bakerstreet | Sooner or later, every man reveals himself

Sooner or later, every man reveals himself

"you're my weakness" meme
A SHIPPING MEME

You're a strong person, perhaps physically, perhaps mentally, perhaps both. You're brave. A steel rod of a backbone means you face your enemies with little hesitation, doing the job no one else wants to do. That kind of intestinal fortitude is commendable. You have a purpose. You have a mission. There is something about you that people want.

And you have a weakness.

Maybe nobody knows it or maybe everyone knows it, but your weakness is the person you're in love with. Yes, in love. Someone like you can be in love, whether you've admitted it to yourself or not...or to them. More than anything, you want to be with them and keep them safe from harm. Sometimes, you just can't. It's more dangerous around you than with you.

Whether you're together or not, you should hope that no one with an axe to grind with you knows that this person is your blind spot...

HOW TO PLAY

Comment with your character, preferences, whether you're open to smut or no, etc.
Be sure to mention if you'd prefer to play the one with the weakness or the "weak spot."
Reply to others.
Use the RNG or not.

PROMPTS
ship

First Meeting: You've never met a person who's caught your interest quite like this; you may not know how to respond to these unique feelings.
With Them Before It Happened: They came first. The situation that drove you to your "destiny" occurred later. You can't just throw away that old life.
Unexpected Savior: You were down and out. They found you and nursed them back to health. You feel indebted to them..and more.
Normalcy is Abnormal: You would never take things like dinner, picnics, dancing, or the movies for granted. Some people can't have that, after all.
Missed Date: Of course, you have to bail out on dates occasionally. Duty calls.
Shown Love: Who could ever care for someone like you? They can. They show you selfless affection
Bad Apple: You’re rotten through and through - except for your genuine love for them.
Light of My Life: Everything in this world seems terrible except for them, you’re beautiful, shining light. For them, you can live.
Something There: Before, you were cruel to them, or they to you, yet now both of you see past that blustery beast (even if one of you was, say, a prisoner);
Keepings Tabs: You have to know that your most important person is safe, or else you just can’t think straight.
Stay Away: For their own protection, they have to keep away from a dangerous person like you. So no matter if you love them of they love you, you have to break up with them for their safety.
Happened Before: The person you loved before got hurt because of you and you swore you would never love again. Still, you’re feeling that way once more, letting those walls down, and the old patterns are repeating themselves over and over.
Important: You’re a king, a lord, a president, a top assassin. People would love to get close to you - or take you out - if they could find the right path in.
Bodyguard: Your mission is the one you love (though you didn’t start out loving them), and the one thing keeping you from keeping them perfectly safe is also them.
Berserk Button: From minor slight to major injury, no one hurts your lover without retribution.
Left in the Dark: They don’t know what kind of life you truly lead. How long can you keep that double life a secret?
Became This for Them: What you are now is all out of your adoration for them. You’ll do anything to keep them safe, even if it means becoming a monster.
Not Accepted: You’ve finally revealed what you are in all actuality to them and the reaction was not positive. They’re repulsed by you or by what you’ve done.
Dynamic Duo: They’ve accepted everything about you, including your mission. In fact, they want to help you fulfill your purpose.
Family: You two have started a family together, so there's even more to lose.
Blackmail: Some sinister somebody is holding the happiness, safety, or wellbeing of your loved one above your head to make you serve them.
Hate Me: It’s not enough to leave them. You have to ensure their safety by making them despise you and never search you out.
Destroy: You know that they could be your undoing, so you'll take them out yourself. You refuse to be weak.
Kidnapped: Your weakness has been spotted and picked at, quite literally. Now, the person you care for is in the clutches of someone who wants nothing more than to see you destroyed.
Bad End: ~~Is it in bad taste to want to name this prompt after a certain comic book character?~~ The worst of your fears has come to past. Your beloved is dying in your arms because of their relationship with you and you weren't able to save them in time.
Placed in Your Life: The one you thought you loved and trusted was only a mole all along. They were placed in order to get you to make certain decisions and never really cared for you.
Happy Ending: You've made it to a safe enough place in your life for you and your love to be stable and settle down.

smut

Reluctant: You don't want to hurt your partner during intimacy, which is a distinct possibility.
Solace: There's only one place where you find comfort about what your true nature is, and that's in their arms.
Manipulation: There's one way to worm into your heart and onto your good side; they know it, and they can make you squirm. That's not always a good thing.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Downtime during a time-sensitive mission is not an ideal situation to be in. Lexaeus can handle much more than waiting for a single target to show its face, and has been trained to do so all his life, though the act of waiting can make any lesser soldier shake with nervous energy. Lexaeus can't help instinctively eying every route and every dark corner every minute, searching for anything that may suddenly appear suspicious or compromising to their goal.

