Post by Demyx on Aug 9, 2009 3:34:20 GMT -5
~Come Tell Us About yourself~
x
Oh, we do too have hearts! Don't be mad.
[/i]x
Oh, we do too have hearts! Don't be mad.
About the person behind the RPer
Nickname: Anonymous {Sho/Vexen}
RP Experience: Approx. 8 years roleplaying via forums, MUDs, and one-on-one RPs; same amount of years spent writing fanfiction/general fiction.
How can you be contacted: PM me!
How did you find us: Through A Moment Like This (which I found through Confused Memories)
Nickname: Anonymous {Sho/Vexen}
RP Experience: Approx. 8 years roleplaying via forums, MUDs, and one-on-one RPs; same amount of years spent writing fanfiction/general fiction.
How can you be contacted: PM me!
How did you find us: Through A Moment Like This (which I found through Confused Memories)
Your Character:
Name: Demyx
Age: 19
Which anime are you from: Kingdom Hearts (II \\ 358/2 Days)
Personality: Demyx is probably the most light-hearted member of Organization XIII. There always seems to be a smile on his face and some degree of optimism on his mind, despite his current state of heartlessness. This leads to him having a reputation as something of a goof; he doesn't seem to have much of a spine, preferring to flee from conflict rather than get involved, and he doesn't consider himself the right guy for dirty work.
However, all of this is little more than a simple facade created in place of real emotions; while the way Demyx acts might provide a clue as to how his real self used to be, he is by no means dumb or carefree: when push comes to shove, he can be just as dangerous, calculating, and lethal as any other Organization member can be. He'd just...rather not.
History: Demyx was the ninth Nobody to join the ranks of Organization XIII. Like the others, his early days were spent going on missions to various worlds to fight Heartless, sometimes getting paired up with Roxas on said missions. After Roxas left, Demyx was sent to Olympus Coliseum for a few solo missions, including taking on Sora. Unfortunately, he is unable to fulfill his objectives, and ends up running away. He later confronts Sora once more at Hollow Bastion, but Sora's response this time was much more hostile; pushed to his limits, Demyx drops his facade and attacks with everything he's got -- but it's not enough. In the end, Demyx is brought to his knees -- the sixth Organization member to fall to the keyblade's power.
Canon or OC: Canon
Teacher or Student: Student
What year: Second
How did you come to be at the academy: Well, turns out joining cults dedicated towards stealing peoples' hearts in order to get your own back wasn't exactly the safest way to go about it, so...er...let's just pretend that whole thing didn't happen, and start from square one...
Custom Title: The Melodious Nocturne
Classes you enjoy: Music!
Sample RP:
Your weapon goes first. Don't forget that.
Everything hurt.
Everything was just a blur of pain, of adrenaline, of shouting and movement, of cracks of lightning and bolts of fire and the ever-present roar of rushing water. Underneath it all was the mostly-steady melody of his sitar, setting the battle to 4/4 time; his clones spun and whipped and leaped in response to every note, their amorphous bodies breaking and reforming constantly as magic and metal sought to destroy them. Whenever one burst, three more would rise from the puddle of its remains, moving and thrashing and dancing around the Keybearer before getting obliterated once more.
How long, Demyx thought, unsure if he was asking Roxas or himself, are you going to keep this up?
No melody lasts forever. Despite his best efforts, the Melodious Nocturne found it increasingly more difficult to keep the flow; several sympathetic strings had broken, which upset the sitar's resonance more than its ability to be played, but the seven that were played were losing their tuning, throwing off his groove. Worse, with all the chaos going on around him, he could hardly even hear his own song...
Dancers cannot dance without a steady rhythm.
Every falter in the beat, every missed note, every broken string spelled death for one of his clones, and brought him closer to oblivion as well -- yet he played on. His arms were burning, his fingers cramping, and the leather at his fingertips had worn straight through, blood coating the strings of his sitar as he slid across the frets.
