14. Let the Pieces Fall
From this new perspective, the world certainly seemed different. Everything looked bigger, of course, but that was mainly because he'd lost a good portion of his height. Then there was that complete lack of feeling, which he expected and was already used to, but even those faint memories of feelings were gone. So no more "emotion imprints," as he'd come to know them as. It appeared he still had enough of a mind to realize all this and recognize the environment he was in, at least. He should, seeing as he'd spent a good piece of his nonexistence living there. Kingdom Hearts held much more appeal now, though; shining down like another being. A higher, god-like being that could grant his deepest desire. But what was that again?
There was a Heartless behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know this. It was simply a plain fact. He shuddered and the next thing he knew the Shadow was nothing more than a dark cloud, drifting skyward before vanishing altogether. He didn't know if he killed it or not. He hadn't made a conscious effort to attack or even move, for that matter. Perhaps he'd acted on something of pure instinct, but still. This was getting to be more and more uncanny every minute, like his life had suddenly become a big, Vexen-style behavioural experiment.
He was dimly aware of more creatures approaching but some other instinct told him not to act with hostility. Turning to see what they were, he discovered that the five strange beings looked just like him. And he could tell the other beings had something to do, some kind of purpose given to them. Perhaps following these lost people would help him…maybe. More assistance for their task couldn't hurt, after all, and they accepted him, letting the newcomer walk along with them. As they traversed the dark streets packed together in a tight little group, he came to the conclusion that nothing but this held any importance at all. He could simply forget those scraps of memories from his past life-lives, actually-and be free from thinking. Guided by an unseen commander, he would follow orders. Nothing else. Anyone was better than him, really. It didn't matter who was in charge as long as they were and he obeyed. Only obedient Nobodies get another chance at being whole once again. That was what something told him. And now he would get rid of the Heartless threatening them, like a good little soldier.
OOO
It was a bit of a surprise to find Larxene in the infirmary standing over Nine, sprawled across his bed with his arms covering his face. For a second, since he appeared so still, Axel thought the Savage Nymph had gone and killed the poor guy in his sleep. But then he decided that the notion was ridiculous, remembering how Nobodies just disappear on such occasions. A closer look revealed that Demyx was, in fact, shaking a little, a sure sign of life. And the reason: Larxene's kunai. Axel sighed dramatically before sauntering up behind her and giving a good, hard poke with his finger in between the shoulder blades. The unexpected move, having not noticed him enter, resulted in a rare treat, which was her unique "Larxene yelp." Works every time, he thought, grinning. Larxene's head whipped around to glare at him, who only cocked a brow in response.
For them, this sort of an exchange was practically giddy. Number XII appeared to be in a favourable-enough mood, so of course Axel had to see how far he could push her. Without another moment's hesitation, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in, breathing in the wondrous scent of her hair. Grip tight, he took her with him in a free fall onto the cot behind them. She tried to scratch Axel with the kunai still out and ready as they collapsed, but his playful tickling threw off her flailing strikes. The Flurry of Dancing Flames got shocked at least fifteen different times before finally Larxene gave up on that and launched her elbow into his gut. Proving that sometimes the simpler method pays off better, Axel was forced to let her go as a pained "oof" escaped him. Twelve rolled off Eight, then pushed herself up from the bed and stared at him a little incredulously. That look turned to one of mild disappointment a second later as she watched him sit up and rub his stomach.
"Damn," she cursed under her breath. "Aimed too high."
Demyx sat up on the edge of his bed and openly gawked at both of them, figuring the circumstances warranted such forthrightness. Later he would realize that Axel and Larxene had honoured him with a display like that, one they called affection seeing as neither of them were injured (even if that had happened, it would have just been referred to as "playing"), showing their trust of understanding in him by doing so. At the moment, however, that trust was a little off as he just thought it was weird. Only Axel could've gotten away with that. And as he considered this, there they were, talking in calm tones like they always did on a casual basis. While waiting for the two of them to remember that he was still there, the Melodious Nocturne look down and examined his leg, realizing for the first time that his cast had somehow been removed. Well, it wasn't coincidence that there were scraps of white cloth littering the floor near his boots, but it was still curious.
"Hey, Demyx." He cocked his head to show his attention. "Larxy took care of your cast?"
"…Yeah, I guess so," Demyx said, still trying to piece things together in his mind. It had all happened so fast that it was pretty much a blur before he saw those kunai and his entire nonexistence flashed before his eyes. Not a very fulfilling life, now that he thought about it. But he also recalled that he'd been in a peaceful slumber when Larxene came in and when she'd roused Number IX due to lack of caring, he had shrieked rather needlessly. The rest he didn't see since his arms were in the way. "She came at me with those knives!" he exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at her. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
"Larxy…" Number VIII said with mock admonishment.
"What'd you do that for? Er…not that I'm not…grateful, or anything…?" he added unsurely at the look Larxene gave him.
"Well, you wouldn't be any good to me here, would you?" He shrugged. That was true enough. Axel narrowed his eyes at her.
