|
|
Crysiana (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} crysiana) wrote,@ 2007-07-25 01:59:00 |
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
[fic][KH] Psychology
Title: Psychology
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Zexion is assigned to find out what, exactly, is going wrong with Demyx.
There were days, Zexion reflected, when it was honestly not worth the trouble of waking up. Today was likely going to be one such day, particularly if he was to be tasked with something as tedious as it appeared. Zexion sat in a gray chair in a small, plain room that was to be devoted to a single task. Across from him was another chair, equally gray, and equally drab. The room was an odd one for the castle; it had the same silvery sheen to it as the rest, but it was shaped like a normal room in a house - four walls, a low ceiling, and a single door. Zexion's task, at the moment, was to wait for the subject to come through that door, and then commence operations.
It was, in as much as anything could be, utterly boring. Still, Zexion sat with his hands in his lap, watching the door and waiting.
It was only a short time before the subject arrived, looking rather harried. It wasn't an uncommon look for the new Nobody, who was neither, from what Zexion could tell, given to cheerful obedience like the seventh or cheerful disobedience like the eighth. The ninth seemed to wish to do his best - well meaning and easily led and, unfortunately, apparently powerless. The last was the reason that Zexion was here, the reason that Xemnas had demanded Zexion examine the ninth, when Vexen had attempted to pry a weapon out of him, to no avail. Zexion was dubious on the subject - he himself had what seemed to be a weak weapon, though that was only to those who undervalued the opportunity to make an opponent kill himself or his allies in the midst of battle.
The ninth...was gangly, puppyish, eager, and apparently forgetful, given the cue cards he was currently shuffling. Zexion had had no use for him from the start; he had little enough use for some of his colleagues, who were unfortunately proving to be dead weight in a myriad of ways. Still, they were one organization, and it was his obligation to support the whole, regardless of individual issues.
"So," Zexion said coolly, "it appears that I've been given to speak with you today." The door shut at that moment with an air of finality. The ninth jumped, dropping a card and leaning to pick it up and settle it back in the pile before heading over to the chair across from Zexion. He hovered there, and Zexion found himself irritated that he could not quite discern whether the polite look the ninth gave him was genuine or mocking. "You may," Zexion said, "of course, sit."
The ninth settled into the chair, tucking his cards away. He rested his arms on the armrests and sat back. "So, uh, what were we supposed to talk about? Is this about my weapon again?" The ninth made a face and sighed. "I know I'm supposed to have one, but really, I can't make it come to me! I don't know how you guys do it."
Zexion held up a hand. "Excuses are, unfortunately, not what I'm here to hear from you." He noted the ninth's stiffening, though whether it was from ire or nerves, it was hard to say. "We are going to talk about your other, and you are going to answer honestly, and hopefully that will make it easier to discover what weapon you should have." Zexion did not attempt to tell the ninth that this would be private - it likely already wasn't private and if it were, the Superior would still want to see it later. What the ninth assumed, of course, was his business.
"Oh. Yeah, well. I want to help out any way I can," the ninth said, rubbing the back of his head. He had a small grin on his face. "But see, I don't know what talking about my life will do. I mean, I never fought or anything like that; I didn't even do sport hunting." He spread his hands and looked directly into Zexion's eyes, his expression earnest. "I just want to get my heart back, no matter what I have to do. I know it won't be all good, but I can make it up after, if it's that bad."
Did the ninth even wonder if others were going to see? Zexion pursed his lips. Such openness from someone who'd become a Nobody...well, someone had to set a precedent, he supposed. Still, the babble hadn't contained anything useful so far. "I appreciate your dedication, but it's not what I need to hear right now. Please stop stalling." Zexion doubted that the ninth was stalling; he's not sure now if the ninth would be wise enough to consider stalling, and that will only make today that much more boring.
The ninth waved his hands in front of his face, his eyes going wide. "I didn't mean it that way! I just...well, I grew up at an orphanage with my brother. We were always a bit different from the other kids - he could move things without touching them, I could see things that were going to happen. We didn't go out from the orphanage much; they were pretty strict, but there was a music store nearby. They got all sorts of junk instruments, and we'd help fix them up. That lasted until we were...ten and twelve? That's when we figured out the star box, see, and..."