Come on, Roxas -- don't you remember?
Lightning struck the water-slick battlefield again, stunning the sitarist into silence as buzzing pain erupted through his limbs. His clones pooled around him, formless without his melody to guide them; chest heaving for a breath that just wouldn't come, he struck another chord, but the major he'd intended came out as diminished -- yet he played on. The water swelled and surged at his command, building pressure in what was going to be another torrent by the next refrain -- he played faster, willing his fingers to move despite the pain, and glanced up to find his target--
"Roxas--"
The keyblade found him first.
Searing agony exploded in his side, sending him down on one knee. White stars invaded his vision, which flickered and darkened in waves as he watched crimson tendrils seep from his fingertips and swirl into the water. Blinking hard, he loosened his grip on the sitar's neck, rigid hand only barely responding to his command. Everything seemed to end just then; his body wanted nothing more than to just collapse right then and there, to give in to fatigue, close his eyes, surrender...
He was already on one knee. It would be so easy to drop the other one, beg for mercy...
No. I can't. He shook his head both out of defiance and an attempt to clear his vision, taking a breath to will the pain away. I won't give up. Not for you, Roxas.
It was funny, actually -- the pain seemed so distant now. He felt...light, like his body was made of...
...nothing.
The faintest sense of urgency crossed his mind, and he staggered to his feet, wobbling as his legs rebelled against the rest of him. He felt weak. The water sloshed around his boots lifelessly, and for the first time since he could remember, he couldn't hear its voice -- couldn't feel it responding to his presence. No rhythm, no pulse. Need to keep playing. He didn't feel any pain now -- maybe I'm catching my second wind. I can do this. I can keep fighting. Stretching his overworked fingers for a moment, he rose to his full height, hand again closing around the neck of his sitar--
...which...wasn't...there.
Your weapon goes first.
Blue eyes widened in realization. He brought his hand up, unclenching his fingers; there was nothing, not even a single drop of water, and no, no, no, no, no, no, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this -- nothing was responding -- his sitar was gone, and that meant--
"No way--!"
Name: Demyx
Age: 19
Which anime are you from: Kingdom Hearts (II \\ 358/2 Days)
Personality: Demyx is probably the most light-hearted member of Organization XIII. There always seems to be a smile on his face and some degree of optimism on his mind, despite his current state of heartlessness. This leads to him having a reputation as something of a goof; he doesn't seem to have much of a spine, preferring to flee from conflict rather than get involved, and he doesn't consider himself the right guy for dirty work.
However, all of this is little more than a simple facade created in place of real emotions; while the way Demyx acts might provide a clue as to how his real self used to be, he is by no means dumb or carefree: when push comes to shove, he can be just as dangerous, calculating, and lethal as any other Organization member can be. He'd just...rather not.
History: Demyx was the ninth Nobody to join the ranks of Organization XIII. Like the others, his early days were spent going on missions to various worlds to fight Heartless, sometimes getting paired up with Roxas on said missions. After Roxas left, Demyx was sent to Olympus Coliseum for a few solo missions, including taking on Sora. Unfortunately, he is unable to fulfill his objectives, and ends up running away. He later confronts Sora once more at Hollow Bastion, but Sora's response this time was much more hostile; pushed to his limits, Demyx drops his facade and attacks with everything he's got -- but it's not enough. In the end, Demyx is brought to his knees -- the sixth Organization member to fall to the keyblade's power.
Canon or OC: Canon
Teacher or Student: Student
What year: Second
How did you come to be at the academy: Well, turns out joining cults dedicated towards stealing peoples' hearts in order to get your own back wasn't exactly the safest way to go about it, so...er...let's just pretend that whole thing didn't happen, and start from square one...
Custom Title: The Melodious Nocturne
Classes you enjoy: Music!
Sample RP:
Your weapon goes first. Don't forget that.
Everything hurt.
