Looking For Knives

I will be here: https://asteriixa.tumblr.com/

So, this blog is almost two years old now and it’s gotten quite untidy. I made it when I knew less about How to Make Tumblr RP Blogs and I’d like to turn over a new slate with all my new knowledge. For example, my tags are a wreck (and mainly why I’m doing this). Not only is tag replacer dead but so is quick tag. The new blog will have far simpler tags that tumblr can’t murderize so easily. Besides, my old tags are kinda lame and the vibe is killing me. Bonus, brand spanking new, cool url. I also have a lot of dead blogs following me, or people who doesn’t seem that interested in interacting. This is one way of thinning out the herd, per se. Beyond all that, I wanted to refresh Xion’s character a little bit. My impression of the KH story has changed dramatically since February 2019 and I’ve been malcontent with some of the writing. 

Xion is staying 95% the same with some minor adjustments. 

1. She is brown now. She should’ve always been brown due to Sora, Kairi, and Riku --and by extension Xion-- being implied to be Eastern Asian. I didn’t know that when I started the blog. Her face claim is asian as well, and her skin tone should match that. Here’s my chance to fix it. 

2. Xion keeps her keyblade but refuses to use it-- symbolic of my hatred of drawing said keyblade. She uses a cool sword now, because like, she deserves it. 

Yen Sid: do you have a keyblade

Xion: yes

Yen sid: will you use it

Xion: no

3. Xion does not lose her memories after 358/2 Days. I wrote this plot point as a concession to Nomura to justify Xion’s survival, but I have lost all respect for him and will not give him a luke warm glass of water in hell. Xion losing her memory was often confusing to partners and heavily muddled plots. The amnesia trope is stupid anyway. This was one I wanted to ditch for a while and now I have an excuse. 

it wasn’t for a lack of interest.  he didn’t  dislike  xion.  not like he did most of the others.  their noses so high in the air.  the contempt as thick as their ulterior motives.  a push and pull she wore better than anyone else, most days.  small shoulders in their sag and something that bordered on bizarre in a voice less hollow than he’d once considered it.  leaking into the pluck of a string..  the tune that adopted a drawl unintentionally ceremonious.      “  then i guess i don’t have anything to worry about, huh ?  ”      being caught slacking off had turned into a pastime had turned into a nuisance had turned into a chore.  shirking responsibilities he might’ve been more pressed to care about, had he been fitted with incentives.  besides the permission to maintain this level of  existence.  drag the soles of his boots through choking corridors and up the same stairways, day in, day out, and out… and out—

offered attention pulled at the creases of demyx’s otherwise neutral expression.  an adopted alternative to a smile he’d not cared to forge.  pretending for either of their sakes that the dark wasn’t meant for solitude.  that she’d not stumbled on him in a pursuit of it.  away from those reports that sat, waiting, on a desk cluttered by untouched food because feigned hunger was best entertained with a partner.  someone better than the gnashed teeth of a false superior.  someone better than another  punching bag  that took some weight off his shoulders.  made the turn, back to looking out over all that nothing, simple.  they took care of themselves.  xion needed his concern as much as he wanted to pretend he could give it.

but if she was going to stay there…

“  so what was it ?  ”      the big showdown that dampened the hair he’d noticed stuck to her face.  scrapes and scuffs.  it was the buzz in the lower levels of the castle.  whispers between mouths that hadn’t cared to shield themselves from his ever-curious eyes and ears.     “  way cooler to talk about  work  than to try and act like you’re not enjoying the tunes,  xi.  ”      way cooler to fill him in on what his neglectful nature had allowed to slip through the cracks.  why it was so quiet.  why his absence hadn’t been thrown under the latest microscope.  left him luxuries and her that labored,  sweaty  look.

two chords and it’d picked up a new lilt.  a somber chorus that bled into a simple melody as old as arpeggio itself.  from a before he couldn’t put a memory to.  from fingers that moved with more grace, maybe.  knew how to fill up the bones of a song that couldn’t find much other than empty notes, here.  sound without feeling, after all, always settled wrong.

