In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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There aren't enough praises in the world I'd like to give to wonderful coders for the Proboards community. The following have contributed to World Destiny in some way: W3 Schools for countless how-tos and countless of other souls who have helped get WD up to where it is.
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(Probably very blargy. I tried to write this ten times while dealing with guests, dinner, sisters, and heat. I'm gonna go die now.)
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Things were not at all progressing as quickly as hoped in The Castle That Never Was.
Reports had come in that the Dark XII had taken another world. It was a mounting problem for Organization XIII. The Heartless were on the move, advancing and gaining ground while the Nobodies were, essentially, accomplishing nothing.
Xemnas had withdrawn into seclusion off doing Darkness knows what, leaving them leaderless. In his absence Xaldin had displayed some concerted effort to get things moving along until the Superior reemerged, but the meetings he had called together presented a less the desirable turnout. Organization members were unaccounted for, either unwilling to follow the Lancer in his attempt to organize the group or far more concerned with their own motives to bother with the greater whole. As such, missions, or what little time consuming tasks could be cobbled up, were sparse. All action within the Castle had more or less ground to a halt, and Larxene was running out of ways to satiate her need to fill the empty hours.
Upon her return to the Organization, Larxene had hoped that her fellow Nobodies had deeds to be done, schemes to set into motion. Instead she found herself practically forced to find ways to keep herself busy and entertained. Today was one of those days.
She would have pestered Demyx about his new “fish,” but he was nowhere to be found. Xigbar was a pain to deal with. Vexen was old. And her forays off on other worlds had grown dreary, putting on her disguise becoming a tedious chore.
No, she settled on a tried and true form of entertainment to pass the time: reading.
It was a hobby that came as a surprise to most of her comrades, that a woman as wild and as thunderous as a storm was compliant with such a quiet and calm activity. Why wouldn’t she, though? Why would she not be so enamored by such hefty tomes, countless volumes documenting grandiose tales of cruelty and torture? The scenes played out vividly in her mind and the eloquent language rolled off her tongue.
They were her escape from the dreary drought of the Castle. Fond friends that kept her from exacting the very same torments writ on their pages upon her fellow Nobodies. And no fonder a friend was there than the dear Marquis de Sade. He was a personal favorite. No pages did her fingers caress more than his, deftly navigate the progression of the story, like she did right now.
Perched upon a wall of one of the Castles many balconies, Larxene sat with the book in her lap, fingers dancing through the pages, cyan eyes taking in each letter. She looked like an elegant cat at rest, sitting quite still with the wind playing in her hair, seemingly lost in the world of words. But lost she was not.
As much as she tried to focus on the words before her, Larxene could not seem to bring the world trapped within to life. Her mind was too focused on something else, unable to peel away from it, as much as she had tried. It concerned a mission Xaldin and others supposedly were on, a mission to… capture a certain traitor. She knew very little of the details, when, where, or how, but she knew a little of the desired results: to bring the traitor back to the Castle, in bonds or otherwise.
The entire thought of it did not sit with her comfortably, having this traitor back in such close quarters…. She was concerned far more with her standing with the Organization than anything, after all, not too long ago was she considered a traitor herself. She came back willingly, though. Xemnas did not need to send Xaldin and others, ready to fight, to bring her back, drag her back half-dead if needed. The other traitor, however… He would most likely put up a fight. Be a literal thorn in the Organization’s side. Say, if he felt the need to do so, things that would drag her down –
Larxene snapped the book shut on her lap and massaged her brow. She was giving herself a headache, trying to read, but reading nothing. And she was getting concerned over nothing. No… It was not her problem to deal with. If they dragged the traitor back, she simply not go near the dungeons. And if they killed him, well then, it would be one less weed for her to worry about. Perhaps then she could finally enjoy the dear Marquis in peace.
His plans were falling right into the place and everyone around them was playing right into his hands; all for one woman. She was an enigma to the Assassin, she was the key, the masterpiece, and she was under close eye. Not even a day and Marluxia knew things had changed, he sense picked up Larxene and a certain lesser Nobody keep the Nymph within his sights and masters ear. Not even a returned traitor is given free reign over privacy, he should have figured as much. The second traitor to return to the castle was strolling around the former garden.
Dead, that was the only word to describe the condition the Observatory was in. Plants hanging over in their pots, shrubs nothing more than a twisting chasm of branches and decaying leaves. It tore at the Assassin a small bit, his creations laying dead from having no energy to feed of off. It would need to be rebuilt from scratch, but now was not the time. Larxene was alone and he needed to speak with her.
