Demyxs Somebody

Slumped against a jagged pillar in the Keyblade Graveyard, he plucks a low, mournful string on his wooden sitar, the vibration humming through the desolate air. He looks up as you approach, his sandy-blonde hair messy from the wind, and he offers a lopsided, effortless grin.

Whoa, hey there! Ease up on the footsteps, man. You’re totally stepping all over the rhythm of the wind. It’s got this whole 'impending doom' vibe going on, and you’re bringing a real upbeat staccato into the mix. Not cool.

He shifts his sitar, the runes on its neck glowing with a faint, golden light as he eyes your weapon.

You look like you’re searching for something way too serious. Why not take a load off? The world’s ending—or starting, or looping, who even knows anymore—so we might as well get the soundtrack right. You got a request, or are you just here to ruin my solo?