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The evening was dark, stormy, and not at all unusual. Constant rainfall, endless night, and cloud cover stretching to the edge of the city and beyond constituted the most basic elements of The World That Never Was. Thunder and lightning, much like the Heartless that roamed the streets, were frequent and not unwelcome visitors. The buildings of the city learned to withstand the rain without eroding, and as such, so did the members of the Organization, who gained comfort from the fleeting substance and solace from the neon, flashing lights in lieu of the sun, or even starlight.
So the flashes of lightning and bursts of thunder passed more or less unnoticed. The members of the Organization were preoccupied with other matters. Saix filed reports, back turned towards the window so he wouldn’t search the skies for hope he knew he wouldn’t find. Xemnas, pen idly twirled between his fingers, sat only halfway turned his own reports, opting to trace the contours of the clouds instead of the letters on the pages.
Everyone else was in the shower rooms. This was unusual.
Though perhaps it was becoming more common, Zexion mused as he used his towel to dry his hair, an action that went unseen by the others despite standing next to the middle stalls. After Axel had inadvertently shed light on the most recent events to Saix, years of wishing and grumbling paid off when Saix approached Xemnas the next day with an entire budget for renovations and drafts of a new floor plan. Even Axel couldn’t begrudge him for a bad night’s sleep when Saix brought news of Xemnas’s acceptance. Three extra stalls, an enlarged water tank with a more durable, reliable, and powerful heater, and more concise Round Room meetings was his silent show of solidarity. No one challenged it.
Common thunderstorms. Unusual happenstances. Rare displays of sympathy, if not empathy, from Saix. Zexion lowered the towel from his face and opened his mouth to ask a question that died in his lips when the unheard of occurred.
The power went out.
There were several exclamations and one piercing shriek that ricocheted off the bathroom walls, through the vents, and down the drains.
This, too, was not uncommon.
“Goddamn it!” Larxene held hands over her ears and willed her pupils to dilate as far as physically possible. When she felt it was safe, she lowered her hands and growled. Not that anyone could hear it, herself included. The cacophony still tumbled through the vents, filling her otherwise empty bathroom.
Well, almost empty. Larxene took a deep breath and called, “Hey, kid! You didn’t, like, trip and crack your head open, did you?” No response. “Goddammit, shut up in there,” she muttered to the vent. “Xion!”
“I’m okay!”
“Good. Is your water still on?”
“Um, no. Why?”
“Keep it that way. I’m giving us some light.” Larxene closed her eyes out of habit and concentrated, not to summon her lightning, but to keep it from striking beyond her stall. Once she condensed it to the palm of her hand, she used her free hand to wrap her towel around herself and ordered, “Put something on and meet me out here. I’m not gonna keep shouting.”
Saix blinked, then blinked again, as if he were only hallucinating his sudden blindness. When it didn’t work, he lowered his pen down to his desk and held it in place firmly so it wouldn’t decide to roll to the floor. With nothing else to do, he leaned back in his seat and folded his hands in his lap. Eventually he’d make his way towards his bed, but he didn’t expect this outage would last long. When the lights came back on he’d return to work, denying himself the hope of a reprieve. No sense in relaxing just to have to drag himself back into action.
“If you’d all—” Marluxia cut himself off before anyone else got a chance to interrupt, though to place credit where credit was due, Vexen hadn’t stopped to take a breath in a minute, making Marluxia the interceptor. “Vexen, please, let me—”
“Do not interrupt me, Number Eleven. Number Nine, stop—”
“Hey, what makes you think I’m doing anything?”
“Come now, Demyx, you must admit that you have a penchant for panicking.”
“Yeah, no shit. But—”
“—responsible for the vast majority of our disciplinary meetings, not to mention—”
“Where are you?” Luxord wondered aloud, knowing better than to grasp in the darkness but tempted to try. “You sound as though you’re talking through a wall.”
“I’m—”
“Everyone shaddap!” Axel took a deep, unheard breath, and then realized what was masking it. “Who the hell is still showering?”
“Xigbar?”
“Not me. You really think I’m gonna stand in a pool of water during a lightning storm?”
“One could hope,” Vexen muttered. Marluxia was pained to agree.
“Are you…you sound like you’re above us.”
“Demyx, you sound like you’re—”
“Hey, assholes, now’s not the time. Can we all just shut up for a minute and figure out what’s going on?”
“Hey, Carrot-Top, here’s an idea; why don’t you light up so we can all get out of here?”