"You know something, don't you? Come on, out with it."
"Are you completely blind or just completely stupid?" she demanded.
"I'd say I'm completely handsome." He punctuated that statement with a raise of his eyebrows. Demyx made a face and Larxene blinked several times. "…Anyway…yeah…"
Of course Axel still had questions on his mind, but since he'd inadvertently made a fool of himself, they'd have to wait. Yet he couldn't repress the sense of suspicion he now had towards the Savage Nymph. That was something he knew he didn't like, heart or no heart, not one bit. It eased though in a way when she gently tugged on a strand of his hair while Demyx wasn't paying attention to them, gazing instead at his leg again. After all, it was the universal sign to tell someone not to worry so much. When the person has hair as defined and tuggable as Axel's, at least. Larxene took her hand away a second later and Demyx glanced their way from the movement just beyond his sight. Number VIII scratched behind his ear in an odd, dog-like fashion then made a point to sound apathetic while reviving the conversation.
"So what, now that cast's off you got nothing better to do than hang around here?" Nonchalant, he waved a hand to indicate the drab room. It was apparent that the only spot of colour took the form of a few roses in a nearby vase set on the end table. Somehow it seemed appropriate that they were wilting—ironic, too.
The Melodious Nocturne stood up, eyes downcast, and did a sort of awkward dance from foot to foot as he debated whether or not to voice a question on his mind. It also did a fair job in judging that his leg was strong again. While he did that, Axel, in an attempt to attract Twelve's attention, threw himself back from the edge of the bed and kicked his legs up. Transferring all weight to his hands, planted a bit awkwardly under him, pressing down on the mattress, he swung his legs up the rest of the way, paused in that perfect vertical position for a second, then finished by letting his legs drift backward from his body just a tad in anticipation of the final, most impressive part. With a strong push with his arms, the Flurry of Dancing Flames propelled himself off the bed and after turning a quick back flip in midair landed on both booted feet. Such an impact resulted in a satisfying bang on the tiled floor, all occurring mere seconds after Axel had decided to go about performing his little stunt. Naturally, Demyx's slow, wide-eyed nod accompanied his glove-muffled applause and Axel nodded back in appreciation. Turning to Larxene, he raised an eyebrow. Knowing all too well what that meant, she smothered a yawn and gave a small shrug of her shoulders.
"Not bad. But the back flip was excessive."
"Aw, you're cheering on the inside, Larxy."
Grinning at his fellow Organizers, Eight folded his arms behind his head. Demyx wore a big, toothy smile of his own and Number XII rolled her eyes at the pair of them. Yet in a way Axel was right. She smiled on the inside, deep down within herself, in the darkest part of her being where no one could possibly sense it. Well, except him maybe, who was creeping closer to her with one of those ridiculous smirks printed on his face. A good sucker punch to the stomach wiped it off pretty well, though.
"Say, what happened to the Sorcerers around here?" Axel asked, again finding himself rubbing the place wherein the Savage Nymph hit him. Number IX cast a knowing look toward her, then appeared to become intent on studying the ceiling overhead. Arms crossed, Larxene started tapping her foot rather impatiently. "Geez, sorry I asked," he muttered at length.
"All right, I've wasted my time here long enough," she announced finally. Abandoning her previous stance, she dropped her arms and headed for the door.
"H-Hey, Larxene…?" Demyx appealed hastily.
"What?"
"You haven't seen Risk around, have you?" She stopped, tilted her head in thought, then shrugged.
"No." If Larxene ever managed to sound innocent and be convincing about it, that was the time.
"Oh." He slumped noticeably for a minute. "Axel…can we get ice cream?" The way he asked that of the Flurry of Dancing Flames, it really hit him that those two were rubbing off on each other. Smiles revived, he clapped the Melodious Nocturne hard on the back.
"Sure thing, water boy. Larx--join us?" She spared them a shallow laugh.
"Not in this lifetime."
"Oh, that's too bad, 'cause there's all this chocolate in the cabinet above the fridge and I don't know what to do with it. Damn shame it'll all have to go to waste…" They watched as Larxene experienced a literal three second freeze at the word "chocolate." As she began a slow, deliberate turn to face them, Axel reached down the front of his cloak and retrieved a small key set on a ring by itself. He jangled it at her in a taunting way. Expression almost trance-like, she made a grab for the key and Eight closed his fist around it. "Not so fast," he chided.
"...Damn it, fine. Let's just go!" she snapped. With that Larxene turned and stormed out of the room.
"Hope you don't mind," Axel said to Nine. He shrugged and made a little "eh" noise to let his fellow Organizer know he didn't.
"The more the merrier," he quoted as the door slammed in Number XII's wake.
They met up again in the corridor leading off from the infirmary where she'd chosen a good place to glare at her colleagues as they caught up. Axel, of course, just grinned back like the Cheshire cat, while Demyx shuffled his feet and otherwise looked uncomfortable in the exchange. Soon, however, they were interrupted by a portal coming out next to them and making Number IX jump slightly. It deposited a rather sullen figure, then vanished as if it had never been there. Lexaeus always looked like this, but something in his countenance made everyone go quiet.
