[Writing] [Kingdom Hearts] #17
Prompt; #17: At the station
Series; Kingdom Hearts
Rating; G
Wordcount; 1 270
Sound image; Massive Attack - Black Milk
'Well, I don't see what you're going on about. The food's top, the clothes are comfortable and everyone's a right treat for a chat.' Luxord reached out to adjust the mouse-grey bowler on number Four's head, backed half a pace to examine him with a most critical look, and then gave it a proper smack to make it settle between the perky, round ears. He didn't seem to mind the distressed sound of his colleague much. 'That's better.'
'Well pardon me for being unable to enjoy the absolute glory of London,' Vexen managed, wheezing as he tried to get used to the white collar high and stiff at his neck and nervously straightening his tie, 'but it's dark and damp and I'm not used to the fur and I think you're being rather preposterous thinking I'd be able to become accustomed to all this within the space of a few nights.'
'A week, actually.'
Given a right good glare from under the rim of the round hat to the sound of a loud steam whistle, the sudden bustle of loud feet, Luxord pretended as if he hadn't noticed and made a good show out of fussing over their luggage. That dear old number Four seemed to have a quiet fancy of tartan had been a most delightful discovery of his, and he'd hurried to equip his rather sudden bed-fellow - as Xigbar had put it, with much grinning on his part and none on the part of the Nobody in question - to show willing. He wanted Vexen to like London in all its incarnations, after all. So far he was failing, if the amount of whining his companion expressed was to be anything to judge by. He ran his fingers over the coarse tweed of the newly bought suitcases with a bit of a smile, checking to see if it was tagged properly, and addressed, and signed and-
Vexen stood with both arms hanging in front of himself like a distinct V, holding his own heavy luggage with both hands and looking down the enormous body of the train by the platform, chewing his bottom lip. The wheels were almost eight times their size, with pistons stronger than.. he didn't even have a good comparison for that. He'd never felt so ridiculously diminutive in his entire life, even though he stood two heads taller than the people surrounding them. He'd been barked at by someone's upset dog, staring at his own reflection in the ebony whites as if paralyzed by the heady breath before both he and the canine had been tugged separate ways. And to make matters worse, he was developing travelers nerves.
'Luxord, are you absolutely certain you shouldn't do this? After all, you know this place far better than I do, with manners and-'
'Nonsense. You'll do perfectly fine, old chap,' replied the gambler, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to pat him kindly on the opposite. He couldn't help but notice that - while usually gloved - they'd been changed from the standard black leather to the white damask of gentlemen. 'Besides, they need me here at the palace to resume my current duties. All you need to do is to take a nice, restful trip down to good old Sussex, find some chap called Moriarty - clever fellow apparently, mathematician: your type entirely - and persuade him to deal with the Darkenss and all that trifling business, and you'll be jolly well on your way back home. Maybe even play a little cricket when you're there; Sussex's famous in all England to have the best county, didn't you know?'
'You make it sound so very simple,' Vexen muttered demurely, but knew better than to argue with number Ten when he was making the effort of sounding chipper. Chipper, in this particular context, meant that Vexen wasn't going to be let off the hook.
'Tell you what. If it takes you more than a week to locate Moriarty, I'll be paying for whatever further expenses you have down there out of my own pocket.' Luxord's smile was a gleam in the semi-darkness, lit only by the large lamps so far overhead. Further even than the distant stars. It was an easy promise: he knew Vexen wouldn't indulge in expensive luxuries even knowing someone else was going to pay for them out of a fund that wasn't the Organization's. 'If you don't have a good time there, I'll take you to Lord's to watch a proper game.'
He rolled his eyes, folding arms over his chest and letting his thin tail - which he'd never really gotten the hang of in the first place - make an annoyed little swat on its own. 'And if I shouldn't particularly enjoy Lord's either?'
Hitching his eyebrows as if to ask how on earth someone wouldn't enjoy a game at Lord's, Luxord nonetheless motioned for him to lean down so that he could put his mouth to the other's ear: round yet slightly squashed by the bowler and a little obscured by the academic's long, blonde hair.. but that didn't mean that he couldn't perfectly well hear the gambler's promise of further entertainment to follow. Cheeks flushing with indignant dismay, Vexen straightened with a stiff, jerky motion that upset the ridiculous hat and with a loud hiss he pressed it back onto his scalp so as not to loose it.