A composed fellow soldier does much to keep the peace. Zexion can either say little throughout an entire assignment, or go on a detailed monologue about whatever minor detail sparks his scientific curiosity for their world of the day, and Lexaeus finds he can keep his own thoughts more easily sorted and clear. There doesn't seem to be any explanation for this; perhaps it's a state that Aeleus may feel when around someone worthy of trust.

It allows Lexaeus to ease back during downtime, as they munch on snacks from the local cuisine. It's either this or continue staring at nothing, and while games are another option, Lexaeus knows he needs his full concentration if he's going up against Zexion in a round of chess.

"Zexion." He taps the corner of his own mouth with a meaty finger to indicate the area. "You have some sauce on your cheek here."

Zexion's been unusually quiet during the day's assignment, focused, but in that pointedly intense way which suggests there's probably something else entirely that's been gnawing on his mind.

The levity of snack break hasn't brought it to the surface yet, but the day is young and it's really only a matter of time until he's grouchy about the actual things that are bothering him, instead of the inadequate supply of paper napkins distributed with streetcard food. Or open contempt over the quality of the snack itself, though he's nibbled through more than half of them by now, delicious little fried pouches with a surprisingly hot and spicy paste filling, served with some kind of cool yogurt dip.

"Hm?" He raises his eyes to Lexaeus just in time to catch the indicative gesture, flusters a little through his nose, then swipes across his cheek own with a crooked knuckle, missing most of the offending smear itself. His tongue is still beguiled by flavor and heat, so when he laps at his gloved finger, it's rather hard to tell if he's managed mopping it up or not.

"All better?" Zexion asks hopefully, jutting his chin up for inspection.

They've known each other far too long that he can easily pick up when Zexion has something more pressing on the mind; while Lexaeus prefers to not be out of the loop, he also knows he will receive whatever thoughts Zexion has when the time is right.

Perhaps he's not the only one sensing something unsettling about their current situation here, even as their snack break continues undisturbed. Lexaeus' eyes flick upwards briefly, scanning the area in a routine check, then his gaze drops back down to Zexion with a small shake of the head.

"Not quite. Allow me?" He still waits a second, in case Zexion has any particular protests otherwise, then lifts a hand to wipe the area himself. Each finger on his body may as well feel as solid as the rest of him, but the stroke of his thumb is minimal and light, just enough to carefully wipe up the remaining sauce in one, smooth swipe.

His glove is a barrier between his own flesh and his comrade's, but he assumes the smoothness of Zexion's skin is not much different from Ienzo's.

He lingers for a second, checking to ensure he's collected everything off Zexion's cheek, then pulls away to wipe his thumb on one of the too-thin napkins. "There."

A little hum of assent and the barest of nods is all it takes- no one else would ever be granted the trust of touching his face, let alone to swipe away a mess he'd overlooked, but the Silent Hero is an exception.

There's a smirking dimple that forms under Lexaeus's thumbpad, which feels oversized against his face. Zexion's line of sight goes darting sideways, playing coy, avoiding what could be a vulnerable moment of eye contact. He licks at the corners of his lips just as Lexaeus pulls away, murmuring a subdued thanks.

"Sometimes... I think you're the only one left that doesn't think so little of me?" He confides with a sigh, crumbling the wax paper remains of their snack. "I had hoped that once I was grown, that would be enough, when I'd proved my worth, that the others might respect me a little more, but-"

Zexion shakes his head, exhaling through his nose.

"Do you know what Xaldin said, about the new recruit?"

