A nocturnal melody.

[Between one moment and the next, there's another figure there. Quiet as death, and hooded as the others are. Just watching, out of dimly-glowing eyes. But then again, it's probably not strange to see him here.]

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As he looks up from his cue cards again, watching the monotony happening over and over, and it takes him a full five minutes to realize that something doesn't look right. He hesitates for a moment, before looking intently at the people in the rest of the room, before moving his lips in thought, pointing at each of the people in his dream as he names them. "The Superior, Xigbar," and there he pointed at the ceiling, "Vexen, Lexaeus, Zexion, Axel, Luxord, Marluxia, Larxene, Roxas." and then there is a long, long pause before he continues. "And . . . the Superior? That's not right. There're two?"

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Xemnas smiles at the confusion, letting Demyx go through both his count and the following question before he makes any move.

"Your count is missing several of our number," he comments into the silence, as simply as if he was speaking about the weather.

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He starts a little. At least that made sense, though. "Superior! And yeah, I know. I think this is just people that've been in the City, though, not everyone in general. Dunno why, though."

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Xemnas shrugs. He doesn't know how Demyx's mind works and doesn't much care to either. "Memories, perhaps?"

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Does anyone, really? But that doesn't make much sense. "I don't think so. I remember more than this."

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There's a pause as Xemnas considers the assorted people wandering aimlessly through the dreamscape. There must be some clue to it all.

"Memories of the city, perhaps," he finally answers. "A more localized memory."

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He brightens as he considers this. "Oh- hey, yeah! They're all from the City. That makes a lot of sense." And then sort of deflates as another conundrum makes itself evident. "But I wonder why."

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"That you alone would know." If he knows anything at all about the situation, and Xemnas has to admit dreams can be more than a little odd.

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"Oh, yeah." Well, it didn't really matter, did it? It was just sort of weird what they were doing- walking back and forth on those paths of theirs. "So, is this the first dream you've visited tonight?"

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It's odd, but it's at least not particularly harmful. "Hardly. I have been wondering where I see fit."

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No, and he can be grateful for that if he ever thinks about it. "Huh, cool. Anything interesting?"

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"Nothing of great interest. They are merely dreams." This is mostly likely read as Xemnas no caring to share the details.

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"Oh, okay." And, whatever subtle undertones Xemnas has, they are completely lost on Demyx.

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... Machi? --!

Wait a second- is that supposed to be me?

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Well, he should! The Hitachiin twins are there, and Tamaki, and Willow, and probably several of the other trolls in Roxas' life. They know a lot of common people, after all. "Yeah." He's a little confused at the keyblades, though! Unexpected weaponry in his dream, wat? "Yeah, it is. And you can put those away, she's not gonna do anything. Believe me."

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"Demyx?" Well, that gets a frown, but at least that tells him whose the dream is... sort of. The Keyblades don't go anywhere; Demyx, after all, isn't the most reliable source in the world. A year and several missions later, he's pretty sure on that count. Roxas cocks his head at the rest of the people, but his glance inevitably swings back to himself. It's always odd to stand outside your own body and watch yourself move. "Why're you having dreams about me?"

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"Hey, Roxas." The Keyblades are not helping! And, damnit, he's reliable here! He's the only one talking, for one. "No, really! I went up and touched her and she didn't hit or kick me or even make fun of me!" And no, he doesn't get that other weird interpretation of that sentence.

Or that one either, come to think of it. "I'm not. I mean, I am, sort of, but not just you. I dunno, I thought it was everyone I knew or something, but some of the Organization isn't here. And some people are blinking out and stuff." Axel, in fact, was fading in and out about every three seconds, cyclically.

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"Maybe it's just people we've met here," Roxas says, slowly, turning over the thought. It's a weird dream to have, but at least it's not his. He shifts his grip on the Keyblades and sweeps the room again.

Once he catches sight of Axel, he can't seem to look away. Not really. It's only after he fades away for the second time that Roxas manages to turn to an angle that doesn't involve seeing him.

"So... they're not really here? Even the ones who're in the City now?"

