Kingdom Hearts, "Unwanted Conversation" (Zexion+Demyx)
The only person available for Demyx to talk to about his mission is, unfortunately, Zexion.
This is as close to crossover as I care to get. I feel dirty as it is. Holiday fic for
terrykun, prompt "Demyx visits Sforzando (crossover with Violinist of Hameln)"
.unwanted conversation.
Demyx said indignantly, "You wouldn't believe the mission that I just had!"
A long beat of silence passed before Zexion glanced up, confirming that there was no one else in the laboratory and that the acolyte was, in fact, talking to him. He eyed Demyx distastefully. What had he done to give him the impression that he was interested in hearing about his mission?
Demyx didn't seem interested in whether or not he was interested. "Sforzando. Damn. The Superior said it was a world of people who appreciated music. Well, I guess he said it was a land where many a discerning ear had come to heel at the throne of music-- something like that? I can't really remember. Anyway, it's a world of musical elitists, more like! And from the most unlikely people. I mean, who is he to tell me what is and isn't music?"
So far, the conversation had accurately simulated what Zexion had always believed it would be like to go to a bar and be socialized with by intoxicated men. He said coolly, "It's really excellent to know how you respond to dissenting opinions."
"Dissenting opinions, man, no way!" Demyx said indignantly. "That jerk insisted that I play a guitar!"
He summoned and brandished his instrument; Zexion's eyes narrowed and he watched closely, but didn't otherwise react. A move like that would get him lynched among his less forgiving superiors, but Zexion didn't believe for a moment that Demyx had the will or the ambition to strike at him.
"You play it like a guitar, don't you?" he asked pointedly.
Demyx stared at him, blank, as if he didn't understand. Zexion returned to his vials. Foolish to think that his input was required or sought.
"The point is that he had no room to talk," Demyx explained. "He had a so-called violin that was the size of a cello!"
"But did he play it like a violin?" Zexion murmured, not loud enough for Demyx to hear him.
"And this jackass tells me that my music sounds bad! He says something about how it couldn't hold a candle to Bach." Demyx folded his arms sullenly. "Then he said I looked gay and probably my music was gay."
Zexion lifted his eyebrows, unable to help himself. Just when he'd started to think that no one could possibly aspire to Demyx's level of intellect...
"Is that a thing for a man to say in front of his ten children?"
"His what," Zexion echoed irritably.
Before he could accuse Demyx of making that up (no one needed that many children, and even someone on par with Demyx could figure out contraception) the door opened. Lexaeus stepped through, and he looked surprised to find them both there.
"Lexaeus," he said instead, straightening and dismissing Demyx as best he could. "I was just thinking of looking for you. This formula you've suggested seems to be more acidic than what I need."
Without turning a hair, Lexaeus asked, "I see. Have you considered adjusting the neurotoxin levels? You normally don't tinker with those except as a last resort, and I find that they're typically expendable."
"Aww, geez, my eyes are glazing over and you've only been in the same room as each other for five seconds," Demyx complained, hopping to his feet. "I'm out."
Zexion dropped the guise of scholarly interest as Demyx took a corridor away, turning back to his vials with a snort.
"I don't recall suggesting any formula," Lexaeus said mildly, crossing the room to his side.
"You didn't. Your timing, however, is impeccable," he said. "I would've conjured up an illusion of you if you hadn't shown up when you did."
Amused, Lexaeus rumbled, "Who was it among us who preaches unity...?"
Zexion felt his lips curving up into a smile. "There is unity," he said mildly, "and then there is desire to hold a conversation with."
This is as close to crossover as I care to get. I feel dirty as it is. Holiday fic for
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.unwanted conversation.
Demyx said indignantly, "You wouldn't believe the mission that I just had!"
A long beat of silence passed before Zexion glanced up, confirming that there was no one else in the laboratory and that the acolyte was, in fact, talking to him. He eyed Demyx distastefully. What had he done to give him the impression that he was interested in hearing about his mission?
Demyx didn't seem interested in whether or not he was interested. "Sforzando. Damn. The Superior said it was a world of people who appreciated music. Well, I guess he said it was a land where many a discerning ear had come to heel at the throne of music-- something like that? I can't really remember. Anyway, it's a world of musical elitists, more like! And from the most unlikely people. I mean, who is he to tell me what is and isn't music?"
So far, the conversation had accurately simulated what Zexion had always believed it would be like to go to a bar and be socialized with by intoxicated men. He said coolly, "It's really excellent to know how you respond to dissenting opinions."
"Dissenting opinions, man, no way!" Demyx said indignantly. "That jerk insisted that I play a guitar!"
He summoned and brandished his instrument; Zexion's eyes narrowed and he watched closely, but didn't otherwise react. A move like that would get him lynched among his less forgiving superiors, but Zexion didn't believe for a moment that Demyx had the will or the ambition to strike at him.
"You play it like a guitar, don't you?" he asked pointedly.
Demyx stared at him, blank, as if he didn't understand. Zexion returned to his vials. Foolish to think that his input was required or sought.
"The point is that he had no room to talk," Demyx explained. "He had a so-called violin that was the size of a cello!"
"But did he play it like a violin?" Zexion murmured, not loud enough for Demyx to hear him.
"And this jackass tells me that my music sounds bad! He says something about how it couldn't hold a candle to Bach." Demyx folded his arms sullenly. "Then he said I looked gay and probably my music was gay."
Zexion lifted his eyebrows, unable to help himself. Just when he'd started to think that no one could possibly aspire to Demyx's level of intellect...
"Is that a thing for a man to say in front of his ten children?"
"His what," Zexion echoed irritably.
Before he could accuse Demyx of making that up (no one needed that many children, and even someone on par with Demyx could figure out contraception) the door opened. Lexaeus stepped through, and he looked surprised to find them both there.
"Lexaeus," he said instead, straightening and dismissing Demyx as best he could. "I was just thinking of looking for you. This formula you've suggested seems to be more acidic than what I need."
Without turning a hair, Lexaeus asked, "I see. Have you considered adjusting the neurotoxin levels? You normally don't tinker with those except as a last resort, and I find that they're typically expendable."
"Aww, geez, my eyes are glazing over and you've only been in the same room as each other for five seconds," Demyx complained, hopping to his feet. "I'm out."
Zexion dropped the guise of scholarly interest as Demyx took a corridor away, turning back to his vials with a snort.
"I don't recall suggesting any formula," Lexaeus said mildly, crossing the room to his side.
"You didn't. Your timing, however, is impeccable," he said. "I would've conjured up an illusion of you if you hadn't shown up when you did."
Amused, Lexaeus rumbled, "Who was it among us who preaches unity...?"
Zexion felt his lips curving up into a smile. "There is unity," he said mildly, "and then there is desire to hold a conversation with."
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