got_it_memorized: (you're kidding right?)
Axel; Ⅷ; The Flurry of Dancing Flames ([personal profile] got_it_memorized) wrote in [community profile] sirenspull_logs2012-09-23 11:35 pm
Entry tags:

Cats in things they're not supposed to be are amazing

Who: Axelea and Demyx
When: Sunday afternoon, 23Sept12
Where: On the way home -> their apartment
Summary: Lea goes out in the hopes of picking up some lunch and comes home with a bit more than he bargained for instead.
Warnings: Egregious amounts of dork. And also prolly some 3D spoilers if I'm still supposed to mark those.


The more things changed, the more they did indeed seem to stay the same. Lea sort of felt like everything in his life had been violently, dramatically, turned on its ear, and yet here he was, drawing purple marks on his face and pretending like nothing had changed at all. Really, aside from the knowledge of the horrible truth, little had actually changed. He still had his friends, he still had his apartment, he still had his job (though admittedly he had kept a sterner ear to the ground while on duty these days), and really, from an outside standpoint, everything was pretty much exactly the same as it had been the day before he'd gone home.

On the inside, though, everything felt different. And not just because he could actually really honest-to-light feel it all now, either. He kind of felt like a different person--and not just because he technically was. Axel had been the other side of Lea's coin, certainly, but they weren't really all that different, when you cut right down to it. His friends who didn't know anything had changed... didn't know anything had changed, after all; for all they knew he had just disappeared for a few days and then been returned good as new, and that was just as well. There was something reassuring in supposing he'd come that far, so far as to feel like the transition between the Nobody he'd been when he'd left this place and the person he was now hadn't been so drastic. There had been no black and white in his timeline. It wasn't like he'd just stopped being Lea and become something horrible the day he'd lost his heart, no... it had taken months of wearing him down, of watching Saïx pull away, of letting his weapons tear monsters apart, of living the nightmare that had become his life before he had really stopped accidentally referring to himself by his old name. Certainly the snapshots would look stark, to compare him over the years--from the boy who broke into the castle, to the kid who watched his world fall, the young man who learned how to play with fire, the murderer who destroyed his colleague, and then back again, to the man who regretted lying to his companions, the friend who died so he could be forgiven... The middle was dark and foggy, the the before and after images weren't all that different.

On the subject of lying, though... well, he hadn't told Demyx the truth about everything yet, anyway. He still wasn't sure he was ready to tell him he had a Keyblade now, but even that aside, those hooded figures on the thrones in the Round Room still haunted him sometimes. Old Man Xehanort, his Heartless, and the young figure of himself from his past, Xemnas, Xigbar, Isa... That was six, but who were the other seven? He hadn't seen their faces, there had been no way to tell whose eyes were hidden within those hoods. Had Demyx been one of them?

He didn't want to think about it. The idea that Isa had become Xehanort's puppet was painful enough, but somehow the thought that it could have been Demyx beneath any of those seven unnamed hoods left a pit in Lea's stomach.

... Or maybe that was just because he was starving because for some reason all the food in the whole damn city had been turned to candy. Lea liked candy well enough, certainly--he had a perfectly healthy sweet tooth, but this was ridiculous. Every grocery store, every restaurant, even the canned food at home had somehow been turned into these absurd little orange triangles he'd seen once or twice in Halloweentown and couldn't stand to eat more than six of before he was certain his teeth were just going to rot in their sockets and fall out of his head.

His stomach growled loudly and he sort of curled his arms around his middle, sulking visibly. This sucked. He'd gone all the way to the sandwich place hardly anyone even knew about, in the hopes that it had been spared, but no dice. Now he got to go home hungry and tell Demyx that they were just going to have to starve to death because he was fairly certain he was Candy Corn Intolerant.

There was a sudden tug on his leg and Lea was jerked from his melodramatic thoughts. "Hm?" Glancing down, he made a bit of a face. A small furry creature had attached itself to the cuff of his jeans and was fervently attempting to kill his shoelaces. It was a cat... or it would be one day, anyway. At the moment it was little more than a ball of black and white fuzz with huge limepeel-green eyes that were now staring up at him as though startled its devious plans of shoelace destruction had been discovered.

"'Scuse me, I need those," he said mildly, lifting his foot and shaking it carefully, hoping to dislodge the obviously vicious animal before anyone got hurt. "I know you don't wear shoes so you don't understand, but those laces are important, thanks."

The kitten stared him down a moment, then eagerly went back to biting at his shoe. Oh, defiance? He would just have to show this cat who was boss.

"Excuse me," he said again, dropping to a crouch and taking the little cat by the nape of the neck, giving it a tug and then using his other hand to remove its claws from the shoelaces. "Yes, I was talking to you," he said, holding the cat at eye level and wagging a finger at its nose as he stood up then. "Weren't you listening? I need those shoelaces, so you can't have them, and I know this must be hard for you but I really need you t-- Cat. Focus. I'm talking here."

The kitten had quickly busied itself reaching for the two little spikes of hair that stuck stubbornly forward from Lea's hairline. As the cat's paws reached their mark and swatted the hair back and forth, Lea sighed. He had been reduced to lecturing a cat. This was probably a bad sign. He glanced around to see if anyone was visibly missing a cat, but no one in his immediate vicinity appeared to be looking for a lost pet. His eyes moved back to the cat in his hand, who had stilled and was now peering back at him with those big green eyes.

"Well where the heck did you come from, then?" he asked, as if the kitten could tell him. His only response was a loud squeaky meow that apparently required the use of its entire face. Lea frowned. The kitten mewled loudly again, and he lowered his arm a bit. Someone must have lost it, right? He wasn't interested in being accused of stealing someone's pet. The kitten quickly took the opportunity of this lowered vantage point to sink its claws into the side of Lea's hoodie and forcibly pull itself out of his grip, latching onto his side. Lea made a startled noise that consisted of more consonants than vowels and sort of jumped sideways at this, and then let his arms flop to his sides.

"Look, you," he said, reaching around and attempting to extricate the cat from his hoodie, "I already have a cat, and I'm sure you belong to someone, so... I'm gonna have to ask you to... Come on, stop it, no don't go in the pocket! Oh come..." Another sigh and his shoulders sagged as the kitten happily settled into the front pocket of the hoodie. He could hear it purring even from the recesses of the pocket, and he knew precisely what that meant.

Great. He'd been adopted. Why did animals like him so much?

"Well I can see you're not going to take no for an answer." He supposed that he really had no objections to an additional cat in the house... but it wasn't entirely up to him. "You're gonna have to win Demyx over, cat," he said to his pocket. "Which, admittedly, won't be difficult. Winner's a diva, though, and I get the feeling you'll have to be persuasive with her. So don't say I didn't warn you."

And so Lea started for home again, no less hungry than when he'd left, but, well... he guessed it stood for something that he wasn't going back completely empty-handed.

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