"How come you can be sad when someone dies, even if you didn't like them very much to start out with?" The question could scarcely be heard admist the assorted bangs and clangs of destruction emitting from the space behind him.
"He didn't die, and you aren't sad." More shattering sounds.
"Fine. The illusion of death, then, and the illusion of sadness."
"They're just illusions, so why bother worrying about them? Whoops, did it again, didn't I? Stop bothering with the illusion of worrying about the illusions," replied the elder one with a dark chuckle, striking again at a headstone-like object with the dual chakrams he carried almost perpetually.
"You don't really believe that, Axel."
"Nah, I don't. But it sounds angsty, doesn't it?"
"I don't get how you can laugh at a time like this."
No, of course Roxas didn't understand it. He hadn't been with those at Castle Oblivion when Axel had struck down Vexen in cold blood. Supposedly the blonde-haired, "Chilly Academic" had been in the wrong, had betrayed them in such a way that it was no longer forgiveable, but had Roxas been told anything? Not a chance. He, being not only the youngest but the one with the highest number, wasn't privy to such details. Not even from Axel, whom he was closest with in this tiny world of spiritual remnants.
"So why're you destroying his Proof?"
"Well, he doesn't exist anymore, does he? The room's gotta go. Orders from Xemnas."
"That's ironic," retorted the blonde boy with a bitter laugh. So, when those with hearts were eliminated, they had graves erected, but when those without hearts shifted off the mortal coil, their headstones were destroyed. What a fitting joke, considering the room itself was a defiance of their non-existence. An appropriate funeral service.
"Don't go all philosophical on me," Number Eight warned, glancing over his shoulder, past a veritable mess of red spikes that comprised his hair. "We've already got enough wannabes around here, right?"
"That's funny, coming from you." He managed a half-hearted laugh, if that were at all possible for him. He didn't really have half a heart to spare to such endeavours.
"Most things are," Axel replied with a smirk, stepping back to admire his handiwork on what had been the entrance to Vexen's respective room of the castle. Completely desecrated. The once-proud headstone sprawled in pieces about Number Four's emblem – that shield-like device he'd carried around. The blonde one skirked up to the lower-numbered emblems, a place he generally wasn't welcomed, a frown setting further into his features with the closing distance between them. A crimson red liquid was pouring itself from seemingly nowhere into the formerly-blue background of Vexen's emblem, flushing its way into the water-like shade as blood slithers its way outward among cloth. Roxas resisted the overwhelming urge to gag. Had Vexen's blood pooled in this way? Could Nobodies even bleed?
"Is it supposed to do that?" He gestured a bit hesitantly in the direction of the emblem, pointing out what, as usual, Axel didn't see. Or maybe that was the other way around?
The Flurry of Dancing Flames gave only a jovial shrug, followed by another laugh. Roxas was going to get very sick of that chortling very soon. "Guess this room keeps closer tabs on us than we think. Either that, or I overdid it."
"It's a fitting death for a traitor." Roxas stiffened. Xemnas stood at the entrance to Naught, as they called it, directly in front of the two 'lesser' members. Roxas had come to the conclusion very quickly that there were two categories of beings in this Organization: the Supreme-and-never-to-be-argued-with, or the founding six, and the underlings, which comprised Seven through to Thirteen. Pride was not permitted among the ranks of the underlings, and thus he cast his glance very quickly to the ground, gritting his teeth. He'd never much liked not being allowed an ego.
"Didn't put up much of a fight. Sora'd softened him up before I even got there," muttered Axel with the slightest of shrugs, almost disappointed by the lack of challenge. He'd been expecting a little more out of those crusty old geezers who put themselves so high upon pedestals above the 'commoners'. It seemed wisdom didn't always come with age. "But they're not done there. Not by a long shot."
The silver-haired man in front of them seemed to consider this for a moment. How valuable was half the Organization to him? Vexen was among one of the founding members, and yet had very nearly sent their efforts cascading down upon their shoulders. Surely the others wouldn't take the example given them and smarten up, which only gave way to the question: How essential were four more?
"I leave it to you, Axel." When in doubt, leave it for your subordinates to wrestle with. And he was gone. Back to Naught, assumingly.
A short pause. Axel never really did have the patience for silence.
"Hey, you think he ever just giggles his head off? You know, just gets really happy in his work?" questioned the taller of the two remaining offhandedly, cocking his head a little as if this truly were a matter he puzzled about. Perhaps it was. If he couldn't have emotions, he might as well be afforded silly little musings.
Amidst these silly little musings, however, he hadn't heard the gentle clacking of boots against the sterile grey flooring, away from his back. After a few moments of waiting for a response, he spun around, offended.
"Hey, where are you going?"
The blonde-haired Unknown turned to face the other from in front of his own headstone, The Key of Destiny, blue eyes reflecting the wavering blue glow that wrung itself to and fro beneath his feet, and shook his head.
"A fitting death for a traitor, he says."