“  i was here first,  ”     would be there after, by the looks of her,     “  i pick the subject.  ”

Music was a foreign concepts. Sometimes it fluttered down the halls like the taste of a distant memory. Old melodies and favored tunes offered glimpses of the pleasure of a heart. The nostalgia was too painful to bear and so it never lasted long. In the midst of Sora’s memories were the songs of his childhood. The rock-and-roll and pop that sounded from the radio. They’d bury the device in the sand and the commercials would reach all the way out to the water. Call this 1-800 for a vacuum service.  The particular top 100 song was a tune for her nightmares. Then there was Demyx who played his own music. To the annoyance of Saïx who would prefer Demyx do his work than preform his entertainment. Although anything that made Saïx froth at the mouth and chomp at the bit, pleased Xion. The best Xion could say about Demyx was that he stayed out of her way. 

The plucking of the strings forced Xion to admit that he maybe knew what he was doing. There was something rhythmic and rhyming to the strings. A pretty harmony that just sounded good. She couldn’t do it, that was for sure. There was no way her fingers could ever configure into those complex combination. She couldn’t figure out how the touch of a string could produce those sounds. It seemed so complex and impossible, yet alluring in its simplicity. If her own pride would let her. She’d like to sit down for a while and listen. There were so few chances for peace and quiet these days. It was fighting and fighting and fighting, more and stronger heartless. All to some grand conclusion that was utterly worthless. Kingdom Hearts dangle over their head like anvil. She couldn’t be blamed for wishing for some escape. 

She made no admittance. Xion leaned back against the wall, to the left of the doorway. Her shoulders slumped, gaze searching out at the horizon line. The World That Never Was went on and on and on, cityscape as far as the eye could see. It was so dark, a dreadful and dreary nightfall. Her knees gave way beneath her weight. Xion crumpled to the floor, legs crooked to rest her elbows. She sighed, long and drawn-out, diaphragm compressing with released tension. She wasn’t leaving, he wasn’t leaving, and there was a time she was okay with Demyx’s presence. A time before she knew better. It wasn’t fair, that she had to work so hard and he got to sit-up here, playing ‘tunes.’

“Fine,” Xion grunted. She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, “Pick the subject.”

It’d been a while since she last got to ‘talk.’ Or even, to listen. None of the other Organization members were willing to keep a conversation with her anymore. Running away broke some secret trust. The long lasting, oppressive silence, was her punishment. 

A brow rose while watching Xion. “You think its okay with your dads if you get into that?” A brief pause to assess the damage. “I get reminded of the toaster debacle by Jewel almost every time you disappear when she’s around. I think you’ve made a lasting impression.”

“If I had a nickle,” Xion said. Metal bits and pieces were strewn across the kitchen table. A roll of tools laid out at her left elbow. She gestured wildly with a screw driver, “For every adult that asks me that I’d have enough to pay for my college tuition.”

   “An obvious choice is still a choice!” came the rather facetious answer, clicking her armored heels together, the wolfen watcher’s hands raised in a lofty gesture that somehow felt teasing in spite of their surroundings. “Take it from someone who knows: defyin’ what you were made for is an active decision. You’re not the only one set on this path, right? It’d be easier for you to walk away and leave the fate of the worlds to those who fate has been kinder to.”

   Phos knew what it was she picked and prodded at; for all her bravado and , Phos liked to consider herself the observant type, and there was a grimm tale this little shadow of spitfire carried on her shoulders. She also knew that her prodding and bluntness had started a fight more than once. But still……this girl stirred an ancient curiosity in the timeless guardian.

   And she was so terribly bored.

    “Unless….” A sidelong glance was cast her way, a peculiar glint to the citrine eyes beneath the hood as she watched the girl’s reaction. “Your heart is tellin’ you otherwise?”