Zexion did not rub his temples, but apparently something in his expression stopped the ninth's story. "Is there no way you could tell a coherent narrative?" Honestly, he had to admit to himself that the narrative was coherent, just rambling. Perhaps Xigbar would be better suited...no. Zexion was the one, along with Lexaeus, who tended to note insignificant details. "I apologize," he said shortly. "Explain, about the star box."
The ninth nodded fervently. "My brother and I had had the star box for as long as we could remember. From the time we were found, before we were in the orphanage. It had two stars on the front of it, but otherwise it was a mystery. When we were ten and twelve, I...well, I'd thought I'd broken it, but really what we found was that there was a map inside. That was when we set off to find our family. See, we found out that they lived in a place called Witch Mountain." The ninth waved a hand, staring down at the floor, away from Zexion. "After a lot of stuff, we made it there to our folks. Not our parents, but our people, anyway. We were refugees on that world, it turned out, from a world like it."
Zexion began to frown. "It wasn't a place like Traverse Town." The ninth's world hadn't been; it had been a fairly ordinary world, all told. Finding a new, strong nobody there had been more of a shock than anything. So far, while the story made the world slightly more interesting, it didn't explain what sort of weapon the ninth might wield. Certainly Zexion would have to ask later about the clairvoyance, but it wasn't relevant at the moment.
"Oh, no, it wasn't that," the ninth assured Zexion. "I think our worlds must have been very close to each other, or orbiting each other." He went on, "So after that, we lived with our families until, well. You know how it happens. We had normal school - I still liked music best, especially since they had instruments from all over the world. There ws a boy named Tony...well, anyway, we did farming and stuff there, but we never learned anything like weapons. We were always taught it was better to talk than fight."
How quaint, really. Pacifism to the point of an unwillingness to protect oneself...though the ninth had just admitted that he would do anything to get his heart back, knowing full well that what they were doing was not what one might consider wholly morally acceptable. An interesting dichotomy, though Zexion still could not see what had made this rather fluffy person a survivor more than his poor fellows. "You did not fight, then. What would you say it was you held most in your hands, that you would go to when you wished to be protected from the world?" Most people went to other people. That was likely why most people did not become Nobodies. There was an unfortunate strain of needing to be more self-reliant than reliant on others.
The ninth tipped his head to the side. It was as thoughtful as Zexion had ever seen him; with luck it wouldn't presage another bout of babbling. "I guess I went to play an instrument. I liked the stringed ones better than anything." He rubbed the side of his face. "I never used to get this nervous back then, though. It's, you know. I can't see any more, and it's scary. I mean, I never saw much, but not being able to see at all is different."
Well, that answered the question about the ninth's clairvoyance well enough. Zexion supposed he ought to be comforting; the ninth had shown a willingness to help and yet still an independence; Zexion noted that he'd said nothing about the process of getting to Witch Mountain, which for young children must have been a feat. Zexion smiled and spread his hands. "Trust that I will do nothing to harm you right now. I do not believe that attempting to kill you will bring out your weapon." Particularly, Zexion added silently, given that attempts along that line had failed.
"I didn't think that," the ninth protested, holding a hand out. "Xigbar said that you could kill people with your brain so you didn't need a weapon, and that's why they were sending me to talk to you."
That started a smile out of Zexion, though it disappeared almost instantly. It seemed that most of the rest of them found the ninth amusing, particularly to tell tales to. Currently useless the ninth might be, but his willingness to accept what the members of the Organization told him might make him a valuable piece to use in the future. Zexion was somewhat annoyed to realize that the ninth was smiling back, a warm grin that seemed completely genuine.
"So," the ninth said, "you think my 'weapon' might be an instrument, right? Because that's what I think about when I think of defending myself, or keeping other people away. It's the closest thing to a weapon." He met Zexion's eyes squarely, apparently quite secure in this assumption.
