A/N: Thank you AllOtherNamesHaveBeenTaken, sleezygazelle11, Wounded Wing, and TenshiHaou for reviewing the last chapter. When the muse hits and I have time to act on it, I take it. That said, this was my day off and I spent it writing. It wasn't too hard, as I had the outline done. But it's late and I was going to post this tomorrow, but if you can take the time to review then I can take a little more time to edit and post this. Trying to say thanks in a different way. ...I get mushy when I'm tired. Woo~
I was going to say something else but I forgot. Hope you enjoy the chapter. That's what it was. That's what I was going to say. Right there.
::XVI::
alive
A strange blackened substance covered the stove, bits and pieces of white shell littered the countertops, and pans smoked with acrid smells.
Dexné stood in the kitchen threshold, mind churning slowly. It flatlined for a handful of seconds, weariness making its cognitive abilities ineffective.
But the hooded figure standing in the center of the smoking carnage quickly gave away the reason, and cause, for the mess.
Xion had always been diminutive. A slight silhouette highlighted only by the happenings around her, or "it" as some would prefer. She seemed even smaller, standing amidst the mess she had created, head down, but back straight and arms pinned to her sides, like a shamed solider awaiting punishment.
Dexné drew in a deep breath. Again she had failed in her mission to locate the impostor, and such failure had left little tolerance for mistakes—her own, or others'. Yet…yet as she looked at the puppet, saw the slight trembling of the little body hiding under the black coat, something stirred within her.
Memories of pity. Memories of empathy. Memories of self.
"What were you trying to do?" Dexné whispered the question so softly there could be no trace of accusation.
Xion flinched regardless; the hood shifted with the motion. "I…I was trying to make breakfast. Eggs."
Dexné paused, surveyed the damage done. "I see."
Xion bent her head further, and the hood nearly dipped to her chest.
Dexné strode to the stove, feet so light it seemed as if she floated. She studied the sullied surface for what seemed like a long moment, mind turning things over carefully. She was not supposed to be associating with either Roxas or Xion. Yet she had assisted the former more than once, the reason why she still could not pinpoint. Something to do with the boy she remembered perhaps.
Then Xion must also have been reminiscent of…someone she used to know.
Dexné adjusted the hood that shrouded her face. "If you wish to know how use this device without setting off fire alarms...come here."
The puppet was hesitant in her approach, as surprised by Dexné's decision to assist as Dexné was herself. But at last when the two shadowed figures stood side by side and the burnt pans were removed to the sink, the training began.
"Retrieve the eggs from refrigeration. Two will do."
As Xion went to fulfill her orders, Dexné busied herself heating the stove and cleaning a pan for use. She moved quickly and was done before Xion returned cradling two eggs like they were precious glass.
Dexné held her hand out for one. "Watch and do as I do," she said, just before firmly tapping the egg against the counter's edge. "Too hard and it will splatter, too soft and it won't give." Carefully, and deliberately slow so Xion could observe, she separated the shells and let the yolk slide out into the sizzling pan. "Try with the other one. Take your time."
The puppet faltered for a moment, hooded head turning between the stove and Dexné, as if she wasn't quite sure what was happening. As if she were in disbelief someone was bothering to teach her. But then she snapped to attention and mimicked what Dexné had done, tentatively, like she was giving time for Dexné to bark out a correction.
No correction came. Only silence and gentle reminders in the form of mirrored movement. As the task went on, Xion seemed to lose the tenseness in her shoulders, seemed to move with more fluid ease.
Dexné showed Xion what she knew, the things she had learned from her mother. She showed her how to poach the eggs by dribbling warm water into the hot pan and covering it with a lid, she told how long to cook them, to what degree, and how to effectively slip the eggs out of the pan and onto a plate. She demonstrated the most effective way to clean up. All this was done with few words, and the two of them seemed content with that.
"Perhaps now your future endeavors will yield better results," Dexné said as she finished wiping the counter.
A small voice buffered the barrier of the hood, but did not reach Dexné's ears.
"Repeat." She turned her head towards the puppet.
"Thank you," came the soft voice, a little louder, a little clearer.
The gratitude threw Dexné for a moment. She did not move or speak; her mind was busying grasping straws. This puppet should not have former memories, no knowledge of etiquette. Why did she feel the need to give thanks? Did she feel?
"It is not necessary to thank me," Dexné replied, still staring at the puppet unfathomably. "I do what is needed. How do you know to say thank you? Who taught you to say it?"
Xion raised her head, and though Dexné could not see her face, she could sense her confusion. "What? No one…I think. Why…?" The question hung in the air as the puppet's attention drifted to the doorway. "Axel."
A strange feeling, like a cold band coming around her physical heart, immobilized Dexné.
"I was wondering where you were, Xion." His tone was light, though the hint of carefully guarded mistrust seeped through to Dexné.
Quickly the Devouring Shadow ran over what she had said. Had her last question been offensive; had she dehumanized Xion by asking it? Was that why Axel walked straight to Xion while his eyes narrowed on Dexné?
There was something else, though, there behind the shield of his wary stare. Confusion. Curiosity. The same kind one would apply to a docile lioness that was refusing to eat its prey.
