Demyx has been many things, but never an innocent.
Once, Demyx was human and mortal, and in those days the name he used was Edym and it was a good, servicable name (even if people did keep trying to call him Eddy) and he was just another worker, lean and strong. He had not been a gentle man, but he had been kind in his own gruff way, and he had been clever-- but most of all Edym had luck, but he lost his luck along with his name the night Edym became Myde. Changers, he'd learned when he'd woken, were seductive and tricky and now he was one of them.
Once, Demyx was a Changer and strong, and in those days those who called him by name used Myde, but most just called him the Singer. It was a short, sharp name for a tall, sharp-edged man, one who was less than ever gentle and kind only when the mood took him. He was fickle and charming and sweet, and it was then he learned to play the sitar, beneath the light of the twin moons. It was then he played the flute and the tambourine, and it was said that those who heard his music could not help but dance. He was wild and he was dangerous-- and most of all Myde had dreams, but he lost his dreams along with his name the night that Myde became Demyx. Nobodies, he'd learned when he'd woken, were careless and cruel and now he was one of them.
Once, Demyx was a nobody and didn't know what that meant, only that he couldn't bring himself to care. They called him Demyx now, a new name that seemed little different than any he'd had before, and the sitar felt dead in his hands because it's music was gone. His music was gone, and it was like being human again without even the comfort of luck or dreams. He was strange and feirce and dangerous, and no one could imagine ever calling him gentle or ever calling him kind. His smile was still the crescent-edge of his Changer self, his hands were still broad and strong as his human self, and his chest was as empty inside as neither had ever been. Then Demyx met Zexion, and his world began to spin. Zexion was like no one he'd ever met- short and sharp edged and far more gentle than kind. For a time Demyx drew close to him, and he was fragile for the first time in his life-- but most of all Demyx had sorrow, but he lost his sorrow along with his name the night Zexion called him"love" instead of Demyx. Lovers, he'd learned when he'd woken, were sweeter and stronger than luck or dreams, and now he was one of them.