-----
It didn't take long for the darkness to take Marluxia to the ledge the Nymph was sitting on. He too took the same pose, staring over at the endless Nothingness that was the world he called home. A small smirk formed on his face as his gaze fell upon the Nymph.
"Been to long Larxene, tell me. Miss me?" a chuckle was then given, how he was going to enjoy his small stay back at the castle.
All her attention was drawn inwards, on her thoughts and the headache brought on by them. The slight pain was just easing away when she started to sense another presence nearby: familiar, but unable to put a finger on it immediately. The nearby surge of Darkness – someone opening a Corridor – tingled her senses. But she did not move from her spot, keeping silent as her fingers moved to open her book once more, thinking it was Xigbar come to rile her nerves or one of the others passing on information for an impending meeting or the like. It was not until that the Darkness subsided did she finally put a name and face to the presence she felt.
Her fingers froze in place, cover of her book barely pried opened, when she heard his voice.
“Been too long Larxene. Tell me, miss me?”
She sat, still as a statue and as silent as one, for a few moments, not out of fear or any empty emotions of the like, but because his presence here, now, came as a surprise, more so when she considered the circumstances. Didn’t Xaldin set out to capture him? How, then, was he here, speaking like he was a welcomed guest?
“Either Xaldin was quite gentle with you when he dragged you back here by your hair,” Larxene finally spoke up softly, her voice emotionless, “Or some sort of deal was struck. Probably the later, I would wager, otherwise you’d be holed up in the dungeon. Understandable: flowers don’t fare well when locked away from the sun. Isn’t that right, Marluxia?”
She turned her head only slightly, looking up at him from the corner of her eye.
"Believe me, it was not a pleasure in getting him to allow back here. But my birthright is not yet in my possession now is it?" A growl laced the words of the Assassin. Him be dragged down to lower levels of the peons? A mockery of his self noble rank and mind set. No, no Larxene was the only one of the others he saw useful, pliable, and maybe even respected her audacity at times. Yes she will be most useful.
The small smirk fading into a melancholy gaze. The Assassin perched himself on the railing the darkness landed him on; A sudden escape may be in order if less desirable people made an entrance. "Do they suspect? Or do I need to find someone who's better at keeping a secret?" Simple question, but laced with poison.
“Awe, how adorable: you think yourself a prince.” Larxene gave him a brief, coy smile before turning away from him, fingering the cover of her book.
She had to admire the self pride Marluxia possessed. If anything, his indomitable drive for power kept things interesting. It was part of the reason why she allied herself with him in the past, an alliance that seemed now to be in shambles. Shame…
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Assassin move. His stance remind her of a bird ready to take flight. She could not help but crack a smile when he next spoke. Scheming, as always.
“Why so scared, Marluxia? Terrified of little Larxene? Terrified of her lightning and her knives?” her tone was more playful than mocking, though it did amuse her to see the Assassin so tense – ready to flee at the slightest sign of trouble. She knew the Assassin well enough, however: he wouldn’t run from the likes of her. Never did, never will. Something else had him ‘spooked.’ “You can get down from there. Not only do you look silly, but no one unwanted will be joining us, if that’s what’s worrying you. Well, that is unless they are called for…”
Carefully she pulled on a thin silver chain around her neck. A small silver charm, shaped like the Organization’s emblem, hung from it. She held it up for him to see.
“A gift. From Xaldin. To summon him should I ever require his assistance. I don’t want to be calling for his assistance, Marluxia.” She slipped the charm back beneath her cloak. “Xaldin is my ally, you see. Something I think you need, Marluxia. An ally. You asked if they suspect, Eleven. They do. They suspect you.” She turned her gaze on him once more, her glare sharper than her knives. “With your record? I don’t think they will completely trust you again. Ever. Me, on the other hand, well… I didn’t need to be hunted down. Oh! But if you were inquiring about them suspecting some scheme orchestrated between us, well, that’s completely different… The answer in that case would be no, because, well, you see my dear Assassin,” she leaned towards him slightly, the toxicity in her voice matching his, “It’s kinda hard to keep a secret, Marluxia, when you don’t know what it is.”
If he was up to something, and she was involved in it somehow, well, that was news to her.
“Like I said prior, Marluxia. With the Organizations trust in you nonexistent, I think you need an ally.” Her coy smile graced her lips once more. “That being the case, tell me your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine.”
