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“Who were you before all this?”
The question’s asked flippantly, like it were no heavier than asking the time or what one thought of the current weather. The recipient can’t help but bark out a laugh before looking up at the other man with a lopsided and frankly goofy grin.
“Woah! Talk about coming in hot! Castle Oblivion go that bad?”
Axel lets out a strained huff as he leans up against the railing of the steely cold little balcony. His coworker and subject of his sudden little interrogation lazes on the railing—sat back, relaxed, and with one leg dangling off the side and swinging without a care. But, admittedly, it’s that ever present laid-back attitude that drew Axel to this part of the castle anyways. There’s still a lot simmering in his mind and, whether he likes to admit it or not, a tightness in his chest that won’t leave. Tension. And one that hasn’t left him yet despite himself.
And hell. If anyone seemingly knew how to relax in spite of hell raining down around them, it was Demyx.
“You heard the reports—I know you did. Everybody wiped out by our little hero.” Axel mumbles and Demyx huffs.
“Well yeah I know that! But that doesn’t answer my question!”
Axel snorts, “You don’t think losing half of our damn roster counts as something going bad?”
Demyx makes a face at that which quickly shifts into a sort of pout. At the very least it gets a laugh out of Axel. The nonchalant man shrugs and pushes ahead anyways.
“Well—! I dunno! You’re just the type that—...” He trails off aimlessly, not really seeming to have his thoughts together. Or, maybe more aptly, deciding whether they’re even worth voicing. Ultimately, he seems to decide against it as he just shrugs and bats the thought away with a flick of his hand.
“What?” Axel laughs, “You typecasting me now?”
“Oh c’mon! Like you don’t do the same!” He says with a grin and Axel just huffs. He wants to argue, but he supposes that, for the most part, he’s got a pretty shallow view of most of his coworkers. Save for a few exceptions, the images of the rest never really seem to expand unless absolutely necessary—and even then, it hardly leads to enough that paints them in any more depth. Marluxia was a fool who thought he could pull off a successful coup with Larxene right in tow. Vexen was ultimately a spineless leaker. Lexaus hardly amounted to more than muscle, and Zexion… Well, admittedly he laments the loss of him the most. He had potential and quite the intellect, though that of course could be dangerous in and of itself. But he lacked the ego of someone like Marluxia. Perhaps he could’ve been redirected—no way to know now, though.
That leaves his remaining coworkers. What did he think of them? Simultaneously he thought too much and too little of them all. Especially since getting back from the Castle, he can’t help but keep an extra strenuous eye on them. Ready to catch even the most innocuous oddities. He has to remind himself sometimes that, at least initially, they were all taken onboard for a dedicated reason. And not only that, but in their previous lives, they were strong enough to emerge as the capable Nobodies they are.
Even the dope-ish Nobody hanging out on this balcony with him. And that brings him back to his initial question.
“So, you gonna keep avoiding my original question or nah?” Axel asks with a casual hum as he hoists himself to sit atop the freezing metal rail for himself.
“Hmmm… Which one was that?” Demyx asks, tone all sing-song and innocent. It makes him scoff.
“You. Where’d you up and appear from again?”
“Ohhh that one again.” Demyx sighs at that and gives him nothing more than a listless shrug, “I’ve told you before, man! My time before here’s a total blank! All I’ve got is running into Xiggy all sketchy-like and then, boom, I’m with the Org!”
Axel can’t help but frown at that.
“What? What’s with the look?” Demyx asks and he meets the man’s gaze. Green eyes lock with those sharp blues and he does part of what he does best and tries reading for anything in between the lines.
The fact of the matter is that there’s no way it was happenstance that they picked up Demyx. Sure, himself and Isa likely weren’t intended to wind up in this godforsaken little cult club of a dayjob—half of the Radiant Garden crew were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But for the members after? Oh no. They were sought out and searched for. Scoped for potential by the upper brass—seemingly a collaboration between Xigbar and Xemnas.
And who was the very first unlucky fellow they picked up for their lucky number nine? Demyx. Their plucky little musician who has somehow seemingly amounted to nothing. A thorn in Saix’s side for years now, amongst others. And yet, he somehow determined that keeping him here would be better than sending him off to Castle Oblivion. He supposes he hasn’t particularly been getting in anyone’s way, but the argument could be made that deadweight is an obstacle in itself. And if Demyx could be described as anything, it’s deadweight. Hell, the man’s been the laughing stock of their little group for years now. He just can’t figure out if the upper brass is that desperate for extra hands or if there’s something he’s been missing. Something that’s just been flying under his radar. There’s always been an odd air about the man, but never one he can put his finger on.
