Moonlight cascaded downwards into the rippling water, dancing in woeful flickers of radiance as a billowing cloud overtook the gray sky, partially shielding the luminous orb from sight. A warm summer breeze materialized against the dark waves and waltzed softly through the winding trees, taking a partner here and there as the oaks and willows bent to her will. Limbs creaked painfully and leaves fell in agony to the merciless ground below as the wind forced the foliage to twist and contort as her dance quickened. She threaded her way through the groaning forest, moving aimlessly across the land. Finally, with one last exert of energy, she burst from the tree line to crash soundlessly against the lake she had been born from. A whisper of relief fell from the exhausted trees, and they stilled themselves in the thickening air, beholding a curious sight that had gone unnoticed in the wind's appearance.
A young man cloaked in trailing black stood at the edge of the ebbing tide, melting against the shadowed sky. His soft blue eyes trailed slowly over the shimmering water, watching the moon's reflection waver. He stepped forward gently into the path of an oncoming wave and smiled as the water obeyed his silent command and washed easily onto either side of his feet, leaving his rustling cloak dry and untouched. The strange master of water raised his head to stare at the silvery threads of light tickling the expansive lake, reminding him miserably of a similar curtain of silver hair that had brushed against his bare chest so often in past nights.
"Zexion," he breathed softly, touching a single gloved finger to his cheek as if expecting to feel another hand caressing his face gently. "Why?" he murmured into the bitter air. "If I have no heart, why does this hurt so much?" The gut-wrenching pain he had felt rip through his body the night Axel had returned from Castle Oblivion alone had only seemed to worsen as the days sailed by. The boy growled softly, thinking of the fiery antagonist. He had seemed almost gleeful in reporting the news of Zexion's demise, his light tone devouring the frozen breath that had caught in the musician's throat. It just wasn't fair. Zexion was not supposed to die. It had seemed impossible that his vivid blue eyes and icy disposition could ever vanish from sight. But they did. The heavy whispers against his ears, echoing through the night, had appeared as steadfast and infallible as the setting sun. But they weren't.
A sorrowed sigh escaped his lips as he gazed blankly into the bleak horizon. How long would this unbearable ache plague his shattered soul? Forever, it seemed. Even music, his one last unbridled joy, held such lackluster dullness in its notes. Holding out a shaking arm, the musician focused his thoughts and, forcibly, a dusty sitar materialized from the shadows to rest in his hand. He felt the smooth exterior of the unique instrument and a sad smile flickered over his face as he thought fondly of the song he had written for Zexion, shortly before his death.
"You never got to hear it…" he whispered, eyes watering shamelessly. A single gloved finger plucked one precious chord, then another, and another, until a steady rhythm sliced effectively through the stilling atmosphere above. A clap of thunder resounded, preceded by a brilliant flash of light and succeeded by a sullen drizzle. The grateful musician felt the rain streak his face, hiding the tears that now flowed freely across his cheeks. He turned his eyes towards the fractured heavens above and opened his mouth to release the song that now resided in the empty space that should have been occupied by his heart.
"Speak soft in sultry rhymes.
In azure swirls and silver skies.
In starlit clouds where we can fly
unheedingly in dreams of mine.
Sing low in your balmy sighs.
In vanquished fears and forgotten lies.
In gusty fields where we espy
falling hearts and fireflies.
Listen close to fear denied.
To gentle smiles and joyful cries.
To the schemes longingly devised
when the warm wind hums
your lullabies."
I hadn't quite planned on this story being that sullen and gloomy but I guess it just evolved into that. I do plan on doing a cheerier Zemyx fic (where Zexion is still alive, yay! gotta love Zexy ) so that should balance this out in terms of doom and despair. Also, the song Demyx sings is something I wrote (as a poem, which is why it doesn't have that song rhythm to it) so just giving you a heads up on that one. Reviewers would be much appreciated. Thanks!