This would be where the elements from other video games become quite apparent.

The Mysterious Elixir

Part I

The light swish of a black coat gently echoed throughout the well-lit halls. The garment gave a sharp contrast to its surroundings; a bleak white hallway as the passageway. A soft clink resonated from the silver metal of the zipper, joined the clunk of heavy leather boots against the stone floor. The steps slowed to a stop at the sight of a companion, who regarded him with a nod before addressing him.

"Zexion, are you aware that you were summoned to relay your collected data to the Superior?" the man asked, his wardrobe was identical to that of Zexion's, but this man had long dirty blonde hair and a curt expression. He stood near an oak door with his arms crossed.

"Yes, I was just on my way to make a final analysis of the subject," Zexion explained dully, face neutral beneath his dark hair, "So then," he moved to push Vexen aside, "I'll be on my way . . ."

Vexen grabbed his arm and spoke in a hushed, warning tone, "Miss Aresia seemed very unwell."

"Then it should be documented, if you'll let me go . . ."

"You don't understand, she was very upset and she's just fallen asleep. I just don't believe it would be in her best interests for you to-"

Zexion cut him off with a touch of sarcasm that blended with his usual emotionless drone, "Cause the subject to lose consciousness by 'carefully' preparing a calming drought?"

"That was an honest mistake!" the alchemist shouted suddenly, not receiving as much as a blink from the other in reaction to the outburst.

"Oh, I'm sure you're honest about you carelessness. And what if," Zexion speculated, Vexen started to protest, but Zexion continued with emphasis, "What if what Roxas said was possible. If the subject had slipped into an unresponsive coma, or after the fluid ran icily down its throat and through the veins, chill flowing over the warmth of life and smothering it? What would you do then?"

Vexen, stunned, relaxed his grip on Zexion's coat and then spat, "It was completely improbable, you and I both know that wouldn't happen, VI. Who do you take me for?"

"A false expert, a washed up old man whose seen more disastrous mistakes and pathetic attempts at creating life for yourself," he returned bitterly.

"You know as well as I do what Hell this is," he started darkly, "An empty hollow from which no feeling flows from the void. It is my affliction, yours! Are you genuinely as cold as the frozen mass rooted within your chest?"

Zexion's eyes narrowed, "I am always aware of that knot forever tightening, as I gnaw at myself in inexpressiveness to maintain myself. I do not resolve into being rash. Would you like to see Aresia end up like us to temporarily ease your pain?"

"But I am so close! So close I can see it, sense it! Zexion," Vexen practically pleaded to him. "I just need one more, two at most!"

"And two will become four, eight, and sixteen more to doom to our fate. Stop trying to play God, IV. That is what got us here in the first place," Zexion stated with finality. He did not pause to let his words sink in, he saw the agitated scientist portal to his quarters before he calmly knocked on the oak door. He could hear someone approach the door on the opposite side. With a click, the door gave way, revealing a tall young woman dressed in elaborately tailored dark robes with her hood pulled over her head. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, contradicting glazed eyes and the faint reddening of her cheeks.

"Yes?" she asked politely. Glancing past her momentarily, Zexion's eyes caught sight of an oddly covered novel place on the night stand. Then, regaining eye contact, he returned to his original intentions.

"Care to join me in the library?" he proposed, wording carefully. She needed to feel that he was requesting her company instead of simply being tested.

Her head titled slightly in thought, curiosity. "I'd be glad to," she said, her whispery voice trailing with foreign accent.

Taking a step back, he observed as she locked her door and took place next to him.

"Are you enjoying your stay?" he started, walking towards the library at a leisurely pace, hands casually clasped behind his back.

"I suppose. As much as I can, with the given circumstances," she explained as they came to the entrance.

Cutting ahead, Zexion pulled open the door in a mannerly gesture allowing her to go first. "Why do you think you're here?"

He began to lead her through the first aisle of books. "Another test," she said, her gaze up and down the shelves, fascinated.

"Would you believe me if I were to say this encounter was completely off of my records?" he asked. He took a moment to push a boldly purple novel that was precariously balancing on the edge of the shelf with his gentle, gloved hand.

"You've given me no reason not to," she replied. Zexion noticed her eyeing a particularly short story titled, "Notes of Swirls." It was a teenage based plot about love, acceptance, and lies in a 'high school' setting. Not a book to match his taste.

"It's a strange experience to be trusted," he admitted neutrally. Upon seeing a slight questioning expression, he continued, "Those who reside with me consider me a 'Cloaked Schemer' as if every word I say is merely a ploy to draw one into my neatly woven trap."

