[saix and vexen; complete]

[falltheseventh.livejournal.com]

Who: Saix falltheseventh and Vexen cyrophilia
Where: Somewhere in the hallways.
When: Afternoon/Evening, November 30
Rating: PG-13 at worst.
Summary: It's "black and white", day and night, where is the twilight?
the Story:

The mansion's being treated to an odd sight, to say the least.

Vexen hasn't been out of his room for a significant period of time in a long while, on account of his injuries; seeing him striding through the hallways isn't something of a usual occurence. Much less when he's dressed top to bottom in a white coat that looks suspiciously like someone's taken paint to the Organization's standard outfit, hair tied away from his face and bangs slicked back wetly. There's something... odd about his expression as well. Like he's... sleepwalking, perhaps, would be the best way to put it.

But there's also the matter that he's walking past all the incriminating graffiti on the walls with barely a twitch, striding as smoothly as a cat.


His memory isn't what it used to be.

Or something like that; he isn't terribly concerned about it.

Regardless, Saix is sure that he originally set out to... do something. As he had been going down the hallways, suddenly it felt as though such matters weighing on his mind mattered little. Eventually, as should things have it, he finds himself moving less gracefully and more in the walk of some untamed animal, hair somehow managing to be even more unruly than before, and his fangs more prominent.

At the moment, he seems rather preoccupied scratching at a wall, in some ridiculous need to mark territory--

His nostrils flare as a scent approaches and he pauses in his work as he sniffs.


Had he been wearing shoes with proper heels, one would get the impression that Vexen's feet would be clicking along the floor.

Thankfully, he isn't, but the sight is disturbing enough, seeing him walk with an arrogance far greater than his usual slouching stroll. He's almost alert, head lifted, glancing around the hallways with a keen glint to his eye, like some kind of res

He does not seem surprised to see Saix, but he pauses at the sight of the berserker anyway, lofting a brow.


Bare hands and feet press against the floor as he warily approaches; had he a tail, it may very well be tucked between his legs in some sort of sign of submission -- maybe even respect. The berserker's head tilts as he pauses, claws scratching at the floor.

But he recognizes Vexen, if only by scent.

"Master," Saix purrs.


Vexen pauses as he's addressed; previously, he's expressed his dislike for that particular appellation, but that's when he's in his... usual frame of mind.

Right now, however, it only makes him cant his head faintly, staring at the berserker as if he's trying to settle him into a mental map. Inevitably, he nods.

"Yes," he says, as if in affirmation. "Mine." His lips twitch faintly, muscles fighting the expression.


Slowly, he approaches, seeming to need to stay on his hands and feet to position himself lower for Vexen's benefit. Leaning close, he rubs his cheek up against the academic's leg, nuzzling up close like a cat seeking affection.

"Yes," comes out like a soft hiss; it's an agreement of whom he does indeed belong to. "What does Master want?"


There's something itching faintly at the back of his head; if he listens hard enough, it sounds like someone screaming. It distracts him briefly, before he turns his attention to Saix, the smile almost genuine as it wicks across his face.

"Nothing, for now," he murmurs coyly, letting a hand rest in Saix's hair. "Just making sure youre alright. I was worried," he half-coos, beginning to stroke Saix's head.


The berserker leans his head up and he purrs, pleased at the feeling of essentially being pet by his master. "Mmm." Slowly, he sits back, rubbing his shoulder against Vexen's leg as well as his head. "Didn't mean to worry Master."

Words are limiting, and he can't express verbally that much more, it seems. Though he's terribly happy to have the physical reassurance. It speaks better than words, like a treat to a dog.


"I know you didn't." The odd smile widens to feel the berserker nudging against his leg, and Vexen lets his hand tilt to scratch behind the berserker's ears, fingers crooked to better reach through the hair and to the scalp.

It's been a few days since the ball, and already it's starting to shag, but for some reason, now, the scientist doesn't make an issue of it-- for all that he was glad to harp on it before.

For a moment, the white of his clothes seems to flicker into grey, and Vexen blinks.

"Mm. Would you like to play, Saix?"


An odd, pleased sound rises out of him at the scritching; he leans his head up for it, in silent begging for further attention. Behind the ears, apparently, receives the best response as he emits a little whine.

He nuzzles the leg still in his appreciation, though he pauses at the question.

And Saix smiles. "What would Master like to play?"