It was all Xigbar's hearsay, of course. Which meant he may not have actually said it at all, but the comment still stung in a peculiar way. He'd vent to Vexen about it, if he was even permitted to interrupt the Academic's work, except then he'd have to commit to an hour and a half of return-grousing.

As expected, Zexion reveals his hand when he feels the time is right. Lexaeus sets his street food aside, showing his full attention in whatever Zexion has to say, though it starts in a matter he doesn't quite expect. Zexion's age has always been a hindrance with their colleagues, beginning from the second Ienzo joined their labs, but it's much less of a factor now, even when it might rise again in more subdued ways once in a while.

"I did not hear about this." And it must be a particularly stinging comment, whatever it is, if it came from Xaldin. It's more difficult to keep up with happenings between their members as their numbers grow - an understandable side effect of growth, but not one Lexaeus is certain finds he can so easily accept.

He makes no response to the first half of what Zexion says; his respect for Number VI in their ranks is clear enough without needing verbal reaffirming.

"They were running Luxord through basic drills with the dusks... trying to get him produce a more 'formidable' weapon." Zexion huffs, scowling a little. It wasn't the first time Xaldin and Xigbar had tried to bully an arsenal out of their non-combative members. With Demyx, their efforts had been... well, a literal wash by the end of it, but Zexion had gotten the full brunt of it too, once, and the memory was a sour one.

Lexaeus had been (conveniently) out on long off-world patrol assignment. The other two guards had turned a 'friendly spar' with a young scholar half their age into something gone foul, forcing shadow mirage after shadow mirage of copied weapons out of him, to wield with clumsy skill until they'd successfully pushed him to his limits. Zexion had never quite reconciled with them for it, especially since the Superior had turned his attentions to Saix soon thereafter and he'd never quite regained his status.

"As for all his magic, Xaldin called it a cheat." The illusionist continued, voice snipped and scathing, sounding strangely defensive on behalf of a Nobody he'd hardly become well acquainted with yet.

"The last thing we need." Right down to the gruff folded arms and elegant tone, Zexion's impression was impeccable. "We already have one charlatan too many in this Organization!"

"Now what is that meant to be, Lexaeus," he demanded, petulant and seeking support, "if not a slight aimed deliberately in my direction?"

Training is understandable; the powers graced on Nobodies like them is usually not understood at first, and it serves them well to guide their newest recruits in how they can use their full potential. Lexaeus is more than content to avoid partaking in such early training when possible, if they all tend to go in the same manner as Demyx's from what he's heard. However, training in the middle of missions or in the battlefield tends to have faster results, and he has no protests to assisting newer members then.

He remains silent and attentive, waiting for Zexion to make his case, complete with body language and snide tone. It must have offended indeed for Zexion to find the need to present it so theatrically.

Not that Lexaeus doesn't believe it or sees it as a tall tale, and regrettably so. For a group that must grow to thrive, Lexaeus takes issue with careless chatter behind fellow colleagues' backs.

"It's a reasonable assumption," he says, crinkling some paper wrappers in his massive fist. And yet, despite his own beliefs in not talking behind the backs of their fellow members...it's a little different, when it's just the two of them worlds away from the Castle. "Though do you see yourself as the only one in Never Was who could be accused of such a title?"

"...I'm the only other illusionist?" Zexion replied, peering sideways up at Lexaeus through his bangs, as if to question what exactly he was getting at. The pointed nature of the comment had seemed obvious to him, but Zexion had been tetchy on the defensive lately, developing a sort of insecurity that seemed more and more like Vexen's, ever since their leader's attention had wandered over to grooming Saix for taking on more authority.

It was petty, to feel overlooked, particularly when he had no heart. That was why Zexion really only spoke about these things in Lexaeus's confidence.

"Although they say Luxord's skills are temporal in nature..." He muttered, rubbing a few crumbs from his gloved fingers. "Or that perhaps he manipulates chance itself? Xemnas seems pleased by his progress, in either case."

As if that settled any matters of dispute that Xaldin may have had with the new recruit. Whatever issues he had against Zexion, though... he sorely wished the lancer would have just said right to his face.

"(The only thing Demyx is pretending at is that he's only half as competent as he actually could be, after all.)" He added with the tiniest of smirks.