Zexion found he misliked being read so well, though the conversation could not possibly have led anywhere else. That one comment, though, showed that there might be something resembling a brain in the ninth. It was heartening to think that this conversation might end sometime that day, rather than dragging on as Vexen's experiments had. "I do consider it a possibility. There's still the problem that you haven't summoned anything, including an instrument."
For a moment, the ninth's smile turned sly, though that morphed a second later into a look of hurt bewilderment. Zexion wondered if he'd missed something, now, though honestly there didn't seem to be anything more in the ninth past a mischievous streak. "No one asked me if I could summon an instrument," the ninth said, sounding aggrieved. He held his hands out, and a strangely formed sitar appeared in them. "See?"
Zexion opened his mouth, then closed it again. He opened his mouth again, but only a choked sound came out. "Exactly how long have you been able to do that?" It had to be weeks. Maybe ever since the ninth had become a Nobody. Who could know at this point? Vexen would be so upset; Zexion would have to absent himself while the man had his conniption fit.
"Uh, a while. But I could pretend it wasn't," the ninth said brightly. He looked a bit nervous still, but there was definitely amusement there now.
Zexion waved a hand. "No, it's quite alright. No one specified and you weren't to know, though I suggest you keep your distance from Vexen until he's past the point of wanting to kill you." Zexion sighed and shook his head at the ninth again. "You can go, I believe. I'll report your success to the Superior."
The ninth rose, letting his sitar disappear. He headed for the door with a bounce in his step. "Thanks for helping me out, Zexion." Zexion made a sound of assent, staring up at the ceiling as the ninth left the room.
The man was puppyish, eager, and had a tendency to babble. He was forgetful and thoughtless. And yet he'd deliberately taunted them with withholding his weapon, at least for a while - Zexion didn't think he'd known it was what they wanted of him at first, but certainly he'd realized after a time. And he was willing to do anything, he said, to get his heart back. Zexion rose; he'd have to report to Xemnas about this, and report as well that perhaps, just perhaps, their new member, with his contradictions, might be interesting to watch.
Title: Psychology
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Zexion is assigned to find out what, exactly, is going wrong with Demyx.
There were days, Zexion reflected, when it was honestly not worth the trouble of waking up. Today was likely going to be one such day, particularly if he was to be tasked with something as tedious as it appeared. Zexion sat in a gray chair in a small, plain room that was to be devoted to a single task. Across from him was another chair, equally gray, and equally drab. The room was an odd one for the castle; it had the same silvery sheen to it as the rest, but it was shaped like a normal room in a house - four walls, a low ceiling, and a single door. Zexion's task, at the moment, was to wait for the subject to come through that door, and then commence operations.
It was, in as much as anything could be, utterly boring. Still, Zexion sat with his hands in his lap, watching the door and waiting.
It was only a short time before the subject arrived, looking rather harried. It wasn't an uncommon look for the new Nobody, who was neither, from what Zexion could tell, given to cheerful obedience like the seventh or cheerful disobedience like the eighth. The ninth seemed to wish to do his best - well meaning and easily led and, unfortunately, apparently powerless. The last was the reason that Zexion was here, the reason that Xemnas had demanded Zexion examine the ninth, when Vexen had attempted to pry a weapon out of him, to no avail. Zexion was dubious on the subject - he himself had what seemed to be a weak weapon, though that was only to those who undervalued the opportunity to make an opponent kill himself or his allies in the midst of battle.
The ninth...was gangly, puppyish, eager, and apparently forgetful, given the cue cards he was currently shuffling. Zexion had had no use for him from the start; he had little enough use for some of his colleagues, who were unfortunately proving to be dead weight in a myriad of ways. Still, they were one organization, and it was his obligation to support the whole, regardless of individual issues.
"So," Zexion said coolly, "it appears that I've been given to speak with you today." The door shut at that moment with an air of finality. The ninth jumped, dropping a card and leaning to pick it up and settle it back in the pile before heading over to the chair across from Zexion. He hovered there, and Zexion found himself irritated that he could not quite discern whether the polite look the ninth gave him was genuine or mocking. "You may," Zexion said, "of course, sit."
