Who: Vexen and Marluxia
Where: The Gray Area, The Castle That Never Was
Summary: And so were planted the seeds to a ruinous downfall.
Warnings: PG; subject to change
Status: In progress
The eternal darkness pressing against the cold windows seemed both ephemeral and tangible, as if it were pressing up against the glass as surely as he could on the opposite side.
Not that Marluxia would do something so crass as to rub his hands across the glass. Really, that was more something a mouth-breather like Demyx would do.
So without touching, he looked out at the darkness. Sure, one could say that there was nothing there, and that he was only staring vaingloriously at his own reflection, but they would be wrong and shallow. He stared past the reflection of his own sharp eyes, out into the abyss. It had been said somewhere that when you stared at the abyss, the abyss had this way of staring back at you. It seemed no different in the Assassin's own reckoning. It was a metaphorical mirror to his being. Empty and nebulous, yet possessing, commanding
a solid presence.
It was food for thought certainly, he mused, flipping his hair carelessly away from his cheek.