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Entry tags:
Kingdom Hearts, "Servants of Masters" (Roxas)
Warnings: This fic contains invented ranks of Nobodies and a rather creepy Organization. It also contains an increasing plentitude of Dusks, sitting on rooftops, and a heart-to-heart with a Samurai. Gen. ...what did I write?
.servants of masters.
"What is going on here?"
Xemnas stepped between Roxas and the Monk, reaching out to grip his shoulder with one gloved hand. Roxas jerked away from the uninvited touch; both of them pretended it hadn't happened.
"Likely it is confused," said Xemnas, smooth. "After all, Lexaeus has been long away in a place where they cannot go. New Nobodies are often disoriented without their commander's presence."
He turned, giving Roxas a brief view of the flowing silver creature -- it staggered and clutched at its head with heavy arms and its square mouth opened and closed in silent distress -- and stretched out a hand. As simply as that, the Monk shuddered and became still, then lurched upright and moved away with purpose.
Roxas didn't like it. "Don't ever do that to my Samurai," he informed Xemnas.
"It gives me no pleasure to override another's authority," said the Superior, in such a cool voice that he may as well have said that nothing gave him pleasure.
That isolated incident was repeated all over the castle within an hour. The Monks wailed soundlessly and flailed wherever they went, and Xemnas could only be so many places at once. Roxas watched as Sorcerers and Berserkers swept up the crippled creatures, gathering them together in one of the larger chambers where they could be monitored; two Samurai flanked him, their presence wordless and unasked-for but wary. He did not ask them what they thought, and they did not ask him if he needed their protection.
Xaldin and Xigbar were together, speaking in quiet voices, when Roxas found them. Xigbar grinned at him as he approached, but Xaldin did not look up from the sea of uneasy Monks.
"Well?" Roxas demanded.
Arms folded over Xigbar's chest, and the scarred man's grin turned into a broad smirk. "Is that any kind of tone to take with your elders?" he drawled. "You think you're hot stuff because you've got a pair of keyblades?"
"I think I have a right to know what's going on."
"Well, tough luck." Xigbar turned back to the balcony. "We don't know either. This has never happened before."
"It's a shame that Vexen is at Castle Oblivion," Xaldin said, still not looking back at Roxas.
Roxas glanced at the corner of the room, where a handful of Vexen's Alchemists were idling, waiting for an order. Their commander was gone but they would still obey the Superior's word. Only Xemnas was elsewhere, it seemed, and without him they simply milled about, wispy scarves fluttering, waiting for the opportunity to investigate the odd madness that had seized the Monks. Like Vexen himself, they were drawn to the study.
Xaldin murmured, offhanded, "I wonder if something has happened to Lexaeus."
Later that day, the Geomancers went mad.
It happened very suddenly -- in the same instant that Marluxia had been killed, although they wouldn't learn that until after -- when suddenly the slight Nobodies, sprite-like things that drifted on the breeze whimsically and developed irrational attachments to places, became violent. It was the worst because no one could have expected it: it was all at once when the tiles in the floors erupted into tangled roots and sourceless explosions rocked the walls.
Roxas entered his room to a burst of blinding energy; his arms were up in front of his eyes, keyblades shimmering into his hands, and the Samurai by his side lunged in without needing to be told, seeking out a crazed Geomancer.
One of the friendly little creatures had been fond of his room, occasionally sprinkling flower petals on his windowsill. Roxas remembered it touching his face curiously, blindly, trailing gauzy wings like a moth's. He remembered Marluxia, leaving Never Was for Oblivion, and how the tall Nobody had smiled when he attempted to hand over the creature he had caged, and said, 'She likes you. Your room smells like one she used to know.'
"Back!" he snapped at the Samurai. He killed the Geomancer himself.
