III. Demyx

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He could still picture her face in his head.

He could see the curvature of her freckled cheeks as they crinkled around a devilish smile; and then there were her eyes. She always thought they were so plain, and even if that were true, he appreciated that which went beyond mere color, that which he could discern within them. If he thought hard enough, he could see the last sunset they had spent together in them, down to the aureate haze woven around the king's castle.

But when he opened his eyes, the picture vanished; all he could see was darkness, broken in pieces by the lingering constellations of her freckles.

He sighed. How had he gotten here, upon this island within an ink-spill sea? He had sat on its ashen shore, legs folded in his arms, for a period of time unknown. Did time even pass there? Could it be that he was dead?

Who, exactly, even was he?

"You seek strength. Courage. Definition."

A rich, masculine voice emitted from somewhere at his back, causing the fine hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention.

"Huh- What?"

He had thought himself the only person there, but when he rose up on shaky legs and turned around, it was to find a man standing a few paces away. He bore a coiffure of long, silver hair and a smile that could turn blood into ice.

"Who are you...?" Suddenly, it struck him that perhaps this man knew where they were and could show him a way out - preferably to somewhere much sunnier. Before he could so much as open his mouth to ask, however, the man was speaking again.

"My name is not important... No more so than yours, at least."

He had tried to recall his name, but had drawn a blank each time. The only name he remembered was hers, and he held onto it with every scrap of his remaining will.

"What are you even talking about? You're not making any sense at all."

Although he felt as if his spirit had been drained from his body and that he had been left but a husk, he knew enough to be aware that this man was not somebody he wanted to get into a scrap with. If he meant him harm, then, well... So be it. He wouldn't fight back. The odds didn't exactly appear to be in his favor anyway, as he could see that this man was much larger than him and effused a sort of inexplicable force. Not something he fancied messing around with.

"If you come with me, I can mold the nothingness you have become into something with meaning." Impervious to his questions, the man extended a veiny hand and gestured him forward. He was hesitant to obey, but where else was he supposed to go? 

He saw no other options.

He took a measured step in the man's direction and watched as a pleased smile played across his face.  

"Good. You have chosen well. We have much to do, but first..." 

When he looked up, it was to see the man gazing down at him with that same, pleased smile. It made him feel like a mouse under siege by a cat. 

"Dyme is a name of the past."

Oh, right. Dyme. My name was Dyme.

"From this point forward, your identity is your name. And your identity shall be Demyx." 

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