Categories > Games > Kingdom Hearts
A holiday 2006 gift for Arel.
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It kinda sucked being the youngest. Well, not youngest, really, but, the youngest to the Organization. Oh, it'd been cool for awhile. Everyone'd kinda been interested because he was new, wanting to come and see him, talk to him, fight with him. He'd been cool with that, and with Xemnas asking him all sorts of questions, and Vexen looking at him like he was some kind of strange new bug. Ok, he hadn't been so cool with the Vexen thing. Vexen was WEIRD, after all. Vexen reminded him of a snake, really, and not in any good ways.
...not that Demyx could really think of any "good ways" to be like a snake....
Anyway.
After everyone satisfied their curiousity about him, his memories, his weapon, and his fighting abilities, though, they wandered off to do their own thing, and things got...boring. Xemnas kept putting Demyx off when Demyx asked to be assigned to do things in the worlds like the others were, saying that Demyx should take it easy, build up his skills, and "sort out his memories". Whatever that meant. Demyx was pretty sure he'd already sorted out every memory he had, and looking back and seeing all the bits and pieces that didn't quite make sense made him want to go DO something to get those feelings back. Which was probably the whole point that Xemnas was trying to make.
In the long hours alone in his room, letting his fingers wander over his sitar, Demyx had to admit--only to himself, and never out loud, because he was pretty sure that Xemnas wouldn't like hearing it--that he wasn't so sure about this whole not having a heart thing. He had to admit that he couldn't remember how things felt. How it had felt the first time he'd taken the stage, how it'd felt that one time the band had totally bombed, how it'd felt when he had first looked up from the microphone and seen the heartless pouring over the walls of the amphitheater, flowing down towards the stage like a black tide.... He knew that he'd felt something, and trying to remember made this little hollow ache in his chest, but...he wasn't so sure if that was because he couldn't feel it or maybe just because he needed to be REMINDED of how it felt....
And, since he was evidently not supposed to be doing anything but remembering right then, Demyx figured that he should go and test this theory.
He picked over his memories, trying to find one that he could probably pull off here in the World That Never Was. A concert was probably out. He could barely get anyone to sit still and listen to him play for more than a few minutes. He uh...was not even going to touch the losing his heart part, for obvious reasons. And going after the icky emotions like despair and hate and all...well, what was the point when he could try something more fun?
A slow smile spread over Demyx's face. Yeah. FUN. And he knew just the guy. Well, probably just the guy. The guy that wouldn't just look at him like he was an idiot, at least. No, if anything this guy'd probably mock him horribly, but hey....
"No guts, no glory," Demyx said, grinning. He let his sitar dissolve into the air as he jumped off his bed and into a portal that conveniently opened beneath his feet.
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He wasn't sure why he liked Axel. Axel certainly wasn't the world's most likeable guy. He was sneaky and sarcastic and manipulative and could be downright MEAN. Demyx guessed that he liked Axel's sense of humor. Axel made jokes about not having hearts all the time. So much that it made Demyx wonder if Axel'd maybe thought of the same thing about their hearts-or-lack-thereof that Demyx had. Not that Demyx would ever ask him, but still. Axel's sense of humor was...well, it at least lightened the place up a bit. Everyone else in the Organization was so SERIOUS. Even Xigbar, who was actually kind of a good guy and would often let Demyx play at him while he cleaned his guns, could be a downright DOWNER on some subjects. Axel, though...Demyx had seen Axel make a crack about them not putting their hearts into it to XEMNAS of all people and walk away whistling. That took guts. Demyx had to admire that.
Demyx also had to admire other things about Axel. Even though he was a little on the skinny side. Demyx had always just kinda gone for the boney type. Besides. With the way Axel fought, his chakram spinning and whirling, it was kind of like dancing. And Demyx REALLY had to admire dancing.
It didn't take Demyx long to find Axel. It never took him long to find Axel, if Axel was in the castle. Demyx wasn't sure why, especially since Axel was the Assassins' master. That sort of implied a talent for staying hidden. But Axel wasn't like that. He was loud and crackling like a bonfire, and Demyx could feel him against his skin, hear him all the way across the building, sometimes even out into the city.
