Zero:
Vexen, surprisingly, hated math. It was a begrudged necessity in his real passion. He supposed that he wasn't the only masochist in the Organization but sometimes it felt like it.
He strove for reasons, for answers…numbers always seemed to offer him that. Their cold, unchanging, unbiased variables were constantly there for him-- to pester and provoke. In his equations, in his sleep, in the group structure he and the others lived their paradoxal existence.
He was number four. Four of thirteen. Yet, none of that really mattered; any number times zero is zero. Math-- cold, unfeeling, unchanging-- said it all.
Zip:
Many people wondered at her choice of clothes. 'They represent me.' She would say honestly.
Aside from her school outfit and some articles she'd gotten as gifts, she made her clothes herself. Her grandmother had been a seamstress and in honor of her she'd picked it up too. Each finished product better than the last.
"Why in the world did you put so many zippers?" Selphie asked her, bringing her focus away from the machine.
Kairi pursed her lips, not having been aware of the company. "One for each thing that holds me together." She said, faces filling her mind.
Yard:
"What're you looking at?" Larxene asked. She'd found him outside. "The pavement can't be that intriguing." She said with a smirk, waiting for some smartass rejoinder like usual.
Marluxia sighed, shrugging. "That is precisely it." He replied casually. His eyes never left the blank, grey expanse that stretched out floors below them. He'd been there only an hour before she'd found him and all that spent battling irritation. "You want to know what bothers me the most here?"
"What?" Her voice was bored.
"The sheer absence of nature!"
She chuckled, "Of all the things to miss, you miss a yard."
Yawn:
Sleep wasn't cooperating… Again. He sat in his floor meditating. Often it'd made him drowsy in the past. T'was a leftover habit from when he'd taken anger management as a somebody and a thing he did sparingly these days. Saix's eyes were closed and his movement nonexistent as he inhaled for seven counts, held, then exhaled for seven more.
It had to be early morning… Like usual, he was the only one awake. 'One, two, three, fo-' His steady intake carried over and lasted for a shorter going out as a yawn broke his cycle. Now he was getting somewhere.
Yes:
"Master Ansem, is this the proper amount of carbon?"
"No."
"Master Ansem, wouldn't it be prudent to simply reverse polarity?"
"No."
Xehanort had been given the same answer from his teacher on a multitude of occasions. It never worked to make him hate the man. Truthfully, he couldn't admire him more. Every 'no' was a flaw he perceived in himself and he strove always to improve.
Months later--heart tainted by darkness and mad with power-- he loomed over his teacher to ask one last question. "Are you afraid?"
He'd been slightly disappointed, irritated even, that it wasn't the usual 'no.'