As he scans Demyx’s expression, all he’s met with is an equally calm pokerface. Utterly relaxed and neutral, much like his own. It gives him nothing. Two options, really: He’s either an incredibly uncanny actor or he truly just has nothing to hide. Not a thing going on past the most surface level of buffoonery. A true Nobody.
And yet, that smile of his and aversion of his eyes just seems to come at the most opportune moment. Right before they crossed into the threshold of holding that eye contact being seen as out of character for him. And he laughs, a small chuckle as he swipes some unruly hair back into their proper places. A simple little act that readily disarms any suspicion.
“Man! You really did get wound up tight in there! Sorry to disappoint, man, but I don’t really have anything more to tell ya! If I wind up remembering anythin’ though I’ll shoot the shit with you about it. I doubt it’d be any skin offa my back.” He hums with a shrug and Axel just huffs with a small smirk. He crosses his arms and shakes his head at that.
There’s a word for it. Precise. It’s almost like all of his movements, expressions, hell even the way he chooses to breathe are precise—calculated. He knows a thing or two about putting on a facade—he plays the game and knows it well. Perhaps he’s just reading too far into his comrade, but maybe—just maybe—that’s where the odd air comes from. Like something is never quite right.
“You sure about that, Demyx?” He asks, voice silky smooth, a habit he falls into easily when pushing for questions. A taunting little lilt to his voice. His coworker—friend? He isn’t even sure what to call him—tilts his head a little and scrunches up his nose and eyes in puppydog-like confusion. He doesn’t allow him to answer though as he swings his legs around to the outside of the railing, staring out at the flickering stars and foreboding heart-shaped moon, “You know… I just can’t seem to figure something out…”
“Uh-huh. And what’s that?” His voice is flat, uninterested or unamused. Maybe unaffected is the better word for his situation.
“Strategically, it wouldn’t do for the superiors to just have me rip Sora from the board. He’s too important to too many things right now. So then… That leaves the question of why, exactly, did they send a second assassin off to the Castle when I could’ve been far more useful in the field?”
He glances at Demyx out of the corner of his eye and the man just sorta shrugs, not even seeming to bother with the little thought experiment he’s laid out. Axel smirks and reaches over to shove his propped up leg a little.
“Oh c’mon! You gotta have something rattling around that head of yours! I know you’ve got at least a little more clicking together up there.”
Demyx huffs with an easy smile, “I dunno man, I don’t think I’m ending up where you want me to. What would Scarface and the Superior gain from losing half our numbers? They already fought tooth and nail to get fourteen people here. Not exactly a smart move, even if it did take out a lot of the annoying ones.”
“So you agree then—they were problematic.”
“I didn’t say that. Being annoying ain’t a crime. Marly, Larxene, and Lex were all suuuuuper capable and Vexen and Zexion were total brainiacs! Not exactly the type of people that’d be smart to kick out without good reason.”
“And yet, I still got stationed out there.”
Demyx smiles and toes his side, “Maybe you ticked them off.”
“Oh so I tick them off and get sent out but you, everlasting annoyance to our resident werewolf, don’t? That’s just unfair, Dem!”
Demyx holds his gaze on him for a second after that. Axel meets it and waits for the reaction he knows is coming. It comes with a huff, click of the tongue, and a lopsided smirk.
“Ohhhhh, so that’s what this is about! I getcha!” He hums.
“Do you?” He asks, a challenging little lilt to his voice. Demyx crosses his arms as he somehow sags even further back against the wall—loosening up and letting go of tension Axel hadn’t even registered him holding. It’s the opposite reaction to what he’s used to, but something nonetheless.
“Okay, I’ll bite, whatcha got, Red?”
“We took you on first and foremost after me. Yet you barely scrape by with the bare minimum in everything. You’re ignorant. You’re shoddy. You’re unreliable. You seemingly bring nothing to the table except an extra pair of hands that you don’t even contribute. You are everything that the upper brass should loathe in a member. Dead in the water. Holding the rest of us back with your incompetence. And yet… Here you sit. Untouched and unbothered by a thing. Not even by the sudden deaths of half of your compatriots here. They took a chance on losing Vexen, Zexion, and Lexaus—but not you. I just can’t make sense of it. Can you?”