It was difficult to sleep through the commotion, but by the time Roxas awoke, the Geomancers had been eliminated with ruthless efficiency. Demyx was perched on a windowsill, half-curled into a fetal position, when Roxas came across him. Without waiting to be acknowledged, Demyx mumbled, "Something's gone wrong at Castle Oblivion. I heard that they can't get in touch with anyone there." He sounded worried.
It occurred to Roxas that he might have joined the Organization just in time to see it die. "Isn't Marluxia in charge there?"
"He's always been so reliable -- so competent. They said it was a shame I wasn't more like him." Demyx didn't seem to mind that 'they' said such a thing about him. "I wonder what Xemnas wanted him to do there, anyway...?"
"You mean you don't know?" Roxas had simply assumed that no one had thought to inform their newest member, but from the blank look the taller blond turned on him, that was not the case. Demyx was as ignorant as he was.
Axel's return was noticed by everyone: the dark corridor that he opened was acrid and warped, unstable, and he stumbled out pale and bruised. No one moved to help him from the floor as he spoke, shaking words, epitaphs falling from his lips. Marluxia, Vexen, Lexaeus, Zexion, Larxene... A mistake, he said. Underestimating that boy.
"And yet you alone survived?" said Xemnas, toneless.
Saix surged forward, grabbing the redheaded Nobody by the front of his cloak and yanking him to his feet. A flustered Assassin slid out of nowhere to defend its master and a Berserker met it halfway: the shadows rustled. It was dangerous to fight in The Castle That Never Was, with Nobodies all about, watching. "What have you done?" Saix demanded, lip curling. "Is this some game of yours, Eight?"
"If you think this is a game, small wonder no one ever wants to play with you," Axel said, his features as empty of expression as Xemnas's voice. Hands at his neck tightened.
Roxas said coldly, "What are you, children?"
"Children who think they are immune to the fire they play with," hissed Saix, but Xemnas said only, "Then we must destroy their servants. In time, they will cease to obey even me. We will not be caught by surprise a second time." He turned on his heel and, in reluctant heartbeats, Axel was turned loose, left alone. Roxas followed the rest of them and did not turn back, but he felt green eyes watch him go.
And so the Monks were broken down, and the Ninjas already beginning to resist the Superior's call. The Calculators were destroyed next, the Alchemists last -- they showed no signs of the madness, and obeyed commands with all appearance of contentment and even interest, but Xemnas said, "Thoroughness is everything," and so they, too, were wiped out.
"The good news is," Xemnas said, almost smiling, "that even those who have lost their minds can be of use to us."
They were not killed, save for the troublesome Geomancers. They were only wiped clean -- turned into Dusks.
Roxas found himself on the tower, legs dangling off the edge, kicking absently. He watched them without seeing. The sense of being distant from everything was comforting: his boots hovering in space and the edge of his coat the only thing close before the whole world faded into blurred, shifting grays and blacks. Better than back at the Castle, where everything was bright and hurtful, and slithering Dusks mended the damage done to the architecture in what might have been their own struggles against death and madness.
There was a distorting sound behind him. He said, "What is it?"
He who is the Flurry of Dancing Flames approaches. He comes alone. Roxas turned to study the Samurai who had addressed him; his servant was bent at the waist, the gleam of its helm and the hilt of swords nearly all that was visible. If it is your wish he will be sent away.
Roxas stared at the flickering neon across from him. "It's not my tower," he observed. "He can come and go where he wants."
You have only to speak the words, the Samurai said anyway.
Slowly, he turned his head up, to look at the clouds. It would rain again soon. It had been raining ever since he arrived here. "Do you remember when you were human?" he asked.
The Samurai tilted its head. Somewhat, it said.
"...what was it like?"
He could never ask another. He thought of Xigbar's mockery or Demyx's astonishment, the smirk that would take Axel's lips, or worst of all, the utter disinterest of Xemnas's hard eyes. But his Samurai were different. Loyal, strong. If he should die, they would follow him into nothing, and take his secrets with them. Roxas wondered if madness would take them fast, like Marluxia's servants, or if it would be a slower fade, like Vexen's might have been.
