endgame [kh - Luxord]
Summary: Reality is little more than an elaborate game, and Organization XIII’s plans and intrigues even more so. 20 facts about Luxord, written for 20_dreams .
Rating: PG
Character: Luxord
Word Count: 900
Warnings: An obscene amount of poker references.
Originally posted to lj here.
Endgame
I. His Other was a dreadful waste of a human being. A compulsive gambler with no sense of moderation, he died in debt after borrowing money from the wrong man. Luxord would hate him for it, if he could, and almost resents the vivid (but ultimately futile) desire to be otherwise that has resulted in his own non-being.
II. His personality is not built around the memories of his Other’s reality; that man died unfulfilled, and no amount of pretence will make it otherwise. Instead, he plays out the dreams of sophistication that a failed gambler never had a chance to make reality. Luxord has all the time in the worlds.
III. His accent is fake. Then again, so is he.
IV. His existence, or lack thereof, is not as burdensome as one might perhaps expect. Reality is little more than an elaborate game, and Organization XIII’s plans and intrigues even more so. He finds enough satisfaction in watching as the rules of their particular play are made, broken, and remade around him, and is often so caught up in the thrill that he almost doesn’t care what the final outcome will be.
V. He very nearly did not join the Organization. When Numbers II and III crashed in with their weapons and vague promises of completion, he was utterly uninterested. When Numbers VI and VIII appeared with subtle words and eyes ablaze with trickery, he knew that this was a game worth playing.
VI. Castle Oblivion was his masterpiece. On the Superior’s orders, he contrived and constructed a fantasy game world, shaping it into reality. He made no complaint when command of the Castle was passed on to Marluxia: it is impolite for the master of ceremonies to participate in his own event.
VII. News of the massacre at Oblivion came as no surprise. Only one set of rules can successfully be used at a time, and Zexion, Marluxia, and Axel never did play the same version of poker.
VIII. He almost respects Axel for having carefully played both sides of the game; the ability to make a profit no matter how the dice fall is the mark of a master gambler. However, showing one’s hand is always a grievous miscalculation, and he is not surprised when another portal goes red.
IX. When he ropes his comrades into a game of cards, he never plays with a full deck. He does not announce this fact; if they have not yet realized that the rules have changed, it is no concern of his. Only Demyx has still not noticed that the Hearts are gone, and Luxord doubts he ever will.
X. He believes that ten is the perfect number. Caught between two worlds, it holds the power of a face card, but lacks the flamboyance. Luxord does not need to be the king or ace to know that he’ll always be part of a royal flush.
XI. He is often tempted to accelerate time whenever Xemnas begins to monologue. The need to maintain his self-image has thus far kept him from doing so.
XII. There is another reason behind his reluctance: on occasion, Xigbar, Axel, Demyx, and Larxene have all begged him to speed through the monologues as well. He believes that he is only still alive because none of them understood more than half the words of his scathing response.
XIII. He is not overly surprised when Roxas chooses to leave; not every powerful hand utilizes only one suit, and after the massacre at Castle Oblivion, Organization XIII cannot even muster enough strength to beat a full house.*
XIV. He has only been left speechless once, and has never fully forgiven Axel for the prank.
XV. His first real conversation with Zexion involved theoretical treatises on time and space, and the works of a long dead man named Immanuel Kant. When he later brought the ideas to Xigbar, curious as to what someone aspected to space would make of it, he only got a book chucked at his head and a mumbled complaint about the uselessness of philosophy.
XVI. He does not particularly like the company of other people. This often comes as a surprise, considering how easily and smoothly he can carry a conversation. For the most part, however, he either finds them predictable and thus tedious, or erratic and wholly incomprehensible.
XVII. His vocabulary is more a defence mechanism than anything else: a barrier of semantics to divide the emptiness within from the chaos without.
XVIII. Occasionally, a slight twinge in his chest cavity will remind him that something is terribly wrong (for all his sophistication, he is no different than his compatriots). Whenever this occurs, he will build a wall of words around himself, defining and analyzing his situation so thoroughly that the problem seems to vanish.
XIX. Order is important in ensuring a Nobody’s continued existence. Any loss of control, and the carefully wound spindle of memories can quickly and completely unravel. Luxord knows this, and places his bets with caution, but still finds that the moment of uncertainty, when everything hangs in the balance, is always the most rewarding.
XX. When not-Roxas’s keyblade rips through his cards and shatters his fragile non-existence, he is stunned more by the sudden end of the game than the mortal wound. As long as the Superior remains, this contest can’t be over, and he feels - though that can’t be the right word - as if he has been cheated.
*Losing IV, V, VI, XI, and XII means that there is no chance for any straight flush, much less a royal one. It’s impossible to get the necessary fifth in a row. The highest possible hand remaining for Organization XIII is a regular flush, which isn’t particularly powerful. It’s an interesting distinction, considering that Xemnas, Marluxia, Larxene, and Roxas match perfectly with their cards, and the nature of Castle Oblivion.