“What did he say?”
“He asked you to give us some light,” Lexaeus relayed while Luxord tried to wrap his head around where Demyx could have gone to. They had been standing next to each other just before the outage.
“Which, given the circumstances, one should hardly have needed to ask—”
“You think I haven’t been trying?” Axel called to Vexen over the glass door.
“Then why aren’t we seeing results?”
“’Cause it’s humid in here, Bill Nye. Got it memorized?” Axel waited for a reply and heard none. Silently, he thanked whoever it was who was still showering for masking the sound of the steam hissing off his palms and skin as the flames evaporated before they could manifest. It was a dilemma he had never experienced before, even fighting in the Dark City, and judging by his peers’ silence, they had never considered it either.
“Well, keep trying then.” Axel felt his temple throb. “Now listen. If Number Eight continues to utilize his control over fire and Xaldin over the wind, we should be able to lessen the humidity.”
“Vexen, Demyx can control water.”
“I would hardly say he has enough skill for such a nuanced task,” Vexen replied at the same time Demyx said, “Are you kidding me? That’s, like, wayyyy too difficult. Whoa, rude!”
“Demyx,” Luxord began wearily.
“Where is Xaldin, anyways?” They waited, fidgeting in the dark, until Xigbar said, “All right, sound off, everyone. High to low.”
Possibly no one wanted to obey Xigbar’s commands, but when the silence stretched on beyond comfort, Xaldin spoke up. “Vexen, your plan is fanciful at best and I see no need to interrupt what I’m doing to help you all find your way out.”
“Dude—”
“Fanciful? I’ll have you know—”
“Wait, are you the one who’s still showering?”
“I don’t need light to shower. And for the record, none of you should be having such difficulty with this situation.”
A chorus of protests arose, mainly from Axel and Demyx who challenged Xaldin’s confidence and Vexen due to sheer principle. Marluxia turned his head, wishing he could at least share an eyeroll with Luxord, or Larxene, but instead found himself right in the aural trajectory of Vexen’s tirade.
“He’s not wrong,” Lexaeus muttered, unheard by most. Zexion nodded his agreement, unseen by all. He began to feel a gentle caress of mist on his skin and the shifting of temperature in the vapor, alerting him that despite his protests, Axel was still trying his very best.
Xemnas studied the Lightning Crystal. He had already completed one full revolution around it, hand holding a ball of light to see by. From a distance, it appeared intact, if nonfunctional, so logic told him it was best to do another lap, but closer. The light cast sharp, deep shadows and forced him to pause often, making sure his eyes were adjusted and he didn’t miss anything obvious hiding in the darkness. He knew better than to touch it, instead opting to observe the crystal, the floor for shards, and the ceiling for any broken power lines.
Nothing appeared amiss, so Xemnas let the light fade until it emitted only a gentle glow. He’d need Lexaeus to look at it, or perhaps Vexen. Quite possibly, both. In the meantime, they needed a contingency plan. Who knew what lurked in the darkness, waiting to strike.
“Hey, do you—”
“Yeah, yeah, I feel it.” It was stupid, Larxene decided, for Xemnas to have annulled teleportation in the showers but could still summon them at his leisure. The nagging sensation grew stronger as the seconds ticked by. “Ugh, guess we don’t have a choice. You good to go?”
“Um, almost. I’m having trouble finding my shoes.” Larxene leaned against the counter and waited as Xion rummaged through the general area she had left her belongings. With all the humidity in the air and pressure changes from the storm, she didn’t dare funnel more lightning into her palm. It’d be more trouble than it was worth to explain why Xion kicked the bucket in the shower of all places.
Though maybe it’d serve as an incentive for private bathrooms.
“Hey, uh…” Xion gestured towards the vent with her free hand. “Should we do anything about them?”
“Trust me, kid, you really don’t want to get involved.”
“But—”
“They’re grown-ass men, Xion. If they can’t get out of a bathroom in the dark, what good are they?” She stabbed her finger towards Xion’s belongings. “Keep looking.” Xion ducked her head to obey and Larxene rubbed her temples with her free hand. At least she had an excuse to not obey Xemnas’s summons immediately.
Saix stared at the ceiling and blinked. Though much of his sight was still varying shades of black, sometimes creeping into the realm of a dark gray, he had been able to rely on memory to guide him from his desk to his bed, where he planned on staying until the power came back on.