"I suppose," Aresia murmured.

He allowed a comfortable silence to accumulate between them for several moments as they continued to browse through the collective assortment of every type of story, scripture, poetry, doctrine, resource, or text imaginable. The somewhat musty odor of the older books tickle Zexion's sensitive nose, but over time he'd grown accustomed to its sneeze inducing tendencies. As Aresia took a book from the shelf and started to read the blurb on the back cover, Zexion slipped into a different set of shelves. Silently making his way to the Reference section, he scanned a well kept wall of filing cabinets. Moving his finger along the labels, he found one with Alch 1-75. Yanking it open, he sifted through various manila folders, each tab describing the file. (Minor Healing Potion, Elixir of Minor Agility, Swiftness Potion). Not finding what he was looking for, he slammed it shut noisily and jerked open the next labeled with Alch 76-225. Flipping though these, he past (Elixir of Giant Growth, Potion of Curing, Shadow Oil, Philosopher's Stone) until he finally reached the very last folder, which appeared to not have seen daylight in years. As Zexion pulled it out, dust fell from it. With a slight smirk, he tucked it under his arm, closed the cabinet, turned on his heel and, at a swift pace, returned to where he left Aresia.

If he could, he would have been surprised not to see the mage there. The book she had looked at was replaced in its designated position. For a second, he inhaled deeply and caught the array of spell component's scent. His sight followed it to the left and he continued to head in that direction under the trail ended abruptly. In thought, he leaned against the shelf, closing his eyes for a moment. He then heard a faint ruffle of papers and he spun around. Aresia was examining the file he had been carrying intently. Apparently noticing eyes on her, she looked up at him.

"Oh, is this yours?" she asked innocently, flipping the folder shut and offering it to him, "You must have dropped it."

"I did no such thing," he snapped as he attempted to snatch it back, but Aresia pulled it out of his grasp.

"Now, is that anyway to thank me? What if you had lost it?" she scolded him playfully, but he didn't appear amused at all. Instead of outright refusing, he thought for a second and put on a slight smile.

"I appreciate your assistance," he lied gracefully, "I was actually retrieving this formula to see if you'd create this potion with me. I had overhead you speak with such expertise about the use and preparation of Flametongue, I had assumed you were an alchemist."

She raised an eyebrow momentarily, but the shook her head. "I'm far from an expert, merely dabbled in it from time to time. I know just the basics, enough to get by on my own travels."

"Even so, how about you come down to my lab and we give it a try?" he offered and watched and pondered at how her face looked so . . . excited.

So much so, that she seemed to be restraining herself when she spoke her acceptance. She jumped so exuberantly into the depths of his portal and seemed just itching to have the ingredients in her midst. She had opened the file before Zexion had seated and was already reading off the list of materials.

"A laden dew gland," she said as she rose to her feet and crossed the small, dark lab over to the opposite wall cluttered with a plethora of odd things. As she scanned the shelf she noticed the various labeled jars, beakers, boxes, pouches, and racks of test tubes until she saw a lone, small rounded jar with inside, a plump, green and lined dew gland. Smirking at how pristine the specimen was, she quickly returned to the desk that had seemed to be prepared with the beaker and stirring rod along with a flat knife. The desk itself was long and clack with two tall stools positioned in front of it. When seated you could reach forward to a single shelf of instructional books and encyclopedias of herbs and remedies and some for plagues.

"You seem awfully excited about this whole little potion making experience. Is this a recipe you're already familiar with?" he questioned with a light shade of interest.

She paused, confused, and then said, "Well, elixirs had always perked my curiosity."

"The next reagent on the list is a Violet Tragan.." he started.

"..From the lake in the Acesias Mountians, right?" she said, interrupting him.

Not used to even the slightest of disrespect, he narrowed his eyes, but could not disagree with her statement. "That's correct. Have you been there before?"

"Not that I remember," she replied simply, but with an edge of uncertainty.

"Hm." he made the sound, considering. He had expected her to recognize the recipe and its origin immediately. Perhaps he had been mistaken, putting his mind to other subjects; Zexion carefully plucked a violet mushroom from a terrarium lovingly tended by Marluxia. He placed it onto a small white plate. It had a rounded crown of deep mauve with lighter stripes starting from the outside and meeting in the center. It didn't appear to be very appetizing, but after he asked Aresia her opinion, she had told him that they were almost magical cooked. They would make anything taste wonderful. Devoid of doubt, he took her word for it, assuring her he would not attempt to cook one anytime in his life.