The ninth settled into the chair, tucking his cards away. He rested his arms on the armrests and sat back. "So, uh, what were we supposed to talk about? Is this about my weapon again?" The ninth made a face and sighed. "I know I'm supposed to have one, but really, I can't make it come to me! I don't know how you guys do it."
Zexion held up a hand. "Excuses are, unfortunately, not what I'm here to hear from you." He noted the ninth's stiffening, though whether it was from ire or nerves, it was hard to say. "We are going to talk about your other, and you are going to answer honestly, and hopefully that will make it easier to discover what weapon you should have." Zexion did not attempt to tell the ninth that this would be private - it likely already wasn't private and if it were, the Superior would still want to see it later. What the ninth assumed, of course, was his business.
"Oh. Yeah, well. I want to help out any way I can," the ninth said, rubbing the back of his head. He had a small grin on his face. "But see, I don't know what talking about my life will do. I mean, I never fought or anything like that; I didn't even do sport hunting." He spread his hands and looked directly into Zexion's eyes, his expression earnest. "I just want to get my heart back, no matter what I have to do. I know it won't be all good, but I can make it up after, if it's that bad."
Did the ninth even wonder if others were going to see? Zexion pursed his lips. Such openness from someone who'd become a Nobody...well, someone had to set a precedent, he supposed. Still, the babble hadn't contained anything useful so far. "I appreciate your dedication, but it's not what I need to hear right now. Please stop stalling." Zexion doubted that the ninth was stalling; he's not sure now if the ninth would be wise enough to consider stalling, and that will only make today that much more boring.
The ninth waved his hands in front of his face, his eyes going wide. "I didn't mean it that way! I just...well, I grew up at an orphanage with my brother. We were always a bit different from the other kids - he could move things without touching them, I could see things that were going to happen. We didn't go out from the orphanage much; they were pretty strict, but there was a music store nearby. They got all sorts of junk instruments, and we'd help fix them up. That lasted until we were...ten and twelve? That's when we figured out the star box, see, and..."
Zexion did not rub his temples, but apparently something in his expression stopped the ninth's story. "Is there no way you could tell a coherent narrative?" Honestly, he had to admit to himself that the narrative was coherent, just rambling. Perhaps Xigbar would be better suited...no. Zexion was the one, along with Lexaeus, who tended to note insignificant details. "I apologize," he said shortly. "Explain, about the star box."
The ninth nodded fervently. "My brother and I had had the star box for as long as we could remember. From the time we were found, before we were in the orphanage. It had two stars on the front of it, but otherwise it was a mystery. When we were ten and twelve, I...well, I'd thought I'd broken it, but really what we found was that there was a map inside. That was when we set off to find our family. See, we found out that they lived in a place called Witch Mountain." The ninth waved a hand, staring down at the floor, away from Zexion. "After a lot of stuff, we made it there to our folks. Not our parents, but our people, anyway. We were refugees on that world, it turned out, from a world like it."
Zexion began to frown. "It wasn't a place like Traverse Town." The ninth's world hadn't been; it had been a fairly ordinary world, all told. Finding a new, strong nobody there had been more of a shock than anything. So far, while the story made the world slightly more interesting, it didn't explain what sort of weapon the ninth might wield. Certainly Zexion would have to ask later about the clairvoyance, but it wasn't relevant at the moment.
"Oh, no, it wasn't that," the ninth assured Zexion. "I think our worlds must have been very close to each other, or orbiting each other." He went on, "So after that, we lived with our families until, well. You know how it happens. We had normal school - I still liked music best, especially since they had instruments from all over the world. There ws a boy named Tony...well, anyway, we did farming and stuff there, but we never learned anything like weapons. We were always taught it was better to talk than fight."