Everything was just a blur of pain, of adrenaline, of shouting and movement, of cracks of lightning and bolts of fire and the ever-present roar of rushing water. Underneath it all was the mostly-steady melody of his sitar, setting the battle to 4/4 time; his clones spun and whipped and leaped in response to every note, their amorphous bodies breaking and reforming constantly as magic and metal sought to destroy them. Whenever one burst, three more would rise from the puddle of its remains, moving and thrashing and dancing around the Keybearer before getting obliterated once more.
How long, Demyx thought, unsure if he was asking Roxas or himself, are you going to keep this up?
No melody lasts forever. Despite his best efforts, the Melodious Nocturne found it increasingly more difficult to keep the flow; several sympathetic strings had broken, which upset the sitar's resonance more than its ability to be played, but the seven that were played were losing their tuning, throwing off his groove. Worse, with all the chaos going on around him, he could hardly even hear his own song...
Dancers cannot dance without a steady rhythm.
Every falter in the beat, every missed note, every broken string spelled death for one of his clones, and brought him closer to oblivion as well -- yet he played on. His arms were burning, his fingers cramping, and the leather at his fingertips had worn straight through, blood coating the strings of his sitar as he slid across the frets.
Come on, Roxas -- don't you remember?
Lightning struck the water-slick battlefield again, stunning the sitarist into silence as buzzing pain erupted through his limbs. His clones pooled around him, formless without his melody to guide them; chest heaving for a breath that just wouldn't come, he struck another chord, but the major he'd intended came out as diminished -- yet he played on. The water swelled and surged at his command, building pressure in what was going to be another torrent by the next refrain -- he played faster, willing his fingers to move despite the pain, and glanced up to find his target--
"Roxas--"
The keyblade found him first.
Searing agony exploded in his side, sending him down on one knee. White stars invaded his vision, which flickered and darkened in waves as he watched crimson tendrils seep from his fingertips and swirl into the water. Blinking hard, he loosened his grip on the sitar's neck, rigid hand only barely responding to his command. Everything seemed to end just then; his body wanted nothing more than to just collapse right then and there, to give in to fatigue, close his eyes, surrender...
He was already on one knee. It would be so easy to drop the other one, beg for mercy...
No. I can't. He shook his head both out of defiance and an attempt to clear his vision, taking a breath to will the pain away. I won't give up. Not for you, Roxas.
It was funny, actually -- the pain seemed so distant now. He felt...light, like his body was made of...
...nothing.
The faintest sense of urgency crossed his mind, and he staggered to his feet, wobbling as his legs rebelled against the rest of him. He felt weak. The water sloshed around his boots lifelessly, and for the first time since he could remember, he couldn't hear its voice -- couldn't feel it responding to his presence. No rhythm, no pulse. Need to keep playing. He didn't feel any pain now -- maybe I'm catching my second wind. I can do this. I can keep fighting. Stretching his overworked fingers for a moment, he rose to his full height, hand again closing around the neck of his sitar--
...which...wasn't...there.
Your weapon goes first.
Blue eyes widened in realization. He brought his hand up, unclenching his fingers; there was nothing, not even a single drop of water, and no, no, no, no, no, no, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this -- nothing was responding -- his sitar was gone, and that meant--
"No way--!"
This wasn't supposed to happen.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
It was supposed to be a happy ending. All he wanted was...
...to drop to his knees, to give in, to surrender to the inevitable -- no, no, no, no, no--
He grasped at his hair in frustration, and he couldn't feel it -- he was alive a minute ago, the pain told him he was alive -- the heat of battle, the freezing numbness of fatigue, the sound of his music--
...all gone.
Demyx couldn't even hear his own scream.
Roxas...
He slumped forwards, hands dropping to his sides, head lowered in defeat. In the corners of his vision he could see shreds of darkness flowing out of him, rising into the air like steam, evaporating. The water around him rose with it in something like a reverse rain, returning to the sky, but where would he..?
I did it for you.
Password:Withdrawn[/right][/center]