A/n: AxelKairi drabble-of-sorts for Static Lull. Slightly mature content (but nothing too explicit), thus the M rating. Lyrical credit to The Dresden Dolls and character credit to Square Enix.

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He was sent to them by God, appointed to his position by the holiest of the saints. Angels smiled benevolently upon him, and his name was spoken in the same reverence of prayers in the corridors. Little girls in blue dresses and plaits swirled around him, eyes shining and tugging on his sleeves. Oh Mister Axel, they pleaded, You'll play us a song, won't you? They were princesses with wide-brimmed hats and eager smiles, each gently shoving each other out of the way in order to sit next to him.

Turn the pages, love he'd say in his clipped accent and the girls would oblige; reaching out plump fingers to thumb past the papers and display solfege for their organist to read. He would smile as he pressed the keys and the girls would blush, whispering, Oh Mister Axel that is such a beautiful song.

A beautiful song for a beautiful lady he'd reply, just underneath the muttering of Father Vincent's prayers and the soft impact of young knees hitting cotton-place holders. He would smile and chuck the page turner under her chin, whisper a quiet Blessed be, miss and be off, his coat tails swinging behind him.

Back from the daily walk by the pier, they would sometimes catch him lounging by the walls of the orphanage, face tipped up towards the sun and masked by slight shadows. One of the girls---usually Selphie, but sometimes Olette or Naminé---would call out to him and he would tip his hat, smiling broadly. "Good-day, ladies!" He would shout across the packages of space between them, waving his top hat in welcome.

The girls in the line would blush—save for Kairi, who, albeit demanding a position at the head of the line, would always turn her head to the side and pick up the pace, her straw-hat bobbing against the nape of her neck. It wasn't that she hated Mister Axel—he just scared a tiny bit, with his long-legged gait and his pale skin. None of him seemed to be quite real; he looked as if he'd be wrought by man and shoved off the assembly line into the embrace of humanity.

"You're so rude, Kairi! Honestly!" Selphie or Olette or Naminé would huff, indignant on Mister Axel's behalf, and either of them (or all three) would trot off, leaving Kairi with Sister Trepe's disapproving glance. The sister would make her go back and apologize for her rudeness (it was either that or rosaries to say after dinner, and she could never remember them properly enough to satisfy the nuns).

What aggravated her (scared her) was Mister Axel's kindly patronizing smile, and the shudder-inducing feeling of his bony hand patting her head. "Don't be scared." He'd coo, chucking her gently under her chin. "I'm a friendly man."

Next to him when it was her duty to turn pages, he'd rub her back reassuringly and edge his spidery fingers up her dress as they sang along to the alleluia chorus. He'd excuse himself during communion and hustle Kairi back to the basement to pick up musical sheets.

Amid the boxes of Schubert and Mozart, he'd look at her lovingly and ask her to please remove her clothing, he found it distracting. He would smile and tell her he loved her and not to be scared (he's a friendly man) and would aim the pistol just so, cocking it against her head as she slipped the rosary over her head.

She never cried, and he loved her for it. Teeth glinting against the stark darkness of the room, he'd explain, "I only joke about sex because it's funny when you're frightened."

When she turned pages for the recessional refrain, he would pluck the clips and barrettes from her hair and toy with it, one hand crossing over to lie on top of hers. She would hiss statistics and threats and mention numbers once or twice; he would smile broadly and croon, "If I get any older, you can hack my wrists off with your choice of weapons—no, I'm kidding." He could curve fingers around her stricken face and mutter soothingly into the shell of her ear, "Don't be scared; I'm a friendly man. I joke about death because it's funny when you're frightened."

He left on a day when the sun was shining pleasantly and the birds were singing. Selphie and Olette greeted him with tears and drooping bouquets of flowers, muttering farewells and then spinning off to hide in their rooms to wail for a good while. Naminé nearly drew herself into a fit with her tantrum—"I want to go too! I want to go too!" she'd wailed, kicking her feet. The sisters had gathered her up and carried her away, calling "Godspeed" and "Goodbye" over their shoulders.

Kairi refused to say goodbye. "Good riddance." she amended, kicking the carriage that had come to cart Mister Axel and his spidery hands away. "The devil has come, and now the devil will leave. Good riddance."

The hoarse laughter of Mister Axel made her wheel around and stop, horrified. "Oh darling, you're charming." The organist said with a smile. He threw his luggage into the carriage and placed his hands on his bony hips, mocking her with a playful scowl. "Send me off with a kiss, won't you, lovey?" The pistol edged its way from his pocket and pointed towards her, as captivating as the stretching of his lips over his teeth.

She came closer and he reached out a hand, one hand reaching to knock her straw hat away from her face.

[x]

In a church far away from the girls and their weepy farewells and blatant adoration, Axel played the organ. He cleared the dust away and pressed his fingers to the keys, singing lyrics softly under his breath. The door creaked open, bringing with it the shock of blonde hair and widened eyes.

Axel played arpeggios with one hand as he beckoned the boy closer. "Don't be scared," he coaxed, "I'm a friendly man."