Chapter 010
Long after he'd stepped out of the shower, the air remained misty, humid. Although Roxas had no intention of admitting it to Demyx, the simple act of cleaning himself had done wonders. It had helped make him feel like he was considerably more human again, despite his body's lingering soreness.
The bathroom itself was an oddity, equal parts high-tech and ancient in appearance and function. The room was made up of tiles, ornately decorated but worn smooth over what seemed like centuries of use, despite Demyx's assertion that it was modeled after interior design from "Twenty-Eight Century" (good lord). Above him, the ceiling rose with the swell of archways, built with stone that complemented the color of the tiles surrounding them. In that way, it reminded Roxas of photos depicting late nineteenth century Turkish baths, giving him the distinct impression that he'd ended up someplace in Europe — or at least an area of Manhattan he'd never been aware existed before now, more realistically.
The shower was unlike anything Roxas had ever seen. It was a small space, not much bigger than what he'd had to make do with in the cramped bathroom in his own studio. There had been no faucets though, no shower head or visible means to regulate its temperature or even direct the flow of water. There'd also been no soap or other products typically associated with bathing, bottled or otherwise. As though sensing his presence, the shower had simply turned on the moment he'd entered, sprinkling him with a fine mist of fragrant foam and giving him just enough time to scrub it into his hair, to spread it over his body, before the water came on, the temperature hot but not anywhere close to scalding.
As he washed himself and considered the unfamiliar features of the shower stall, Roxas felt a measure of gratefulness to have a task even as insignificant as trying to figure out the workings of a bathroom to distract himself with. If he stopped to think about this day with even a little more scrutiny, he'd have to make an attempt at reconciling the maddeningly blank state of his mind when it came to very specific parts of the morning. No matter how much he thought about it, no matter how many times he tried to create a chronological mental list of the actions he'd taken, Roxas found he couldn't recall the events of the day with any real clarity. He remembered getting ready for work, that the rushed nature of his departure suggested he'd been a tad late. There were also snatches of imagery, of a taxicab, running into Axel, and Marluxia's iron grip on him.
Then, nothing. He couldn't summon the finer details about how he'd encountered either of the men, couldn't really even remember how they'd managed to get him here beyond knowing it had some tenuous connection to the band still encircling his wrist.
So, distractions relating to the workings of this shower. Yeah. It was either that or Roxas would end up worrying that thinking too much about anything else might induce a freak-out of epic proportions, the likes of which he'd have no hope of readily stifling.
Instead of worrying about the possibility that he was losing his mind, that this was all some elaborate mental break with reality, Roxas focused on the here and now. He allowed the shower to wash away the foam from his body and scrubbed it out of his hair before stepping out, bare feet dripping water as he moved back out into the open space of the bathroom and surveyed his surroundings with determined, almost desperate, interest.
Much like the shower, the bathroom walls, although made up of identical tiling, also hid a surprise as he entered the space and looked around wondering how he was supposed to dry off without any sign in the room of towels. As Roxas padded back out toward the bathroom sink, feeling awkward, wet, and more than a little exposed, he felt the slightest shift in the atmosphere around him, saw the air in front of him subtly distort.
He tensed, assuming he'd somehow set off the invisible enclosure again, despite no pulsing warning from the band still clamped around his wrist. The air around him swirled, the mist fading as it if was being sucked out of the space. He heard no indication that any sort of mechanism had turned on, just felt warm and gentle air breezing past him, then back again in measured intervals, effectively drying the lingering moisture from his body and hair. Perplexed, he turned back toward the shower, noted that the air was still misty just a few feet away from him. He held out a hand, expecting it to connect with another translucent barrier. Instead, his hand passed right through, fingers immediately feeling the difference between the shower area's hazy humidity and the dry heat of his current location.
Drawing his hand back toward him, Roxas rubbed two fingers against his thumb, considering the droplets of moisture they'd returned with.
At least it didn't feel like any of this was an immediate threat to his safety. He supposed he should be grateful for even these little concessions, but still. This was all so …odd.
