Post by meow on Jul 17, 2008 18:38:48 GMT -5
---kingdom hearts: fairytale memories character
[/u][/i][/size][/center]|name|
Demyx
|alias|
IX, The Melodious Nocturne
|age|
Possibly around his early twenties (betwixt nineteen and twenty-three)
|gender|
Male
|species|
Nobody
|profession|
-Organization XIII member
-reclaiming his heart
|rank|
Number IX
|alignment|
Nothingness - the Organization
|home world|
Assumed to be The World That Never Was
|personality|
Upon first impression, Demyx appears to be one who is arguably nervous and self-conscious, more often than not depicted a coward and poor fighter. When faced with the option of fight or flee, you can easily assume that the blonde would undoubtedly pick the alternative, that being to take no chances of getting himself harmed and run away. This is where others' impression of him lean toward the cowardice side, and automatically presume him as the weak type.
One might even argue about the fact that Demyx is "bi-polar," switching moods in an instant depending on the current situation. His incident with Sora at Hollow Bastion nearly strengthens the point, where he seemed dubious and uncertain, wondering why on Earth his Superior would send him on an important job like this. At the mention of not having a heart and without the ability to feel, his mood changed to slight aggression, actually becoming the instigator of the fight.
Being the "melodious" one of the Organization, it's not so far-fetched as to think of Demyx as a lover of music, which usually leads to something of a docile and laid-back nature. Perhaps even the life of a party when needed.
In all due respect, much expression comes to life from the Melodious Nocturne's facial features and movements. You can tell his reactions simply by looking at his face; the way his eyebrows ascend or descend, the way they slant, the curve of the mouth, et cetera. Even when told something shocking or "offending," he'll slide a foot or move to either side or backward as if physically inflicted, showing his opinion by mere action. Along with the expressions on his face, you can admit that Demyx has no problem with displaying his sentiments.
|physical appearance|
Demyx
The attire is rather explanatory, and every single member of Organization XIII dons this characteristic clothing, a trademark of their organization. A simple, black-leathered cloak suffices for the Nobodies of the particular Organization, its only shade/colour being said black, other than a silver-grey for the beaded chains that hang down from the cloak's front, and the zipper. The said zipper goes as far as half of the clothing's length, leaving everything else open to be seen. There's also a hoody present, that of which all members of the Organzation pull up to effectively cover their features from eyes they don't want seeing. From what we know (or assume), there is no shirt present beneath their cloaks; there is, however, black pants with a plain leather belt to support them, along with boots that nearly reach their knees, outlined with silver. To hide their hands - or to protect - they wear a plain black glove made out of the same material as the boots and cloak.
Once others have gotten over the peculiar clothing of all black, they get to come to the Nocturne's facial appearance. Demyx has a comely look to him, a pale complexion making up his skin tone. It's hard to believe that he could be around his twenties, when he looks like a maturing teen-ager devoid of any facial blemishes. With equally as pale lips and a soft, aquamarine gaze to finish complimenting his face, you could say that Demyx is on the attractive side. It comes as no surprise to see his hair fashioned the way it is: blonde and obviously a mullet. A few strands lay from the middle of his hairline to obscure some vision, and the hair is found darker on the sides and down the neck than the lighter atop.
His build isn't close to bulky nor to athletic, but is more of a slender frame: his cloak tends to make him out as big opposed to small, though it truthfully isn't so. If he intentionally wears it that way to make him look "buff," or if it's accidental and he hasn't quite noticed it, no one really knows.
|equipment|
The only equipment that Demyx has and uses is his trusty sitar, a musical instrument and a tell-tale weapon. Seeing as this sitar is about its master's height, and looks extremely heavy to boot, you would think that it would be difficult to wield, much less hold up, especially for the likes of Demyx. But apparently, the weapon weighs nothing at all, as the musician can effortlessly spin it around elaboratively with one hand. Though if struck by the instrument, the victim would probably disagree with the fact of its lightness or heaviness.
His sitar looks remarkably like the Nobody symbol, as it is shaped just like it. It also isn't of a dull colour; the sitar is of vibrant blues, a shimmering white, and consists of some colourful yellow thrown in. It's trimmed with the white, the strings being the same colour; the frets are of the bright yellow, whilst most of it is a dark blue and the rest more of a dull-like blue. At the end is three "spikes," tipped with a blue-white colour; this is the part of the sitar that is mostly used to attack an opponent in close-quarters. Unless Demyx feels like smacking them around with the blunt end, of course.
|combat style|
Not a lover of fighting, you rarely get to see how Demyx defends himself as he battles an opponent. But when forced to, you're in for a treat - that is, if you're on the sidelines.