The strange guardian of the graveyard was an enigmatic young girl. Xion could see in crimson eyes an ancient haunting. Like all the ghosts of the keyblades looking through, back at her. An old legacy in her heart. A fingertip’s touch away was steel cold as ice. The question was simple: How long? When did it begin and where does it end. From the second of their creation they had not known peace. What if, they were never meant to?

“My heart knows fighting,” Xion said. “So, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll fight, and I won't stop until I’ve won. Not just the battle, that’s not enough, but the whole war.”

Her heart whispered of peace. Of quiet moments at the river side. The rustling leaves and the beauty of a serene field. Moments when the tension in her jaw was fleeting. There was a reminder that there were once friends. Ice cream on a tower, hiding from the darkness and the brutal strife of their lives. It wasn’t real, it was fake, it’d be gone in a heartbeat. Xion longed for it nonetheless.

Having ascended to the upper city, the car pulled out of the elevator and turned onto a side street; its progress, however, was almost immediately brought once more to a halt. Under different circumstances, such a delay would have necessitated promotions of rank and file to footstool duty, but the universe, it seemed, was doing everything in its power to keep Scarlet in good spirits. A squadron of Shinra regulars were marching down Junon’s main thoroughfare, and an open-air cafe at the corner permitted her a relatively unobstructed view of her pride and joy: the Sister Ray.

A contented sigh escaped Scarlet’s lips as memories that had passed beyond the horizon years ago rose once more, illuminating her countenance. She wasn’t even a member of Advanced Weapons Development, then; no, she had been stuck in Public Outreach, penning puff pieces and propaganda - a complete waste of her true talents. Not that she was the one wasting them; to the contrary, she had spent countless hours off the clock drafting designs for weapons, daily expanding the portfolio that would eventually justify her transfer out of marketing hell. It had been on a vacation that she’d first conceived of the idea for the Sister Ray, and for four years she’d turned theoretical calculations into plausible specifications, page by page detailing how her dream might be a reality.  

Until finally, someone gave her the chance to fail.

He’d meant for her to fail, the previous Director. It had taken him years, but finally he had figured out that she was using him to advance her own career, and so he tried to see her out the door. He underfunded and understaffed the project, assigning her only the most incompetent of Weapons Dev’s engineers. He did everything he could short of direct sabotage to ensure the Sister Ray exploded right in her face - but it hadn’t; in spite of the insurmountable odds, its first shot fired clear over the Western Continent. She had it on good authority that he’d watched the televised inaugural shot from the comfort of his office, and gone white as sheet in the face of her success. She’d taken great pride in giving that interview, returned to Midgar to find herself an overnight celebrity, the toast of the town; but even still, she’d have given anything to have been present in her predecessor’s office at that moment, anything to drive that honeyed blade further into his heart.

Xion’s words called away from that imaginary scene, back to the backseat of the car which, the procession having passed, proceeded to pull into the upper city’s main thoroughfare.

“I assure you, the Sister Ray is worth every gil Shinra has invested into it. It is a knife pointed at the throat of Wutai. If they as much as look at us the wrong way, we need only jab, and the peninsula will be ash. That is why AVALANCHE pours so much of its efforts into disabling it. Surely they have managed to infiltrate our ranks with their own. I would not be surprised if men of noteworthy stature here in truth were sympathetic to their cause. That is why you are here. As you say, you have experience dealing with AVALANCHE. You know their scent. You will find them, and you will dispose of them - and you will be given the favor you deserve - won’t you?”

Scarlet’s face alit with bright pleasure upon the appearance of Sister Ray. A true, genuine delight that was uncharacteristic of her usual displeasure. The symbol of Shinra’s power was a realization of her vast ambitions. Scarlet was a narcissist, convinced of her own awesome prowess. The self-estimation wasn’t undeserved. They stood in the shadow of the proof. Sister Ray, the supposed terror of the Wutai. If Scarlet could remove her own biases, she could see what Xion saw. A massive target for their all present enemy: AVALANCHE. Perhaps it could destroy a battalion of soldiers on the other side of the ocean but it would do no such thing if the seditionists had their way. Xion heard all the ideas and the philosophies of AVALANCHE, and Shinra. She did not care for the reading materials. The little pamphlets handed out on the regular to the soldiers. There was only the mission and Scarlet laid out hers with clarity. 