He made his way over to the sink, noting the small pile of neatly folded clothing, apparently set on the ancient looking stone countertop at some point while he was showering. Every piece of fabric was white, and there were no shoes. Roxas found himself looking at the pile of clothes wryly, wondering at the intelligence of letting someone who'd just virtually destroyed his last set of clothing near anything so pristine. Much to Roxas' relief, both his wallet and cell phone had also been set on the counter immediately next to the folded clothes. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he felt he needed both to maintain some emotional stability throughout this ordeal.
Dressing slowly, marveling at the odd, baggy feel of fabric that didn't appear to have any stitching, no matter how closely he inspected it, Roxas sidled closer to the sink, taking in the tiled wall facing him with begrudging appreciation. The design here mimicked the curves of the archways above his head, both framing the sink and providing visual appeal that stood out from the walls in the rest of the bathroom. As he stepped closer to the sink, the wall within the arches of tile shimmered. Roxas found himself no longer looking at a blank tiled wall but, disconcertingly, at his own reflection, the image crisp, no smudges or hazy effect from the condensation still lingering just a few feet away.
He looked at the clothing he'd pulled on, aware of just how ridiculous he looked. It had to be three sizes too big for his frame. At least. Roxas smoothed the front of his shirt from his chest down to his stomach in an attempt to get the fabric to lay flat. The material seemed to react to the action, remaining where he'd pressed it and deepening in color until it was just a shade lighter than pure black. He looked down as the fabric seemed to be shrinking more to the proportions of his body, then sealing itself off into one cohesive piece. It had even expanded around his feet, cupping the arches in a firmer, more padded material. When he looked up again, surprise registered on the face reflecting from the mirror as Roxas noted the appearance of red diamonds, floating lazily, encircling the fabric around his waist and arms. He moved his left hand across his chest, brushed it experimentally over his right shoulder. His fingers passed through the floating shapes without any sort of sensation to indicate they were corporeal at all.
Weird, he thought. It was like a hologram without any sort of projection equipment. And more than a little gaudy, he couldn't help but note. Everything had just been so random since he'd ended up here that he supposed this new discovery probably shouldn't have surprised him much either.
Part of him wanted to consider the possibility that Demyx's comments about different centuries might have some basis in reality, but the thought was just so outlandish, so ridiculously fantastical, that Roxas found himself having trouble giving it any serious consideration. He looked around the bathroom, a dubious expression forming the more he took in. If this was the future, why did everything look so old? Wouldn't it all be crisp and hyper-modern, with technology being used for everything? The shower was kind of cool, Roxas supposed. Same for the separation of humid and dry air within the room, however that worked. Still, those things just didn't add up to anything that screamed pinnacle of futuristic society in his mind. They were more like cheap parlor tricks, performed to impress a credulous guest, he decided. Nothing more.
He looked down at the sink. On closer inspection, Roxas realized it might be more accurate to call it a basin. Just like with the shower, there were no faucets, and there didn't seem to be any way to manually turn on the water. Yet water was already there, filling the bottom half of the beveled receptacle. Roxas trailed a finger along the water's surface, then brought it up to his lips, curious.
As he'd already half-anticipated, it tasted salty as hell. What was with these people?
"Hey, amice. How's it going? Almost done?"
Roxas whirled at the sound of Demyx's voice, wondering how the guy had managed to sneak into the bathroom without being noticed — and more than a little grateful he'd already put clothes on, even if it did feel like he was dressed like a kid about to go out trick-or-treating.
To his surprise and growing disorientation, no one was there.
Making a complete three-sixty, eyes sweeping every corner, Roxas confirmed what he'd already known - Demyx wasn't visible anywhere in the room. The voice hadn't sounded like it'd come from a speaker. If anything, Roxas had been sure Demyx was only a few feet behind him.
"Hi," Roxas said, voice tentative, "yeah, I'm done." Speaking to straight-up empty space left him feeling supremely stupid. At least he didn't have long to wait for a reply.
"Metzuyan," Demyx's incorporeal voice sounded again. Excellent, Roxas' mind effortlessly translated as Demyx continued on. "Just head out the sliding door and I'll meet you where the corridor splits off in two."
