There was the aggravating feeling of a room being entirely too bright to wake up in, and to that end Demyx groaned and dragged his pillow out from under his head to put it over his face, blocking out the light so he could sleep for five more minutes. Or ten. An hour, tops.
There was a long moment where Demyx's brain prodded his consciousness with a proverbial stick, trying to draw to his attention that something wasn't right, but it took awhile for just what that was to register. When the thought came, it was rather matter-of-fact.
Hey, wait, aren't I supposed to be dead?
His brain began to argue whether or not Nobodies actually died or were simply destroyed, but it felt too early for that kind of philosophical inner debate so Demyx simply cut off the train of thought where it was and lifted a corner of his pillow to peek out at the room around him - which was, as feared, far too bright and sent a spike of headache straight through his eye socket for a few seconds.
White. Way too much of it. For a second he nearly relaxed, thinking he'd somehow wound up back in the Castle That Never Was, until he noted a regular brown desk - nothing in the Castle had any sort of color, actually looked real like that desk did. And, upon further investigation, he realized the white around him wasn't really the right color white - which made no sense, really, since white was supposed to be white, but nevertheless there was a notable variation. This white was flat white, like everyday painted walls or plaster; the white of the Castle was a sort of bluish, almost translucent white, making even the walls seem somehow insubstantial, like you could put your hand right through them and feel nothing but fog.
Okay, so. He still existed, but he wasn't anywhere he recognized. He figured that was roughly one for two, assuming one considered his not being at the Castle a minus. (Given that he'd failed the job Xemnas had given him, his second in a row, that might actually count as another plus by some standards...) He also seemed to be pretty okay, given that he’d been beaten to hell and back with a big metal key; he didn’t even feel sore. So the tally was two for three now.
Finally removing the pillow from his face entirely, Demyx sat up on his (someone’s?) bed, looking around the room. It wasn’t the Castle, but the room was just about as boring and as white as any of the Castle’s rooms had ever been, so in a way it felt kind of familiar except for the furniture and things that actually had color to them scattered about. Despite the unfamiliarity, Demyx couldn’t feel particularly unsettled or threatened by the place - entirely aside from the whole being a Nobody thing, he was by all rights supposed be dead(or destroyed, whatever), so basically wherever he was and whatever was going on, he was ahead of the game and things could only go up.
His sitar wasn’t anywhere in sight, which didn’t terribly surprise him; it had dissipated when he'd been defeated. And none of the Organization usually carried their weapons around as a rule, anyway, Demyx included. They were much too big and bulky and, in a lot of cases(Axel, Xigbar, and Xaldin in particular), extremely pointy to keep on one’s person. The Organization members simply materialized them from the darkness when they needed them. As much to have one familiar, comforting thing to hold onto as because he was actually convinced he might need it and because it was way too quiet, wherever he was, and music would be welcome, Demyx held out his hand, palm upwards, awaiting the feel of the neck of his sitar falling readily into his hand.
It was only when nothing happened that he actually began to be concerned.
no subject
There was a long moment where Demyx's brain prodded his consciousness with a proverbial stick, trying to draw to his attention that something wasn't right, but it took awhile for just what that was to register. When the thought came, it was rather matter-of-fact.
Hey, wait, aren't I supposed to be dead?
His brain began to argue whether or not Nobodies actually died or were simply destroyed, but it felt too early for that kind of philosophical inner debate so Demyx simply cut off the train of thought where it was and lifted a corner of his pillow to peek out at the room around him - which was, as feared, far too bright and sent a spike of headache straight through his eye socket for a few seconds.
White. Way too much of it. For a second he nearly relaxed, thinking he'd somehow wound up back in the Castle That Never Was, until he noted a regular brown desk - nothing in the Castle had any sort of color, actually looked real like that desk did. And, upon further investigation, he realized the white around him wasn't really the right color white - which made no sense, really, since white was supposed to be white, but nevertheless there was a notable variation. This white was flat white, like everyday painted walls or plaster; the white of the Castle was a sort of bluish, almost translucent white, making even the walls seem somehow insubstantial, like you could put your hand right through them and feel nothing but fog.
Okay, so. He still existed, but he wasn't anywhere he recognized. He figured that was roughly one for two, assuming one considered his not being at the Castle a minus. (Given that he'd failed the job Xemnas had given him, his second in a row, that might actually count as another plus by some standards...) He also seemed to be pretty okay, given that he’d been beaten to hell and back with a big metal key; he didn’t even feel sore. So the tally was two for three now.
Finally removing the pillow from his face entirely, Demyx sat up on his (someone’s?) bed, looking around the room. It wasn’t the Castle, but the room was just about as boring and as white as any of the Castle’s rooms had ever been, so in a way it felt kind of familiar except for the furniture and things that actually had color to them scattered about. Despite the unfamiliarity, Demyx couldn’t feel particularly unsettled or threatened by the place - entirely aside from the whole being a Nobody thing, he was by all rights supposed be dead(or destroyed, whatever), so basically wherever he was and whatever was going on, he was ahead of the game and things could only go up.
His sitar wasn’t anywhere in sight, which didn’t terribly surprise him; it had dissipated when he'd been defeated. And none of the Organization usually carried their weapons around as a rule, anyway, Demyx included. They were much too big and bulky and, in a lot of cases(Axel, Xigbar, and Xaldin in particular), extremely pointy to keep on one’s person. The Organization members simply materialized them from the darkness when they needed them. As much to have one familiar, comforting thing to hold onto as because he was actually convinced he might need it
and because it was way too quiet, wherever he was, and music would be welcome, Demyx held out his hand, palm upwards, awaiting the feel of the neck of his sitar falling readily into his hand.It was only when nothing happened that he actually began to be concerned.