Categories > Games > Kingdom Hearts
premonitions.
0 reviewsA short Demyx p.o.v. piece, set just before Hollow Bastion. ...Spoilers, you might say.
3Moving
premonitions.
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He put his things away more carefully than usual. He had his marching orders, could still hear the Superior's crushed velvet voice echoing in his head, and yet... And yet. He had met Roxas -- it was Roxas, he could see him glowering out of the angry blue eyes of the unknowing stranger -- once and survived. (Tell yourself the truth, Demyx: had met him and run away, mission only loosely called complete, too frightened of the red shining blur that had nearly chopped him to bits.) He wasn't certain that he could survive a second meeting.
He folded a piece of sheet music, stolen from an unwary Muse in the Coliseum, making certain that it was properly tucked in its sleeve before laying it gently into the drawer. He had a strange feeling about this mission. When he closed his eyes, he could visualize nothing so clearly as a glinting metal blade readying for a fatal thrust, a paralyzing premonition that made his hands shake in fear.
Was he being set up for failure this time, after his previous dismal performance? Did it matter? He held no power within the Organization; all he could do was choose the manner of his disposal -- either at the hands of the Superior, bent and twisted into one of his own Dancers or one of the sad little Dusks, or at the hands of Roxas, beaten and brutalized by the flashing Keyblade.
Better a bang than a whimper, he thought. Better to look Roxas in the eye and smile, full of memories of this place, of the white walls and the thrones and knowing that I was better than /something/.
"I wasn't just any nobody, I was someone's Nobody." His voice startled him a little, as much for the strangled note of untenable tears as the sheer sound of it in the silence.
He put his things away very carefully, knowing without wanting to know that he would not see them again, and wanting, without knowing what he wanted, to think that whoever tore apart his room, whether they cared about him or not, would see how neatly it had been kept and remember him.
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He put his things away more carefully than usual. He had his marching orders, could still hear the Superior's crushed velvet voice echoing in his head, and yet... And yet. He had met Roxas -- it was Roxas, he could see him glowering out of the angry blue eyes of the unknowing stranger -- once and survived. (Tell yourself the truth, Demyx: had met him and run away, mission only loosely called complete, too frightened of the red shining blur that had nearly chopped him to bits.) He wasn't certain that he could survive a second meeting.
He folded a piece of sheet music, stolen from an unwary Muse in the Coliseum, making certain that it was properly tucked in its sleeve before laying it gently into the drawer. He had a strange feeling about this mission. When he closed his eyes, he could visualize nothing so clearly as a glinting metal blade readying for a fatal thrust, a paralyzing premonition that made his hands shake in fear.
Was he being set up for failure this time, after his previous dismal performance? Did it matter? He held no power within the Organization; all he could do was choose the manner of his disposal -- either at the hands of the Superior, bent and twisted into one of his own Dancers or one of the sad little Dusks, or at the hands of Roxas, beaten and brutalized by the flashing Keyblade.
Better a bang than a whimper, he thought. Better to look Roxas in the eye and smile, full of memories of this place, of the white walls and the thrones and knowing that I was better than /something/.
"I wasn't just any nobody, I was someone's Nobody." His voice startled him a little, as much for the strangled note of untenable tears as the sheer sound of it in the silence.
He put his things away very carefully, knowing without wanting to know that he would not see them again, and wanting, without knowing what he wanted, to think that whoever tore apart his room, whether they cared about him or not, would see how neatly it had been kept and remember him.
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