"I don't think the doors open like that for me," Roxas said. He waited a moment for Demyx's answer. When none was forthcoming, Roxas turned back to the not-mirror. Noticing a tuft of hair sticking out at an awkward angle, he tried to flatten it with a hand, not particularly enthused with the prospect of using the salty basin water as a styling aid. Managing to get it halfway settled, not convinced it'd remain that way for long, Roxas sighed, trying not to focus on how ridiculous he looked. Between this idiotic get-up, plus Zexion's and Demyx's black coats, fashion had taken a serious turn for the worse if this really was the future. This outfit, without question, was tacky as hell.
He retrieved his phone and wallet from the countertop, holding them for a moment as he contemplated what to do with them. His clothing didn't have any visible pockets. Then again, it also hadn't been a form-fitting onesie about three minutes ago. Sliding the hand holding his wallet down one side of his pants, Roxas felt around the glossy fabric, to see if there was anything he'd missed. Halfway down his thigh, his wallet caught on something, felt as though it'd snagged. He pulled his hand away, taking a closer look, wondering if he'd managed to tear part of the suit.
A small pouch had formed in the material, at the location that he'd been poking around. Roxas allowed his hand to return to his pants leg, curious to see if the newly made pocket was big enough for his wallet.
It wasn't. At least not initially. The further he slid the wallet into it though, the larger the pouch seemed to become, until it fit the square of leather, then shrunk to hold it snugly in place. On a hunch, Roxas tried the same maneuver with the cell phone on his other leg. The same process produced another pocket, this time a little larger to accommodate the thick case of his phone.
Just when he assumed things couldn't get any more bizarre, he thought, it turned out he was wearing space pajamas with features including sparkly holograms and build-your-own-pockets. Lord knew what else was in store once he managed to get out of this space and back into Demyx's exuberant clutches.
Making his way over to the exit, Roxas stopped as, a few feet away from it, the door slid open at his presence. Despite the inanimate status of the entranceway, he couldn't help but shoot it an irritated look.
Sure, now doors were opening for him. Would've been nice if they'd afforded him the same courtesy when he'd actually been trying more actively to escape.
With one final look back at the bathroom, toward the mirror that had transformed back to a standard-looking tiled wall, Roxas mentally prepared himself to face something new. Then, without a second glance, he exited, and headed out toward the unknown, following the simple directions Demyx had so recently provided.
o - o
They walked without speaking at first, Demyx humming an unfamiliar tune, Roxas lost in thought, trying to keep his disappointment in check. He'd been hoping this journey would take them outdoors, someplace he could look around and try to get his bearings, maybe even figure out where in the city he was being held. Instead, Demyx had led them downward, further into the bowels of the building. Roxas had yet to see a single window since he'd been detained. That fact alone was enough to drive his apprehension levels straight through the roof — however many floors above him that happened to be at the moment.
The humming stopped abruptly as they turned another corner, the floor now leveling out as they continued onward. "Really glad Vivi didn't mind taking Pluto back home topside for me," Demyx said, apparently unaware of how the mention of the outside world might be taken as a mocking reminder of where Roxas himself wasn't currently at liberty to go. "Non-regulation animals are kinda frowned upon in general, let alone inside public buildings."
Roxas glanced up at Demyx, forcing the first bitter reply that came to him back down his throat. "And why is that?" he asked instead, tone resigned, not so much implying disinterest as no opinion whatsoever. Part of him hoped Demyx would continue, would offer up some information as to their whereabouts that would actually prove useful. At this point though, Roxas wasn't about to hold his breath. Most everything that had come out of the man's mouth since his arrival had sounded like straight-up gibberish, or at least the ramblings of someone with only one foot in the realm of genuine reality.
"The mess mostly," Demyx replied, taking no note of Roxas' flat inflection. "I'm pretty sure Pluto's the only animal in the entire city that isn't officially sanctioned at the moment."
Stifling a sigh as Demyx continued to spout nonsense, Roxas told himself to play along. Maybe if he threw enough make-believe bones, something the guy said would start making an iota of sense.
Or he could end up feeding the fantasy further. It was hard to really say one way or the fucking other.
"What about pigeons? They make plenty of mess," Roxas said, this time trying to keep his tone light, to make it clear he was joking.
