Disclaimer: Still own squatcakes. Blast.
AN: This is a little drabble I wrote as an entry to the KHDrabble community on livejournal. Quite fun, I have to say. Didn't win, but I'm proud of this one nonetheless.
Challenge: 095 Poison
Title: Compromise
Word Count: 204
Spoilers: ...If you don't know anything about Organization XIII, then maybe.
He wasn't a good fighter. That much was very clear.
Blood made him squeamish, pain was...well...painful, and he bruised way too easily.
He preferred the steady one, two, three, four beat of his Sitar, the drip, wave, ripple, shake of the water as it danced to all his favorite tunes.
But it wasn't just water that danced with him. That cloudy purple liquid, too—it was too thick, but that made it look even cooler when it spiraled against his water, and the way the light caught those oily slicks was just awesome...
He made sure to strum the Sitar very quietly, in that familiar one, two, three, four beat that he liked so much, swishing the liquid until purple dissolved into clear, and then he vanished, watching from the shadows and still strumming at his closest friend, his wonderful Sitar, as the target entered the room and lifted the glass to his parched lips.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
And the poison reached his heart and the target was dead.
No bruises, no blood, no aches or pains in the morning.
Demyx wasn't a good fighter. That much was clear. But he knew very well how to compromise.
Kairi shivered against the cold wind, but she didn't take her eyes off the water. She was sure she had seen...something. She couldn't be sure what, exactly. A figure, a shadow—a Heartless? A Nobody? She squinted against the dark, but the shape had disappeared into the twilight. She gripped at the empty air, a twitch, really, and found herself grasping the Keyblade Riku had given her. Just in case.
"Who's there?" she asked the darkness, her voice barely audible. She repeated the demand, a little louder.
"Me," said a voice—a woman's voice—from behind her. Kairi twisted, nearly falling into the sand as she struggled to face the stranger.
"And who are you?" Kairi asked, not lowering the weapon. She had never trained with it like the boys had, and she regretted that now...
Calm, she commanded herself. Calm down.
For a long moment, the woman was silent. Her clothes were dark, blending into the night like Heartless themselves, but the glimmering moonlight flickered off scars on her arms, off smoky red hair, off a long line of steel in the woman's hand.
Kairi brought the Keyblade up to a defensive stance (at least, that's what Riku had called it when they were children).
"I asked who you were," she said, sounding braver than she felt. A thin, cool smile brushed the stranger's lips.
"There's a reason why the Heroes always rescue the Damsels in Distress," she said, advancing another step and wrapping one long-fingered hand around the blade. "A Princess should never set foot on the battlefield, Kairi. War will be quick to taint that pure heart of yours."
"Answer me!" Kairi cried, and her voice sounded shrill even in her own ears. The woman bent down, studying her with stony blue eyes.
"Don't forget me," she murmured, that twisted smile on her too-familiar face. "I am what you have the potential to become."