Now something in Larxene's perspective...no really, it IS 411...I have another 411-ish thing written in her perspective actually, but you get this vague thing first...and then probably some angst because I have one of those waiting and I feel odd going too terribly long without some in this particular fandom and then...who knows? Enjoy!...hopefully.
Eating Habits
The kitchen of Castle Oblivion is lavish and expensive…like anything Marluxia gets his hands on early on in the planning. The counter tops and sink basins are all white and grey marble. The steel grey of the stainless steel appliances and white of the room…like any room in the castle…compliments it with simple elegance.
And normally it compliments the castle's owner as well. Marluxia makes it a point to be refined, immaculate and poised. His clothes are always neat and clean, he keeps himself impeccably groomed, and his hair, though vibrant and quite large all the way around, is meticulously combed into that fashion.
Normally.
After four in the morning though, the wear of the day has taken its toll. His sleek black coat is traded for a pair of drawstring pajama pants. He's usually, at this point, managed a few hours of sleep, so his hair sticks up at odd angles and his mouth feels sand papery and doesn't taste all that wonderful.
At four seventeen in the morning, Marluxia looks small and disheveled in the soft light of the open refrigerator, shadows accentuating his face and making him look almost human.
Larxene watches in quiet confusion as he fishes through a crisper drawer for lettuce and tomato and then into another for sandwich meat and cheese. He sets them on the polished marble countertop, going back for condiments before padding over to the bread basket to pull out two slices and then a drawer for a knife.
He hasn't seen her, and she wonders how awake he actually is as he sets about making a rather delicious looking sandwich, his eyes barely open. He sets the ingredients back into their proper places with a practiced speed, shutting the door and picking up the napkin the sandwich is sitting on before wandering out.
Curiosity taking over, Larxene follows him down two halls and three flights of stairs to the basement, wondering if he's forgotten, in his sleepy state, how to use a proper portal.
He slips into the labs and presses himself against a far wall. His lips are moving softly and she can almost make out numbers. He's counting. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve…twelve is it, he's moving again.
She wonders briefly if he's planning on eating the sandwich here…and now she's wondering what strange sort of quirk that is.
But he isn't eating the sandwich at all. He's setting it on one of the counters, amidst an untidy pile of paperwork. He runs a finger over the corner of one page before turning and wandering out.
Larxene considers following him, but she's more curious about the sandwich than Marluxia himself. Remaining in the shadows, she waits for a few moments before her questions are answered…almost.
Vexen comes walking back from the other side of the lab. He looks down with a sort of resigned sigh, prodding at the sandwich with one long finger before picking it up and biting into it as he sits back down to bury himself in his work once more.
The next morning, looking at a freshly showered and pampered Marluxia, Larxene's lips quirk into a smirk. "Morning sunshine. What do you want for breakfast? I made some French toast for me, but maybe you'd like something different? Waffles? Pancakes? A sandwich maybe?"
Something in her tone makes Marluxia pause. He narrows his eyes, more defensive than angry. "He never eats." He says, knowing that there's no point in playing cat and mouse with any of this. Larxene's going to tease him mercilessly, she might as well know why. "He holes himself up in that lab for days on end. He's going to fade away and…and I'll get blamed…or something…"
It's a lame excuse but she lets him have it.
"Why do you sneak around though? Why not just bring him one before you go to sleep? That way you aren't zombified all over the castle, that was scary as hell by the way, I saw eye gunk." Larxene shudders.
"Do you really think he'd eat anything I gave him?" Marluxia asks, and while she's got hours worth of taunting stored away in her mind, the look his gives her is, beneath his normal haughty expression, almost sorrowful. It's almost like he wishes that Vexen would accept something from him…as little as he might be willing to give.
And it's strange enough to make her wait, at least until after breakfast.
I hear Marluxia makes a mean Monte Cristo...
Review Please...no really. I don't bite my reviewers...unless they want me to...?