When you're the opponent, you'll unhesitantly agree that the blonde has an annoying style during combat, making it aggravating to get through and hard to place a hit. Maybe out of a paranoia of having damage inflicted upon himself, Demyx is constantly on the move - if he's not strumming on his sitar to send irritating, dancing clones of himself at his foe with a set time limit placed on their shoulders. Having the control over water, you may say that his movements can be fluid. Whenever it's available, the Melodious Nocturne will strike from afar, sending sprawling bubbles the opponent's way, or casting geysers in his/her direction at top speed. When cornered, he'll strike back since he is forced to, slamming the offender with his sitar multiple times: it's both a musical instrument and weapon. Either that, or he manipulates water to rise in a protective barrier, bouncing you away from him. If he truly wants to stay out of your way, he'll launch himself forward, a watery wall following close behind and blocking you effectively. Sometimes, when he chooses, he can retaliate much faster than thought and come right back, barreling you to the ground.
|history|
It is probably assumed that most Nobodies are "born" into The World That Never Was: a non-existant, yet existant, world much like the Nobodies themselves. So it only makes sense to make a place so similar to one's self home.
Obviously, Demyx is a part of the infamous Organization XIII, being ranked Number IX: usually, the members' ranks were determined when they joined. If they were the seventh to join the Organization, they were made Number XII. It is then palpable that Demyx was number nine to join, thus adding to the ranks and ranked IX. They were all dubbed a nickname as well, his being the Melodious Nocturne.
The first time Demyx made his appearance was with the other members at Hollow Bastion, their faces concealed and only their laughter heard; other than Xemnas and Xigbar, who were the only two to speak out of the seven. After they were done taunting the chosen one, Sora, they left one by one via portal.
As Sora came to Olympus Coliseum, and discovered that he needed the Olympus Stone to be at his usual height in power in the Underoworld, he went to his friend Hercules to ask to borrow the stone. Of course his old friend obliged, and went to retrieve it. Upon coming back, Sora finds out that the stone was stolen: by some man in a black cloak. Little did he know that it was Demyx, but he soon found out once he encountered the musician. He finally sees his face for the first time, and Demyx, at that moment, pulled out a piece of paper from one of his cloak's pockets. Reading directly from the scrap, Demyx said, "If the subject fails to respond, use aggression to liberate his true disposition." Soon after the Melodious Nocturne wondered aloud that they sent the wrong guy to do it, a fight between Sora and friends and Demyx insued. After being defeated by the Keyblade bearer, the blonde called Sora Roxas and disappeared shortly, leaving Sora confused.
They once again crossed paths at Hollow Bastion, during the onslaught of Heartless. Sora reminded him that he is but a Nobody, one without a heart after making fun of Demyx, resulting in Number IX unexpectly telling him to be silent and accusing him as a traitor. At that time, Demyx didn't play around, and fought Sora squarely. Though apparently his best wasn't enough, and once done with his protests, Demyx faded from being before the eyes of Sora, Donald, and Goofy.
|a sample|
[Just so you have a feel of my writing capabilities - an introduction for Riku, not Demyx.]
As was becoming more characteristic of the aged teen-ager, he sat with his back firmly against the wall, brooding. Brooding over accusing memories, of hard-fought battles, of searching, and what he thought was just as important as the first, the struggles. His mind usually misted over, more than he deemed proper, and he would regress, regretful and even ashamed to look back into the past. He felt disgraced by it, felt as if he were a traitor to Sora in some way, a breaker of promises and crusher of loyalty. With ill-will he thought of that fateful day at Destiny Island, recalled in bittersweetness, with every bit of vivid detail, the furious thunderstorm and the curious happenings that day. Sometimes, Riku wished that Sora had taken his hand when he had proffered it to him. Other days, he was grateful that he didn't. The gods know what would have happened if his brunette friend had actually managed to get a hold of his hand, whether it be by a small amount or a large amount. Possibly - no, certainly - things would be different, turned around. For the better, or for the worse? He found nowadays that he could dwell on the question, with its ever elusive answer, and never grasp it. It irritated him fairly, often sending him in a fuming stupor. He would have loved to know the answer to the flitting question, indeed. It interested him, the mere thought of how things would be if only Sora had grabbed his hand.
And, not unusual to him, Riku skipped to another memory. Staying on one for too long wasn't a very fond thing, he found. So, instead of musing over what had become of himself, Sora, and Kairi on Destiny Islands on the night of the storm, as he put it, the teen-ager reluctantly focused on Ansem.