That was where Demyx found him: a bright comet of fire in the plaza in front of Memory's skyscraper, whirling and burning its way through a black hurricane of Heartless that couldn't hope to match him but kept trying anyway.
Maybe THAT was what having a heart was about.
Demyx just watched from a neon-splashed ledge, fascinated as Axel spun and twisted, fire trailing from his chakram and filling the air with the scent of burned shadow. He'd been at it for awhile. Demyx could tell just by the extra hunch to VIII's stance, the jerky stop as he came out of a spin, the dance broken for just a moment before it was taken up again. He flung his hands out to the side, and his weapons flew away, slicing clean orange lines through the ranks of Heartless before returning to him obediently, like a partner swung out and then brought in again.
Demyx's fingers twitched, and his sitar was in his hands before he even noticed. One strummed chord, though, made him realize that he'd need some accompaniment, something more percussive to fully emulate Axel. Some drums, some cymbals, something--
Lightning flashed behind the clouds and buildings, the sky rumbling sullenly.
Oh yeah, something like THAT.
Demyx grinned, raising his hands to the sky, and even though it was The Rain That Didn't Exist or something, it was still water, and he could feel every drop of it. call it, mold it. He plucked at his sitar's strings, a soft, staccato rhythm, and drops turned into long needles, felling Heartless before splashing onto the ground. He re-collected them, pulling waterforms from the ground to dance along the rear ranks of the Neo-Shadows and drown them out one by one, to whirl in a great spiral towards the plaza and its firey sun.
The next-to-last Neo-Shadow fell to a watery rending, the last one was neatly bisected by flaming steel, and suddenly the plaza was quiet, the Heartless for once too wary and wounded to pile back into existence.
Axel looked around, then up, squinting against the rain. His chakram hissed in the downpour, rain turning to steam. "Che. Should have known." He held a chakram over his head to keep the rain off. "All this wet your fault?"
"Hey, man, do I LOOK like I do weather?" Demyx leapt, and a puddle beneath him rose to break his fall before he splashed down onto the pavement with a whirl of outstretched arms. "Can't say I don't like it, though!"
"You would." Wet was obviously not Axel's favorite state. Even his hair was drooping, just a bit. Well, before the flame from his umbrella-chakram dried it out, and it started to pop back up again. He eyed Demyx, and Demyx grinned at him, both of them still holding their weapons.
Demyx leaned his head back, feeling the rain splash over his eyelids. The sky had really opened up, and he could feel the water running down the buildings, through the gutters, over the pavement. Could, if he tried hard, feel the water on Axel's boots, under his feet, running down Axel's coat: a barely-there, Axel-shaped sheen of droplets.
"Something fun," Demyx murmured to himself, taking a step closer, another, another, until he was close enough to feel the heat from Axel's flames, to see the flicker of them in Axel's eyes.
Axel tensed, feet moving into a more defensive stance, half-wary, but not backing away. "What?"
Demyx smiled. "Something fun. I wanted to do something fun." And he reached out, ignoring the heat of the fire and grabbing Axel's coat, pulling himself in, trusting (maybe stupidly) that Axel wouldn't flambe him on his weapons. He leaned in, and Axel's mouth tasted like nothing but also like cinnamon and spice and smoke and flames. Demyx felt it shudder through him, and then Axel leaned in, tongue a hot spear into his mouth, and Demyx wondered if he tasted like rain or seaspray or sweat. He wondered what Axel's sweat--what water pulled even from the firehandler--tasted like. When he pulled away and Axel made a faint, disapproving growl, Demyx thought that he just might get to find out. Good. That was good. That would be fun. And had something to do with hearts, sometimes, but not always, he remembered.
But Axel still had his chakram out, and the rain was still pounding down, making Demyx's edges feel wavery, fluid. Demyx stepped back, and Axel looked at him with that little line of confusion between his eyebrows until Demyx slid his sitar into his hands with a smile. "Want to play, man?"
Axel's answering grin was sharp, pointed, and in the flash of lightning he was almost breathtaking. "You are such a nutjob." The sky rumbled, as if in agreement. Axel flung out his arms, his hands full of spinning fire again. "Sure. Bring it on."
Demyx laughed, and over the first riff of notes, the air exploded into water and fire and steam.
