When they found Tredd, Zexion tried their best to stop themself from shaking. Castle Oblivion, and the events that transpired, happened days ago. They came back to the Organization, protected Axel for the sake of less infighting, and slept with one eye open–if they slept at all. As they resumed missions, they appeared composed, calm. Yet, they could not stop looking over their shoulder, wondering when Axel, or Saïx, would take action–or anyone else. No one could be trusted.
Tredd had no connection to the Organization. He was not actively trying to kill them. In the entire universe, he was one person to trust. He wasn’t Lexaeus, but he was gone.
“I sensed him fade, and I did nothing.”
How much could he trust Tredd? Well, it depended on how he handled the pile of information on said Organization, current events, and if he liked that Zexion withheld all of this for as long as they did. The game was over as the stakes became real.
Well, his reaction was… interesting. It earned a yelp out of Zexion–several yelps, requests to be put down, and a muttered curse or two–as they left one world, and went to another. The Schemer did not recognize this one. However, Zexion was still preoccupied with being held, a practiced grimace on their face.
“When did Tredd become this strong? The years, they have truly passed…”
“Was that necessary?” they asked, “Put. Me. Down.”
The last thing Tredd had expected in his twenty-four years was for Zexion to come and find him, seeking help. As they explained the Organization and its goals, and everything that gone down in some place called Oblivion, Tredd only grew grimmer.
Zexion was alone -- they only one they could trust dead -- and so they had come to Tredd, a not-quite-enemy.
Twilight Town wouldn’t be safe for them; the Organization still turned up from time to time like Tredd’s homeworld was their personal training ground. But Tredd knew a world where even the Heartless hadn’t yet been. Without warning or ceremony, he caught Zexion by the wrist and heaved the smaller man over his shoulders in one smooth motion.
Ignoring Zexion’s yelps and demands to be released, Tredd drew his world knife, focusing his mind on tropical, sandy beaches and a tart, star-shaped fruit...
He slashed the air open in front of him, revealing a corridor of swirling black and white. He strode through, ignoring the faint whispers, and finally passed into warm, humid air.
Grinning at the question, he set Zexion on their feet. “Yes, it was necessary,” he said.