"I don't know." The admission is frank, and Vexen cants his head to the side faintly, as if he's trying to remember the reason he asked to begin with. "Someone... told me we should. Play, that is."

Pity he can't seem to recall who. Shrugging the concern off, he continues to pet Saix, working his fingers at his scalp patiently.

"...Go-Seek, perhaps?" he suggests, dubiously. "Do you have any ideas?"


Play? Different sorts of images come to mind, though it appears that Vexen takes it rather plainly.

Which seems to suit Saix just fine. He purrs at the fingers on his scalp, though his shoulders seem to tighten at being asked.

"Never played games before," he murmurs hesitantly. "Cannot help -- sorry, Master."

Or at least... he can't remember that far back. He hasn't been able to all day, and it hasn't concerned him. Still doesn't.

Odd that.


"That's alright, dear," Vexen soothes absently. "Neither have I. Played games, at least." Obviously, if neither of them know how to play, that idea's not going anywhere. In response to the berserker's faint distress, Vexen's hand lingers on his hair a little longer, before he cocks his head and squints at Saix.

"We can always make up our own, I suppose."


The hair seems to become less and less shaggy and far more well-groomed as Vexen continues to pet through the strands. And suddenly, it seems, Saix rises to his feet. However, quite mysteriously, he's completely clothed, boots and gloves and all.

And he raises a brow, speaking much less in a growling, simple tone and more in a bit of a... dignified voice. "And what would you have us do, run around rampantly like children? I can already imagine the sort of fun that would be."


If he's surprised by the change, Vexen doesn't show it, but he lets his hand drop away, looking a little disappointed.

As if he knows this particular variant of Saix, and isn't over-fond of it. It must look like an odd conversation to anyone beyond them, certainly.

"Oh, it's you," he mutters, glancing off to the side. "You'd prefer to have us drinking from teacups and playing house, then?" His own appearance hasn't changed, but he seems more inclined to snipe at this shade of Saix than at the other.


The diviner folds his arms and turns his head away, mildly offended. "How typical. So interested in running around and not even minding your own wounds, I see. Furthermore, it only goes to show how you're positively no different than the rest of them. Can't say I knew what I was thinking when I picked you over everyone else."

Saix takes to leaning against the wall, his movement smooth and somehow more flowing than the ambling beast he was before. "Either way, I've never been much for playing. Is that what you want to waste your time with in regards to your servant? Playing games and nothing more? Somehow, I expected something a tad more, but I suppose it's a given."


"My wounds are fine. See?" As if to prove his point, Vexen raps his hands sharply against his side, smirking wryly-- only to end up wincing as his knuckles actually impact his bones. Regardless, he gamely carries on. "And I wasn't aware thinking was involved when you chose me. Left that to your 'better half', didn't you?"

He reckons he's entitled to be a little snide, especially considering the diviner's next words. "Never asked for you. Never wanted you," he says, a touch of real malice creeping into the words. "To begin with, anyway. I'm sorry for trying to show I care." He folds his arms as well, turning his nose up snobbily. "I guess I just can't please you, can I? I don't ask for enough. I ask for too much. I don't ask for the right thing, and I keep inconveniencing you. You probably wish I had died, don't you?"


Stepping off from the wall, the diviner scowls at the way Vexen tries to prove his point and fails somewhat -- yet doesn't pause even a moment. Saix tucks some of his azure hair behind a pointed ear, scowling. "Better half, hm? Suppose you prefer your cuddling dog, then, do you? Suppose all anyone ever wants is some mutt willing to do anything for them."

"I never wanted you to die." He hesitates faintly, his eyes narrowing. "On either accounts." Saix turns his head away, sharply. "Hmph. Showing you care? I doubt that entirely. I'm the inconvenience, isn't that it? Trailing after you all the time and all that. After all, you never wanted me. And yet, I wasn't disappointed when I picked you. I'll have you know there was thought put into it. Wouldn't gather that idea, would you, that somebody -- or Nobody, whichever term you prefer -- would want you in any particular way, would you?"


Vexen scowls back, eyes narrowing. "Is that what you think I think of you? Maybe I just happen to like receiving genuine affection once in a while. No expectations attached. It's easier to accept it when it's given freely-- and easier to give it back." But he doesn't suppose Saix would have known that, of course not.

