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Shot down by strangers who's glances can cripple the H E A R T and devour the s o u l. All alone, he turns to s t o n e. Holding his breath half to d e a t h. To save his L I F E, he crawls like a worm from a b i r d. -[ Crossover friendly; ask box friendly ; 9+ years of RP experience ; OC friendly ] - Art credit: here
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Fight or Flight.
He had dreaded it the moment he saw the mission card. Underworld. Demyx gave a rather loud groan as he walked through the halls, gloved hands pressed over his face in a tight push. Why? Why was it always him that had to go down to that wretched place? He hated it down there and every other member knew that. Then again, perhaps that was why they always sent him. He gave a low whine, dropping his arms to his sides in a rather swift motion, using the momentum to add a hop in his step. This just meant more work, which required effort, which meant he'd actually have to do something aside from run. He was neither excited or optimistic about the mission ahead of him. Going to the Underworld meant he could possibly run into a million different enemies, all being much stronger than himself. He groaned, nearly stomping his boot down onto the linoleum floor. "This isn't even fair," he hissed, scratching his temple, soon moving to run his fingers through his mullet styled hair. "They always send me. I keep telling them...not the guy for this."
The darkness was the fastest means of transport, taking him a thousand worlds away. As he fell from the darkness flowing from the wall, he reached behind his neck. He pulled the black hood up, tugging it securely over his head, careful not to mess his hair. Sea-green eyes glinted with a sudden thought.
"Well, if this mission requires a lot of fighting, I guess I need to find someone who will do most of it for me."
Water-;
I have a starter to write and some stuff to drabble out. I'll be getting things posted soon. Since this account is an attempted revival, any RPs are welcome. I don't have many people I follow, so if you recommend anyone, I would appreciate it. Thank you to the new followers I have. I will have things written soon.
It is my own personal headcanon that Xemnas just had so much of Demyx's lazy ass attitude that he found him weak and pathetic. So, as a way to get rid of him, he dumped Demyx's missions to be assigned by Saix. Now, Saix was all about the moon and shit, missions first, blah blah blah. So, in my headcanon, Demyx always told them, "I'm not the right guy for this," mainly because he knew he couldn't win the fight they were sending him to and despite their lack of emotions, he was scared. And yet, Saix always sent him in hopes that he wouldn't return. He wasn't successful the first time. But we all know Demyx didn't come home the second time.
I told them they were sending the wrong guy...
Memories slipped away like a dream, sliding through gloved fingertips, dripping to the ground with sorrow. He could remember few things from his time walking in the light, covered only by his leather hood. Leather gloved digits curled in the empty air, failing to grasp anything close to hope. What was hope when the darkness was swimming, engulfing all that it touched? It was a disaster, yet comforting in an odd way. The other Nobodies soon began to fade from mind, names becoming nothing but mere words he could not understand. Deep down, in the pit of his stomach, he felt a pang. The pain spread and he was forced to rest his hands there, pressing the emerging pressure down. Emotions. They had always warned him that they were not real, and yet, here he was- suffering. Misery and pain. Had it all been a lie? A lie he told himself, weaving through the strings of his mind, playing a fool to the game? He let his fingers uncurl, dropping invisible bonds, letting everything go. Perhaps he had lied to himself, but how could he have? He felt things, he'd known he did. From the moment he'd arrive in the castle,he'd known he was different. But, reduced to a life of solitude and darkness, he was forced to face the cold harsh truth. And the truth was not kind, nor did it leave a warmth within his chest like he so longed to feel. He felt empty, cold, lost and forgotten. How long had it been since the hero had slayed him, leaving him to fade to nothing like this? He rested his hands on his chest, pressing, yet felt nothing. Sea green eyes were covered by pale eyelids. Perhaps it was time to let go, to give in and forget everything he'd ever told himself. He was a fool for believing anything he'd said so strongly- everyone had been right. They had no hearts, why, they didn't even exist! The world moved on as if not a single life was lost, but it had been. Oh, it truly had been. Were he back in the castle, seated on the comfortable white couch, he would have written a song to display his concerns.
