It is Time [Completed]

[dix-des-coeurs.livejournal.com]

Characters: Luxord, Machu Picchu, Albedo, and whoever else is crazy enough to interrupt this menage a trois.
Content: Number X enters Paixao. Chaos ensues.
Setting: Muspelheim Gate
Time: Morning
Warnings: Snark? None yet, really.

It was a beautiful morning.

Ironically, whenever the Organization arrived on a world, it tended to be a beautiful morning.

Those never lasted long.

Luxord idly wondered whether Paixao would share the same fate as other worlds had before it – engulfed by darkness, the remaining fragments scattered across space, congregating and merging to form little half-worlds in the twilight.

Probably.

But for now, it was a beautiful morning, and Luxord had to enter the city before he could do any real damage.

He stood patiently in line, his black cloak the only features setting him apart from the multitudes of blonde, blue-eyed people before and behind him. No sense causing a commotion this early in the game – he didn’t want people remembering him when the real trouble started. No, better to wait patiently for now.

Except he didn’t need to be patient.

He allowed a slight smile to play across his lips as he grasped the threads of time before him and pulled slightly, increasing the speed of the time around the gate and the line he was in. When a twenty-minute wait had passed in five, he released the threads and let time settle back into its normal tempo.

It was then that the gatekeeper addressed him. “Name, sir?”

“Ludor,” he replied smoothly. Well, it wasn’t technically a lie.

Not that he cared.

“Thank you, sir.” The gatekeeper carefully recorded the pseudonym in his records and gestured towards a second booth. “If you’ll go to the second booth, you’ll receive your journal.”

Luxord continued on and picked up a sleek black rectangle from the second booth, barely hearing the gatekeeper’s final words to him: “Welcome to Paixao! Enjoy your stay.”

I rather think I will.

Comments

[cloak-of-white.livejournal.com]

Albedo smirked at the man's parting shot, but said nothing. Time didn't matter to him. It seldom does, to immortals.

The winged woman's words made his smirk grow. Not many people understood the old romance languages (very old, to Albedo, whose original time was someplace millenia after Earth had disappeared).

In a lilting, insane tone, he replied to her, "A thousand appologies, Mademoiselle Macaw. I had no intention of insulting the wildlife." His voice spiralled away into a cackle, and before anything could be done or said in retribution, he had vanished, leaving nothing whatsoever to show that he had been there. Not even a traceable trail.