And raccoons, feral cats, the occasional stray dog, and more homeless people than a society bent on constant political correctness was generally willing to admit to…
"Hmm." Demyx pursed his lips and shook his head, shaggy hair whipping back and forth with the motion. "There aren't any birds in Time City."
Of course there weren't, Roxas thought but didn't dare say out loud. Man, the delusion was strong in this one.
A needling voice in the back of his thoughts reminded him that Demyx hadn't been the only person to reference that name in the course of a conversation since he'd arrived. Axel had brought it up too. So, he was either being held by a bunch of psychopaths with a tenuous grasp on facts and the exact same delusional version of reality, or they were all telling him the truth about his current whereabouts and it was Roxas who was in denial. At this point, Roxas couldn't say which option freaked him out the worst.
"No other animals either," Demyx continued, inclining his head at a fork in their path to indicate which direction they were meant to choose. "The dogs are a special exception. They've been bred for ages, in three primary colors. Legend says it's because the breed was a favorite of Faber John's only son."
Noting the steady incline of the floor in front of them, a physical indication they were now heading upward, Roxas felt a spike in anxiety at the realization that they must be getting closer to their destination. He said nothing beyond a quiet sound of acknowledgement.
"It's kind of a cool tradition, actually," Demyx said, apparently taking Roxas' silence as an invitation to continue rambling. "All Founding families are allowed one dog for each member, and the Sempitern can have a complete set of three. That's how I had authority to petition to save ol' Pluto." Although Roxas didn't look up this time, he could hear the smile in Demyx's voice.
"So, you founded…Time City." Roxas tried the term on for size, voice hesitant, the inclination to eye roll still exceedingly strong.
"No way," Demyx said, laughing a little, "that happened forever ago. But I am from one of the Founding families. I'm a Lee, on my mother's side." Given the emphasis he'd placed on the name, Demyx's assertion seemed to be a point of considerable pride. "Axel, too, actually," Demyx continued, tacking on the last sentence almost as an afterthought.
At the mention of the redhead, Roxas momentarily slowed. "You guys are related?" This time he wasn't able to keep the curiosity out of his tone. So much for thinking the two might've been dating.
They stopped in front of large wooden door. This time, it didn't open at their approach. Demyx placed his hands on it, fingers curling into a shallow depression along one side. "Kind of, yeah," Demyx said, shooting Roxas a silly grin. "It's a really distant connection, but we both have Lee ancestry somewhere in our family trees."
As he spoke, Demyx pulled at the door, sliding it open manually with both hands. He stepped aside, gestured with one hand, a wide, good-natured smile still lighting up his features. "After you, my liege."
This time Roxas did roll his eyes, Demyx's grin increasing as he noted the expression. Apparently, Roxas thought, he'd just fallen right into the guy's humor-loving trap; he'd done just what it seemed Demyx had wanted and forgotten himself and these less than ideal circumstances. If he was going to be held captive though, he supposed there were worse things he could be forced to endure beyond a few corny jokes, a conversation about dogs, and mythology about some made-up futuristic city.
Roxas waited until Demyx was through the door before voicing his next thought. "So what you're saying is Axel has a dog named after a Greek god too."
"Nah," Demyx said, back facing Roxas as he pulled the door closed. "It's totally optional, and Axel isn't exactly an animal lover."
Shocker.
"His sister does though." As Demyx picked up the pace down another dark corridor, Roxas ended up half-sprinting in an attempt not to be left behind. "She's got a red. Name's Rhea."
"Axel has a sister…" Roxas said, chest heaving as he strove to keep up with Demyx's increased walking speed, "…named Rhea?" He'd never considered the possibility that any of these people might have families, let alone siblings.
Demyx laughed. "No, silly." As they came to an archway that opened into a much larger but still dimly lit space, he stopped. "That's the dog's name. You'll meet her in a few."
As Roxas raised an eyebrow, Demyx was quick to clarify. "You'll meet his sister." He looked beyond Roxas, out into the room they'd just entered. "She'll be at dinner. I mean, the dog might be there too. This is their house, after all."