Music. The pulse that coursed through his body, what drove his fingers to strum the strings, what poured from his lips when he sang- it was all passion. How could he be told they had no hearts when his music spoke a thousand words that he could not? Yet, his beloved instrument had shattered to pieces, darkness swallowing its remains. Even so, he could hardly remember a single tune he'd written. He'd use his songs for attacks, defenses and even for leisure time. All in all, he had been a fairly talented musician. A musician who also had a knack for manipulating those around him to do his work, leaving him time to lounge. Many of the other Nobodies thought him to be incapable, stupid and even pathetically childish. He was none of those, save for maybe a little childish. He was not a fighter, not by display, but when he was pushed too hard, the ocean shoved back harder. Demyx was a force to be reckoned with. If only they had seen that. If only he had tried harder to defeat that hero whose name he had long forgotten. That was all over now. As it was, he could hardly remember what a musician was. He could hardly remember anything. Not even his own name came to mind anymore. Something simple, yet unique. His lips parted as he spoke the name slowly. "De...myx," he murmured, "My...name is Demyx." His hands lifted to press against his ears, pushing tightly. If he could hold on to one thing, he wanted it to be his name. The darkness could take anything else away from him, but not his name. He tipped his head down, once styled mohawk flopping forward uselessly. All he could do was repeat his name, over and over. Demyx. Demyx. Demyx. His eyes had closed, leaving him to nothing but pure darkness. Demyx. My name is Demyx. My name... He could hear the faint sounds of people talking. He jerked his head up, wondering if it was the darkness whispering to him. He slowly stood, lowering his hands from his ears. He took a cautious step forward before pausing. What if this was a trick? His nose wrinkled slightly, though he dropped the act swiftly- after all, was there a point anymore? He took a tentative step forward. What did he have to lose? He outstretched his hand, reaching through the darkness. There was a light peering through, almost as if a beckoning call. All his non-existence, he had pretended to be less intelligent than he was, if only to get the easier missions. It was now, however, that his logical side showed more, the gears in his mind turning round and round. He hesitated, frowning as if to second guess himself, and then reached ahead again. As soon as his fingers touched the light, he knew it was too much. Warmth greeted his gloved fingertips. It was the last thing he could remember before his body exploded in pain, splintering through his body. He cried out, trying to pull away from the tear he had opened, but nothing could stop it. He resisted the sting of the light, crying out as more pain coursed through him, mind swimming with a million different memories. The darkness began to clear, leaving him stunned and in agony. His vision swam, colors and brightness blinding him momentarily. The shadows wrapped around him, carefully forming his black coat once more, enveloping his legs in the same black pants and those leather boots. His knees gave out first, sending him crashing to the stone ground. Sea green eyes, usually filled with curiosity and possible mischief, were now dulled. A small whimper slipped through his lips before he fell to the side, too weakened to move. Whatever he had done, it had gotten him out of the darkness. As his vision began to fade, he tried to think of where he was. Yet, he couldn't seem to think at all. He grasped at nothing, body twitching as he finally let go. Resisting was too much effort. His eyes fell shut, body lax in the alleyway. Odd... He could only remember one thing. My name is Demyx.
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What's Missing?
To the average person, voids are created by others that hurt them. Initially, they are created half complete, only to seal all the gaps and ensure their survival. What was missing in an average life? Love, happiness, sorrow, pain? What could possibly complete a person without keeping them chained for life? It was too hard to imagine, too hard to think about, and that was why he no longer bothered to. It was too much of a nuisance to grasp the way people were shaped and molded. As it was, he was neither shaped nor molded. He simply did not exist. People looked through him, over him, just right passed him. There was nothing in him worth noting. It wasn't only those normal beings, but the others he lived with, too. The way they stared at him, mocked him, teased him- all because he believed he had that one missing piece, or something like it. Music was his life, his rhyme, and his reason. How could his skilled fingers dance along the strings of his instruments if there was nothing behind it? It was hard to believe anything could move like the ocean could. Then again, not many people knew what the ocean was thinking, what it was saying, what it meant when the tides changed- no one understood the water like he did. In every drop of water, there was emotion, there was chaos and there was a voice. The oceans of the worlds sang songs of disaster, misery, happiness, rejoicing and then some. To slide his gloves off his hands and dive them into the sparkling blue water before him was nothing short of enjoyable. The water reacted to him, swirling around his wiggling fingers before settling back into the waves that crashed against the shore. What was the ocean doing, acting mischievous? Most likely. Birds attempted to scurry from the crashing waves, but some were caught and left to flee to the skies. A small smile played upon his lips, sea green eyes sparkling beneath his dark hood. "Sometimes I wonder what it is you're really after," Demyx muttered softly, pulling his hands from the water, "I wrote a new song to represent you. Want to hear it?" How could something be missing...?
