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everlastingsoul) wrote2007-08-09 01:02 am
everlastingsoul) wrote2007-08-09 01:02 am
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Kingdom Hearts II "drabble." Not quite 900 words, but ... yeah. Whatever. I don't feel like being coherent anymore.
Title: Untitled
Series: Kingdom Hearts II
Characters: Xigbar, Demyx (mentioning of majority of the Organization)
Drabble takes place in an AU where Organization XIII members all have Keyblades and Xemnas, while not out to take over the world, resents Sora something fierce (or tries to with his lack of heart, har har). I'd go into more detail, but there not much else to say.
Unlike most members of the Organization, Xigbar considered his Keyblade his secondary weapon. He could not change the constitution of the magical key to suit his fighting style, and had briefly resented the others that could. Larxene seemed to take pleasure in rubbing the fact in, though he was quick to remind her that he could shoot faster than she could throw any day of the week.
He liked to say he used the guns for crowd control; they were incredibly useful in the Dark City, where the Heartless spawned endlessly as if to constantly hamper the Organization’s movement. He could fire a spray of arrows out and hit a Heartless with each one—sometimes more than one—and still have enough time to wheel around and give Heartless approaching his back the same treatment.
Melee fighting had never been his style. If he could somehow trade in the weapon for a more malleable version, something that could produce energy shots like Vexen’s, then he would have been content. But noooo, the keys changed their shape to fit their bearer, and apparently he was supposed to take to the front lines and promptly get jumped by the oncoming hordes of Heartless. Yeah, no thanks.
Of the original six, three used weapons other than the Keyblades: Xigbar, Vexen, and Zexion. Vexen had been gifted with a shooting Keyblade, and Xigbar had griped more than once over the tragedy of the Chilly Academic never taking advantage of the unique feature. Tired of the constant complaints, Vexen had waspishly told him to go find something useful to do.
Xigbar went on to find someone else to bother.
Demyx was the same position his superior was; among the neophytes, he was the only one that could not shape his Keyblade into something he would use as a primary weapon. He much preferred his sitar over the blade that the Organization had in common, playing the instrument on and off the battlefield whenever he could help it. Considering Zexion holed himself up in the library with Lexaeus (and the occasional, bored Nobody) and would not respond well to him breaking the silence of their musty sanctuary, Xigbar went off to Demyx’s room. To continue his griping, of course.
Demyx listened dutifully while tuning his sitar—he felt obligated to listen, since Xigbar was Number II. Once in awhile, he offered hopeful comments. “What about asking Xaldin to teach you how to fight with your Keyblade?”
“Like putting my head in a lion’s mouth,” the one-eyed sniper muttered from his midair perch. “Have you ever sat in on one of his training sessions, dude?” The embarrassed silence, briefly filled by a twang of the sitar, spoke volumes. “Let me tell you, it’s not pretty. I’m scraping Nobodies off the wall just so he’ll stop having his Dragoons hound me for him.
A perplexed expression took over Demyx’s face. “Why you?”
“On the ceiling, dude. The only reason,” Xigbar shrugged, rolling over in midair and letting his ponytail dangle down into the younger member’s line of sight. “So, anyway, back on topic: It’s just not friggin’ fair.”
“Clearly we were last in line to meet the Keyblade Customizer Fairy,” the musician sighed, his strumming growing more confident as he finished tuning his sitar. He batted at Xigbar’s hair a few times before knitting his brows together and leaning forward enough so that the black hair was on his head and not in front of his face. “I can’t complain. I like where I’m at.”
“Because you’d freak if you had to go swinging out there with that thing,” was the nonchalant remark from above. Demyx made a face and tugged at the older Nobody’s hair, then shifted over his sitar to play properly.
“Maybe if you spent as much time learning to use your Keyblade as you did griping about it, you’d be able to … I dunno, throw it at people.” It was as much of a jab as Demyx was willing to risk, knowing Xigbar could get pretty vengeful when he was taunted or prodded repeatedly.
“As if; that’s Larx’s territory. I’m all for the shooting aspect.” Xigbar closed his eye, daydreaming over the idea of a Keyblade sniper rifle. “Hell, maybe I’m doing something wrong. I mean, I’m in the same boat as you and Zexion. Even Luxord was able to work with his Keyblade.”
Demyx paused at that, his fingers still at the instrument’s strings. “He did?”
“Well, sure. I think he’s called them ‘Keycards’ or something corny like that, though. Master of rhetoric, my ass.”
“I think you’re just trying to be jealous, Xigbar.”
“Probably.” There was faint grumbling from above.
“Maybe you should go hit him up for some pointers? It’ll probably be kinda distracting, too; get your mind off of the … obvious stuff!”
Demyx looked up to watch Xigbar drop almost to eye level, coughing indiscreetly as the man smiled that creepily haughty smile of his. “Good idea,” he hummed, nodding unnecessarily at Demyx’s suggestion. “I’ll give that a go and see where it leads. Keep yourself open for a game, dude; likely he’s gonna want to play cards before too long, and we’ll need at least a third.”