Awkwardly holding the flat knife against the mushroom, he pressed down lightly then removed the pressure. The indentation was clear for a moment before the mushroom slowly rose back into perfect condition. Rereading the instructions, he saw that he was to press lightly, and the fungus would release several milliliters of liquid. Spying on Aresia's actions being conducted next to him, she had made an incision down the mid-section and was in the process of coaxing dew from the gland into a small cup by probing either end of it gently. Soon, the cup was three quarters of the way full and she had disposed of the skin of it properly. When she was finished, she looked very pleased, and looked at him, to the still-standing mushroom and furrowed her eyebrows.

"Do you need help? You seem puzzled by that mushroom there," she said before taking the plate by one finger and tugging it so it was evenly between them. With one hand, she flipped the mushroom up-side down, with the other; she took Zexion's hand with the knife and pressed it on the top of the stalk. It immediately pushed itself into its cap and the sides erupted with sickly sweet smelling goo with made him scrunch up his nose. Aresia threw away the remains and was left with the clear goo, with purple specks of dust. She released his hand and took the flat knife to scrape it into the cup. The concoction fizzled slightly, the settled into a bluish tinge.

Zexion picked up the directions to read for further instruction . . . apparently he hadn't read them thoroughly enough before he filed them under expert alchemy.

Noggenfogger Elixir

made by Marin Noggenfogger

- laden dew gland

- violet tragen

Yo! Juice the gland and mix it with the goo you get from pushing the mushroom. Makes 5 servings that sell for 35 silver each. And remember, time is money, friend!

He just placed the formula down and sighed as a single test tube was placed in front of him, filled to the brim with blue liquid. Throwing Aresia an inquiring look, she held her own test tube up to him.

"Cheers," she said bringing hers to his with a slight clink before downing the contents like a shot. Zexion looked on in practical awe as he watched Aresia begin to shrink. By the time she had set down the test tube, her hand barely fit around it as she continued to get smaller and smaller. Her feet dangled a few inches off the seat as Aresia sat across from him, examining her enlarged world.

"Well," a shrill voice called from the tiny mage, "your turn."

Zexion eyed the elixir warily; sniffing it for a moment then decided the effects were probably harmless and he raised the tube to his lips and slowly sipped at the liquid, tasting it. It was sweet to taste, but left an acute burning sensation in his mouth. Finding it bearable, he finished the remains of his in one fell swoop. It scalded his throat as it slid down to his stomach, but then the heat spread to his lungs and across his arms. As it traveled down his back, he clenched his teeth and clamped his eyes shut. Then, it continued down his legs and fell backwards off his stool, crying out in pain.

Suddenly, the fire was gone and Zexion went to breathe a sigh of relief . . . but found he was unable to take a breath.* He opened his eyes and tried to claw at whatever was preventing his lungs to fill with air. What was more disturbing was what he saw of his hands as pale bone shined back at him in the dim setting. His hands, wrists, and forearms seemed to have been melted away save for the bone. He checked his legs, only to find his bones; not one strand of muscle appeared to be holding him together. He checked his chest, only to see an empty rib cage.

"No!" he screamed, half surprised he could as he shrank against the wall. He pulled his boney knees to his ribs and held himself. Wishing he could just take a deep breath to clear his head, he heard a small plop.

"Zexion, are you okay?" Aresia asked gently, her small voice barely audible from her shrunken form as she put a compassionate hand on his upper arm. He assumed she was aiming for his shoulder, but couldn't quite reach. "It will go away soon."

Will it? He thought. At first, he thought he should feel distressed, but he really didn't, he didn't "feel" any different at all, so he assumed it wasn't so bad. Composing himself, he shifted into a more comfortable position and examined his skeletal hand again. Titling his head to the side in wonder, he saw his fingers projected from his phalanges in a solid wedge, shaped almost like a claw, making his hand appear three inches longer. He drummed them against the stone floor and heard a smooth staccato that assured him they were real.

"Well, this is interesting," Aresia noted, sitting Indian-style on the cold ground, tucking her little hands in her sleeves. The tapping that had continued suddenly ceased. He paused and then started to laugh, a strange high-pitched bitter sound that even he found unusual. His halted breathing wasn't as bizarre as he had thought it would be at first, it made him wonder if he ever needed to breathe at all, seeing as he had no heart to pump the oxygen he inhaled about his person. No wonder we were never supposed to exist, he thought. We don't even perform all the necessary life functions.