The diviner's next words make the scowl deepen-- it only reaffirms his thoughts, it seems, and since Saix seems to prefer to act like he never hesitated, Vexen chooses to ignore it as well. "You weren't disappointed?" He chooses, instead, to latch on what he considers the most ironic statement of the lot. "You actually wanted me? You could have fooled me, either way!" He throws his hands up in an exaggerated display of disgust. "And if you really did mean it--" his expression turns wry, suddenly, "--then... you're a bigger fool than I gave you credit for."

He pivots on his heel, as if to stride away.


"Then you think me genuine, or do you take when it's given freely?" The smile he has is far from pleasant.

"You rejected me, how was I to provide anything deeper?!" Saix snaps. "I never-- don't you turn your back on me!" He suddenly moves, marching right up to Vexen, reaching out to grab his shoulder and turn him back around. "Consider me whatever in the blazes you want, but yes, I chose you because that's what I wanted. And I will not change my mind!"

Either due to pride or because he's so settled into what he desires -- either way, he's quite... firm in the decision.


Surprisingly enough, Vexen lets himself be turned around, pliant in Saix's grip-- although his expression is anything but peaceable, brows drawn down tightly over the bridge of his nose.

"Didn't I tell you?" Vexen's voice is weary, however, even as he addresses the earlier question. "I said I believed you were more honest than most people. In everything." He reaches up to wrap his fingers over Saix's-- and firmly begin to pry them off, although he doesn't command the diviner to actually release him, as if he's loathe to have to resort to that aspect of their particular relationship. His gaze slides towards the side, as if distracted.

"Suit yourself. But you'll regret it, if you aren't already."


There may be a brief flush in the diviner's face, or it may just be the angle of his face, or maybe the red is in how annoyed he is with the academic. Either way, his cheeks are a bit... darkened after the remark that he is more honest than most people.

"I don't suppose I really understand why you may think that," he mutters, snorting. "But believe as you may, then." At the very least, he is honest enough with those he wants to be honest with. That doesn't exclude Vexen.

The way the fingers wrap around his own as silent insistence he releases Vexen doesn't inspire him to do as such; Saix turns his hand over, grabbing the other Nobody's hand instead, as if that suffices as a better hold to keep him from suddenly escaping than his shoulder, nothing more than that.

"I'd much rather see your ego than your self-pity, you know. I haven't any regrets nor rejections towards my choice. It is what it is, and so shall it remain -- unless, of course, you command otherwise, hm?"


Vexen snorts back. "I believe I can trust you to be yourself, however ornery you might be at that given moment," he says, candidly enough. "Let's leave it at that."

He blinks mildly as his hand is taken in the diviner's own, starting like a spooked animal-- but he's too proud to stand down. "Self-pity? It's merely a statement of fact. I know my own flaws well enough to know they grate against others-- you're proving to be more tolerant than most, I must say." Absently, he begins to attempt to extricate himself from Saix's grip. "And I wouldn't presume to order how you should think."


"Hnn." That's all he'll apparently have to 'say' about the statement that he's 'ornery' at the moment.

Saix rolls his eyes. "Oh please. If you believe that no one else has any flaws, you're far more ignorant than I presumed. I do not simply 'tolerate' you. Whatever I may find endearing is enough for me to prefer over whatever I may dislike about you." Briefly, his grip tightens before he's willing to, reluctantly, release Vexen.


"I never said others were not imperfect," Vexen sniffs faintly, more stung by the eye-roll than he'd like to admit. He finds something to pick at in the diviner's next words, of course, to ease that particular offense "Endearing, am I? Do elaborate; I'm dying to know more about the kind of thought process behind your questionable judgment calls."

Even as cynical as the words are, they don't have half the bite to them one might expect, and the academic doesn't even stare Saix in the eye, preferring to snatch his hand back and cradle it loosely against the crook of his arm.


"Then your determination that you're less tolerant than others is rather ridiculous. Who would you think I'd rather pick, Marluxia?" Saix pauses, giving the academic a bit of a look as he sniffs. Was that... what he thought he just heard? Surely not.

However, at the ... request, though more like an order for him, Saix responds reluctantly. "I... respect you. Though, of course, you can be irritating -- quite frankly, who isn't capable of that? -- I respect your intellect. Things I don't have myself. You're practical, not some power hungry fool or idiot pretending to be heroic. And..."

His voice goes quiet. "You're not selfish."


For some reason, the plain white of the academic's clothes is beginning to threaten to grey again.

"Oh," is all he says, quiet as well. At the last, for some reason, his mouth twitches into a fully bitter smirk.

