[KH:CoM;drabble] human culture
Zexion, Larxene
Larxene likes to think she's cultured, always making sure that she's found lounging on the couch in the dusty library with a book in hand, as though reading epic novels and fine sonnets make her educated. When he steps into the library to look at her, somehow she seems able to read his mind and says, almost lazily, "You can learn things from books, you know. Things like the human spirit. Like love. Hate. War. Sex. Things that we lost."
He chooses not to react, and her eyes peek over the edge of Marquis De Sade, and she's smirking, though he cannot see her smile.
"Of course, Zexion wouldn't give a shit, would he."
Zexion finds it on the tip of his tongue to tell her she's a lifetime too late, that if she had wanted to know all these things, things about being human she should have been more careful and guarded her heart more tightly, and then she could learn all of this on her very own, instead of reading second-hand accounts and trying vainly to imagine about what it might have been like.
But he doesn't say it to her, because he thinks idiots would be happier being left as idiots, and because he doesn't care.
Larxene likes to think she's cultured, always making sure that she's found lounging on the couch in the dusty library with a book in hand, as though reading epic novels and fine sonnets make her educated. When he steps into the library to look at her, somehow she seems able to read his mind and says, almost lazily, "You can learn things from books, you know. Things like the human spirit. Like love. Hate. War. Sex. Things that we lost."
He chooses not to react, and her eyes peek over the edge of Marquis De Sade, and she's smirking, though he cannot see her smile.
"Of course, Zexion wouldn't give a shit, would he."
Zexion finds it on the tip of his tongue to tell her she's a lifetime too late, that if she had wanted to know all these things, things about being human she should have been more careful and guarded her heart more tightly, and then she could learn all of this on her very own, instead of reading second-hand accounts and trying vainly to imagine about what it might have been like.
But he doesn't say it to her, because he thinks idiots would be happier being left as idiots, and because he doesn't care.