~End
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It kinda sucked being the youngest. Well, not youngest, really, but, the youngest to the Organization. Oh, it'd been cool for awhile. Everyone'd kinda been interested because he was new, wanting to come and see him, talk to him, fight with him. He'd been cool with that, and with Xemnas asking him all sorts of questions, and Vexen looking at him like he was some kind of strange new bug. Ok, he hadn't been so cool with the Vexen thing. Vexen was WEIRD, after all. Vexen reminded him of a snake, really, and not in any good ways.
...not that Demyx could really think of any "good ways" to be like a snake....
Anyway.
After everyone satisfied their curiousity about him, his memories, his weapon, and his fighting abilities, though, they wandered off to do their own thing, and things got...boring. Xemnas kept putting Demyx off when Demyx asked to be assigned to do things in the worlds like the others were, saying that Demyx should take it easy, build up his skills, and "sort out his memories". Whatever that meant. Demyx was pretty sure he'd already sorted out every memory he had, and looking back and seeing all the bits and pieces that didn't quite make sense made him want to go DO something to get those feelings back. Which was probably the whole point that Xemnas was trying to make.
In the long hours alone in his room, letting his fingers wander over his sitar, Demyx had to admit--only to himself, and never out loud, because he was pretty sure that Xemnas wouldn't like hearing it--that he wasn't so sure about this whole not having a heart thing. He had to admit that he couldn't remember how things felt. How it had felt the first time he'd taken the stage, how it'd felt that one time the band had totally bombed, how it'd felt when he had first looked up from the microphone and seen the heartless pouring over the walls of the amphitheater, flowing down towards the stage like a black tide.... He knew that he'd felt something, and trying to remember made this little hollow ache in his chest, but...he wasn't so sure if that was because he couldn't feel it or maybe just because he needed to be REMINDED of how it felt....
And, since he was evidently not supposed to be doing anything but remembering right then, Demyx figured that he should go and test this theory.
He picked over his memories, trying to find one that he could probably pull off here in the World That Never Was. A concert was probably out. He could barely get anyone to sit still and listen to him play for more than a few minutes. He uh...was not even going to touch the losing his heart part, for obvious reasons. And going after the icky emotions like despair and hate and all...well, what was the point when he could try something more fun?
A slow smile spread over Demyx's face. Yeah. FUN. And he knew just the guy. Well, probably just the guy. The guy that wouldn't just look at him like he was an idiot, at least. No, if anything this guy'd probably mock him horribly, but hey....
"No guts, no glory," Demyx said, grinning. He let his sitar dissolve into the air as he jumped off his bed and into a portal that conveniently opened beneath his feet.
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He wasn't sure why he liked Axel. Axel certainly wasn't the world's most likeable guy. He was sneaky and sarcastic and manipulative and could be downright MEAN. Demyx guessed that he liked Axel's sense of humor. Axel made jokes about not having hearts all the time. So much that it made Demyx wonder if Axel'd maybe thought of the same thing about their hearts-or-lack-thereof that Demyx had. Not that Demyx would ever ask him, but still. Axel's sense of humor was...well, it at least lightened the place up a bit. Everyone else in the Organization was so SERIOUS. Even Xigbar, who was actually kind of a good guy and would often let Demyx play at him while he cleaned his guns, could be a downright DOWNER on some subjects. Axel, though...Demyx had seen Axel make a crack about them not putting their hearts into it to XEMNAS of all people and walk away whistling. That took guts. Demyx had to admire that.
Demyx also had to admire other things about Axel. Even though he was a little on the skinny side. Demyx had always just kinda gone for the boney type. Besides. With the way Axel fought, his chakram spinning and whirling, it was kind of like dancing. And Demyx REALLY had to admire dancing.
It didn't take Demyx long to find Axel. It never took him long to find Axel, if Axel was in the castle. Demyx wasn't sure why, especially since Axel was the Assassins' master. That sort of implied a talent for staying hidden. But Axel wasn't like that. He was loud and crackling like a bonfire, and Demyx could feel him against his skin, hear him all the way across the building, sometimes even out into the city.