"It is. I had just been thinking, if I don't need to breathe, do I need to eat?" he began to figure aloud, "Without a heart, no oxygen would be transported through my red blood cells to break down glucose into ATP or CO2. If this process never occurs, how do we even function?"

"In your given condition," she responded logically, "I don't believe you can eat."

"True," Zexion reasoned, rising to his feet. Aresia followed suit, but not gaining as much altitude, "Speaking of which, are you hungry? It must have been some time since your last meal."

"About a day." She crossed he arms across her chest as she looked about the room. She had never noticed that there didn't seem to be an exit.

"Accompany me to the kitchens?" he suggested, only to see her seem uncomfortable as he added, "I could carry you."

"How degrading!" she exclaimed, shaking her head, "Just open up a portal and I can manage from there."

"As you wish," he said sarcastically, with an overly formal bow as a portal materialized beside her.

Resisting the slight temptation to roll her eyes, she stepped into the darkness and Zexion watched, giving a short wave. He then began to fade, his image becoming faint before a flash of light appeared to send him rapidly upward, but then he settled a split second later on a tiled floor. Occasionally, he believed the kitchen was the most "homey" public room in the castle with its colors. The counter tops gleamed in the light and the warm brown of the cabinets seemed to give off the sense of peace for Zexion, though, he believed the library had solitude of its own.

Now used to his vastly different appearance, he used his clawed hands to pry open the pantry and extract a small container of seasoning and placed it onto the counter. After that, he pulled package of pre-prepared slices of chicken that were still uncooked, but cut to his preferred size out of the refrigerator and placed it on the counter. A sound of a certain swinging door gained his attention as he had been about to place a gallon of milk next to the seasoning. He looked over to see the intruder and found that it was Demyx, as he turned to wave; he realized that Demyx had drawn his weapon and seemed ready to fight.

"Who are you?" he demanded, taking a step towards Zexion.

Zexion raised his hands out in front of himself defensively before saying, "I'm Zexion."

Demyx didn't seem to have dropped his guard. On the contrary, he looked angry. "Prove it!"

Sighing, he calming explained his and Demyx's rank and their roles in the Organization.

Still unconvinced, Demyx lunged at Zexion with his sitar above him. Zexion quickly sidestepped as the weapon came crashing down against the counter top sending navy chunks of granite flying. Zexion continued attempts of reasoning that fell on deaf ears.

"Demyx!" he yelled, running around to the opposite side of the table as his bare spine was barely missed by Demyx recovering and swinging backhandedly at him before rising on a spout of summoned water and riding it over the table and through Zexion, causing him to fall backwards. Dismissing his wave, Demyx advanced onto Zexion, who was backing his skeletal form into the corner.

"Now are you ready to say who you really are?" he said threateningly.

"I've already told you!"

"Wrong answer!" Demyx shouted. He took up his sitar with two hands, water enveloping it along with a spherical body of water appearing above it, swirling furiously and beginning to glow faintly in the already lit room. In one fluid motion, he swung at Zexion.

He turned his face away and shut his eyes out of instinct, ready for impact.

