Title: crunched like candy thunder
Authors: keelhaul lizzie
Pairings: Larxene/Naminé
Rating: R
Genres: Drama
Summary: She's made of hair and bones, little teeth, and things I cannot speak.
Wordcount: 981
Warnings: yuri, implied sex, character death, general non-consensual humping of grammar, spoilers for CoM.
Date: January 6, 2006; finished god-only-knows-when.

notes: For those of you that are unfamiliar, 1sentence is a Livejournal community in which one picks a pairing and a theme set of fifty prompts, and writes a sentence for each prompt. Being that I am awesome, I obviously never finished all fifty, but felt, after a long fucking time of this rotting on my harddrive, that it should... go somewhere. And I like Larxene/Naminé a whole lot, much in the same way I liek mudkips.

Also, the title is taken from Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange.

----

i wrapped our love in all this foil,
silver-tight like spider legs;
i never wanted it to ever spoil,
but flies will lay their eggs.

comfort -- Naminé tries to dry her tears and hiccoughs, and Larxene asks with a patronizing smile if a story would cheer her up, her fingers on the spine of the ever-present book entitled "Marquis de Sade", and Naminé stares up at her with red-ringed eyes and says "I'm not that stupid, you know."

soft -- Larxene's body is all hard angles and her tongue is sharp and even her hair is pointed, but Naminé is so malleable, so pliable, especially when Larxene slides her hands down her body and whispers in her ear.

potatoes -- Larxene frowns down at Naminé's latest drawing, grins at her in a way that terrifies her and says "what would you want to draw potatoes for?"; Naminé, quite taken aback, quietly explains that they're supposed to be kittens.

rain -- Lightning and water will never mix, but Larxene loves the rain—she could stand in the city and her body would light up like a sparkler, crackle and flash with electricity in the dark, and she'd reduce the world to ashes.

happiness -- Larxene can't remember what happiness feels like in the slightest, and whenever she looks at Naminé she forgets a little more.

telephone -- Larxene whispers secrets into her ear like it's a game, and maybe it is, because all Naminé hears is nonsense.

freedom -- Naminé is like a princess, locked away in a glass tower: like a princess, but not, she reminds herself, only half, only a shadow—because if she were a real princess she wouldn't have to make up stories and lies for the hero to rescue her.

jealousy -- When Larxene sees the scribbled form of a boy, carefully drawn in red and blues in the back of the sketchbook; the longing written on every line of Naminé's face—Larxene breaks her crayons to bits.

taste -- Imagining Naminé and Sora together, talking like old friends, imagining the look on Naminé's face—it gives Larxene a bitter taste in her mouth.

forever -- Larxene knows she will die, impaled on her own sword (malice come full circle, some might say), but she wants to keep Naminé for as long as she can,

sickness -- Nobodies cannot get sick, but each day spent in this castle causes Naminé to get a little thinner, a little paler, and more of her mind is eaten away by guilt.

melody -- The wailing notes from Demyx's sitar reverberate off the four white walls of the atrium and Marluxia whirls around in a flurry of black and petals; Larxene smirks down at Naminé and says "d'you wanna dance, princess?"

home -- Larxene slaps her across the face and Naminé clatters to the floor, chair and all, with a deafening bang; Larxene says to her in a deadly-quiet whisper "this is your home now, Naminé, and don't you ever think otherwise," and Naminé doesn't dare draw Destiny Islands again.

confusion -- Naminé watched as the world crashed down around them all; Castle Oblivion was all she'd ever known and she stood trembling on the path to dawn—where to go from here?

fear -- There are quite a few things that Naminé is afraid of, and Larxene is certainly one of them-- she's so jaundiced and acidic and so unlike what a girl should be; what scares Naminé even more is that Larxene, just maybe, might fascinate her.

lightning/thunder -- Thunder rumbled somewhere beyond the white walls of Castle Oblivion; Naminé didn't even flinch—she was used to it by now.

bonds -- Naminé overhears Larxene and Axel talking about "bonds" in the corridor and she's surprised Larxene is so avid on the subject so she politely asks her about it when she steps into the room; Larxene eyes her beadily and says "sweetie, I was talking about when you tie somebody to a bed."

gift -- Naminé hates it when Larxene is nice because there's always something more to it—poison in the honey, something crawling beneath the skin, and when Larxene presents her with a new set of markers Naminé looks away and quietly refuses them.

innocence -- Naminé, despite appearances, is not a child and has never been—she is simply a shell without a heart or a past and guts like ticking clockwork; Larxene hates that she cannot break her.

completion -- When Naminé finishes her portrait of Larxene the woman rips it to shreds and scatters it everywhere like confetti; she says "I was going to hang it on my wall, but then I realized it'd look so much nicer on your floor, don't you think?"

clouds -- Naminé's room is too white and she's sick of the blank stretch of cold marble and glass—she'd like to draw a million clouds and paste them to the ceiling, a perfect fake sky for a Nobody; Larxene, as if she could read her thoughts, says "you couldn't reach the ceiling anyway."

heaven -- "The mind is its own place, Naminé, and in itself can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n," Larxene quotes to her one day.

hell -- Naminé stares down at her sketchpad and realizes that Larxene was right.

waves -- Together they have a fast rocking rhythm with Larxene's hands in her hair and Naminé scrabbling at the wall with her bitten-down nails; Larxene crashes into her and leaves everything in lit-up crackling disarray.

hair -- Out of the blue, Larxene tells Naminé that her hair looks terrible, too limp and stringy, and Naminé should feel offended but she's just confused when Larxene's eyes light up like a hungry cat's and offers to fix it for her.

supernova -- Naminé draws a grainy rainbow onto yellowed paper—red orange yellow green blue indigo violet—her crayons are scattered, prismatic, across the white floor; the next day, in a flash of colour and light, Larxene dies.