"Dexné was showing me how to cook," the puppet supplied.
"Really." It wasn't a question, and the perplexity doubled in his sideways stare. The wariness lowered in its insistence, and it was then Dexné found mobility returned to her.
"I…" She stumbled in her search for words, fumbled for a way to excuse herself. "I must attend to another mission."
Light and swift, she was out the door before anymore could be uttered.
She heard later that Xion had fallen into a deep sleep.
The reactions to it unsettled her more than it should have.
More than that, her own reaction sent her into troubled pondering.
Who was she more concerned for, she wondered.
Better yet, why was she concerned at all?
Nobodies were said to be emotionless, that the feelings they did show was but a mere act.
Why then, if it was just a show, did Dexné feel the need to throw herself into her mission just to escape the emotional cyclone the castle had become? Between Roxas's yelling, Xion's comatose state, and Axel's sharp questions, it felt as if walls were closing on her from all sides.
And she was not even at the center of those things.
Saïx bore it all with the stoic dignity that was expected of a Nobody, and Dexné admired him for it.
Even so, she had to get away. She stuck closer than ever to what she knew, and what she knew was shadowing. Devouring. Tracking. Being the Superior's most valued weapon. His faithful dog.
She pushed all distractions to the outskirts and started using her mind solely for the mission, something she had not done since she first started remembering.
Through the desert alleys of Agrabah, to ghosting the grand architecture of the Coliseum, and all those in between, she searched. She moved through Wonderland like a breeze that barely swayed the roses. She shadowed through Beast's Castle, and the flames of the candles scarcely wavered as she walked by.
She even made her way to the Pride Lands.
Her cheetah form made quick work of the savannahs. Her ears twitched every which way, her dark eyes swept every blade of grass, and her tail flicked in mounting irritation that only served to push her further. For the briefest moment, her eyes strayed from her original goal, looked for a little lion with a reddish mane.
But then the blackest tunnel vision overtook the faint urge and she was back to speeding along the worlds.
At last she came to Twilight Town.
Dexné did not let the clock tower distract her as she normally would have. She did not gaze up at it longingly. She did not give it a single glance, all too aware that if she did her remembering mind would tear her off the path she tracked. Though at the edges of her mind banged the memories and yelled the wonderings and concerns that followed them.
Instead of the memories that usually flashed in her mind's eye was instead the flashing screens of the computer system she had consulted before tackling her mission. The recorded sequence of events that took place in Castle Oblivion stood out to her most of all.
With the figure of one particular person hanging in front of her nose, taunting her just out of reach and fueling some imaginary fire that blazed deep and dark in her, she burned along the trail like a rabid hound.
Until finally she saw it.
She should have known that was where he'd be. If she were the impostor, or any kind of hideaway criminal, it was where she would go. Or perhaps not, as paranoid caution would make her think of such things, and hide somewhere no one would expect.
The towering pines of the woods stood solemnly behind her, and before her, on the end of the dusty dirt trail, stood the abandoned mansion. Its stone walls and its chained wrought iron gate spoke of it as an imposing figure, closed off, unattainable.
Not for Dexné.
She thought of the dark figure in her mind's eye, the one the recordings caught leaving Castle Oblivion.
"Good evening, Riku," she whispered darkly, standing in shadow. "I've found you."
With the controlled motions she learned as a Nobody she exited the Round Room, removed herself from the Superior's presence.
But on the inside she stormed.
She did not understand.
Not the feelings that whirled beneath the surface of her, nor the decision the Superior had just come to.
The imposter and his allies were there. They knew where they were. They were sitting ducks. So what of the magical barrier that kept all at bay? So what of the iron gate and its chains and the stone wall that served as a mere deterrent? She could have scaled those walls. She could have climbed those chains like rope—were her chains not heavier, stronger? The magic barrier, with its buffeting cloud of confusion and, as one got closer, sheer invisible wall, was the only thing that truly stopped her.
But even then, she could pull it down.
She could pull it all down.
℘υׁׅᥣׁׅ֪ᥣׁׅ֪
քմӀӀ
ᗪOᗯᑎ, ᗪOᗯᑎ, ᗪOᗯᑎ
Perhaps she should have, she found herself thinking. Perhaps she should have gone ahead instead of reporting back, instead of hoping for the littlest bit of praise for finally succeeding her mission, instead of seeking the Superior's permission to commence.
She stopped mid-stride in the long white halls, aghast.
What was she thinking? Ignore or outright defy her master? A weapon did not have such thoughts. A militant dog did not huff and turn its head. Nor did it not look to its master for direction on important matters such as this. It did not act independently unless it had to, and even then it was still an extension of its master's will.
To have differing, contrary thoughts…
She shivered for not only thinking them, but considering them.
Dexné continued on her way, less infused with irritation but still conflicted.
Not go after them?
Leave them, he said. Now is not the time.
Xemnas' decree made no sense. How was now not the time? Was it really best to leave their enemies to fester like a wound that would come back to haunt them?