That was where Demyx found him: a bright comet of fire in the plaza in front of Memory's skyscraper, whirling and burning its way through a black hurricane of Heartless that couldn't hope to match him but kept trying anyway.
Maybe THAT was what having a heart was about.
Demyx just watched from a neon-splashed ledge, fascinated as Axel spun and twisted, fire trailing from his chakram and filling the air with the scent of burned shadow. He'd been at it for awhile. Demyx could tell just by the extra hunch to VIII's stance, the jerky stop as he came out of a spin, the dance broken for just a moment before it was taken up again. He flung his hands out to the side, and his weapons flew away, slicing clean orange lines through the ranks of Heartless before returning to him obediently, like a partner swung out and then brought in again.
Demyx's fingers twitched, and his sitar was in his hands before he even noticed. One strummed chord, though, made him realize that he'd need some accompaniment, something more percussive to fully emulate Axel. Some drums, some cymbals, something--
Lightning flashed behind the clouds and buildings, the sky rumbling sullenly.
Oh yeah, something like THAT.
Demyx grinned, raising his hands to the sky, and even though it was The Rain That Didn't Exist or something, it was still water, and he could feel every drop of it. call it, mold it. He plucked at his sitar's strings, a soft, staccato rhythm, and drops turned into long needles, felling Heartless before splashing onto the ground. He re-collected them, pulling waterforms from the ground to dance along the rear ranks of the Neo-Shadows and drown them out one by one, to whirl in a great spiral towards the plaza and its firey sun.
The next-to-last Neo-Shadow fell to a watery rending, the last one was neatly bisected by flaming steel, and suddenly the plaza was quiet, the Heartless for once too wary and wounded to pile back into existence.
Axel looked around, then up, squinting against the rain. His chakram hissed in the downpour, rain turning to steam. "Che. Should have known." He held a chakram over his head to keep the rain off. "All this wet your fault?"
"Hey, man, do I LOOK like I do weather?" Demyx leapt, and a puddle beneath him rose to break his fall before he splashed down onto the pavement with a whirl of outstretched arms. "Can't say I don't like it, though!"
"You would." Wet was obviously not Axel's favorite state. Even his hair was drooping, just a bit. Well, before the flame from his umbrella-chakram dried it out, and it started to pop back up again. He eyed Demyx, and Demyx grinned at him, both of them still holding their weapons.
Demyx leaned his head back, feeling the rain splash over his eyelids. The sky had really opened up, and he could feel the water running down the buildings, through the gutters, over the pavement. Could, if he tried hard, feel the water on Axel's boots, under his feet, running down Axel's coat: a barely-there, Axel-shaped sheen of droplets.
"Something fun," Demyx murmured to himself, taking a step closer, another, another, until he was close enough to feel the heat from Axel's flames, to see the flicker of them in Axel's eyes.
Axel tensed, feet moving into a more defensive stance, half-wary, but not backing away. "What?"
Demyx smiled. "Something fun. I wanted to do something fun." And he reached out, ignoring the heat of the fire and grabbing Axel's coat, pulling himself in, trusting (maybe stupidly) that Axel wouldn't flambe him on his weapons. He leaned in, and Axel's mouth tasted like nothing but also like cinnamon and spice and smoke and flames. Demyx felt it shudder through him, and then Axel leaned in, tongue a hot spear into his mouth, and Demyx wondered if he tasted like rain or seaspray or sweat. He wondered what Axel's sweat--what water pulled even from the firehandler--tasted like. When he pulled away and Axel made a faint, disapproving growl, Demyx thought that he just might get to find out. Good. That was good. That would be fun. And had something to do with hearts, sometimes, but not always, he remembered.
But Axel still had his chakram out, and the rain was still pounding down, making Demyx's edges feel wavery, fluid. Demyx stepped back, and Axel looked at him with that little line of confusion between his eyebrows until Demyx slid his sitar into his hands with a smile. "Want to play, man?"
Axel's answering grin was sharp, pointed, and in the flash of lightning he was almost breathtaking. "You are such a nutjob." The sky rumbled, as if in agreement. Axel flung out his arms, his hands full of spinning fire again. "Sure. Bring it on."
Demyx laughed, and over the first riff of notes, the air exploded into water and fire and steam.
~End
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