'Well I've never!' he exclaimed, hefting an umbrella to his chest, and in one swift movement managed to snatch up his luggage and the rattan cane with the rugged handle. He'd taken to gnawing. 'That- That's absolutely revolting, I'll have you know, and if you persist with this sort of- of childish sexual harassment I'm telling the Superior!'
Storming up the long set of stairs to the wagon compartment fixed tightly under the belly of the coal-driven rattler, Vexen ignored the amused gazes of onlookers, the delighted titter of a beribboned little girl and the blank expression on the face of the conductor. He thrust his ticket into the man's four-fingered hand to have it clipped, and then vanished inside the passenger compartments. Luxord remained in the press of people outside, waiting with his ever patient smile splitting the otherwise calm face for Vexen to show up by one of the window-seats - who could resist a window-seat? - and sure enough, it took but a few minutes until he could spot the thin man standing on his tip-toes to struggle the heavy suitcases onto the overhead rack, out of the way. Sitting down by the thick glass and pointedly staring straight ahead at the empty seat rather than out the window to his waiting, smiling, co-worker. Flicking his wrist-watch a stressed look once every thirty-two seconds.
Exactly one hundred and twenty-eight seconds later, he gave up as there was a shudder of movement, an explosion of sounds as gears fit back out of place. A hiss of steam that temporarily obscured the platform way below from view. But once it had cleared, he could despite his own apologetic frown and bangs having fallen over his face in disarray at the sudden jerk spot Luxord down there. He'd raised his hand for a wave with as jolly an expression as ever before. And it wasn't as if Vexen could resist raising his own to give it an almost timid little shake. As the train jerked into motion, shaking him again to make his elongated teeth rattle, he saw that the self-proclaimed lord of the game was mouthing something at him. But there wasn't the time to spot what it was.
--
Tea and crumpets to those of you who figure out which world that was set in ♥ Not that it's too hard really, so I'd better strap the apron on.
Series; Kingdom Hearts
Rating; G
Wordcount; 1 270
Sound image; Massive Attack - Black Milk
'Well, I don't see what you're going on about. The food's top, the clothes are comfortable and everyone's a right treat for a chat.' Luxord reached out to adjust the mouse-grey bowler on number Four's head, backed half a pace to examine him with a most critical look, and then gave it a proper smack to make it settle between the perky, round ears. He didn't seem to mind the distressed sound of his colleague much. 'That's better.'
'Well pardon me for being unable to enjoy the absolute glory of London,' Vexen managed, wheezing as he tried to get used to the white collar high and stiff at his neck and nervously straightening his tie, 'but it's dark and damp and I'm not used to the fur and I think you're being rather preposterous thinking I'd be able to become accustomed to all this within the space of a few nights.'
'A week, actually.'
Given a right good glare from under the rim of the round hat to the sound of a loud steam whistle, the sudden bustle of loud feet, Luxord pretended as if he hadn't noticed and made a good show out of fussing over their luggage. That dear old number Four seemed to have a quiet fancy of tartan had been a most delightful discovery of his, and he'd hurried to equip his rather sudden bed-fellow - as Xigbar had put it, with much grinning on his part and none on the part of the Nobody in question - to show willing. He wanted Vexen to like London in all its incarnations, after all. So far he was failing, if the amount of whining his companion expressed was to be anything to judge by. He ran his fingers over the coarse tweed of the newly bought suitcases with a bit of a smile, checking to see if it was tagged properly, and addressed, and signed and-
Vexen stood with both arms hanging in front of himself like a distinct V, holding his own heavy luggage with both hands and looking down the enormous body of the train by the platform, chewing his bottom lip. The wheels were almost eight times their size, with pistons stronger than.. he didn't even have a good comparison for that. He'd never felt so ridiculously diminutive in his entire life, even though he stood two heads taller than the people surrounding them. He'd been barked at by someone's upset dog, staring at his own reflection in the ebony whites as if paralyzed by the heady breath before both he and the canine had been tugged separate ways. And to make matters worse, he was developing travelers nerves.