It was... not like this.
The Samurai waited with him, for the rain.
.servants of masters.
"What is going on here?"
Xemnas stepped between Roxas and the Monk, reaching out to grip his shoulder with one gloved hand. Roxas jerked away from the uninvited touch; both of them pretended it hadn't happened.
"Likely it is confused," said Xemnas, smooth. "After all, Lexaeus has been long away in a place where they cannot go. New Nobodies are often disoriented without their commander's presence."
He turned, giving Roxas a brief view of the flowing silver creature -- it staggered and clutched at its head with heavy arms and its square mouth opened and closed in silent distress -- and stretched out a hand. As simply as that, the Monk shuddered and became still, then lurched upright and moved away with purpose.
Roxas didn't like it. "Don't ever do that to my Samurai," he informed Xemnas.
"It gives me no pleasure to override another's authority," said the Superior, in such a cool voice that he may as well have said that nothing gave him pleasure.
That isolated incident was repeated all over the castle within an hour. The Monks wailed soundlessly and flailed wherever they went, and Xemnas could only be so many places at once. Roxas watched as Sorcerers and Berserkers swept up the crippled creatures, gathering them together in one of the larger chambers where they could be monitored; two Samurai flanked him, their presence wordless and unasked-for but wary. He did not ask them what they thought, and they did not ask him if he needed their protection.
Xaldin and Xigbar were together, speaking in quiet voices, when Roxas found them. Xigbar grinned at him as he approached, but Xaldin did not look up from the sea of uneasy Monks.
"Well?" Roxas demanded.
Arms folded over Xigbar's chest, and the scarred man's grin turned into a broad smirk. "Is that any kind of tone to take with your elders?" he drawled. "You think you're hot stuff because you've got a pair of keyblades?"
"I think I have a right to know what's going on."
"Well, tough luck." Xigbar turned back to the balcony. "We don't know either. This has never happened before."
"It's a shame that Vexen is at Castle Oblivion," Xaldin said, still not looking back at Roxas.
Roxas glanced at the corner of the room, where a handful of Vexen's Alchemists were idling, waiting for an order. Their commander was gone but they would still obey the Superior's word. Only Xemnas was elsewhere, it seemed, and without him they simply milled about, wispy scarves fluttering, waiting for the opportunity to investigate the odd madness that had seized the Monks. Like Vexen himself, they were drawn to the study.
Xaldin murmured, offhanded, "I wonder if something has happened to Lexaeus."
Later that day, the Geomancers went mad.
It happened very suddenly -- in the same instant that Marluxia had been killed, although they wouldn't learn that until after -- when suddenly the slight Nobodies, sprite-like things that drifted on the breeze whimsically and developed irrational attachments to places, became violent. It was the worst because no one could have expected it: it was all at once when the tiles in the floors erupted into tangled roots and sourceless explosions rocked the walls.
Roxas entered his room to a burst of blinding energy; his arms were up in front of his eyes, keyblades shimmering into his hands, and the Samurai by his side lunged in without needing to be told, seeking out a crazed Geomancer.
One of the friendly little creatures had been fond of his room, occasionally sprinkling flower petals on his windowsill. Roxas remembered it touching his face curiously, blindly, trailing gauzy wings like a moth's. He remembered Marluxia, leaving Never Was for Oblivion, and how the tall Nobody had smiled when he attempted to hand over the creature he had caged, and said, 'She likes you. Your room smells like one she used to know.'
"Back!" he snapped at the Samurai. He killed the Geomancer himself.
It was difficult to sleep through the commotion, but by the time Roxas awoke, the Geomancers had been eliminated with ruthless efficiency. Demyx was perched on a windowsill, half-curled into a fetal position, when Roxas came across him. Without waiting to be acknowledged, Demyx mumbled, "Something's gone wrong at Castle Oblivion. I heard that they can't get in touch with anyone there." He sounded worried.