Then he heard a familiar voice inside his head and a familiar, non-physical tugging sensation pulling at his body, urging him up. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear the reports apart with his hands. He wanted to take his chair and throw it from his very wide, very high window. But what he truly wanted, and would never see realized, was a vacation.
Saix couldn’t disobey for long, but he did allow himself a single, unrestrained moan into his pillow.
They tried. Those not in a stall had the clearest shot to the door, but Luxord was the first to admit he had become disoriented in the commotion and could longer discern the proper direction. Marluxia hadn’t even made it that far, trying in vain to convince Vexen he had not bumped into him until they actually did collide.
Zexion called out, then let out an equally inaudible sigh. Normally he was thankful to Marluxia for being a priority target for Vexen’s ravings, but when he couldn’t rely on visual cues to create space for him in the conversation, getting a word in became a challenge.
He knew better than to reach without seeing. Though he had not moved, he couldn’t be sure where the others had gone to. He, did, however, have faith in one variable. “Lexaeus?”
“Hm?”
“I’d like a word.”
“Hm. Xaldin?”
“…yes?”
“Zexion would like to be heard.”
They both heard an impressive grumble, then, “Vexen! Marluxia! Axel! Be quiet so Zexion can speak.”
“I believe I have a plan,” he said slowly, once he was sure everyone was listening. “It’s not perfect, but since we all seem to be struggling with finding the door—”
“—somehow.”
“This may be our best solution. I am still oriented and remember what enough of the room looks like. If I am given enough peace and quiet to focus, I may be able to cast an illusion of this room over each of us.”
“An illuminated illusion, I would assume?”
“Naturally. Since I don’t know where most of you are, it won’t stop you from bumping into each other. But even if I’m slightly off, I should be able to get us close enough to the door.”
“Well, let’s get this show on the road. It’s getting chilly in here.”
“One moment, please! Everyone, please be so kind as to ensure you’re wearing a robe or towel.”
“Thank you, Luxord. Now—”
“He means you, Xigbar,” Xaldin informed him from the stall.
“See what I mean?” Marluxia rolled his eyes in what he hoped was Xigbar’s direction.
“I need peace and quiet,” Zexion reminded them.
“Wait a second, are you on the ceiling?” Demyx called.
“More or less.”
“How are you more or less on the ceiling?”
“I’m not touching any surfaces until I know we’re free of lighting. Don’t wanna get hit, after all.”
“I don’t think that’s how lightning works.”
“Is it easier to be on the ceiling than a foot off the ground?” Demyx asked, ignoring Lexaeus.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not coming down to get all buddy-buddy with the rest of you in the dark.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
“Axel. Xigbar. Demyx. Let Zexion focus.” Zexion didn’t bother thanking Lexaeus. He closed his eyes and summoned his power forth, ethereal and gossamer. Even after all this time, his palms still itched to touch it, to cradle it in his hands as the others could. Instead, he willed it to take shape, creating structure and vision from nothing. Repeatedly he drew the sketch in his mind, solidifying more of the image with each stroke. It didn’t need to be perfect, he reminded himself, pushing the boundary of one of the walls father back. It just needed to be enough.
Thunder shook the castle. Axel immediately reached his hands out to brace himself, as did Marluxia. Xaldin swore. Demyx shrieked.
Zexion gasped and the illusion shattered.
Saix slowly unclenched his jaw and glanced over at Xemnas, who scrutinized the ceiling. He resisted shifting in his chair. Being the first to attend Xemnas’s summons was nothing less than expected, by this point. What made him uncomfortable was knowing the others should have arrived by now yet all remained absent.
It was awkward, but this was also a given. Saix knew he could endure it until the others arrived and Demyx or Vexen inevitably began talking about something inane. As long as Xemnas didn’t try to fill the silence with small-talk, he could last in relative comfort.
At least until a portal opened and Xion appeared, looking equal amounts bashful and concerned. Saix gave her a curt nod and went back to staring at the ground. He heard her shuffle in her seat and quietly give her apologies to Xemnas for being late.
“Where are the others?”
“I’m not sure.” Xion tucked her hands under her thighs. “I’ve been in my room, so…”
That must be nice, Saix thought absent-mindedly.
Once more, Zexion wove together his illusion, re-writing his memory into something more tangible. It bended, grew, and smoothed, and when it was real enough to substitute reality, he spread it forth, infecting the senses of himself and the others until it became a veil.
“This is so weird.”