'Luxord, are you absolutely certain you shouldn't do this? After all, you know this place far better than I do, with manners and-'
'Nonsense. You'll do perfectly fine, old chap,' replied the gambler, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to pat him kindly on the opposite. He couldn't help but notice that - while usually gloved - they'd been changed from the standard black leather to the white damask of gentlemen. 'Besides, they need me here at the palace to resume my current duties. All you need to do is to take a nice, restful trip down to good old Sussex, find some chap called Moriarty - clever fellow apparently, mathematician: your type entirely - and persuade him to deal with the Darkenss and all that trifling business, and you'll be jolly well on your way back home. Maybe even play a little cricket when you're there; Sussex's famous in all England to have the best county, didn't you know?'
'You make it sound so very simple,' Vexen muttered demurely, but knew better than to argue with number Ten when he was making the effort of sounding chipper. Chipper, in this particular context, meant that Vexen wasn't going to be let off the hook.
'Tell you what. If it takes you more than a week to locate Moriarty, I'll be paying for whatever further expenses you have down there out of my own pocket.' Luxord's smile was a gleam in the semi-darkness, lit only by the large lamps so far overhead. Further even than the distant stars. It was an easy promise: he knew Vexen wouldn't indulge in expensive luxuries even knowing someone else was going to pay for them out of a fund that wasn't the Organization's. 'If you don't have a good time there, I'll take you to Lord's to watch a proper game.'
He rolled his eyes, folding arms over his chest and letting his thin tail - which he'd never really gotten the hang of in the first place - make an annoyed little swat on its own. 'And if I shouldn't particularly enjoy Lord's either?'
Hitching his eyebrows as if to ask how on earth someone wouldn't enjoy a game at Lord's, Luxord nonetheless motioned for him to lean down so that he could put his mouth to the other's ear: round yet slightly squashed by the bowler and a little obscured by the academic's long, blonde hair.. but that didn't mean that he couldn't perfectly well hear the gambler's promise of further entertainment to follow. Cheeks flushing with indignant dismay, Vexen straightened with a stiff, jerky motion that upset the ridiculous hat and with a loud hiss he pressed it back onto his scalp so as not to loose it.
'Well I've never!' he exclaimed, hefting an umbrella to his chest, and in one swift movement managed to snatch up his luggage and the rattan cane with the rugged handle. He'd taken to gnawing. 'That- That's absolutely revolting, I'll have you know, and if you persist with this sort of- of childish sexual harassment I'm telling the Superior!'
Storming up the long set of stairs to the wagon compartment fixed tightly under the belly of the coal-driven rattler, Vexen ignored the amused gazes of onlookers, the delighted titter of a beribboned little girl and the blank expression on the face of the conductor. He thrust his ticket into the man's four-fingered hand to have it clipped, and then vanished inside the passenger compartments. Luxord remained in the press of people outside, waiting with his ever patient smile splitting the otherwise calm face for Vexen to show up by one of the window-seats - who could resist a window-seat? - and sure enough, it took but a few minutes until he could spot the thin man standing on his tip-toes to struggle the heavy suitcases onto the overhead rack, out of the way. Sitting down by the thick glass and pointedly staring straight ahead at the empty seat rather than out the window to his waiting, smiling, co-worker. Flicking his wrist-watch a stressed look once every thirty-two seconds.
Exactly one hundred and twenty-eight seconds later, he gave up as there was a shudder of movement, an explosion of sounds as gears fit back out of place. A hiss of steam that temporarily obscured the platform way below from view. But once it had cleared, he could despite his own apologetic frown and bangs having fallen over his face in disarray at the sudden jerk spot Luxord down there. He'd raised his hand for a wave with as jolly an expression as ever before. And it wasn't as if Vexen could resist raising his own to give it an almost timid little shake. As the train jerked into motion, shaking him again to make his elongated teeth rattle, he saw that the self-proclaimed lord of the game was mouthing something at him. But there wasn't the time to spot what it was.
--
Tea and crumpets to those of you who figure out which world that was set in ♥ Not that it's too hard really, so I'd better strap the apron on.