It occurred to Roxas that he might have joined the Organization just in time to see it die. "Isn't Marluxia in charge there?"
"He's always been so reliable -- so competent. They said it was a shame I wasn't more like him." Demyx didn't seem to mind that 'they' said such a thing about him. "I wonder what Xemnas wanted him to do there, anyway...?"
"You mean you don't know?" Roxas had simply assumed that no one had thought to inform their newest member, but from the blank look the taller blond turned on him, that was not the case. Demyx was as ignorant as he was.
Axel's return was noticed by everyone: the dark corridor that he opened was acrid and warped, unstable, and he stumbled out pale and bruised. No one moved to help him from the floor as he spoke, shaking words, epitaphs falling from his lips. Marluxia, Vexen, Lexaeus, Zexion, Larxene... A mistake, he said. Underestimating that boy.
"And yet you alone survived?" said Xemnas, toneless.
Saix surged forward, grabbing the redheaded Nobody by the front of his cloak and yanking him to his feet. A flustered Assassin slid out of nowhere to defend its master and a Berserker met it halfway: the shadows rustled. It was dangerous to fight in The Castle That Never Was, with Nobodies all about, watching. "What have you done?" Saix demanded, lip curling. "Is this some game of yours, Eight?"
"If you think this is a game, small wonder no one ever wants to play with you," Axel said, his features as empty of expression as Xemnas's voice. Hands at his neck tightened.
Roxas said coldly, "What are you, children?"
"Children who think they are immune to the fire they play with," hissed Saix, but Xemnas said only, "Then we must destroy their servants. In time, they will cease to obey even me. We will not be caught by surprise a second time." He turned on his heel and, in reluctant heartbeats, Axel was turned loose, left alone. Roxas followed the rest of them and did not turn back, but he felt green eyes watch him go.
And so the Monks were broken down, and the Ninjas already beginning to resist the Superior's call. The Calculators were destroyed next, the Alchemists last -- they showed no signs of the madness, and obeyed commands with all appearance of contentment and even interest, but Xemnas said, "Thoroughness is everything," and so they, too, were wiped out.
"The good news is," Xemnas said, almost smiling, "that even those who have lost their minds can be of use to us."
They were not killed, save for the troublesome Geomancers. They were only wiped clean -- turned into Dusks.
Roxas found himself on the tower, legs dangling off the edge, kicking absently. He watched them without seeing. The sense of being distant from everything was comforting: his boots hovering in space and the edge of his coat the only thing close before the whole world faded into blurred, shifting grays and blacks. Better than back at the Castle, where everything was bright and hurtful, and slithering Dusks mended the damage done to the architecture in what might have been their own struggles against death and madness.
There was a distorting sound behind him. He said, "What is it?"
He who is the Flurry of Dancing Flames approaches. He comes alone. Roxas turned to study the Samurai who had addressed him; his servant was bent at the waist, the gleam of its helm and the hilt of swords nearly all that was visible. If it is your wish he will be sent away.
Roxas stared at the flickering neon across from him. "It's not my tower," he observed. "He can come and go where he wants."
You have only to speak the words, the Samurai said anyway.
Slowly, he turned his head up, to look at the clouds. It would rain again soon. It had been raining ever since he arrived here. "Do you remember when you were human?" he asked.
The Samurai tilted its head. Somewhat, it said.
"...what was it like?"
He could never ask another. He thought of Xigbar's mockery or Demyx's astonishment, the smirk that would take Axel's lips, or worst of all, the utter disinterest of Xemnas's hard eyes. But his Samurai were different. Loyal, strong. If he should die, they would follow him into nothing, and take his secrets with them. Roxas wondered if madness would take them fast, like Marluxia's servants, or if it would be a slower fade, like Vexen's might have been.
It was... not like this.
The Samurai waited with him, for the rain.