Dexné's fists clenched at her sides. The Black Void could easily tear down that barrier. It could tear down the entire pitiful mansion, with all its crumbling, neglected aspects. It could swallow everything, within and without.
But she was not permitted.
Though it bordered on treacherous, Dexné could not help but ponder her Superior's state of mind. He ordered one thing only to contradict himself at a later date. This incident was not the first, though it was the first time Dexné ever became upset by it.
Go here and do this, he would say. And once she had reported back, expecting advancing orders, he would command her to stop. She wondered if he saw something she did not. She wondered if he had some knowledge she could not hope to comprehend. Many times she had accepted it as such, contributed it to his infinite wisdom without further thought, and carried on like a good dog should.
Why has that changed? she lamented.
Fear was an emotion she could never hope to forget, and she remembered that. And so she knew it was that feeling that ran an icy river through her as she realized something grievous.
Her master was at war with himself. Though he was one person, he fought, and with no other opponent in sight. It almost seemed as if there were two people within. And with his conflicting interests came the conclusion that her Superior was not the rock she had always seen him as. He was not an unshakable cornerstone.
He was a stone that put cracks in himself.
Without a steadfast leader, Dexné was…
She was a Voidling.
An instinct, stronger than any logical thought or any illogical feeling, laid imbued in her soul. Devour, the instinct said. Devour, devour, devour.
Fear grew. It made her quiver as her realization fully came to light.
If no leashes tethered her to her master's will, if the chains broke and she was unbound…the keyblade and all those who wielded it would already be gone. But that was not what worried her.
It would not just be them. Not just her enemies.
But everyone. And everything.
Her trembling did not stop, not even as the hours dragged deep into the night.
She took to the halls once more.
This time she made sure her long hooded coat was on, and not the plain white gown she slept in. She did not run the risk of exposure twice. Especially now that she knew exactly what was beneath her obedient exterior, knew precisely why Axel watched her with such wariness.
And perhaps he was right.
Perhaps Xemnas was a madman for keeping a Voidling as his dog. A dragon would have been a safer option, a hydra as well, or even that three headed dog from the Coliseum Underworld.
What was it that wandered his halls at night?
The embodiment of what ate the very stars from the sky.
I'm not the only one, she thought with both awe and dread. There are other Voidlings out there. Where are they? And why did Xemnas choose me? How was it that he found me?
She knew not why, but an image of that old man came to her, the one who hunched his back like a vulture yet carried strength in his shoulders all the same. The one with the golden eyes. She remembered his smile. It was not a good smile.
She was lost in her thoughts, so lost she looked no further than her feet as they ghosted across the floor, and so she jolted as a voice spoke out to her.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Axel leaned against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest. His black coat and red hair was muted in the dim lighting. He did not look at her, stare also focused downward. His voice carried well regardless, with an almost echoic quality. "You shouldn't wander the halls at night, you know."
She froze at the familiar words.
They were spoken from her own mouth not too long ago.
He looked up when she did not respond, and what she saw there caught her breath. A smile, though small and uncertain. "This won't do me any good, I'm afraid." He motioned with his visible hand, bringing Dexné's attention to the sleeping potion it held. "Unfortunately sleeping's my problem, not the solution."
Dexné delved into her pocket and held out an elixir before her mind could process what she was doing or the meaning of what he had said.
His soft laughter came to her so quietly she almost didn't hear it. "That won't help me either. You keep it."
She was at a loss for what to do. Slowly her outstretch hand lowered, and the advanced potion went back into her pocket. And then she waited. She knew not what else to do.
He spoke suddenly. "I…appreciate you helping Xion and Roxas…" He had trailed off, and she could hear the "however" as clearly as if he said it.
She's a Voidling.
She's dangerous.
Stay away from her.
"I will stay away."
"That's all I ask. And I'll deal with them, so…"
Nothing more was said.
Silence built a wall between them, as thick and impenetrable as the barrier she was not allowed to tear down. She could only look, and wish for something more.
Axel stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, but not in that mistrustful way she was so used to. He squinted as if trying to peer into the blackness that hid her face.
He gave up, and his eyes returned to their normal shape. The green of them seemed to glow, catching what little lighting the hall offered. It was then she noticed the darkness gathered under his eyes, the heaviness of his stare, the way his eyes shined almost wetly.
Something stirred in the back of her mind. A memory trying to break free.
She remembered that look. Remembered…
The memory tore free, striking so hard it knocked her from her wistful stupor.
Without a word she turned and ran from Axel, ran as fast and as hard as her legs could go, the walls and floor and shadows flying by. She burst into her room, did not stop until she met the window. Her palms braced the impact, brought her to a sudden stop. She slid down to the floor, a single hand reaching up to the black of the window, the other curling at her chest where her heart would be. She hoped and she prayed it was true. The memory…
Was—was he not merely imaginary?
The man who held her, the man who looked like both Lea and Axel…
She remembered that look on his face, eyes shining wetly. She remembered the first time she saw it.
She woke up to it.
After the deathly fall she woke up, tucked under the enchanted quilts of a wizard's bed.
Alive.
A/N: Editing still takes forever.
Thanks for reading.