narrowly dodges. Her phantom has his hand held open to the side as if to call forth his own weapon to the battle in retaliation. The darkness dances on his hands, but he appears to will it back away. She glares bitterly at him and the slightly disheveled hood that isn't perfecting its job at concealing his identity.
She can see something signature peeking out from under the shadow of his cloth helm.
"Blue eyes eh?" She curses at him from across the stagnant room.
He merely tugs the hood back down and bows apathetically.
"Still won't talk?" Her knives assemble blindingly into her hands and she lunges forward at her accused. Larxene lets out a yell and slashes savagely at him.
Her knives and hands pass through nothing. Oily wisps of ether trail along her arms and a light perfume of unforgiving sin wafts past her. She frowns once more. Him.
The blonde glares at the floor until it begins to bleed in focus. She stows her weapons back into the void. 'What a waste of time!'
She doesn't spend away more precious moments in the defiled hall, She travels back to her room, the journey is a blur. She throws herself to the bed and for a while she stares at the luminescent ceiling. Larxene holds up her splayed hand to the opposing nature of the room. 'Why him of all people?'
It isn't until the day restarts again that she is back to her unforgiving self.
The course of the hours run through their routine of morning, noon and sunset. She sees her target talking with his usual companions. She slips easily back into the ingrained pattern of the day and walks over to him.
The gambler with superficial airs is deep in his own babbling by the time she reaches him, "-but Marly, you simply must try Bordeaux's Rose Wine! It is the very elixir of the gods-!"
The brunette scoffs in his usually impassive manner, "Is that before or after you waste the entire bottle?" He pauses and stiffens his previously lax posture at noticing her. He grins contemptuously at her presence, "How pleasant of you to join us miss sunshine."
Larxene flashes an arrogant smirk at him and traces suggestive fingertips around the side of his face. His eyes widen and he follows her digits out of the corner of his eyes, but he doesn't react otherwise. Luxord stares in a way that would appear to be gawking on any less of a refined person at seeing the cryptic exchange between the two.
The blonde turns from him in a way only a weightless feather can upon water.
As she walks away, Luxord's inquisitions can already be heard echoing after the event. "What the bloody hell was that all about? Marly are there some cardinal relationships roughing about that I was left unaware of? Marly??"
Unlike the countless days before, Larxene doesn't wait in the hall for night to fall. Instead she obediently returns to her room to sleep.
She smiles conflictingly to herself as her eyes slide shut for her danceless dreams. 'It was worth it, that look on your face...'
---------------------------------------
60. Rejection
Just another day on patrol. Or, as a more cynical observer would point out, it was more like 'slacking off' on patrol in a distant world of grass and needlessly ornate faux botanical gardens. A blonde woman sits coolly at a table made out of white metal fencing that holds a set of exquisite china. The chair she is sitting in looks uncomfortable in its grated design, but regardless of this it doesn't appear to bother her or she masks her discomfort well. Whichever it was doesn't matter as she expresses some form of ill will at the sight of a man with fine platinum blond hair approaching her from one of the mouths of the nearby bush maze.
He sighs blissfully as he closes in on her and her table, "Isn't it such a lovely day? It's as though the heavens parted to act as your red carpet." He takes his seat fluidly next to her and helps himself to the cold tea on the table.
She gives him a pointed glare and flips back her head with a light snicker, "Well I can tell you're a bright one, the sky's blue and there were never clouds here in the first place."
He takes a pink packet of creamer from the dainty white box on the set and shakes it with great fervor, "Ah an error on my part, I was simply distracted by how radiant your presence is."
She swivels in her chair so that her elbows rest on the interlacing metal of the table and that her chin sits on the back of her leather gloves, "Dunno what you're smoking, but I only 'radiate' hatred towards scumbags like you."
He rips open the packet with relish and empties it into the dark brown liquid sitting in the white teacup, "I would gladly play the part of a fatherless son if only it would allow for a single glance from you."
She chuckles darkly at him, "Congratulations, you have my glares of daggers."
For a moment he pauses his activities with the tea and his blue eyes bore into her green ones. He crumples the packet up into a significantly smaller wad and dramatically places a hand over his chest, "Elegant daggers that easily pierce the very fiber of my being!"
She snorts at him and his melodrama. Her hands lower and flatten against the porous surface of the table as if to physically quash his ego as well, "To me it looks more like your IQ is dropping lower then the card count in your deck."
He picks open the sugar container and with the tiny spoon plops in four cubes of sugar, "Perhaps if I could give you as many hearts as there are in my deck, you would understand how I feel?"
She pulls back from him and reclines heavily back into her chair, as if doing so will help keep his cheesy response from infecting her personal space. She replies quickly to him so as not to leave the wrong impression of his words, "Hell no, I would never want to either. And if I was forced to, I would use every damn diamond, club and spade to kick your sorry ass."
He plucks a stirrer from the open cylinder on the table and mixes his concoction of a beverage. He laughs airily at her remarks as the tan spreads to the rest of the previously richer brown, "Oh ho ho, such a sharp-tongued goddess of beauty! You really do epitomize the ideal woman."
Her response is dripping with sardonic deadpan, "I'm flattered. Pity it doesn't really mean that much considering you're the undisputed winner of the Darwin Award."
He stops stirring and plops the stick onto the tea saucer. He brings the teacup up to his lips and sighs dejectedly into it, "...You really do hate me don't you?"
She flashes a sincerely arrogant smirk at him, "Only took you two months to finally get it through your thick skull."