Demyx started to walk again, this time more slowly, which gave Roxas the opportunity to take in their new location. There were still no windows, but this space was …expansive, to say the least, its ceilings rising at least thirty feet above them, columns of off-white stone that looked like marble rising as supports in a symmetrical pattern throughout the room. In between each column were several displays, encased in glass, their contents arranged in varying heights from approximately waist- to eye-level.
Although Demyx didn't stop, he was walking slowly enough for Roxas to be able to read small index cards next to each display case. It gave Roxas the very distinct sense they were traversing the main viewing floor of a museum.
The item descriptions were almost as outlandish as some of the objects on exhibit within the cases. He saw displays with commentary like 'Forty-Three Century Chinese Home Computer', 'Seventy-Three Century Mountain Boots (Mars)', 'Forty-Five Century Indian Wedding Chalice', 'Hundred-and-Five Century Gas Iron' (whatever the fuck that was), and even 'Twenty-Century Second World War Refugee Equipment (Cases Open to Show Clothing and Protective Mask)'. Everything was neatly labeled, both in handwritten Latin script and something incomprehensible to Roxas, its closest resemblance being to a very obtuse form of blocky emojis.
About halfway through the sweeping expanse of a room, Roxas found his voice again. "What is this place?"
"I already told you back at Time Patrol headquarters," Demyx said, but his tone was patient. He didn't seem particularly annoyed at the prospect of repeating himself. "This is Annuate Palace. Elio keeps a collection of various historical artifacts down here in the lower level, either brought back by Observers or gifted by visitors from Stable Eras." Three quarters of the way across the room, Demyx veered off toward the right. Too caught up in trying to process the information Demyx was rattling off at breakneck speed to even consider making a run for it, Roxas followed, trailing along a few steps behind.
"It's a pet project of his," Demyx said, leading Roxas toward another corridor, this one with a set of circular, stone stairs leading further upward. "He's been doing it for centuries now, as far as any of us know. Watch your step on these ones," he continued as he began to take the stairs two at a time, apparently not bothering to heed his own advice, "they're super old and aren't really level so they can be slippery if you don't watch where you're going."
For centuries…
What was next, Roxas wondered. Was Demyx going to start claiming they were all immortals?
He found himself stuck on those two words, not bothering to process Demyx's warning at first. He soon found himself stepping more carefully, however, after one misplaced foot had him bracing the nearby wall in order to check his balance and not completely faceplant in the middle of the stairwell. As Demyx had claimed, the steps were a challenge to use. In their worn state, there wasn't much with which his pajama-shoed feet could use to gain decent footing. The steps were worn almost glass-smooth, especially at the centers, which curved into shallow divots, as though countless people had been taking the same path for eons and wearing them completely polished in the process.
The stairs circled up, along a steep, narrow path. Roxas let Demyx's comment about centuries-old museum curators slide as he focused on staying upright. By the time they completed the final spiral and exited into another hall, Roxas was panting, calves aching from the tension of maintaining his footing on each glossy step. Demyx paused for a moment, letting Roxas catch his breath, and returned to his quiet humming.
"You'd think … the future … would have done away with stairs … in favor of elevators … at the very least," Roxas said between breaths, shaking his head in light exasperation. If Demyx could make stupid little jokes at every turn, Roxas figured, he could match him with at least one comment that pointed out the ludicrous nature of his claim of living in some city in the far-distant future.
Demyx quirked his head, brows furrowing a little. He remained quiet for a pregnant moment, a look of amusement passing over his features as his gaze traveled to Roxas, then past him off into the distance. "We might wanna have Zexy double-check your hearing after dinner," he said mildly. "I didn't say anything about this being the future."
Before Roxas could open his mouth and counter the assertion, Demyx had moved away again, this time practically skipping across the corridor before disappearing through an open archway on the other side of the hall.
For a moment, Roxas considered remaining in place, or retracing his steps down into the museum area. Still sore, he wasn't convinced he had the physical energy to survive a reverse trip down the stairs, even if he thought he might be able to find his way out of the labyrinthine, windowless corridors to get somewhere above ground anyway. With only a hint of reluctance, Roxas followed the path Demyx had just taken and made his way into the next area of this confusing-as-hell building.
He found himself in what appeared to be another passage, the one lined with doors along both sides. Demyx was about halfway down, looking on expectantly and beckoning him over. As Roxas approached, Demyx raised his hand, rapping lightly on the frame of another wood door in front of him.