"You have no idea how selfish I can be," he mutters. "No idea at all."


"The difference is, you aren't terribly selfish with me," the diviner muses. His eyes narrow faintly. "I have had ... rather selfish masters before."

Of course, Saix does not elaborate on that.


"Selfish with you?" Vexen echoes. "How do you mean? If you mean possessiveness, I do consider you mine, you know." The color of his coat flickers back to full white, and his voice grows that much more confident-- and he scowls, faintly. "I don't much like thinking you ever belonged to anyone else."


If he's offended by this train of thought, he certainly doesn't show it; Saix folds his arms, tilting his head. "Hmph. Yours? Am I an object to you? Do tell me, I'm curious. But no matter how you look at it, I am pre-owned, and now I am yours. What else would you need to worry about?"

Though he chooses to not place details about the selfishness of other masters. It's rather pointless and all.


Vexen takes a moment to consider the first question, then huffs. "Yes, mine. If you can claim me as your master, why can't I claim you back as my servant?" There's some kind of connection there, whether he... likes it or not. "Do you think of me as an object?"

The last question provokes a little more odd foot-shuffling, and then he stares up at Saix, defiant. "I'm just curious, that's all. Besides-- you sound like you had bad masters, for the most part." He scowls, recrossing his arms. "I'd like to avoid their particular failings."


There's the sort of logic he can't quite deny. The diviner lifts a brow, then shakes his head. "Of course I don't," he murmurs. "Very well. ... You are mine, I am yours. I suppose we can settle that much, if we must."

"Hmm, I really don't want to talk about them," Saix says rather fleetingly, turning his head aside to keep from looking at Vexen. "You're certainly nothing like them."


Satisfied wtih that victory, Vexen says nothing more, merely nodding.

"Nothing like them, eh?" It's as if he can't help but pry at what isn't precisely his business, eager for information. "I should hope that's a positive thing, at least."


"It is," he confirms. A bit hesitantly, Saix mentions as he tilts his head, looking at Vexen again, he says, "You're more like... my first master. Only he was a bumbling idiot with ideals, but he was... pleasant. I liked him quite a bit. He was the one that created me."


For a moment, Vexen isn't certain how he should react; insult at the comparison, or flattery that Saix clearly thought well of his creator. In the end, flattery wins out.

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment," he mutters, though it's not entirely displeased. "He did good work, whoever he was."


"You should. Oliver was a good man." He hasn't been nostalgic in quite awhile; it makes him hesitate a moment, then shrug it off -- before he covers his mouth at the comment of 'good work'.

He can't help but flush that time. Saix looks away, then mutters, "Thank you. He was quite gifted, after all."


"Yes. Well." The compliment had been mildly inadvertant, but Saix's reaction to it makes the offhanded remark suddenly feel more embarrassing than it should, and Vexen coughs into a hand, averting his eyes.

"I don't expect he was ordinary, if he made you. I imagine it must have take him quite a bit of effort." He shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. "From a purely professional perspective. Naturally."


"Oh, but of course," he murmurs in agreement. "Purely professional." Not that he can quite imagine Oliver as particularly professional. Far too kind-hearted, that one.

"I don't suppose you remember what you came out to do in the first place, do you? Can't say I can particularly recall what I was doing until I found myself here. Bothersome, that, but alas." A swift change in subject is due, he thinks.


"If you must know, I was looking for you," he mutters. The admission seems a bit pathetic, really, considering all that's been said and done. "I was going to tell you to come back to the room and cease being bothered about... something, but I can't remember what."

After all: he still thinks of himself as Even, now.


As though the graffiti is forgotten -- and it may well be, considering both their behavior rather unbothered by it -- Saix shrugs. "Couldn't imagine what it was. But very well; I believe I've spent enough time out here, whatever I was doing. I would like to return as well."

If he'd been upset by something and he can't remember what it was, couldn't have been very important, he supposes.


"Shall we, then?" He doesn't do anything like offer his arm, but he does quirk a brow at Saix in silent question.


Saix nods. "Very well then."

Whoever takes lead, it matters little. The trip back to their room is rather uneventful -- save for the fact that, as they progress, it seems that Saix shifts back to his persona from when Vexen had found him, lurking on all fours and nudging himself up against IV's legs at every given opportunity. It seems this way, he's rather fond of all the physical contact that he can pull from his master.

Regardless, that is the extent of it. Save for him being particularly... affectionate towards Vexen.