A few long moments passed, but no attack came.

~~~sine~~~~curves~~~

The Mysterious Elixir

Part II

Aresia clambered out of the portal into the all too well known white hallway in front of an unmarked door. Approaching it, she pushed against it with all of her might, but the tall, heavy door didn't even budge. Sighing at the fact that she had not seen this coming, she started to wander the halls in search of someone kind enough to help her in her predicament. She tried the left hallway, only to be greeted with a set of stairs. Deciding against attempting this feat, she tried the other way. Making her slow pace, she heard heavy footsteps coming in her direction. To her surprise, it was Demyx who was running towards her with his uniquely shaped instrument of the sorts Aresia had never seen before slung over his shoulder by a strap.

"Hey!" she squeaked as he passed by, causing him to stop dead in his tracks and look around for the source of the noise. "Down here!"

He looked down and saw the black robed mage and went wide-eyed and jaw dropped in shock as he crouched down to see her better.

"Whoa," he breathed as he reached out a curious hand to touch her, which she stepped away from.

"Hey! Listen!" she started, backing away from his enormous hand again, "Will you stop that -oof!"

Demyx's other hand had swept her up from behind. As he now gripped the struggling mage, he brought her up as he stood and looked at her closely.

"You're small!" he announced finally, causing Aresia to roll her eyes.

"Actually, you're just a giant because I've enlarged the whole world!" she proclaimed as she stopped kicking, figuring it would not get her anywhere.

"Really? How did you do that?" he inquired with his eyebrows raised.

"Never mind, weren't you going somewhere?" she implied as he came into realization.

"Oh yeah!" he said excitedly, "You see, I was writing this song with Roxas, right? And so far is seemed really good, so I've been looking for Zexion to see what he thought of it."

Titling her head to the side, she said, "Why Zexion?"

He shrugged. "Most people tell me to go away, he just ignores me and it's always nice to play for someone else," he paused, his voice softening, "And this one time, I asked if I was annoying and he told me that he grown to used to it and it helped him concentrate."

"I see." She nodded. "Well, I was supposed to meet him in the kitchen and, if it means anything to you, I'd enjoy listening to you play."

Demyx smiled a strange false smile as he responded, "I'd be happy to have you as an audience, I've never played for more than one person before. I'll take you to the kitchen then."

Briskly walking to the doorway, he pushed open the swinging door and saw this skeleton taking the mild out of the fridge. He set her down carefully.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously, seeing him hold his instrument in what appeared to be a fighting stance.

"Don't worry," he reassured her. Even though he greatly loathed fighting, where he was brought up, it was proper for the gentleman to protect the lady. "I'll defend you."

"But Demyx, that's Zex-"

Her pathetic shout was cut off by Demyx's overpowering call. She heard Zexion attempt to prove himself, but nothing convinced the musician. Aresia saw him jump over the counter and heard a loud crash as bits of counter top flew into the air, landing dangerously close to her. She ran for cover under the table. Aresia watched as Zexion fell to the floor and started to inch himself backwards, shouting various things to Demyx, who seemed to be aiming for the kill.

Thinking quickly, she dug her hand into a pouch of cool blue fragments and pulled out a fistful, squeezing it into a ball before running out in front of Demyx and throwing it as high as she could, targeting his chest while whispering, "Glacies Farnicis."

Normally, this spell would strike someone in the torso, causing them to be winded and knocked back several feet, but during the current situation, the momentum wasn't quite there.

The ball hit Demyx in the knee, breaking his concentration and causing him to fall forward. The condensing sphere of water was released, which, now being affected by gravity, crashed down onto the poor mage.

Just after, Aresia sprouted back to full size as the potion's effect had worn off, leaving her normal sized, and completely soaked. Slightly annoyed, she attempted to wring out her robes adding to the large puddle on the floor. Then, she noticed that Zexion had on his skin and black overcoat and was studying the scene before him, not comprehending any of it as an aggravated sounding Demyx was pulled himself off the ground.

"Z-Zexion?" he sputtered out, "Oh, wow. I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I mean, I didn't know you could turn into a skeleton . . ."

"Well, next time, take my word for it," Zexion stated flatly, "In the meanwhile, it appears that our resident magic-user could use something else to wear."

"That would be greatly appreciated," she said loudly.

Demyx and Zexion discussed for a moment which of the two's sizes where closest to hers. Zexion pointed out that she was around his because of their similar heights and anything Demyx could offer would be dragging on the floor. As Zexion went to retrieve an extra cloak, Demyx got to clean up the mess on the kitchen floor by lifting the water into the air to deposit it into the sink. Seeing an opportunity for revenge, Aresia withdrew a perfectly rounded blue pebble with a mischievous glint in her eye. She casually tossed it into the moving bubble of water, making it freeze instantly. As Demyx didn't seem able to control the frost element, it dropped to the ground and shattered into a million pieces. As soon as they broke off from the main body, they returned to drops of water and hit the ground with several small splashes, creating a puddle of remarkably similar appearance to the one Demyx had created in the first place. Staring at it with dismay, he crossed his arms and gave an impression on sadness.

"What did you do that for?" he complained to Aresia, who had started to whistle innocently.

"Do what?" she said, causing Demyx to sigh and attempt to have the water float to the sink once again . . . only to the same result.

"That! Don't do that," he scolded her lightly.