Never-;
We do too have hearts. What kind of game was he playing? Everyone laughed at him, teased him, taunted him- all because he believed that deep down, there was something there. Something that was pushing him to do what he did, to be how he was. If the heart carried emotions, why was it that he could feel depression when the ocean did? Why would no one believe him? With a heavy sigh, he looked out at the world around him. It was a new location, somewhere he could hide from the illustrious Number VII for a while. He pulled his knees up, resting his chin against the leather material. With another heaving sigh, his sea-green hues stared out at the ocean. It was beautiful, chaotic and everything an ocean could be. The waves were roaring, crashing against the sand, taking grains away from the silent shore.Β He placed gloved fingers against the sand, smiling weakly as the water splashed up and fell atop the leather, making soft pattering sounds. "What am I doing wrong," Demyx mumbled, staring out at the water, "Was I always supposed to be the weak one?" He wasn't weak, not by a long shot, but he wasn't the strongest. He pressed his face into the comfort of the leather draped around his fingers. It was like Xemnas was giving him these horrid assignments on purpose. Like the Organization didn't want him to come back. Maybe they didn't. He pressed his forehead against his knees, pulling in a shuddering breath. "I wish I could show them my true potential, but none of them understand. If they're going to keep sending me out like a lamb to the slaughter, why should I make myself obvious? I'd rather be stupid and incapable so that I get the easier jobs..." He glanced down at the card he'd pulled from his jacket, staring at the writing scrawled across it. Destroy the Keyblade Master. They're sending the wrong guy...
Lazy Day-;
A soft sigh flew through pale lips as the Nobody stared at the empty room. The walls were pure white, shadows cascading off the wall as dusks roamed about. With his chin propped in his leather-clad hand, the Nobody gave a loud yawn, voice echoing through the room. The other twelve chairs were empty, all elevated at different levels, and all awaiting their residents. His hood was pulled up over his mess of a sandy hairstyle. He had woken up late, or so he thought, and arrived just in time for no one. "Why does he call meetings so early," he whined, yawning mid-sentence, tone wavering. Sea-green hues stared around, eyelids drooping ever so slightly. The sound of darkness swirling to his right took his attention as he watched another hooded figure enter. He didn't have a chance to call out a greeting, or an insult, as he felt something messing with his hood, thus destroying his half-done hair beneath it. "Xiggy," the Nocturne whined loudly, tugging his hood back down. The Freeshooter laughed as he warped to his own seat, snickering at the other's irritation. Demyx gave a huff, slouching in his seat, fingers tapping against his cheek. Why was he always stuck in these situations? He arched a brow as their notorious leader finally entered the council room, late. As usual. Hues darkened as he watched the Nobody speak, going on and on about Kingdom Hearts and how they would all achieve it. The idea of a real heart was incredible, something he had striven to achieve since the day he was told about it, but alas, he had his own thoughts. In his opinion, they did have hearts- or something similar to it. After all, how could he write the music that he could? How could he feel the passion that he did when his fingers danced across the strings, feet spinning him around, voice carrying around his room? There was something there! Music needed a heart, a soul- if he could play such wonderful music, there had to be something driving him. He was often told, and this was why he never brought it up to anyone else, that what they did and felt were memories of their past lives. But, how could that be when he couldn't remember a thing from his past? Demyx sighed, realizing he'd been lost in thought throughout the entire meeting. He jumped when a card was thrown at him. He fumbled to catch it, nearly sliding out of his seat as his fingers snagged the notecard. He scooted back, staring at the scribbled words on the mission card. Underworld. Pursue Sora. Remind him of who he is. And below that was an extra scribble, a side note from someone he called his mentor- his only friend. If the subject fails to respond, use aggression to liberate his true disposition. "Sure picked the wrong guy for this one," Demyx murmured as he dispersed into a flurry of shadows. Roxas. He didn't like dealing with this kid any more than anyone else. Then again, having an errand boy around again would be nice. "Here goes nothing..."