Rating: PG
Character: Luxord
Word Count: 900
Warnings: An obscene amount of poker references.
Originally posted to lj here.
Endgame
I. His Other was a dreadful waste of a human being. A compulsive gambler with no sense of moderation, he died in debt after borrowing money from the wrong man. Luxord would hate him for it, if he could, and almost resents the vivid (but ultimately futile) desire to be otherwise that has resulted in his own non-being.
II. His personality is not built around the memories of his Other’s reality; that man died unfulfilled, and no amount of pretence will make it otherwise. Instead, he plays out the dreams of sophistication that a failed gambler never had a chance to make reality. Luxord has all the time in the worlds.
III. His accent is fake. Then again, so is he.
IV. His existence, or lack thereof, is not as burdensome as one might perhaps expect. Reality is little more than an elaborate game, and Organization XIII’s plans and intrigues even more so. He finds enough satisfaction in watching as the rules of their particular play are made, broken, and remade around him, and is often so caught up in the thrill that he almost doesn’t care what the final outcome will be.
V. He very nearly did not join the Organization. When Numbers II and III crashed in with their weapons and vague promises of completion, he was utterly uninterested. When Numbers VI and VIII appeared with subtle words and eyes ablaze with trickery, he knew that this was a game worth playing.
VI. Castle Oblivion was his masterpiece. On the Superior’s orders, he contrived and constructed a fantasy game world, shaping it into reality. He made no complaint when command of the Castle was passed on to Marluxia: it is impolite for the master of ceremonies to participate in his own event.
VII. News of the massacre at Oblivion came as no surprise. Only one set of rules can successfully be used at a time, and Zexion, Marluxia, and Axel never did play the same version of poker.
VIII. He almost respects Axel for having carefully played both sides of the game; the ability to make a profit no matter how the dice fall is the mark of a master gambler. However, showing one’s hand is always a grievous miscalculation, and he is not surprised when another portal goes red.
IX. When he ropes his comrades into a game of cards, he never plays with a full deck. He does not announce this fact; if they have not yet realized that the rules have changed, it is no concern of his. Only Demyx has still not noticed that the Hearts are gone, and Luxord doubts he ever will.
X. He believes that ten is the perfect number. Caught between two worlds, it holds the power of a face card, but lacks the flamboyance. Luxord does not need to be the king or ace to know that he’ll always be part of a royal flush.
XI. He is often tempted to accelerate time whenever Xemnas begins to monologue. The need to maintain his self-image has thus far kept him from doing so.
XII. There is another reason behind his reluctance: on occasion, Xigbar, Axel, Demyx, and Larxene have all begged him to speed through the monologues as well. He believes that he is only still alive because none of them understood more than half the words of his scathing response.
XIII. He is not overly surprised when Roxas chooses to leave; not every powerful hand utilizes only one suit, and after the massacre at Castle Oblivion, Organization XIII cannot even muster enough strength to beat a full house.*
XIV. He has only been left speechless once, and has never fully forgiven Axel for the prank.
XV. His first real conversation with Zexion involved theoretical treatises on time and space, and the works of a long dead man named Immanuel Kant. When he later brought the ideas to Xigbar, curious as to what someone aspected to space would make of it, he only got a book chucked at his head and a mumbled complaint about the uselessness of philosophy.
XVI. He does not particularly like the company of other people. This often comes as a surprise, considering how easily and smoothly he can carry a conversation. For the most part, however, he either finds them predictable and thus tedious, or erratic and wholly incomprehensible.
XVII. His vocabulary is more a defence mechanism than anything else: a barrier of semantics to divide the emptiness within from the chaos without.
XVIII. Occasionally, a slight twinge in his chest cavity will remind him that something is terribly wrong (for all his sophistication, he is no different than his compatriots). Whenever this occurs, he will build a wall of words around himself, defining and analyzing his situation so thoroughly that the problem seems to vanish.
XIX. Order is important in ensuring a Nobody’s continued existence. Any loss of control, and the carefully wound spindle of memories can quickly and completely unravel. Luxord knows this, and places his bets with caution, but still finds that the moment of uncertainty, when everything hangs in the balance, is always the most rewarding.
XX. When not-Roxas’s keyblade rips through his cards and shatters his fragile non-existence, he is stunned more by the sudden end of the game than the mortal wound. As long as the Superior remains, this contest can’t be over, and he feels - though that can’t be the right word - as if he has been cheated.
*Losing IV, V, VI, XI, and XII means that there is no chance for any straight flush, much less a royal one. It’s impossible to get the necessary fifth in a row. The highest possible hand remaining for Organization XIII is a regular flush, which isn’t particularly powerful. It’s an interesting distinction, considering that Xemnas, Marluxia, Larxene, and Roxas match perfectly with their cards, and the nature of Castle Oblivion.