Title: First Impressions
Characters: Demyx, Zexion
Author’s note: A glimpse into how I, personally, believe these two would get along. Fair warning, it’s probably not how most others imagine it. If you’re looking for Zemyx, this might not be the drabble for you.
It must have taken years upon years of careful and tedious training to be able to move so softly, Vexen reflected after a rather unsavory gasp had escaped him in the surprise of the other man’s approach. Normally, he could have justified that he would have heard the assassin from a mile away, maybe that he had ‘smelled his rose and lilac’ scent, but Vexen was in a disgruntled mood and poor humor. Snarky taunts would have to be saved for another day.
That, of course, did not stop his eyes from locking on to the beautiful form before him with a deft precision of a man accustomed to using a clinical eye, yet throw into a situation which required none whatsoever. He could not turn his attention away, noting his smooth gait, his masterfully hidden smile and careful words. Yes, the man before him was a self-made work of art. That much was extremely clear.
Unfortunately, it made reading him with a cold, collected logic all the harder.
Vexen could tell that Marluxia had been training his own self or years, that the art of making one’s self entirely pleasing was neither natural, nor easy, yet he was achieving it rather dogmatically, but stunning nonetheless. He wondered what led up to this point that had closed him off so solidly, so inpenetrably, and yet it served true that Vexen was in much the same boat.
Standing before the Assassin, feeling the painful thrum of his core, particularly when the other man neared, it left him cut off from the man. He was bitter, he realized with narrowed eyes. These suggestions of emotions always tended to become all the more painful, all the harder to ignore when that twisted Assassin happened to be near.
For he was poisonous. That fact was without contest. Vexen had known from the beginning that this man was not worthy of trust. From the glib smirk on his rose tinted lips to the sway of his walk, he was carefully covering up for something which he dare not let the other members know, particularly not the elders.
He was plotting something. All of that allure could only serve to be covering up something fiercely wrong within the other man. Vexen was not fool enough to question his true motives, for they all had true motives when it boiled down to it’s basest form. Lexaeus sought to protect Zexion (or perhaps just the remnants of Ienzo), Vexen himself simply wished to unlock the secrets of the world through science. As long as he had his test subjects available, there was not much to be concerned over. But he was curious as to how important it was to the scythe wielder to keep them alive, or perhaps wish them dead.
“I am always busy, Number XI.” He iterated, and yet for all of the bite within that statement, he seemed far too pensive and mellow to give his comment s a startling edge. ”I rarely have a moment of my own. Regardless,” He continued onward, plowing forward through any instructions. ”Which qualities might you be speaking of?” He inquired without even thinking properly.
Marluxia didn’t respond right away. He had startled Vexen, and was a little surprised he was able to actually get the reaction he was striving for. Perhaps the scientist was a little too preoccupied with his own inner workings at the moment. How interesting.
That gravity in his voice was also missing, which was quite a change given that Vexen was as cold and distant as he was notational. Not quite as absorbed in books as some other members, but close enough to warrant a suspicious visual work-over. Marluxia drew in every detail he could initially see and though he fancied himself able to see through the transparent, Vexen was a bit on the difficult side.
He lowered his hood and flashed a subtle smile that barely turned the corner of his lips. He looked just past Vexen when he spoke again. There was a fleeting glint of malevolence in his eye, though it could just as easily been interpreted as arrogance.
“Your curiosity only lies within science and this a great disappointment for one who wants to know so much.”
Marluxia circled Vexen slowly and motioned to the door at the farthest end of the hall. He was more than willing to show Vexen things that he was obviously ignorant of, but he did think that maybe it wouldn’t be wise to expose secrets so soon. Perhaps just a sliver of a half truth would suffice for now.
“You do understand the nature of this castle, yes? How can you not be awestruck by such a resounding method of seeking truths and gardening lies in the form of luxurious technicalities?”
Marluxia approached the door quietly. It was locked tight and he brushed the doorknob with slender fingers. Teasing. Maybe now was not the time. He turn on his heels and cast a disarming smile at Vexen.
“Maybe now is not the time to taunt you with knowledge you’ll never figure out on your own. That would be uncharacteristic of me, now wouldn’t it? So straightforward. Though you probably have a number of things to take care of in your basement.”
His smile grew minutely.
“Just be sure not to get too engrossed in your scientific fantasies. You’ll miss a good opportunity by being ignorant to the nature of things as a whole.” He paused for a moment and waved a hand dismissively. “Carry on, Four. You seem very busy.”
Poison green eyes narrowed and followed the circling Assassin as the other man eyed him playfully as a cat relishes in the pain of a wounded bird. Vexen was no defenseless bird, and he was much less one to be gloated over when nothing of interest could be possibly learned from the man before him.
…or could it?
Despite his foolish antics, and beautifully distracting features and his idiotically reckless behavior, Marluxia had a point. Being put in the position of power over this abode, it was more than likely that he had a great deal of additional knowledge about their surroundings. These pristine white walls were mysterious, even by Vexen’s standards. If Vexen hated anything more than disrespect, it was ignorance and he currently found himself rather ‘unknowing’ of the his current home.
In that shadow of a moment, Vexen knew that he hated that shadow of a smug smile on those perfectly shaped, rose petal lips. He wanted to slap him, to scream at him for his disrespect and horrendous trangression of rank, but ranks apparently had been thrown to the winds in this horrible new place where he had so precious little control. Marluxia seemed to know it, but then again Marluxia was always a touch too quick to claim that he knew exactly what was going on at any given time.
For all the bravado in his eyes, he was hasty, young, foolish. Then again, Vexen really never could resist a good mystery; how he wanted to piece it apart, slowly and carefully like every other experiment he had completed.
“How eager you are to speak of how much you know, yet you fail to say anything of actual content.” Vexen commented airily, as though the Graceful man’s comments hadn’t aggravated him heinously, which they, of course, had. “Words are simply that without anything to serve to prove them, Marluxia. Is that what you are? Full of words? I can hardly admit myself surprised, in retrospect. Your reports from the last few recon missions have been rather lacking…” He trailed, casting an unimpressed glance at the other man.
“Of course, if you knew anything more of this castle, one would think it pragmatic and logical to share, yet if you simply continue to wax poetic and fill the room with your empty words, perhaps there is simply too much to do in the labs to be bothered with empty promises.” Vexen finished with a wicked grin. His ultimatum seemed rather clear: prove it.