Ansem. How he cursed that name to pits of hell, and wherever else would befit such a vile, cruel name. He loathed it with a passion, resenting it and never failing to give it contemptuous thoughts. The twilight also cursed himself for straying to the thought of the Heartless; when he got to thinking about him, and what had become of himself because of the detestful man, Riku couldn't stop thinking about it all. The hate just curdled his blood, and every thought, unconscious or conscious, caused a swift reaction in him, that of which had his jaw clench, his nostrils flare, and his eyes narrow. He always told himself that he didn't fear Ansem: not anymore. But he knew (and only to himself) that it was all a lie. Of course he was afraid of the Heartless. Not him in his entirety, but of the fact that he might reclaim his heart again, control and use him like he had those couple of years ago. Now, it took Riku all his will-power to keep himself in check. Every time he woke up in the morning, and his bangs weren't in his face, he'd go frenetic. He'd think that his hair was gelled up, sleek and to the point. Then he would realize that it was just another wake-up fluke; his bangs just happened to be swept to the side, for one reason or another. And then there was the mirrors. He couldn't look properly into one these days without staring at himself blankly and listlessly, wondering if his reflection would soon be replaced by Ansem's mocking and abhorring face. Riku was constantly haunted by Xemnas' bloody Heartless, and it didn't seem to matter when; during the light of day or the dark of night, in the waking world or asleep in his dreams, busy or just not. His dreadful memory clung to him fast like his own shadow, always daunting and mirthlessly teasing in its own twisted, dark way. However, he found himself quite excellent at hiding the fact of his fright, with anxiety clawing at his insides as he, day by day, dreaded the return of the long out-of-action Ansem. He managed to escape him twice, and then use the powers of darkness and take on his form once, all for Sora and him alone. But could he do those things again? That was the question, and the answer...he was not willing to risk himself to find out.
"Hey, Riku. You alright?" Now that he was addressed, Riku sighed, having no choice but to lift his head and stare up at the concerned face of Sora. There was no escape from the optimistic youth. If he had chosen to ignore the brunette, the chosen one would have peppered him with pestering comments, taking to badgering and whining and pouting and all sorts of nuisances to get him to notice and pay attention to him. He had to give his bright-eyed companion and best friend that much: he truly was rather bold and persistent. Good qualities, maybe, when put to the proper use.
To assure his friend, he nodded, just managing to keep at bay the pensiveness that had nearly taken hold of him before Sora had made his unexpected appearance. It seemed the brunette did it all the time, barging in at either the good or worst times. He was impeccable with the worst times. "I'm fine, honestly." His frown told the twilight he wasn't convinced, and Riku deliberately laughed to lighten the moodful ambience. "Seriously, Sora. You're frowning enough to put Donald in his place." At that, Sora couldn't help but smile, and Riku sighed under his breath thankfully. As much as he liked Sora -practically loving him as a brother- he didn't want the brunette prying into his thoughts. Once the cerulean-eyed boy caught a whiff of what he was thinking about, he would hound at his heels until he found out every ailment that plagued him.
Shaking his head, the spikey-haired teen, a mere year younger than him, settled himself beside the turquoise-eyed male, crossing his legs in an indianlike fashion. With lips pursed suddenly, Sora surveyed Riku's face, and biting his lip was all he could do from flinching. Remarkably, the naive brunette could be quite the perspective person, when he set his mind to it, that was. Thankfully, Sora couldn't detect anything that portrayed a lie, so he huffed, crossing his arms childishly. Riku had to smile at his friend. Did he expect him to speak lies with every sentence? "Don't look like that, Sora. Didn't your mother ever tell you that if you kept pouting like that, you'd wear that expression for ever?"
"Hah. You're devilishly funny, Riku. Not." His snappy tone had Riku's eyebrows raise, almost ascending past his bangs and threatening to disappear into his hairline. Sora was pretty famous for his moodswings, too. Obviously, the brunette believed, quite doggedly, that he was right, and the twilight was keeping something from him. Unable to bear looking into those silently accusing eyes of Sora's, which were strangely penetrative, Riku heaved himself up and, with no surprise, the brunette followed his movement without a word. Soundlessly the older boy dragged his fingers through his hair, trying to think of something to mollify Sora. Anything would do.
Nothing came to him, so he stared right back into his friend's eyes, unwilling to back down despite the uncanny silence and crackling tension beginning to well up between the two. For what seemed like an eternity the Keyblade bearer stirred, sighing and throwing his hands up in defeat. "You won't tell me, will you?"
Slowly, mindfully, Riku shook his head, his face a mask that betrayed no emotion. Eying the older for a brief second, Sora shook his head, his face splitting in a grin. "Well, alright. I can't force you to." Thoughtfully, Sora glanced around his surroundings, as if taking in Radiant Garden for the first time since coming here. "Want to get a sea-salt? I'm pretty sure they have them around here, too. Twilight Town can't be the only town!"
"I don't mind. It wouldn't hurt." Riku shrugged. Inwardly, he was a bundle of gratitude, glad that his companion had momentarily forgotten about his driftings off into the past to regress. If it was done on purpose or accidentally, he wasn't sure, but he didn't mind, nor had the capacity to care. Sora gently reached out to grasp his wrist and tugged on it, leading him to the Market Place with boyish determination. Who couldn't like the spikey-haired youth, or come to hate him? It was hard to resent such an innocent, carefree face, even if he could turn in an instant.