There was a slight shuffling sound from within, then a soft click as the door opened, swinging inward to reveal a man no taller than Roxas himself. With dark hair, skin smooth and pale, the man took the two of them in with a look of quiet regard.
"Master Demyx," the man said, giving a small bow, "to what do I owe this pleasure?" The man's tone was polite, his words precise. In that way, he reminded Roxas a little of Zexion. Roxas also noted that he was dressed in the same shade of black as his own attire. Unlike his clothes, however, the man's had a much more formal appearance. With pressed lapels and long, flowing coattails that seemed to float in much the same way as the red diamonds on Roxas' own clothing, it looked almost as though he was wearing a suit.
"Hey, Elio," Demyx said, voice still upbeat, tone as informal as ever. "We got notice from Chronologue that the guardian's presence was requested at dinner tonight." He inclined his head toward Roxas who had frozen in place at the term Demyx had used to describe him.
Pax, custos. The words echoed in the recesses of his mind. Peace, keeper.
Custos… Guardian.
Elio turned his eyes on him, and Roxas blinked, dropping his own gaze a few inches downward, uncomfortable with the realization that he couldn't interpret the placid look that had just been directed his way.
"Of course. It would be an honor," Elio replied, eyes still on Roxas. "And what shall I call him? I imagine he doesn't go by his title alone."
"Sor— uh, he calls himself Roxas," Demyx said, catching himself as Roxas suppressed an outright flinch, the muscles in his shoulders twitching a little at the effort it took remain still.
"Master Roxas, then," Elio said, with a note of finality. "Welcome to Annuate Palace. It is my honor to serve you." Again, he bowed.
Demyx chuckled a little, drawing Roxas' attention over to him. "Don't worry about Elio, amice. You're in good hands. He does this intro with everyone though, so don't go thinkin' you're special now." He winked good-naturedly at Roxas. A quick glance Elio's way showed the same serene expression on the man's face, no indication of what he thought about Demyx's comment. No reaction to it at all, actually.
"Will you be staying for the evening meal as well, Master Demyx?"
"Oh, you couldn't pay me, not even in bonus units or butter-pies," Demyx was quick to respond, his silly grin returning. "These formal engagements just really aren't my thing, no offense."
"None taken," Elio replied, tone still level. Roxas was beginning to wonder if Elio ever got annoyed, given how unflappable he seemed, even in Demyx's more times than not aggravation-inducing presence.
"Anyway," Demyx continued, "I was instructed to bring him over but was hoping you could take him from here up to the dining hall. You know, introduce him and all that ceremonial stuff."
Elio nodded. "Yes, that will be simple enough. I was just about to head up to begin preparations myself."
"Perfect!" Bringing his hands together in one definitive clap, Demyx took a step back. "Well, I'm gonna head out then and get some dinner myself." He patted Roxas on the back with affection, offering an encouraging smile. "Don't worry. They've got great food here. You'll like it."
Because food was totally what he was worrying about right now…
Before Roxas could so much as come up with some sort of protest at being left with yet another stranger — and a creepy drone-like one, at that — Demyx was bounding down the hall, disappearing the way he'd come, leaving Roxas alone to fend for himself with this Elio guy.
This day just kept getting better and better.
Unaware of Roxas' thoughts, the man stepped forward, shutting his door quietly behind him. "Come along, young master," he said, his words formal, tone courteous, as he began walking in the direction Roxas had yet to pass through with Demyx. "I will escort you to the dining hall, as well as make certain you are properly announced."
Although Roxas wanted to argue, despite wanting an explanation for every nonsensical aspect of this entire confusing day, he saw no possible alternative but to comply with the request and hope that they were heading somewhere he could finally get some answers. He was less concerned about his physical safety now, sure, but everything else was still up in the air, and the constant references to various time periods that hadn't even happened yet were getting more and more unsettling. Looking down at his current clothes, eyeing the floating diamonds with outright dislike, he sighed, an action that spoke of fatigue as well as lingering frustration. Nevertheless, he started walking again. For the time being, Roxas acquiesced and moved to follow Elio.