How quaint, really. Pacifism to the point of an unwillingness to protect oneself...though the ninth had just admitted that he would do anything to get his heart back, knowing full well that what they were doing was not what one might consider wholly morally acceptable. An interesting dichotomy, though Zexion still could not see what had made this rather fluffy person a survivor more than his poor fellows. "You did not fight, then. What would you say it was you held most in your hands, that you would go to when you wished to be protected from the world?" Most people went to other people. That was likely why most people did not become Nobodies. There was an unfortunate strain of needing to be more self-reliant than reliant on others.
The ninth tipped his head to the side. It was as thoughtful as Zexion had ever seen him; with luck it wouldn't presage another bout of babbling. "I guess I went to play an instrument. I liked the stringed ones better than anything." He rubbed the side of his face. "I never used to get this nervous back then, though. It's, you know. I can't see any more, and it's scary. I mean, I never saw much, but not being able to see at all is different."
Well, that answered the question about the ninth's clairvoyance well enough. Zexion supposed he ought to be comforting; the ninth had shown a willingness to help and yet still an independence; Zexion noted that he'd said nothing about the process of getting to Witch Mountain, which for young children must have been a feat. Zexion smiled and spread his hands. "Trust that I will do nothing to harm you right now. I do not believe that attempting to kill you will bring out your weapon." Particularly, Zexion added silently, given that attempts along that line had failed.
"I didn't think that," the ninth protested, holding a hand out. "Xigbar said that you could kill people with your brain so you didn't need a weapon, and that's why they were sending me to talk to you."
That started a smile out of Zexion, though it disappeared almost instantly. It seemed that most of the rest of them found the ninth amusing, particularly to tell tales to. Currently useless the ninth might be, but his willingness to accept what the members of the Organization told him might make him a valuable piece to use in the future. Zexion was somewhat annoyed to realize that the ninth was smiling back, a warm grin that seemed completely genuine.
"So," the ninth said, "you think my 'weapon' might be an instrument, right? Because that's what I think about when I think of defending myself, or keeping other people away. It's the closest thing to a weapon." He met Zexion's eyes squarely, apparently quite secure in this assumption.
Zexion found he misliked being read so well, though the conversation could not possibly have led anywhere else. That one comment, though, showed that there might be something resembling a brain in the ninth. It was heartening to think that this conversation might end sometime that day, rather than dragging on as Vexen's experiments had. "I do consider it a possibility. There's still the problem that you haven't summoned anything, including an instrument."
For a moment, the ninth's smile turned sly, though that morphed a second later into a look of hurt bewilderment. Zexion wondered if he'd missed something, now, though honestly there didn't seem to be anything more in the ninth past a mischievous streak. "No one asked me if I could summon an instrument," the ninth said, sounding aggrieved. He held his hands out, and a strangely formed sitar appeared in them. "See?"
Zexion opened his mouth, then closed it again. He opened his mouth again, but only a choked sound came out. "Exactly how long have you been able to do that?" It had to be weeks. Maybe ever since the ninth had become a Nobody. Who could know at this point? Vexen would be so upset; Zexion would have to absent himself while the man had his conniption fit.
"Uh, a while. But I could pretend it wasn't," the ninth said brightly. He looked a bit nervous still, but there was definitely amusement there now.
Zexion waved a hand. "No, it's quite alright. No one specified and you weren't to know, though I suggest you keep your distance from Vexen until he's past the point of wanting to kill you." Zexion sighed and shook his head at the ninth again. "You can go, I believe. I'll report your success to the Superior."
The ninth rose, letting his sitar disappear. He headed for the door with a bounce in his step. "Thanks for helping me out, Zexion." Zexion made a sound of assent, staring up at the ceiling as the ninth left the room.
The man was puppyish, eager, and had a tendency to babble. He was forgetful and thoughtless. And yet he'd deliberately taunted them with withholding his weapon, at least for a while - Zexion didn't think he'd known it was what they wanted of him at first, but certainly he'd realized after a time. And he was willing to do anything, he said, to get his heart back. Zexion rose; he'd have to report to Xemnas about this, and report as well that perhaps, just perhaps, their new member, with his contradictions, might be interesting to watch.