"What ever are you talking about?" she asked, taking out a more fast-acting stone.

This time, however, Demyx stood in front of his bubble of water protectively. He had his back to Aresia, who he had shot a very dirty look to. Tactfully tossing the stone above his head, it landed directly into the bubble once again, but this time, after it frost, it burst immediately, sending water in every direction - and a lot of it into Demyx's surprised face. When he turned, his dripping face was fuming, which, to Aresia, was high amusing as she covered her mouth, attempting to stifle a girlish giggle unsuccessfully.

"And they say I'm childish!" he grumbled as he removed the water from himself and the floor and shot it as quickly as he could across the room and down the drain, quite proudly shouting, "Ha!" at Aresia.

"Well played," she said clearly, which wasn't really what Demyx had expected, but before he had a chance to ask what her meaning was, Zexion had returned through the swinging door, spare cloak in hand.

He addressed Aresia, "If you'll come with me, I'll take you to your room so you can dress out."

Complying, she followed, her wet shoes making an interesting sloshing sound against the floor as she walked. Thinking for a second, Demyx figured why not, and accompanied them on the walk to her room. After grabbing his sitar and throwing it over his shoulder again, he ran to catch up.

"So . . ." Demyx started, breaking the silence between them, "Would you like to hear my new song after this?"

"Actually, I had been planning to cook something for Aresia-"

"How about I play while you cook? You had said it helped you concentrate," Demyx said, repeating his earlier words.

"That . . . would be nice," he agreed as they came to the oak door nearest the library.

Aresia waved her hand in front of her abused control panel and it opened. She entered in her password and the door swung open. Taking the extra cloak, she closed the door behind her, telling the other she would just be a moment.

The two men spent a few seconds in awkward silence.

"So, how've-"

"What have-" They started together, leaving another pause as each waited for the other to continue.

"What have you been up to?" Demyx tried shyly.

"Research, mostly. How did your most recent mission fare?" he responded without interest.

"It went good-"

Zexion muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" Zexion shook his head and Demyx continued, ". . . Okay, as I was saying. It went good, I was sent to scout out this newly discovered area. The place was so strange, the people there kind of remind me of Aresia. Many of them wore dark robes or cloaks and when they were attacked by heartless, they'd never draw a weapon yet their enemies would deteriorate! I've never seen anything like it," he explained with enthusiasm before seeming contemplative, "Do you think she could be from there? Did she mention it at all? The place is called Shadowed Veil Valley."

"I don't recall her mentioning it, it's a possibility though," Zexion stated, leaning against the wall as he waited.

"Well, anyway, when I wrote out my report to the Superior, he was fascinated. Well, as fascinated as nobodies can get . . . guess what?"

Zexion sighed. "What?"

"It's going to be the next place we're going to for the chance the people produce a new type of nobody!" he said rapidly, volume escalating as he spoke.

"What do you mean, new type of nobody?" he asked skeptically.

"Think about it, Zexion! Neither of us had any 'powers' prior to losing our hearts, but these people do. Imagine how they could be amplified while a nobody . . ." Demyx finished, holding his last syllable a bit, seeing something he hadn't thought of before.

Voicing Demyx's thoughts, Zexion whispered, "And what if, when they become a nobody, their powers are extinguished?" he paused, letting it sink in before adding slyly, "We'll just have to find out."

The oak door opened in to show Aresia toying with the zipper of the heavy leather coat. Her robes left draped over the sink, she wore her, now wrinkled, hood she had wrung out along with her boots which, now visible, were a light brown and came up to her knee. She also wore black pants under the coat that seemed to be hastily cut off at the knee from the looks of their frayed hem. Staff in hand, she timidly crossed over the threshold, regarding the two men who had been conferring warmly, with a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She locked the door behind her.

"Are we off to the kitchen then?" chimed Demyx, who made a portal and went ahead through it without them, thinking to tune his sitar quickly before he started practicing.

Zexion gave Aresia a once over and noted, "You still wear your hood."

"Yes," she murmured, adjusting it to cover more of her forehead.

"Are you that afraid to show yourself?" he questioned, walking around her slowly.

"No-"

"Then why do you hide behind such a veil. At first, you might have thought we could dislike you, but I know you know better. I can neither like nor dislike you, no matter how you look, so why," he stopped, facing her, reaching a hand out to gently grasp her hood, only to have her evade, "do you run away?" He returned his hand to his side. "Maybe this isn't about the hood. No, it's deeper than that, isn't it?"

She struggled to look him in the eyes, glancing away and remaining silent.

"Oh, Aresia. You pure, precocious human, what black mark do you conceal with your soft voice and your pretty blue eyes?" he pressed further, increasing her stress as the grip on her staff tightened and her palms grew sweaty. He stepped forward, leaving little distance between them as he could hear her breathing and clearly smell her spell components as they blended with the leather of his coat, "I suppose . . ." he whispered. Lifting his hand, he then lowered it slowly, the lights dimming as he his hand descended until they were shrouded as the dark overtook them. "That story is for another time . . ."

In a flash, the lights illuminated the hallway and Zexion was gone.

Aresia looked around, only seeing the white, bleak corridor and the portal still where Demyx left it. She exhaled a breath she didn't realize she had been holding before going to the portal's entrance, turned, and looked upon the scene briefly before walking through and submerging herself into the icy darkness.