“Can you all see?” Zexion tried not to gasp, furrowing his brow in his efforts to multitask.
“Yes,” Lexaeus assured him before anyone else could complicate it.
“Good. Head towards the door. I’ll let myself out.”
“Just be sure to—ow!”
“Watch it!”
“Axel?”
Zexion winced and saw his illusion flicker. “Calm down.”
“I thought we were all wearing towels!”
“I said—” The illusionary room spun and shattered, followed by an audible thump. It could have been more thunder. Or a Nobody hitting the ground.
“Zexion!”
“I’m all right,” he said, not expecting Lexaeus to believe him. Gingerly, he placed his palms on the ground and pushed himself back up. “Just…give me a moment.”
“What happened?” Demyx asked.
Luxord’s right. He does sound far away, Zexion thought as he ran his fingers through his hair, checking for tenderness. “Someone bumped into me and I fell. Or I…slipped and fell,” he realized, toeing the floor in front of him. He shivered. “There’s ice on the ground.”
He thought someone would yell or point blame to the immediate target. So when several seconds passed by with no comment, he was prepared to explain the obvious until Vexen blurted, “Stop glaring, all of you. It’s rude.”
“Where have you been?” Saix demanded.
“What, you expect me to show up the second I feel a summon?”
“Yes. That’s the point of it.”
“I was in the middle of something.” Larxene didn’t even look at him, instead opting to inspect her nail through her gloves.
“Which was?”
“None of your business.”
“It’s been fifteen minutes,” Saix began, but was interrupted by a cough from Xemnas.
“I believe,” he began once all eyes were trained on him. “That’s we’ve given our remaining members enough of a grace period. I’ve sent Creepers to locate them. In the meantime, let us…”
Xion stole a glance at Larxene, who didn’t look away from Xemnas but still managed to give the impression she was giving off a clear warning. Xion kept her mouth shut and tucked her feet under her legs, wishing she had brought a blanket.
Two more attempts were tried and failed. Zexion cited head pain as his source of difficulty and glared when Xigbar suggested putting ice on it. Demyx offered condolences, Marluxia and Vexen once again vied for leadership, and Zexion took a moment to thank the cover of darkness and Vexen’s slipping control for hiding the real reason he could not longer project a semi-accurate illusion; disorientation.
“Axel!” Marluxia barked.
“Sorry, sorry!” Axel put up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just trying to find my way back to my stall.”
“Why—”
“Good call, bucko. No telling what these characters are capable of.”
“Yeah, well, not all of us have the luxury of hanging from the—”
“Gah! Number Two! Just when I thought you couldn’t be more appalling, you manage to triumph in what is surely the only realm of success in your entire—”
“Vexen, what are you yelling about?”
“—tie that grease-massaged hair of yours up or I swear I will strangl—”
“He got you too?” No force could save them from Xigbar’s will to enable mischief or Vexen’s righteous fury, nor could it bar Demyx from piping up. “I feel you, man. It’s gross, right?”
“Demyx, Vexen, Xigbar, stop—”
“And where did you get off to, anyways? I can barely hear you from up here.”
Everyone waited for someone else to speak up, only resulting in silence until Demyx, voice quivering like his sitar strings, asked what Xigbar meant.
“Wait a moment…” Luxord reached out with his foot, tracing ever-growing half-moons on the floor until he finally bumped into someone else’s body. “He’s under the sink.”
“Why are you—”
“No one cares,” Marluxia snapped. “Xigbar, get your hair under control. Axel, stop steaming. This humidity is already unpleasant enough. Now can we please do a roll call so we stop colliding with one another?”
“You all know where I am.”
“Yes, unfortunately, we all do. Xaldin, are you still—”
“Yes.”
“Vexen?”
“That’s Number—”
“Xigbar, Vexen, get away from my shower stall now.”
“Let it go, Vexen,” was all Lexaeus said. He couldn’t know for certain if Xaldin’s command would launch their resident scientist into another rant, but years of experience taught him to be wary.
“Hey, guys, can you feel—”
“Yes, Demyx, we can all feel it.” Marluxia couldn’t keep the venom out of his voice. “As we have all been feeling for the past dozen minutes. Moving on.”
“From the sounds of it, I’m closer to the far stall than—”
“Holy shit! Roxas!”
“Umm…no, it’s—”
“Roxas, what the hell? Why haven’t you—no, Zexion, he was in the farthest stall!”