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"Yeah, that's probably it. And I think if they go out, it's because they've left the City or something. I'm not really sure." And he wasn't, because while he had some idea, he wasn't sure of some of the subtleties of it, or the why, especially. Although, if someone were to study it long enough, the ones that are currently in the City are decidedly there more than the ones that have left.

"I mean, the ones that are here are solid. My hand went right through Larxene, though." He's noticed that Roxas' figure, while walking back and forth on his own path, has not faded out. A few of the people are like that, in fact.

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"Kind of a weird dream to have," says Roxas, King of Weird Dreams. It's strange to be crowded by people he knows aren't here anymore, to meet their eyes and see their looks pass through in that half-lucid way that visions have. The Keyblades steady him, provide some measure of security. Even if everything vanishes, he can still fight his way out.

The remark about Larxene, however, gets his attention. "That's probably a good thing," he tells Demyx, though he's only vaguely focusing on the other Nobody. "If you could touch her, she'd probably be able to get to you too." And then the dream would probably be a lot more like a nightmare; Larxene's touch is never anything close to gentle.

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I thought he was the Key of Destiny, what, did he revoke his title to get a new one when he left? "Yeah, I guess. I dunno, though, are any dreams not weird?"

"Yeah, definitely. I don't think she'd appreciate it too much." She was enough of a nightmare for him when he was awake, let alone in a dream. "Although I wouldn't mind if some of the others were less- you know." Zombie-like. But he didn't like using that term. Not when he'd experienced that. It'd been a while ago, but that wasn't something he'd forget anytime quickly. So he settles for a wave in their direction, "Like that."

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"Sometimes," Roxas says, without really thinking about if. "If they're something you remember..." Except he hasn't been having many of those dreams anymore, and the reason why he hasn't still echoes in that quiet, hollow way.

Demyx's statement gets a look. He's never really thought of Demyx as being the type to get attached - well, not with how much he'd slacked off during Roxas's term with the Organization just to practice sitar, an instrument that he was still bad at, as far as Roxas was concerned - but it's not something he's really inclined to question. "Even if they acted different, it's not like it matters," he says dispassionately, watching all and none of them. "They're not here anyway."

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"Huh? Well, yeah, I guess that makes sense." And the implications of that statement go completely over his head.

What Demyx had said was less one of attachment, more along the lines of him thinking that his dream was weird, and wondering why they were just being silent; hardly any of them were ever silent! Although, the meaning behind the dream, well, that was a different story, and spoke practically only of attachment; something that Demyx might not quite realize. And he's amazing at his sitar, thank you very much! "Yeah, I know. But it's getting pretty weird just watching them walking back and forth." He glanced back down at the index cards, wondering if anything would appear on them or not- the answer still appeared to be a 'no'.

[OoC: btw, I went to Border's today. I got DGM volumes 6-9. Unfortunately, THEY DIDN'T HAVE FIVE. So I'll have to see about getting that one elsewhere. Sob, they never have the one I want.]

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"Well, it's your dream, right?" he says - and it's saying more than it's asking, because who else would it belong to? "You could always change it."

If he thought about it, maybe he'd figure out that the suggestion is prompted by something other than idle interest in the choices Demyx offers. It's unsettling to be watched, to look at faces that have vanished into portraits in the Hall and see them flex and move as they did in life, to see them stir like ghosts. It's an uncertainty, it's a craving, it's a loneliness that never quite curves into existence. Whatever else, Roxas knows that he doesn't like it. His hands tighten on the Keyblades briefly before he turns from the crowd, breaking away to walk towards one of the less-crowded spaces, clearly in search of something.

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"Uh, hey, really? You can do that?" He is about to think about what he would change it to, when Roxas goes further off. "I- hey, wait, Roxas!" He starts to go after him, "Where're you going?"

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"Out," comes the answer. Roxas doesn't look back. By no means is this dream particularly disturbing, but it's nowhere that he wants to stay. It's not just Demyx's past; it's his too, and whatever else, he knows he wants it to stay behind him.

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