OOO
Marluxia sighed as he sank gratefully into the soft armchair placed in his room, a glass of fine red wine cradled in one hand. Some of the Organizers poked fun at his high class habits, indulging on quality drink being the case in point, calling such things "pansy-like." He just didn't get it. Taking a sip from the glass, he put his feet on the upturned wicker wastebasket opposite him and took a moment to really savour the wine's taste. It was marvelous. Why anyone would drink that dreadful beer brew, known courteously as a drink (not so much so as pony piss), when such other fine beverages like this were available was beyond him. The Graceful Assassin swallowed and reached for his stereo's remote on the small glass end table to his left. While one hand fumbled with those blasted little buttons, he brought the wine glass to his lips again, anticipating the pleasure of another subtle taste. However, since his attention was divider between two tasks, it was inevitable that he failed both.
Toying with those difficult controls, he tilted the glass back farther than he'd intended and spilled a great amount on the front of his cloak. What Marluxia did manage to get in his mouth went down the wrong way, promptly making him choke. He jumped up, knocking the makeshift footstool to its side in the process. He pounded himself on the chest with his fist but the only good that did was cause an ache there. Finally he recovered from the bouts of coughing and looked down at the great dark stain now adorning his tailored Organization outfit with an understandable sense of displeasure. A frown on his once relaxed face, Marluxia put the near-empty wine glass down.
"Peachy," he declared as he moved towards the small bathroom adjoining his private quarters. "Just peachy."
After cleaning up as best as he could, the Graceful Assassin dragged himself back to the armchair and collapsed into it. The lighting he'd set up to make it appear like there was actual sunlight streaming in through the window now seemed rather inappropriate. He reached for the cord feeding the bulbs power and gave a good yank on it. Letting it fall to the floor, Marluxia paused in thought for a moment. Wasn't there something else also being powered by that cord? No, he told himself, that was ridiculous.
He sat there in the dark for awhile. There was a sense of hopelessness in the room and only a fool, or Xigbar perhaps, wouldn't know why. Maybe all of this was for nothing. A waste, all loss and no gain. Was anyone profiting from this, and if so, who? That was all he wanted to know. Marluxia's chin rested on his closed fist and he shut his eyes from a resurfacing painful memory. Everything had to be complicated. But he'd be damned if the rest of that fine wine wasn't enjoyed. He clapped twice and the ceiling lamp flickered on as he poured himself another glass. After the first sip, he set down his glass and picked up the remote for the stereo again.
"Let's try this again, shall we?" Eleven muttered. With more luck than before, thankfully, he identified the correct button and smashed the silly thing in with his thumb, using more force than necessary. There was a tense pause as nothing seemed to happen. For a second he considered that troubling possibility that it had no batteries and therefore rendered his efforts useless. Then came an audible click, followed by, at long last, the gentle opening of "Bohemian Rhapsody" through the speakers. Marluxia sighed and leaned back comfortably in his armchair, taking the glass of wine in hand again.
This was the life for him. Just some time alone, a good bottle and a little bit of what he considered elegant music. No one really understood the Graceful Assassin and his unusual tastes for these kinds of things and flowers, but he didn't expect them to. He went for the finer things, after all. He was high class and so it was only a matter of time before he clashed with the others and found that his time was better spent with just himself. They were jealous of him, or so Number XI kept telling himself. They couldn't appreciate a good quality wine, discuss the plots of novels or realize the excellence in a true song—not even the so-called Melodious Nocturne. Well, Larxene was an exception for the first two, but whenever he'd try to bring up Queen around her, he got this look. He didn't know what it was supposed to mean, but it was safe to assume it wasn't anything meant complimentary. Then there was the matter of the flowers. Oh, how he loathed their teasing when petals fell all around in his presence. It wasn't his fault. Well, all right, so it was, but that was no reason to begin mocking a person. Besides, they made the place smell a little better.
Relaxing like this always got him thinking, and while he did so it often distracted him from noticing things. Thus when a Dusk appeared right next to him and pulled on his wrist, he could've had a heart attack. Circumstances preventing such an occurrence, he turned on the small Nobody indignantly and was about to demand a reason for the intrusion when he saw the portal open. It lingered there for a moment longer than usual before out stumbled a figure not much larger than the Dusk. They collapsed to hands and knees as the dark corridor faltered and collapsed, trembling from the weight of their own body. Finally they gave in and just dropped to the floor, out cold.
Ah, writing for Marluxia is ever so much fun. I mean, here we have a character who wields a scythe, has petals literally falling off him in many cut scenes and has pinkish hair. He could very well be gay (not that there's anything wrong with that) but at the same time he's the epitome of male elegance. Or...something like that.
I do agree with his stand on Queen, though. Rest assured that though in connection to Marluxia, the band is mentioned with my utmost respects. "Killer Queen" remains one of my personal favourites :)
Anyway, anyone who reviews is just plain awesome.