Demyx is nothing. But in a world of darkness, how can music echo something Demyx can't find within himself? Zexion attempts to discover why the musician's sound is so enticing.
Everything about him unnerved Demyx.
From the shady responses, to the soft, tenderness in his voice that belied a constant electrical spark under his skin, Zexion was downright unapproachable. Even the way he walked dictated his tyranny, in its own set right. The soft footfalls that echoed across the wide space of the halls and atmosphere were caused only by the heavy boots, made black to blend with the cloak that seemed to move with his body rather than swish out behind him, lashing and biting. No. He was an observer. A thinker. Waiting for the right move.
He was three positions above Demyx, but the way he held himself often pronounced an underdeveloped sense of supreme authority, lost only by Zexion's disinterest in politics and sudden action. He was younger than all other members, smaller and quieter, but when he spoke the room silenced to hear his voice, a rare occasion in meetings that caused for a spark of attentiveness throughout the Organization. The ceilings and tiles themselves became engrossed in the words Zexion would lay out, closing in for a better view, before he was finished and that compacted feeling left the air as voices raised up again, just blabbering and shouting that was accompanied with wild hand gestures.
Still, Demyx knew most of the Organization members quite well, save Xemnas and Larxene, the latter of which frightened him to the point of suffocation, and the former being someone that he understood wouldn't take too well to light, fleeting jokes and musical interludes. But Zexion, however, had only the excuse of being formidable, even alarming, and the look he sometimes shot Demyx (something carefully hidden behind locks of hair and narrowed eyes) was enough to detour the musician time and time again from the act of communication.
So Demyx stayed in his place and kept his routine, always curious by never dwelling, as he simply wasn't good at it. He resigned himself to the floors of The Castle, idly humming nonsense or fiddling with his sitar. People rarely called upon him when he was alone, but often sought him out when the group was together, Xigbar delighting especially in Number IX's similar form of light, playful humour and Demyx's ability to keep the situation as troubled-free as possible.
Being which, it came as quiet a surprise when footsteps quietly echoed in the hall Demyx occupied, currently amusing himself by creating small pillars of water until a new job needed to be done - and one that the musician could handle.
The steps were light and every one of them purposeful, Demyx could tell, and knew instantly that whoever it was deserved that special, higher form of respect he often unconsciously gave those members that he liked better than others.
When the body stepped around the corner, Demyx promptly let his pillar fall from his palm in surprise, slashing to the ground with a loud slapping noise and making a mess. The person ignored him, however, and continued on their way past his outstretched body in the hall, mindlessly stepping over his feet.
"Hi, Zexion," Demyx said quickly, if only because he was the politest one out of all of them, and at least had enough of himself intact to remember proper ethics in an organization with positions such as theirs. But there was also a hint of surprise etched in the back of the musicians words, and Zexion caught it. He turned around to face Demyx, hands crossed over his chest and eyes hidden behind blue strands.
He cocked his head and stared at Demyx, saying nothing.
"What are...what are you doing up here?" Demyx asked, a sudden lurch of awkwardness flopping over in his stomach as he realized he was laying sprawled across the floor carelessly while Zexion looked down at him, probably thinking him unsavoury and unrespectable.
But curiosity got the better of him and he simply moved his leg slightly, as if he was totally comfortable in the position, and waited nervously for a response. After all, it was uncommon that either Zexion or Vexen were seen straying far from their libraries and labs in the never ending pursuit of knowledge.
Demyx remembered hearing that knowing too much would eventually drive one mad. He had always become nervous after that, just as he had when someone told him that learning something new would cause him to forget something old. He'd sometimes spend days trying to remember his past life, as far as he could go, and lock onto it, hoping that he could contain the thought and all others that followed after it and ultimately cheat the process. Perhaps, he would think time and time again, perhaps that's why he was so reluctant to talk with Zexion. Was he insane?
Zexion waited before answering, his harsh eyes opposing the softness in his stare as he finally turned his head down slightly, nodding to Demyx.
"What are you doing?"
Demyx opened his mouth, but found his voice failed him. He swallowed and looked around at the water on the floor, wondering for a fleeting moment whether he could convince Vexen to freeze it over and create a booby trap, when he remembered Zexion standing above him, eyes locked and waiting for a response.
"I'm, uh...well, I... Nothing. I guess."
Demyx looked up and caught Zexion's eyes, a grimace on his face as he wondered whether or not the mess was bothering Number VI. Zexion unfolded his hands and motioned towards Demyx, saying lightly, "Come with me, then. I have something I want to show you."
And he was disappearing back the way he came, towards the lower levels and Demyx knew, he /knew/, that Zexion was headed back to his own personal space, way below the castle and far deep into the white dungeons.
Demyx, after a short pause in which he made sure that those words did just come from Zexion himself, shot up after him, trying to mimic the Nobody and walk as softly as he could, realizing that the one person he wanted to understand had just invited him where only Zexion had ever tread before.
And his pulse beat quicker.