“Was he?” Luxord asked aloud. Marluxia shrugged. “Why isn’t he responding?”
“Maybe he’s injured? It’d be hard to hear if someone took a fall with all the—”
“I told you!”
“Roxas, stop kidding around! Give us a light already.”
The apprehension in the room was palpable. Xigbar at least had the decency to wait until it was fading of its own volition before letting out a low whistle of mocking disappointment.
Xion slid her chin into the palm of her hand and slumped against the armrest. Listening to Larxene be contrary for its own sake was exhausting enough, but enduring Xemnas’s never-ending ramblings tested her patience like nothing else. She didn’t bother looking at the others. They were as bored as she was, she was sure.
Another crack of thunder shook the castle. Xemnas stopped and they all looked up, no doubt among them that the ceiling, just as weary as these meetings as the rest of them, would simply give up and collapse. A second peal followed immediately, louder than the first, and Xion squeezed her hands over her ears.
She saw Saix wince and lowered her hands slowly, bracing herself for any subsequent strikes.
“Hey.” Xion shrieked and slipped off her seat, catching herself mid-fall with a portal. It opened on the ground, depositing her without grace. Roxas blinked down at her from their shared chair. “Uh, sorry.” He held up his hand and illuminated the room in blaze of light.
“You’re hilarious,” Saix said dryly, shielding his eyes from the sudden assault. Larxene did the same, flipping him off with her free hand.
“Thanks.” Roxas sat on the armrest and gestured to the free one. Xion picked herself up, dusted her gloves on her cloak, and teleported back up the chair. “Sorry about that.”
“Roxas. Where are the others?”
He shrugged. “Last I saw and heard, they were still in the bathroom.”
“Who?”
“Uh, all of them.”
Saix stared at Roxas and Roxas stared back. There was a time when he would have been more like Xion, fidgeting and dropping his gaze after mere seconds. But instead Roxas looked as empty and sick of everyone’s shit as Saix felt. Still, when it became apparent no one else would, he asked, “Why didn’t you help them?”
Roxas shrugged again.
It wasn’t often that Xaldin swore (claiming it was uncreative at best and debasing to one’s character at worst), though anyone could guess with accuracy that he was tempted to more often than he’d let on. Xigbar and Axel, with an alarming lack of survival instincts, once put money down with Luxord, Marluxia, and Larxene as their witnesses as to how long and under what conditions it would take for Xaldin to curse aloud.
Lexaeus had warned them they would probably die. Larxene and Zexion scoffed at their attempts but inexplicable appeared whenever anyone sensed Xaldin was getting close. Everyone else who knew of the bet teetered on the edge of curiosity and self-preservation, the latter being something both Xigbar and Axel seemed to lack when it came to badgering the Whirlwind Lancer. Lexaeus had explained to Saix once that had been going on even when it had been Braig and Dilan. It was the only time he had seen Saix smile, however remotely, when Saix admitted it had been the same for Lea.
A projectile shower-head hadn’t been in anyone’s predictions, though neither bet-taker could feel indignant about their lack of involvement. The rapid screech of water pressure was followed by an immediate thunk, a bestial snarl, and vehement, “Damn you, Demyx!” that left all other party members momentarily speechless.
Ever sensible, Lexaeus found his voice first. “Uh…are you all right?”
“No, Lexaeus, I’m not.” The pain was audible in Xaldin’s voice. “If we’re lucky I’ll only have moderate bruising and lacerations.” Also audible was a threatening timbre.
The sounds of Demyx’s apology were largely incomprehensible, partly due to Demyx’s panic and partly due to the unregulated, unstoppable flow of water from the middle stall. “Can you tell if you’re bleeding?” Lexaeus tried.
“Don’t be dense.” Lexaeus sighed and wondered if simply breaking open the floor would be the best solution to getting them out of here. He wasn’t sure how far Xemnas’s non-teleportation bar extended. “Someone come up with an idea to get us out of here. Now. This has gone on long enough.”
“Demyx, are you sure you can’t do anything?”
“Aside from killing us off one by one?”
Lexaeus tried fixing a disapproving look in Zexion’s direction, knowing he was off but that Zexion could tell regardless, and Xaldin growled, “Stop this water flow.”
“Got it,” Demyx called back, too much laughter in his voice for comfort. The rush of water ceased and Axel rubbed his ears, now painfully aware of just how much noise it had been making.