And as Xigbar blinked out of the room with a short laugh, Demyx hung his head and wished he had kept his big mouth shut.
Title: Untitled
Series: Kingdom Hearts II
Characters: Xigbar, Demyx (mentioning of majority of the Organization)
Drabble takes place in an AU where Organization XIII members all have Keyblades and Xemnas, while not out to take over the world, resents Sora something fierce (or tries to with his lack of heart, har har). I'd go into more detail, but there not much else to say.
Unlike most members of the Organization, Xigbar considered his Keyblade his secondary weapon. He could not change the constitution of the magical key to suit his fighting style, and had briefly resented the others that could. Larxene seemed to take pleasure in rubbing the fact in, though he was quick to remind her that he could shoot faster than she could throw any day of the week.
He liked to say he used the guns for crowd control; they were incredibly useful in the Dark City, where the Heartless spawned endlessly as if to constantly hamper the Organization’s movement. He could fire a spray of arrows out and hit a Heartless with each one—sometimes more than one—and still have enough time to wheel around and give Heartless approaching his back the same treatment.
Melee fighting had never been his style. If he could somehow trade in the weapon for a more malleable version, something that could produce energy shots like Vexen’s, then he would have been content. But noooo, the keys changed their shape to fit their bearer, and apparently he was supposed to take to the front lines and promptly get jumped by the oncoming hordes of Heartless. Yeah, no thanks.
Of the original six, three used weapons other than the Keyblades: Xigbar, Vexen, and Zexion. Vexen had been gifted with a shooting Keyblade, and Xigbar had griped more than once over the tragedy of the Chilly Academic never taking advantage of the unique feature. Tired of the constant complaints, Vexen had waspishly told him to go find something useful to do.
Xigbar went on to find someone else to bother.
Demyx was the same position his superior was; among the neophytes, he was the only one that could not shape his Keyblade into something he would use as a primary weapon. He much preferred his sitar over the blade that the Organization had in common, playing the instrument on and off the battlefield whenever he could help it. Considering Zexion holed himself up in the library with Lexaeus (and the occasional, bored Nobody) and would not respond well to him breaking the silence of their musty sanctuary, Xigbar went off to Demyx’s room. To continue his griping, of course.
Demyx listened dutifully while tuning his sitar—he felt obligated to listen, since Xigbar was Number II. Once in awhile, he offered hopeful comments. “What about asking Xaldin to teach you how to fight with your Keyblade?”
“Like putting my head in a lion’s mouth,” the one-eyed sniper muttered from his midair perch. “Have you ever sat in on one of his training sessions, dude?” The embarrassed silence, briefly filled by a twang of the sitar, spoke volumes. “Let me tell you, it’s not pretty. I’m scraping Nobodies off the wall just so he’ll stop having his Dragoons hound me for him.
A perplexed expression took over Demyx’s face. “Why you?”
“On the ceiling, dude. The only reason,” Xigbar shrugged, rolling over in midair and letting his ponytail dangle down into the younger member’s line of sight. “So, anyway, back on topic: It’s just not friggin’ fair.”
“Clearly we were last in line to meet the Keyblade Customizer Fairy,” the musician sighed, his strumming growing more confident as he finished tuning his sitar. He batted at Xigbar’s hair a few times before knitting his brows together and leaning forward enough so that the black hair was on his head and not in front of his face. “I can’t complain. I like where I’m at.”
“Because you’d freak if you had to go swinging out there with that thing,” was the nonchalant remark from above. Demyx made a face and tugged at the older Nobody’s hair, then shifted over his sitar to play properly.
“Maybe if you spent as much time learning to use your Keyblade as you did griping about it, you’d be able to … I dunno, throw it at people.” It was as much of a jab as Demyx was willing to risk, knowing Xigbar could get pretty vengeful when he was taunted or prodded repeatedly.
“As if; that’s Larx’s territory. I’m all for the shooting aspect.” Xigbar closed his eye, daydreaming over the idea of a Keyblade sniper rifle. “Hell, maybe I’m doing something wrong. I mean, I’m in the same boat as you and Zexion. Even Luxord was able to work with his Keyblade.”
Demyx paused at that, his fingers still at the instrument’s strings. “He did?”
“Well, sure. I think he’s called them ‘Keycards’ or something corny like that, though. Master of rhetoric, my ass.”
“I think you’re just trying to be jealous, Xigbar.”
“Probably.” There was faint grumbling from above.
“Maybe you should go hit him up for some pointers? It’ll probably be kinda distracting, too; get your mind off of the … obvious stuff!”
Demyx looked up to watch Xigbar drop almost to eye level, coughing indiscreetly as the man smiled that creepily haughty smile of his. “Good idea,” he hummed, nodding unnecessarily at Demyx’s suggestion. “I’ll give that a go and see where it leads. Keep yourself open for a game, dude; likely he’s gonna want to play cards before too long, and we’ll need at least a third.”
And as Xigbar blinked out of the room with a short laugh, Demyx hung his head and wished he had kept his big mouth shut.
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