[Myde smirks to himself, nuzzling against Lea's chest; it's supposed to feel good, duh. He's gotten that figured out, too, the pleasures of reaching out and touching people--even if nobody is willing to touch the other's heart and form a bond, there's still touching each other's bodies, the electric connection of skin on skin, exciting their senses and seducing their wits. Feelings could refer every bit as much to pure sensations as they could to emotions, couldn't it?
He's gotten it all figured out to the point where the challenge and entertainment of figuring out how to get away with what he did--does?--is rewarding in and of itself. He knows the system, and he games it mercilessly, because..... well, because he can. Because it's fun. Because it feels good, vindicating, like he's reclaiming some little bit of everything the Bossman and the others have stolen from him for all these years. It's interesting and engaging in its own way, the way missions and those endless speeches never have been on their own merits, just..... being there, immersing himself in a place and doing holistic recon, including the Castle. Darkness, maybe especially the Castle; he had to know who and what he was dealing with, to understand what he could slip under the radar.
Thought of that way, it all made a little more dense, didn't it? How quiet Demyx usually was during the meetings, aside from the periodic murmured commentary (mostly questions or complaints, or a bit of poking fun at Xemnas' philosophical pontificating) to his neighbors, or the occasional question or dumb joke. How loud and obnoxious he could be in the Grey Room, playing music or napping on the couch, or gossiping or complaining to anyone who'd listen, almost as though he were publicly flaunting his own worthlessness as a coworker. How much he'd cut up during the League's poker games, laughing too loud and chattering too much, bright and friendly and alive, acting practically human as though the drinks were going straight to his head. How jumpy and cowardly he was on paired missions in places like Halloweentown.....
He'd clung to Axel's arm and nearly shrieked when a spider the size of a small dog had skittered past, and practically hidden behind him the first time they'd met ghosts in person. He'd been shaking half the time while they were on that mission, and blushed at the weeks of teasing that had followed. He'd spluttered and protested how scary monsters were, how creepy spiders were, when Xigbar had gleefully told everyone about their midnight horror move marathon ("world research" was what they had decided on for the excuse) the night before that mission. He'd jumped at the scary parts, even screamed once or twice, and hidden his face against Xigbar's shoulder during particularly gory bits.....
He'd been a recon expert acting differently in different environments, to get different outcomes, always watching and learning. It had served him well, right up until the situation he'd been forced into had left no room for anything but fighting and dying like a cornered rat. It's human for terrible things to frighten you, for reminders of personal failings to embarrass you, to be horrified at reminders of mortality and the sight of other people getting hurt..... It took a heart to feel empathy, to resonate with someone's agony enough to truly understand their plight, whether or not you actually held any sympathy for them.
He'd been the weakest and dumbest member, the most secondhand-embarrassing and irrational of them all. He'd been the most fallible of their number by far, and--barring Roxas and Xion--possibly the most human. To err is human, right?
Even when it's an awkward, dumb error like butting into a playful conversation with something serious before he even knows what the hell he's doing--that's human, too. Lea's heart may still be clumsy and young, but it's doing its job. Myde makes a little questioning noise, tilting his head up to peer at Lea.]
no subject
[Myde smirks to himself, nuzzling against Lea's chest; it's supposed to feel good, duh. He's gotten that figured out, too, the pleasures of reaching out and touching people--even if nobody is willing to touch the other's heart and form a bond, there's still touching each other's bodies, the electric connection of skin on skin, exciting their senses and seducing their wits. Feelings could refer every bit as much to pure sensations as they could to emotions, couldn't it?
He's gotten it all figured out to the point where the challenge and entertainment of figuring out how to get away with what he did--does?--is rewarding in and of itself. He knows the system, and he games it mercilessly, because..... well, because he can. Because it's fun. Because it feels good, vindicating, like he's reclaiming some little bit of everything the Bossman and the others have stolen from him for all these years. It's interesting and engaging in its own way, the way missions and those endless speeches never have been on their own merits, just..... being there, immersing himself in a place and doing holistic recon, including the Castle. Darkness, maybe especially the Castle; he had to know who and what he was dealing with, to understand what he could slip under the radar.
Thought of that way, it all made a little more dense, didn't it? How quiet Demyx usually was during the meetings, aside from the periodic murmured commentary (mostly questions or complaints, or a bit of poking fun at Xemnas' philosophical pontificating) to his neighbors, or the occasional question or dumb joke. How loud and obnoxious he could be in the Grey Room, playing music or napping on the couch, or gossiping or complaining to anyone who'd listen, almost as though he were publicly flaunting his own worthlessness as a coworker. How much he'd cut up during the League's poker games, laughing too loud and chattering too much, bright and friendly and alive, acting practically human as though the drinks were going straight to his head. How jumpy and cowardly he was on paired missions in places like Halloweentown.....
He'd clung to Axel's arm and nearly shrieked when a spider the size of a small dog had skittered past, and practically hidden behind him the first time they'd met ghosts in person. He'd been shaking half the time while they were on that mission, and blushed at the weeks of teasing that had followed. He'd spluttered and protested how scary monsters were, how creepy spiders were, when Xigbar had gleefully told everyone about their midnight horror move marathon ("world research" was what they had decided on for the excuse) the night before that mission. He'd jumped at the scary parts, even screamed once or twice, and hidden his face against Xigbar's shoulder during particularly gory bits.....
He'd been a recon expert acting differently in different environments, to get different outcomes, always watching and learning. It had served him well, right up until the situation he'd been forced into had left no room for anything but fighting and dying like a cornered rat. It's human for terrible things to frighten you, for reminders of personal failings to embarrass you, to be horrified at reminders of mortality and the sight of other people getting hurt..... It took a heart to feel empathy, to resonate with someone's agony enough to truly understand their plight, whether or not you actually held any sympathy for them.
He'd been the weakest and dumbest member, the most secondhand-embarrassing and irrational of them all. He'd been the most fallible of their number by far, and--barring Roxas and Xion--possibly the most human. To err is human, right?
Even when it's an awkward, dumb error like butting into a playful conversation with something serious before he even knows what the hell he's doing--that's human, too. Lea's heart may still be clumsy and young, but it's doing its job. Myde makes a little questioning noise, tilting his head up to peer at Lea.]
Huh?