~~~sine~~~~curves~~~

The Mysterious Elixir

Part III

Demyx sat in a wooden chair, sitar in his lap with his left hand on the finger board, his pointer holding down the topmost string at the fifth fret. His right hand was positioned over the strings above the sound hole, his thumb gently plucking his E then his A. A soft, warm sound was created as the two strings ran with the same tone. Satisfied with this string, he shifted his left pointer down to his A and plucked bother his A and his D. Demyx winced as the tones clashed wildly. Trying them one at a time, he found the second pitch to be much lower than the first.

"Flat," he muttered to himself, moving his hand to the furthest peg and twisting it clockwise while continuously plucking the string as the pitch changed to his liking. Returning his hand to the fifth fret, he played his A and D together, and their sounds melded together nicely. He repeated this process with the rest of his strings. Then, he strummed a light combination of chords quietly, his mind elsewhere. He thought of having to go to battle the next day. Even though Demyx had been strongly against jumping to a war so quickly, as he had told the Superior, but Xemnas had that glint in his eye at potential rise in power and possible expansion. Sighing, he wished he could just sit in his room on the plush carpet, right next to his black, vibrating speaker. He could let the booming music fly through his ears, pick him up and whisk him up and away from this place and other people's battles he has to fight and drop him off in a land of beauty and emotion expressed through notes and rhythms.

"IX," Zexion's voice called, disturbing his process. His up stroke completely missed the strings and he looked up in a daze.

"Yeah?"

"Could you play a little louder?" he asked, "I can barely hear you."

Demyx saw that Zexion had been mixing eggs with milk in a bowl with his sleeves rolled up, showing thin, pale wrists. Instead of responding, he switched the pace of his music to plucking somewhat slowly at a moderate dynamic. It was a song about a girl who fell in love with a singer at first sight. A love so intense, she felt her world could never wrong her as long as he was with her. He hummed the verse and chorus to himself as he played.

The Schemer stopped stirring for a moment and watched Demyx play with his eyes closed, foot tapping to the beat and almost sighed before setting down his fork and opening the container or seasoned bread crumbs and dumping the contents on a plate placed over the hole in the counter from when Demyx had attacked him. He set up a last plate next to that one, which was close to the stove. There was a frying pan on the nearest burner. He stabbed a piece of chicken, dipped it in the milk and egg and then place it in the bread crumbs, using a spoon to smother the meat in it and then put it on the clean plate. Zexion began to follow through with this process when Aresia arrived in the kitchen, walked past him with a brief greeting, which he returned, and sat next to Demyx. She seemed untroubled, but Zexion saw through it, as he saw through her hood, knowing she was taken aback by his interrogation. After he finished the breading, he would fry them until brown and put them on another plate with a paper towel on it to absorb the grease. He noticed the music had chanced pace and that Demyx sang softly.

"Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd

So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from Hell

Blue skies from pain

Can you tell a green field

From a cold steel rail

A smile from a veil

Do you think you can tell

Did they get you to trade

Your heroes for ghosts

Hard ashes for trees

Hot air for a cool breeze

Cold comfort for change

Did you exchange

A walk on part in the war

For a lead role in the cage

Oh how I wish

How I wish you were here

We're just two lost souls

Swimming in a fish bowl

Year after year

Running over the same old ground

And we've found

The same old fear

Wish you were here

He then quieted the music, the song faded out. Demyx stayed still for a moment. Zexion had let the chicken burn as he watched. Cursing, he impaled the cooked chicken and threw it on the plate.

Aresia had a slightly more felt reaction. She had sat almost entranced, swaying her head as she listened. The music's feel was completely different from the orchestras she had seen in her homeland and from the traveling bard's rhythmic poetry.

Demyx finally spoke up, "Hey, Zexion, that smells pretty good, what did you make?"

Hesitating, he said, "Chicken cutlets."

"I love chicken cutlets!" he exclaimed before winking at him, "You always make my favorites, Zex."

Rolling his eyes, he took the plate over to the table with a few napkins. The three ate in a relative, comfortable silence until Demyx brought up the fact that he, Larxene, Zexion, Roxas, Xaldin, and Axel were assigned to head to Shadowed Veil Valley the next day.

