[Private RP]

[ipullthestrings]

Who: Saïx & Zexion
Where: Castle Oblivion
When: Mid-Afternoon
Rating: TBA
Warnings: Evil scheming, by the schemer and the diviner- Mostly from the schemer.

Comments

[kveld_ulf]

Saïx strode down the halls of the castle, clad in the standard black cloak the Organization members wore over their clothing. Years of serving as a personal attendant had trained the man to carry himself with a certain respectable poise befitting a man of higher status, though Faringdon was known to display a fair amount of arrogance despite his social standing. He had been described before as a ‘snooty, brownnosing lapdog’ by some of the newer recruits, though the opinions of petty smugglers and fresh off the slums urchins hardly managed to rouse his temper. They could think or say whatever they pleased, so long as they realized who their superiors were. No one seemed to find the gumption to disobey a direct order after Faringdon was instructed to punish those who either failed in their missions or made a serious error in judgment

[ooc: Sorry it's so late. xP]

[ipullthestrings]

Speak of the devil. “Number VI.” Now that was a convenient surprise. The gods were on his side now, as it would seem. “Welcome back. I trust the superior is doing well.” He greeted with his usual charm.

“Well being relatively fine. But fine may not always be anything desirable.” He said, alluding to the lack of real activity within the organization. They were all ‘fine’. Regular business was going well, they weren’t in any danger, every thing was perfectly fine and dandy. And that’s what Zexion hated about these days.

It was a complete bore. “Is there any particular reason you have returned, number VI? Some good news, perhaps?” He could only hope it was.

Re: [ooc: Sorry it's so late. xP]

[kveld_ulf]

“Of course. The Superior sends his regards.” Saïx responded. Even if Xemnas had been dying, he probably would have lied through his teeth to keep the morale of the other members intact.

Unfortunately, there really wasn’t any ‘good news’, save for the fact that Faringdon’s newest orders were to serve Marluxia diligently. If he had to feign absolute and mindless compliance, so be it. That didn’t mean he had to like it.

“I’m afraid not, save for continuing to follow Marluxia’s orders.” he answered with a vaguest hint of disdain in his voice. “Have there been any changes or new offers, lately? If anything of interest has taken place, I’m to be informed.”

[ipullthestrings]

The charm and composure on Zexion’s face slowly started to fall apart. No matter how he tried to look at what he had just been told, there was nothing positive about it. Not. At all.

“Oh. I see.” He replied quaintly. “Always a pleasure to know that the Superior is doing well.” Although, he must not be all that well if he could make such a reckless decision as leave Marluxia in charge . . . Maybe he suffered some minor injuries to the head whilst on a mission. It was one of the few logical conclusions Zexion could come to.

Oh, well. “Care for a spot of tea, number VII?” he offered politely. Aside from being cunning and conniving, cooking was- as much as Zexion would refuse to admit it- one of his better, more useful hobbies. Being the only one to tend to the castle’s kitchen had that effect.