He smiles with the question, words poised like daggers ready to strike. But instead of squirming under his words and suggestion, Demyx doesn’t so much as flinch. He expected that on some level, and yet seeing it is still odd in a way. The idea of Demyx in his head is an avoidant coward who’ll jump and whine at the slightest inconvenience or accusation. But the reality is that, at least on some level, he was ready for this indifference. This matching of his own energy. It’s probably cocky to say that he’s earned the trust to see something different, but perhaps he’s not so far off. All he does is mirror Axel’s own dangerous little smile, though he bears it with an all too calm air. Like he’s completely in control.
“Man, you keep talking like that and you might just hurt my feelings, Axel!” He hums, that same sing-song tone as always, “I dunno what to tell you.”
“You could be straight with me. For once.” He says, smile dropping into a gaze far more serious as he settles it back on Demyx. He’s not sure what he would call his dynamic with the man, but… Hell, before Roxas and Xion came along, he’s probably the closest thing he could call a friend in a place like this. Saix was… Complicated. And before the two newbies came along, he'd be lying if he said he didn’t feel some sort of kinship with the oddball. Could never easily place a finger on why, but perhaps this had something to do with it. They both know how to hide their hands.
But, be it his tone or his look, that at least seems to strike something in him. Demyx drops his own smarmy look and averts his gaze to look out at the stars.
“First impressions are everything, y’know.”
Axel eyes him curiously.
“If you want people to look at you a certain way, all you gotta do is come out of the gate strong, set the expectations. Then boom, you’re locked in. Any deviation from that will be no more than a fluke for better or for worse. As long as you maintain it a little.” He shrugs, “Doesn’t take much once you know how to play it. And it makes things easily forgotten if you lowball yourself.”
“What do you mean…?”
“I mean I could tell you with my full chest that I’m, like, a keyblade master or something and you wouldn’t believe me. Because why would you? I’ve never given you reason to. It’s like the boy who cried wolf.” He smiles again, but there’s a bitterness that taints it, “You can fly under anyone’s radar if you know how to play the game—especially if you ride into their ego. And it’s not even that hard. Once someone thinks they know you, you’ve won.”
“… Do you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“Being truly known. Truly seen by others.”
“… Can’t mourn something you never had, Axel.” He huffs, “Gotta know yourself before even getting that far. But, hey, when it happens I’ll hit you up. Sound fair?”
He nods, slowly and quietly. But one more question rears its head. Simple and sweet.
“Why?”
“Huh? Why what?”
“Why set yourself up like that?” Axel asks, voice coming out more genuine than even he was anticipating. Demyx’s brows furrow slightly and Axel just shrugs, “I obviously have my reasons to hold my cards close. It’s part of the job description. I have to in order to succeed. Staying at a distance with… everyone is crucial to my success. But not yours. So why let people dog on you like this…?”
Demyx averts his gaze again to stare off at the stars and, oddly enough, Axel has a feeling that he’s rebuilding a wall within himself. It’s disappointing, but not unexpected. He’d probably do the same. Eventually though, the man just offers a halfhearted little shrug.
“Just… Felt safe.”
“Safe?” Axel’s utter confusion is obvious in the tone of his voice, garnering a laugh from his friend. Demyx just offers another shrug and lopsided grin.
“Yeah, yeah, I know how it sounds but I’m serious! It just… It was instinct.” He pauses at that, searching off in the inky blackness draped over the world as if searching for something.
Demyx briefly glances at Axel. He’s considering something. Axel remains serious but as genuine as he can muster. He truly hadn’t come in here with the intent of interrogating him like he’d done with Marluxia of Zexion, it just sort of happened. He was simply curious. He’s not surprised to know the extent of which Demyx is holding out on them—he truly did have some solid skills and a good head on his shoulders, it was just always buried under layers of bumbling incompetency. Intentional incompetence if he’s reading things right. When he speaks again his tone is very neutral—something odd for him. He’s always mimicked a wide array of extreme emotions.
“You can’t be taken advantage of if nobody knows what you can truly do. Can’t be forced into a pawn. Can’t be fully controlled. It keeps an advantage for me if I ever end up in a tight spot and need it.” He pauses again, letting his words settle before looking Axel dead in the eyes, “I could do your job if I wanted to.”
It’s a ludicrous statement. A ludicrous statement said by an even more ridiculous man. And yet, in that moment, seeing deep into those eyes of his—cold and strong like the very water he commands—he doesn’t doubt it for a second. He could. He would, even. If it came to it.