He stops from drinking his tea and lowers it from his face. He gives her a truly befuddled look, "Two months...? Why but I've known you longer than-"
Her smirk contorts into a deep frown. And his eyebrows raise at the realization.
He chuckles to himself, "Oh...I see now. So you're still sore over that incident with Marluxia? You really don't take rejection very well do you Larxene?" He takes a long drag from the over-sweetened and distastefully cold liquid.
Larxene rolls her head on her neck so that each segment cracks with a small release, "Tch, better then you take your own petty losses Luxord."
He places down his now empty teacup, "Touché."
---------------------------------------
80. Words
It all started out as just yet another 'once upon a time when rifling through the abyss of books for a library' Xaldin stumbled upon a rather conspicuous looking book.
He squinted at the book as if it were a mirage or trick of the immortal lighting of the Castle's library, but it did not fade nor distort into something more normal after tilting it in various directions. He examined the thin, black-wrapped book with a sense of sadistic curiosity. A thought in the back of his mind recalled this particular book, but not the importance or meaning of it.
Not wanting to be left with grating temptation from his curiosity, the lancer opens the book to examine the contents. His purple eyes light up with surprise and crinkle from quaking chuckles.
A low base of worry comes from behind one of the farther shelves, "Is something wrong Xaldin?" Lexaeus's head pops out from behind the shelf just as he says the name.
Xaldin holds up the black book's contents to Lexaeus. He stares at its innards and his face ends up twisting into a failed attempt at shirking off his sense of humor. The lancer is still beaming at his discovery as he turns the book back to himself.
The orange haired man speaks after Xaldin resumes gloating over the article he has found, "What do you plan to do with it?"
The brunette gives him a toothy grin, and replies matter-of-factly, "Why, spread the joy."
Ever since Xemnas had emerged from his study for a brief tour around the majestic castle, he'd noticed a...change of sorts that had swept the domain. Specifically that everyone was apparently missing.
There was no one creating a mess in the main hall, there were no violent outbreaks from the quarreling neophytes and none of the researchers were clamoring to give him information. In short it was utterly, completely serene. The Superior glanced down the empty halls and marveled at the lack of daily destruction. With a quirked smile he resumed his stroll through the otherworldly home.
Xemnas continued his lonesome tour, taking in the trivial details he never noticed before such as how even more pointlessly ornate designs had developed along the Castle's exposed scaffolds.
It was rather nice whatever this spell of armistice was.
However the sound of rapping boot claps told him that brief respite was now over. With a puff of sorrowful resignation he turned to the source of the noise.
Not much to his surprise it was Vexen.
The scientist didn't even bother to catch his breath, so he wheezed out his alarm to the tanned man, "X-x-enmassss...m-main hall...X-x-igbarrrr is tryyying to kill Xaldiiiiiin..." At the end of this message, the blond collapsed into a panting pile on the floor.
Xemnas juts out his jaw in childish annoyance. 'Damn Xigbar and his residual temper.'
After back-tracking all the way to the previously harmonious main hall, he sees that Xigbar is indeed doing his best to decimate Xaldin with his gun arrows. Oddly Xigbar is the one roaring every curse under the heavens at Xaldin while the lancer mocks him. Just as Xigbar seems to reach a boiling point in his anger, he throws out his hands in a gesture that acts as the precursor to what he nicknamed 'the explody bazooka'.
Forming the gigantic beam causes the air to rivet painfully. As the atmosphere reaches its suffocating limit, and can no longer yield any more energy, the shot breaks from the cannon and surges towards the brunette. Xemnas instantly teleports to where Xaldin is and with a reprimanding lash of his hand, generates a crackling ruby wall of a shield. The wall and attack shatter into a flurry of red and white edgeless glass.
Xemnas frowns severely at Xigbar. The sniper tartly presses his lips together with anger but says nothing discernable. Xaldin gives a scoff of tiny personal victory at Xigbar's disdain. Their leader whirls on him and leers at the book that he has clasped in his hands. Much to Xaldin's astonishment, Xemnas snatches it out of his taunting grip.
The tanned man checks the papers within the little black book to discover that they are actually photographs. He flips through them and his eyes fall upon a most peculiar picture. His face draws from its previous scrutiny to disbelief and back to the critical creases on his face. He removes the picture from the book as though it is an overly ripe piece of trash.
Xemnas knows about the rivalry and immature game of extortion tag Xaldin and Xigbar play with each other. And despite his best intentions to avoid being dragged into these bouts, it happens anyway. However, this time the unwilling arbitrator is made quite curious about this specific tool of blackmail Xaldin had managed to unearth.
"Xigbar, would you kindly explain to me what this is?"
He flips the photo over so that the white backing faces him and the image front beams at Xigbar. From the lighting he can still see the faint image of what appears to be a more youthful Braig dressed horrifyingly in gaudy hula-drag while leaning heavily on an extremely confused Elaeus as if he were a human crutch.
Xigbar stutters, stumbles and crashes over his words, "I-I-It isn't what it looks like!"
Xemans stows the photograph back into the leaves of the book and tucks it under his protective arm.
"That's lovely Xigbar, but according to an old saying you still owe me nine-hundred and ninety-six more words for it to be worth returning this picture back to you."
---------------------------------------
Oh wow, an extremely long theme chain with no slash and no unlucky Demyx. I think I just broke something... Also the brief wine reference is utter BS, I'm no expert in wine vintage, so if anyone knows a better or more accurate example, please tell me! I really cheated on using Lexaeus this theme set, poor man needs to be written more.