"What?" Zexion sputtered out, almost choking on his food.

"Where's Shadowed Veil Valley?" she asked curiously with an eyebrow raised.

"Well, that answers one question," Demyx stated, now knowing that Aresia was, in fact, not from Shadowed Veil Valley, before explaining, "it's on this world called Pinellas with a few different regions, but Shadowed Veil is definitely the most interesting-"

"Who cares how 'interesting' it is? What do you mean we're going tomorrow?" Zexion demanded, startling the others at the table with his outburst.

Almost as if he had been physically stricken by him, Demyx spoke softly, hoping not to provoke him again. "It's what the Superior said; I told him that I didn't recommend it . . ."

Zexion, putting a hand on his shoulder, adjusted his tone in attempts at an apologetic one, but came off sarcastic as he said, "Look, I know it's not your fault. It's just very inconvenient."

Swatting his hand away, Demyx stood and sighed, exhausted, before muttering to himself, "Man, I don't want to deal with this."

Throwing his sitar over his shoulder once again, he went to the fridge and grabbed a certain small bottle of Luxord's not quite sparkling cider and left the room.

Aresia sat in a stunned silence, but she quickly recovered. "Do you think I should go talk to him?"

He slouched a bit in his chair, blowing his hair out his face and resting his chin on his hand, looking at the wall as he spoke blandly. "You could, but you see . . . Demyx is having a bit of difficulty accepting the loss of his heart so he tries to act as emotional as possible. Honestly, he's probably driving himself insane with that, but if that's how he chooses to cope, so be it."

"Oh, well, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to retreat to my room for the night, thanks for dinner," she said politely, rising to her feet, taking the Staff of Infinite Mysteries with her, which glowed briefly at her touch.

"Pray your dreams are pleasurably void of illusion," Zexion stated with a slight smirk and his plotting eyes. No one knew whether he was being sincere as he said this as a parting good-night. Not even him as he always seemed to speak with his fingers crossed. He stood too, and walked past Aresia and through the swinging door and before it swung back, Roxas had stumbled through it, a bit off balance from using too much force without enough resistance.

"Oh, hey Aresia," Roxas greeted her with a wave, straightening up and walking past her to the table where he collapsed into a chair, catching his breath.

"Hiding from something?" she asked him as she heard someone coming up the hallway.

Apparently, Roxas heard this too and he dove behind the counter.

"Don't tell him I'm here!" Roxas hissed just before Axel charged through the door. There was marker all over his face in a messy rainbow of lines. At the sight, Aresia struggled to choke down a laugh. Axel glared at her as he stood in front of her, almost a head taller in attempts of silencing her, to avail. His threatening gaze mixed with green and pink was even more amusing to witness.

"Where is he? Show me where you're hiding him!" he commanded, rather forcefully.

"I'm not certain who you are talking about. If you're looking for Zexion, he just left," she lied deftly, throwing on a slightly puzzled expression.

"You know exactly who I'm talking about, don't lie to me!" he roared, hands igniting as he spoke, like they were just waiting for some action.

"Don't lose your patience with me," she warned, "I didn't see anyone leave or arrive since Zexion departed."

Behind Axel, Aresia saw Roxas crawling quietly back towards the door.

"Stop protecting him! Enough is enough and this was the last straw!" he shouted before scouring about the room, checking the table, close and the counter before he noticed now the door had been pushed open and was in the process of swinging back in. "Get back here!" With that, Axel was out the door.

Shaking her head, Aresia retraced her steps to the good old oak door, entered her password and was again in her new room. Removing the heavy black coat, she hung it in the wardrobe. Taking a calming breath, she took off her hood to reveal what she considers her atrocity. Once beautiful brown hair appeared coated with fresh blood and the tips of the roots grew with a reddish tinge. Always a reminder, but of something, some gruesome event, that she couldn't ever seem to remember, but also one she would never be able to forget.

*For those who have possibly used the infamous Noggenfogger Elixir, the buff for skeleton form reads, "You're not breathing....." As someone with an addiction, the technically term being, "Noggaholic," I had to include this in my story.

I suppose there was a little humor in this, it made me smile as I reread it, hope it incites similar feelings in a reader.

Sincerely,

kenthel

P.S. Also, ~ is what a sine curve looks like, if that was confusing to anyone. When this was written, sometime last school year, I had just learned about them and enjoyed drawing them on my Spanish homework, much to the frustration of mi profesora.