Then he smiles and the suffocating air he carried around him disappears in a snap, like a rubber band breaking under the pressure or a switch being flicked. He eases right back into a calm and casual position with a laugh.
“Not like anybody would ever seriously consider it though! Honestly, talk about a hassle. I’d have to, like, change my whole kit and look and even then people still wouldn’t look at me without giggling. I can’t so much as think of it myself without doing the same!” He says with a little laugh and it manages to get a ghost of a smile out of Axel. Still, it’s incredibly insightful into just how the man operates. How he thinks. And while it answers some of his questions, it unfortunately leaves him far more curious than he’d been before. Not that he’s going to get the satisfaction of having those answers. That’s not how men like him operate. This is probably the best he was ever going to get, and he’ll just have to live with that.
Still, if it means being able to more candidly match wits with someone here without the ever looming risk of the words being used against him, he’ll take it. But as that thought crosses his mind he frowns a little. And, flexing that very skill, Demyx cuts him off before he can so much as get a word out.
“Relax, dude. I know how to mind my business and keep things hush. Besides, it’s like I said before—” He grins as he rests his chin in his palm, “Why the hell would anyone here take my word over yours?”
He wears it like a shining badge of pride.
“Anyone else privy to these fun little facts about yourself?”
“No. I’m sure everyone’s got their own thoughts though, otherwise—like you said—I would’ve been shipped off to Oblivion like the others. Though I’m sure it’s just something to do with untapped potential with the stuff I’ve shown—like my recon skills and such just lacking out of sheer laziness. But I do submit good work, even if it’s a little…” He bobs his head side to side as he thinks of the word and then grins as he finds it, “Obfuscated.”
Axel’s brows shoot up and he hums thoughtfully, “Four whole syllables with that one… If Vexen were here he’d probably keel over in shock.”
Demyx barks out a laugh at that and shoves the man with his heel, “Too soon!”
“Too soon?! Okay Mr. ‘C.O. got K.O.’d’!” He laughs and Demyx grimaces at that.
“Aww, shit, did Roxas tell you about that one?”
“You said that around Roxas?” Axel deadpans and Demyx has to hold himself back from snorting. He cups a hand to his mouth to hide the almost sheepish smile creeping into place. He shakes his head slowly.
“I… I’m gonna have to totally kill Xiggy for that maybe. Shithead!”
“You somehow manage to pull the weirdest friends.”
Demyx quirks a brow, “You including yourself in that? Yeesh, and I thought my self-confidence reeked! Ow—!” He yelps as Axel reaches out to pinch the skin on the side of his neck. He’s shot a dirty look for it but not a serious one. He counts them even with that.
They settle back into what seems like it’ll turn into a comfortable silence but, oddly enough, Axel can’t find himself wanting to retreat into it. There’s something nice about this. He wants to keep learning. But he knows he’s running out of questions and running out of time this’ll be allowed, so he thinks fast and condenses all his questions into one.
“Okay. Your weapon here manifested as a sitar—music is and obviously has been important to you. But what’s your ideal weapon? What feels the most comfortable in your hands?” He asks, the words quick and fiery. It’s assuming he even has a preference. That he’s so much as held an actual weapon to begin with.
Demyx hums for a moment though and he seems to consider his words. That’s promising enough in and of itself. A lot can be gleaned from a person based on what they choose to wield. Their mindset in battle, their approach to offense or defense, their patience. And for what it’s worth, he seems to answer quite frankly and honestly.
“... A katana. I feel comfortable with blades in general, but I was raised to—” He cuts himself off there and Axel latches onto that minor slip of the tongue. Demyx sees that too and can’t help the little laugh and grin, only shrugging past that point.
A katana. Blades in general, but katanas in particular. Up close, personal, and precise. A thin and long blade that takes discipline, practice, dedication, and an eye for observation and pattern-recognition to strike at its full potential. They’re difficult to master to say the very least and can leave their wielders open to plenty of adverse attacks. Confidence speaks for itself.
“I don’t like fighting.” Demyx says, a fact everyone in the castle knows all too well. “But it’s not because I’m no good at it. I’ve just… Seen enough, personally. I’ve got my fill.” He follows up, an enticing little secret that only Axel is now privy to. And oh how he almost hates himself for knowing it—now he has a piece of a puzzle securely in his hands with the rest probably under permanent lock and key. It’s exciting. It’s scary. And it’s frustrating, but he’s not one to push his luck.
Still, he finds himself almost hoping. Thinking ridiculous things, like maybe if they get out of here someday he’ll earn the right to know it all.