Marluxia and Xigbar argued to his right. “You control space. Aren’t you able to manipulate it without triggering Xemnas’s portal ban?”
“Yeah, sure, if you don’t mind risking me slipping up in the dark and turning the bathrooms into a singularity.”
Marluxia sighed. “Axel, Zexion, and Xaldin; you’re all still down for the count?”
“Obviously.”
“What about you, Primrose? Think your vines can find the door?”
“Possibly, though unless you want to levitate all of us, I’m not certain how well we’d like our feet getting caught in thorns.”
“I still think—”
“Demyx?” Lexaeus waited to be sure he could hear any reply. “Are you certain you can’t do anything about this steam?”
“Would your water clones be of any use, perhaps?”
“Do you guys…geez, nevermind, you all thought Axel could make fire in a shower. My water clones aren’t going to work if everything around them is water.”
“…Truly?”
“Yeah.”
“That can’t be how that works.”
“Are you for real? Look Mr. I-Only-Shower-With-Organic-Conditioner, controlling water is tough. It’s way more malleable than, say, rocks or flowers or ice. Why do you think I’m never sent to Atlantica? I’m not good enough to control an entire fucking ocean, so other than making some pretty slipstreams, I’d be pretty useless. Also, can we talk about how I’m the only one who’s thought of making clones, like, ever?”
“You haven’t.”
“It’s different,” Demyx insisted, and Zexion decided not to push the point.
“So your clones are useless and you can’t dedicate enough focus to consolidate water vapor for Axel to be effective?”
“Probably not. I mean, definitely not now that I’m holding back a shower line from running without any mechanical advantage.”
“So I’m not saying this is the best idea—” Luxord waited for the groans, scoffs, and single hiss to subside. “But say that Demyx were to flood the room. Eventually, the pressure would cause the door to open and we’d go along with the current.”
“No way in hell!” Axel yelled from his stall.
“In theory that could work, howev—”
“Vexen and Zexion can’t swim,” Lexaeus informed the room. “And I sink.”
No one spoke as they considered this.
“So where does that leave us?” Luxord asked.
“Well, if Roxas hadn’t ditched us—”
“HELP!” They waited, all glaring where they thought Demyx could be. He would’ve quailed, but instead stretched his legs as far as they would go under the extended sink. It was worth a shot.
The thudding of boots on marble was the only sound echoing through the Castle. Xemnas had insisted on retrieving their comrades together, so they all fell into a semblance of a line and did their best to hold the peace. Like a king and his squires, Xemnas took the middle, both setting the pace and relinquishing control to Saix and Roxas, who glared in opposite directions as they filed in. Xion breathed a little easier when Larxene’s longer, more purposeful gait carried her ahead, meaning that Xion was safe from scrutinizing eyes and judgmental glares.
“We’re certain they are still in there?” Saix finally asked as they rounded the corner, the bathroom doors coming into view.
“They should still be receiving my summons,” Xemnas answered, gesturing vaguely towards the door. “And they know disobedience will not be tolerated.” Xion and Larxene traded a glance behind their backs. Larxene smirked. “Number Thirteen. If you will?”
“Sure.” Roxas, one hand engulfed in light, stepped forward and grasped the door handle.
Demyx stretched his leg out a little farther.
From his stall, Xaldin felt a rush of air and then heard a splash and thud of something hitting the ground beside him.
Roxas opened the door.
Immediately there was a chorus of exclamations, swears, and insults. Hands and arms were thrown in the air to protect oversensitive eyes, and Luxord drew an immediate shield of cards to lessen the assault.
Eyes squeezed shut, Demyx retracted his legs and tried to curl into a ball.
Xigbar growled and widened his stance. Then he felt a brush against the sole of his foot.
Something lightly placed itself on Demyx’s calf.
Roxas hadn’t been surprised by the cries. The light he carried wasn’t strong, but after being stuck in the dark he knew it would hurt. The glare caught on the mirror and reflected back to him, an unwelcome but perhaps well-deserved mechanism for empathy. Roxas yelped and rubbed his watering eyes, propping the door open with his shoulder.
The screaming began, and Roxas snapped his gaze back up. He had been prepared for the surprise. He had anticipated various states of disarray. What he wasn’t prepared for was the sight of Creepers clinging to the walls, dragging themselves across the floor, and the single one dangling from its squeeze between the slits in the vent.
“Holy—” Roxas slammed the door shut and backed off, dulling the clamor incrementally. “What the hell?!”