Despite her words, the Assassin kept his perch, only flicking an ear back and eying the charm Larxene produced with a few choice words for it. But he held his silver tongue back. Gloved hand running through his hair, the pink brown hair that remained to this day a signature to his being. Drawing a breath, thoughts raced through his head. Does he tell the woman everything? Keep the most key details to himself? Tell her a blunt lie that would seem so farfetched it sounded -just- like him? No...Larxene needed to know. She was there, always there. If she was not with Marluxia she would have already called Xaldin to listen in.
"I care not for any of these fools. Save for you Larxene, you've been useful before and I think you will be useful again. Despite what you say..." Face neutral as he looked over the empty abyss of their world. His world. Ear flicked again as he spoke.
"My control over a particular Key wielder is still strong. Rook still seeks power, if he knows it or not. Because, dear Larxene." Signature grin spreading across his face as he had the grand scheme playing in his head.
"I care not for leading this Organization. Xemnas can have it. I am going to make a new foot hold. Establish my own kingdom and crush anyone in my way. And that is where you come into play my lightning bug." Eyes finally meeting the womans, seeing her malice and lust for excitement.
"Sew the seeds of distrust. See who we can persuade to join us. Even Demyx, the fool he is."
Marluxia will carve his name in the history books. Be a ruler. King.
Nov 29, 2011 13:22:15 GMT -4
Last Edit: Nov 29, 2011 13:22:55 GMT -4 by Deleted
“Such visions of grandeur, Marluxia… Hopefully they are not delusions of grandeur.”
The Assassin’s grand scheme was most certainly... grand. The desire not to lead but to rule and dominate: it was an idea, an endeavor, she could get behind. Only the mention of the Keybearer gave her pause.
“Ah, yes. I have heard about your puppet. But I can’t help but question if his strings are still yours to hold… or have they been severed?” Larxene bore her eyes into his own, her aquamarine gaze intense, unblinking. “Oh, but I’m certain you have a plan for him, for that minor hindrance should it arise. I’m sure he will play his part quite well. But I can’t help but wonder what part will I play… once this little lightning bug has persuaded those who are willing to join your cause?”
Her smile was coy, almost playful, but a dangerous glint lingered in her eye. He had called her useful. He called her a bug. She knew Marluxia and his schemes. She knew how he used people, deceived people by weaving tapestries of desires fulfilled with his words. If he was to rule, to be king, she did not want to be just a lightning bug, an insect that he only found useful. She was more than that. She wanted more than that.
She didn’t ask it aloud, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes louder than words, demanded the answer to one question alone: What, dear Marluxia, is in it for me?
She took him a fool, not that he should be surprised. Many do these days. A fool is how they see him than when he emerges the victor. The winner. The KING. Lips curled into an impish smile at his own swirling thoughts, his malicious intent upon the worlds. That look pressed on in his eyes as he gazed over at his lightning bug. His grand tool.
"Every King needs his Queen, Larxene. You think me so brash I toss you aside? Leave you alone once the dust settled?" Eyes returned to the gazing, no, judging the Nothingness that stood watch over them. Like a blanket of protection, a guard against the Everything that stood to destroy them, he dared it to take action.
"And Rook -will- play his part. If he want's to or not. I will give him no choice in the matter. He is weak. He is too tied to his heart, it's almost sad. If I could pity him and mean it, I would."
Pink hair shifted as Marluxia turned, looking at the Nymph again. It would work. It had to. To hold the Worlds in the palm of his hands and to have it be so easily taken away at the whim of a woman. The Assassin was scared, as much he could, of Larxenes actions. She was everything in the master plan, and such, without her it would be nothing. A fighting fancy, a ghost, an apparition of the past, smoke in the wind. She had to say yes, she really had no choice. For her safety and the Assassins, yes. Yes it was all on her.
((Seedling's... probably not coming back. Just gonna tie this up anyway. =.=))
Larxene’s lips parted into a smile so toxic it could make a meadow of flowers whither. Those were the words she was expecting to hear, and would take nothing less.
“Consider the deal struck. You ask me to sow seeds of discord amongst our ranks… When they grow they will shatter the mountains,” she purred, twisting away from the Assassin and rising from the balcony’s edge, tucking dear Marquis de Sade in the crook of her arm. Brushing past him she sauntered back towards the castle, to her own private quarters to plan and ponder. She stopped only once to look back at him, her lips curled avariciously.
“Keep your end of the bargain, Marluxia, or – you never know – those seeds I sow may turn out to be weeds.”
That said, she left the Graceful Assassin alone with whatever shadows that clung to him.