Twenty-Ninth [voice]
[And there's a low, strained mutter, meshed with tired gasps. As if someone was extremely tired and extremely bitter. Spitting each one of his words, which is quite uncommon in Zexion's calm tone.]
[private]
A labyrinth of lost pages and fractured stories. A vast library filled with unwritten books - Absurd. The Lexicon's interior is so... empty-.
For how long have I wandered within my own weapon? I could say hours, I could think months.
I cannot sense the hooded doll. Nor him. Not even the replica.
Roxas is still here... his stench of light and darkness is so distinctive.
Even the... twisted scent of all those mortal and immortal entities.
Lexaeus should have perceived it... but clearly. He didn't. He must have thought I disappeared, under the random effects of this wretched city. Or he was simply busy... with his fiendishly dull puzzles.
Demyx did not even attempt to visit the Hall of the Departed... that would have been so useful. No, I'm asking too much from someone who thinks in nothing but music. And sea critters.
I wonder if they at least noticed I wasn't there.
[/private]
Superior... I believe I can explain this.