A/N: Sorry I'm late! My computer priveleges were revoked for a brief period of time, but I'm back now!
It was the wrong color, but it was mostly water, wasn't it?
Every sense seemed to be on hyper-alert mode, making the cold hilt of the knife stand out glaringly against the warmth that covered the rest of him. His vision was awash in red, and a bit of black, but mostly red. The Heartless had gathered like scavengers, taken their prize and were now wandering off. The Dancers were still clustered around him, congratulating him on a job well done. He hadn't used the sitar for this—it would have been too noticeable. No one noticed another knifing in this world, much less one conducted to such grisly perfection. They say humans can't smell blood. Apparently Nobodies can, for Demyx smelled it easily enough, and tasted it from where some got on his face and he licked it off without thinking.
In fact, the only sense which couldn't detect anything is his sense of sound, which seemed odd considering how musically-oriented he was. He looked down at the body with a little frown, but shrugged. He had brought this silence on himself, in an effort not to be detected.
After all, silence is golden… and duct tape is silver.
29. Demyx/Duct Tape