"I thought we all squabbled badly when we were apprentices." Zexion sighed heavily, shaking his head. "But these days it seems like we all just get worse and worse..."

Lexaeus grunts, realizing he's being unnecessarily vague. His trust with Zexion is no question, and meandering about the point of their conversations is needless. But Zexion is on the right track, and Lexaeus wouldn't do it otherwise if the topic didn't seem so delicate to discuss, even when far away from potential eavesdropping in Never Was.

"There are more ways than your own or Number X's to plant falsehoods in the minds of others, or to manipulate events to your liking without the need for magic. Though there should be no doubt Xaldin's reference was aimed at you."

He crosses his arms over his broad chest, taking a moment to reflect on how he wants to present his point.

"I believe it has gotten worse." It's a relief in itself to hear Zexion vocalize similar sentiments, though Lexaeus can't say to what extent. "Numbers in our ranks are needed, but the ties that originally bound us all seem to be weakening. It gives room for others of ill-will to slip in and begin stirring unrest while undetected - until it's too late."

It didn't seem to ease his distress at all. In fact, he'd been hoping that his comrade would be able to supply some valuable devil's advocacy, even if he didn't particularly believe it, if only to allow him some peace of mind.

But Lexaeus had always guarded him against indulging in a little too much self-delusion. When the grounded realist was handing the same ideas back to you, you knew that for once you couldn't be too far off base.

"You were supposed to say I'm being paranoid without due reason, Lexaues!" Zexion sighs, throwing up his hands in defeat before he ends up sulking a little, pushing his lower lip into a sore pout. "Not say fatalistic things like that! For all we know, it could be too late already for us. Our only hope is that Xemnas will come up with some kind of a breakthrough."

Speaking of planting falsehoods... Xemnas might have tended a whole garden of them once in Zexion's mind, even if it was beginning to get overgrown and weedy now with neglect.

The truth is always more difficult to swallow, but Lexaeus isn't the type to pretend what's plainly in sight isn't really there. They both see it, even if Zexion still has some reservations to the idea of a crumbling camaraderie around them.

"That may be the best we have, yes." Hope is better than nothing, even for Nobodies like them. "But should it come to it..."

A large hand suddenly rests over Zexion's forearm, nudging the Schemer closer and almost pressed against Lexaeus. The hand is still entirely gentle, encouraging Zexion forward with soft, but impressively contained power. Lexaeus' expression seems more hardened at the brow, a few more deep groves around his eyes and mouth.

"If need be, I will take you away from it all, and keep you safe, far away from anyone else's grasp."

They're unusually traitorous words for Lexaeus, but he can no longer deny where his loyalties tend to lean.

Zexion is often one of manic hummingbird ideas, flitting and ephemeral and mercurial as his self-denied moods. He often gets himself lost in the details, or in vague abstractions, or in his frustration that people sometimes don't behave in strict accordance with predictable patterns, and cannot be bend around his whims.

Lexaeus, by contrast, keeps to solid plans and rarely ever speaks of boldly decisive action before the moment he erupts with it.

So of course the offer, in all its seriousness, completely blindsides Zexion.

"What?" He blinks, his focus on the rest of the world thrust on pause, and does a searching double-take.

He looks up at his companion with all the wide-eyed and staring uncertainty of a boy ripped from boyhood too early, only now brought back to earth by a steadying hand on his arm and a hushed promise on his lips.

"I... wh-" The schemer falters, revisiting Lexaeus's words in his mind with a sinking sort of panic. Breathless upset spills into his instinctive, uncensored reply. "When did I ever say anything about fleeing the Organization?"

Sure, If Need Be is a conservative modifier, but Lexaeus, ready to bail out now?

"Lexaeus, I..." A hand gets placed over the hand that dwarfs his arm. His eyes seem to be pleading for some kind of breezy punchline, even though he's with the one he trusts would never back a terrible joke about anything like making a defensive retreat from their own colleagues. "It's...It hasn't really gotten that bad, has it?"

"I'm sure that I was... just being petty and sensitive about it?" He apologetically tries to reel back the incident that bothered him in the first place and gloss it over, brush it off. There's no need to be kept safe from anyone or anything. Right? "Like Vexen."