“What’s going on?” Saix demanded, already stepping forward.
“No, don’t, there’s—”
Saix yanked the door open and was met with a blast of steam and shrieks. The wind whipped his hair across his face, and he only caught a few words, but before he could open his mouth, a strong hand wrapped around his bicep and pulled back, another closing the door with an air of finality.
“It’s not worth the risk,” Xemnas told him, guiding Saix back to the group. Unsure if he meant the unknown, his peers, or the steam, Saix merely nodded and tried to smooth his sleeve down without appearing rude. “Roxas, Saix, what can you report?”
They traded looks. “The good news is, Xigbar’s dead. Apparently. The bad news is, I’m not sure who else may be.”
“Why did you send that many Creepers?” Roxas demanded. “There had to be at least fifteen.”
Xemnas raised an eyebrow. “One must always be prepared,” he said, and Larxene rolled her eyes. “I’ll dismiss them. Saix, Roxas, come with me. We’ll try this again.”
“Larxene, let me—”
“No way, kid.” Larxene tugged Xion closer, both hands over Xion’s face, eyes glinting as she watched the three men arm themselves and head towards the door. “You can listen but you can’t watch. There are some things even I’d feel bad subjecting someone to.”
Xigbar, they realized, was fine. Between dodging the pandemonium on the ground and his own quick wit, he had wisely chosen to stay on the ceiling and managed to dodge any elements and projectiles that came his way.
Though he was the only one unscathed, he was not spared from Saix, who lined them up like the deviants they were and blasted them with judgment and contempt (”Of course I’m angry. To be disappointed would mean I still had any faith left in you.”). Larxene had long since let go of Xion’s eyes, but Xion still averted her gaze from the string of half-naked allies in front of her, not knowing how to ask to be dismissed without risking Saix’s wrath or Xemnas’s attention.
She hadn’t even looked when she performed a Cure spell on Xaldin, easing the pain of both head injuries without touching his wounded pride. He had been found by a patch of ice just outside his stall, groggy but responsive, while the Creeper in his stall tried pulling itself up over the door ledge with minimal success. No one, not even Zexion, bothered to explain the obvious.
Zexion glanced up and down the row. Like Vexen, Luxord, and Marluxia, he wore a full-length robe that provided some comfort and cover from their audience. Unlike the former and latter, he had been lucky enough to have cover (in the form of Lexaeus) from Demyx’s panic and subsequent pipe-bursting, remaining relatively dry. Marluxia’s silk robe clung to him like a second skin.
“You’re presumably Nobodies of the highest caliber,” Saix went on, pinning each of them down with his stare. “You have control over various magic, cannot be harmed by the forces of darkness, and supposedly have brains somewhere in your empty husk of a body.” Lexaeus wriggled his toes in the puddle of water steadily growing at his feet. He saw Xaldin do the same. “This entire incident has been a disgrace and you should feel appropriately ashamed of yourselves.”
No one could argue with that, though most of them groaned when Saix announced he was docking two days off for all of them and they’d be responsible for fixing the showers themselves. “Oh, since you all obviously need to practice, you’re prohibited from warping back to your rooms. Enjoy your walk. And Xigbar, for the love of God, tie your towel properly around your waist or upgrade to a robe. You’re too much of a hand-talker to be keeping it in place by hand.”
The poorly-contained snickers were almost worth the barking laugh of agreement from Xigbar, but Saix reigned in his impulse to bite further and instead looked to Axel. He blinked once, not caring if his efforts to communicate, My room, ten minutes, was received or not, before nodding once to Xemnas and warping away.
The second he vanished, the others began moving, hardly able to look one another in the eye, at least while Larxene stuck around. Demyx kicked some of the water by his puddle while the others walked by, complaining aloud to no one, “This is so unfair.”
“There is nothing fair in this world,” Xemnas agreed, hardly more than a brush of cloak against Demyx’s bare shoulder. Demyx flinched and spun, but Xemnas was feet away by the time he managed to find his voice.
Demyx looked around, realizing with mounting horror that no one had been paying attention since Saix left. Then he locked eyes with Xion, who had her mouth agape and one finger pointing at Xemnas’s back. Demyx nodded. Xion closed her mouth, swallowed, then gestured to Demyx with one hand. Once he was close enough, she opened a portal and walked through it without looking back. Demyx gratefully followed.
The portal closed around them and the thunder growled, not at all out of place in their wayward, empty world.