I've Dreamed of Killing You - Castle Oblivion - [COMPLETE]

[into_ruin]

Zexion did not immediately return to his room as he intended. After leaving the Superior he lingered in the hallways, just wondering the corridors and following that unique scent that was so obvious in a place like Castle Oblivion. Outside it had always been a cacophony of things, too many scents to sort through, each one of them meaning even less

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[crimson_apathy]

It was said that artists had a third eye to view their world in, to catch what others couldn't and interpret it as how they pleased it to be.

Sleeves rolled up, those bare fingers scooped inside the bowl to directly mix the ingredients inside; clouds of flour seeping from the edges every few seconds. With articulate motions he mended them together, incorporating them as one entity.

But his mind wasn't entirely where it should've been, thoughts lingering to something almost forbidden. Axel gave a slow chuckle, rubbing his cheek with his shoulder before his hands continued where they left off in the batter.

... And then he stopped for a moment, and looked up calmly from his work. Those green eyes lingered up and about, and only after a second later he went back to prioritize himself accordingly. Yet Axel was no fool, the air was tasting a little more rancid than it ever should've been.

Where oh where oh-... Ah.

Axel paid no attention to Zexion's blunt commentary. Because, really, no one ever listened do the dead, right?

[into_ruin]

"..." He watched Axel bake, reminded of the cramped little shop he'd been forced to work in. Apparently he was no more interesting to the traitor than a fly on the wall, or maybe he was just seen as an illusion himself. Dead men told no tales.

His steps were silent as he crossed the room, his initial anger settling into something like cool contempt. It sat just on the surface of his emotions, waiting for the perfect chance to spring.

Zexion found himself gathering ingredients, cooking utensils and the like, setting up his own table. He removed his gloves, but let his sleeves hang just as they were. He didn't care that they would be ruined by the flour - he'd stopped caring long ago.

[crimson_apathy]

Silent he may have been, but Axel knew better than to believe that the pest had disappeared.

Lo and behold, there he was acting as if he was welcomed again, when in all truths it would've been better if he stayed dead.

Ah, but beggars couldn't be choosers could they?

"..." But that didn't stop Axel from ceasing his mixing, head slowly drawing up to look straight ahead, before his neck snapped to the side at Zexion's direction as he prepared his own table. An eyebrow raised, almost amused, but he kept his green eyes lingered on the shorter Nobody.

"When victims of horrendous crimes return to their captor despite the consequences, one is susceptible to Stockholm Syndrome." Those green eyes closed and Axel gave a soft chuckle.

"Wash your hands."

[into_ruin]

It was something like the calm before the storm, Zexion remaining perfectly composed in the presence of a mortal enemy. Like he'd told Axel many years ago, direct elimination was not the way he did things. Though he'd come fully intending to rend Axel limb from limb, he realized how quickly he was reverting to his old methodical self, having been striped of the impurities of the island.

He had returned to The Order - Axel was just an unpleasant part of it. Unlike the victims of Stockholm Syndrome, the only bond he shared with him was one of deep-seeded contempt for a traitor that had yet to leave their midst. He took several apples with him to the sink, washing them as well as his hands. Only Axel would bake with rotting fruit.

"What choice do I have? The Organization has already depleted so, there is nothing left but refuse." He said simply, eyes settling on Axel again as he spoke.