"I can't say how bad exactly." And how he wishes he had a better sense of the full scope of their situation, but too many unknown factors still remain, and his soldier's instinct can't yet make a solid conclusion on the state of the Organization. Changes are undeniably occurring as they grow, and it only seems right to make someone else aware of his perspective.

"I believe there is still time to restore what we originally had." His thumb rubs soft circles over Zexion's forearm; memories remind him using physical comfort to ease nerves, and it's not a bad replacement for what they can no longer feel. "But I will not hesitate to act if I see an unfavorable end in sight."

He pauses to observe Zexion's hand over his own - another form of physical comfort, and he's sure he would feel grateful for it if he were able to. Lexaeus doesn't mean to stir up doubts so strongly, but rather make his intentions clear to the only other person who deserves to know.

"Xaldin may be intentionally looking for a foul reaction from you." He best address Zexion's concerns to at least settle that in his brilliant mind. "Petty or not, you will appear the stronger man by ignoring any trouble he tries to start with you."

"Our hearts?" Zexion clarified, with an upturned tone of voice that sounded like a very broken, childish sort of hopeful. Restoring their hearts sometimes seemed like the easier thing to repair, when there was so much strain between the founding membership these days. Had it always been this bad? "...or the way we used to work together? It's not too late, we haven't- We haven't changed, so much. Have we?"

That was what he feared was eroding away with the years. There had always been squabbles, little relational disasters over the dinner table, or whispers of how to keep everyone 'on board' with their plans in the hallways. Even had never really gotten along swimmingly with anyone, and Braig had always spelled mischief, and Dilan had never been particularly warm. Xehanort could have his utterly indecipherable moments. They'd just become worse, nastier toward each other, without hearts to bind them. Without a King to remind them to be kind.

"To even consider that..." Zexion muttered, shaking his head, still hushed and aghast at Lexaeus's ultimatum. That he would need to be whisked off for protection.

"Even if they despise me, think me burdensome, I don't want to be taken away from the others." His voice had gone very faint, curling his fingers forelornly around the Silent Hero's wrist. "Then you'd be all I have left. What will I do when you decide I'm a waste of your time?"

His eyes turn darkly up at Lexaeus, and he straightens with the advice, lets the brief vulnerability melt off into the mask of weary indifference. "I know, I know Lexaeus, you're right. It's a baiting game. That's why I waited till we were all the way out here to say anything about it."

It would be a startling question if he could feel as such, but the lack of a heart shouldn't stop him from attempting to answer. The concept of Zexion being a waste of his time is unthinkable; no one else in their ranks thus far is so firm on having an efficient time table for missions, always going in prepared to avoid wasted productivity. Downtime like their current situation cannot always be avoided, but even then Zexion continues to stay focused.

Today may be a slight exception as their conversation becomes more distracting. Having so many unknown factors in their current state is unsettling, but if Zexion isn't yet ready to give up some hope on the other members, they may still have some time.

"Do you really believe I would ever think of you in such a way?" Lexaeus' tone is as level as ever, though he can't mask a bit of disappointment. He can't settle for Zexion having even the slightest of doubt about his loyalties. He loosens his hold on Zexion's forearm, changing to a gentle grip.

Zexion's eyes linger on his companion's gloved hand, its warmth seeping slowly through the thick layer of his coat. It isn't that he doubts Lexaeus would be steadfast to his principles till the bitter end...

Quite the opposite, in fact. If he is strong enough to consider abandoning the Organization, because it has gone too far astray... then doesn't it stand to reason that Zexion himself might one day become just as necessary to break away from? What if Lexaeus should find a nobler purpose than minding a terrible child who's grown into a despicable, deceptive young man, one so full of dark thoughts and distrust, shadowy methods? What he one day he wakes up and realizes that the dream of redeeming Ienzo has long since passed?

The illusionist's hands curl into his palms at his sides, and he tries to swallow down the thickness in his throat. His eyes nervously rise again to meet Lexaeus's discerning gaze. "What if I changed, to someone no longer resembling the person I ever was?" He asks, voice strangled tight with anxieties. "How much more would it take for you to consider me intolerable? Would you insist on watching over me, even then?"

Edited 2016-08-31 00:36 (UTC)

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Sooner or later, every man reveals himself

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