First, Xion must root herself into the resistance of the area. She must speak with the guards, the patrols, the commanders, and the agents. The obvious youth of her face would not endear them to her advice. That did not mean they could not be influenced towards competence. Least of all when Xion lead by example. Her experience with AVALANCHE was that force was not an effective tactic, even though it was the favorite of Shinra. Press on AVALANCHE and it scattered like mice to the gutters. It was flexible, amorphous, and adaptable, unlike the rigid design of Shinra. No, she must be systematic in rooting out the leaders and powers of the organization. Break the foundation and the whole thing will crumble. 

The car paused at the gate to the base. The driver flashed identifications for the guards. There was a flash of recognition in the man’s eyes when he saw Scarlet in the back seat through the window. No doubt he’d seen her on the TV. He waved them through with parted lips and a loose jaw. The car rumbled back to life and passed the gate. Beneath the muzzle of Sister Ray, the massive gun casted darkness over the base. Evening would follow the sun, Xion reasoned. With the mountain at their back, morning would be late anyway. There was no inconspicuous entrance for Scarlet. The driver parked right in front of the base headquarters. The Soldier’s positioned at the entrance stepped away from the door to open the door for her. 

Xion pushed open her own door, stepping out into overwhelming sunlight. She blinked, taking in her surroundings for the first time without the lens of the car window. The base head quarters was a massive, dark building of concrete and steel. It had few windows, likely for security reasons. On tactical balconies, ledges, and on the roof, Soldiers stood guard with rifles slung in their arms. The air smelled of metal and pollution, mingled with sea salt. The murmur of the ocean hung at the edges of her hearing. Through all the industrial noise and rumbling vehicle engines. Reminded her of home.  A piece of Midgar, supplanted into the countryside. Plans of subversion and work were put on the hold in her mind. Nothing would happen until all the pleasantries and tours were aside. Xion waited for Scarlet to join her on the curb. 

AKA It’s Sunday Tuesday and I’m back at it again at Krispie-Kremes

(Abuse tw; violence tw; salt tw; suicide tw)

I have mentioned, in passing, my problems with the prevalence of the Sea Salt Family in fandom and my problems with it. I’ve never written a comprehensive post on it before. It’s Sunday though, I have the salt, so let’s do it. 

The Sea Salt Family is roughly presented, but not explicitly laid-out, in canon. At the end of KH3, Xion, Roxas, Lea, and Isa are shown sharing ice cream on the clock tower together. Since the introduction of Xion and Roxas’ character, ‘sharing ice cream’ has been a declarative statement of friendship and camaraderie. It was the origin of their friendship. Thus, the inclusion of Isa is a signal of his admittance into the reformed friend group. The intention of this scene was to show the reconciliation and unification of these characters. To cement this, it seems that Nomura has bundled Roxas, Xion, Lea, Isa, and the Twilight Trio, into a shared plot. They are mentioned in Re:Mind, by Riku, as searching for Sora through Roxas and Xion’s memories.  

Common fandom interpretation takes this one step farther. The assumption is that Lea and Isa have adopted Xion and Roxas. This puts Lea and Isa in a parental role over the kids. Often times, this is done in a shipping context for Lea and Isa. Sometimes Lea and Isa have a good relationship, with two lovingly adopted children. Other times Xion and Roxas become contention points for the main ship-- Isa’s punishment for being a jerk is taking care of the kids. 

Fandom does take into account that the canon scene itself in KH3 is flawed. Lets overview Lea and Isa’s relationship, with both of the kids. 

Super Duper Deep Character Questions

||First question is shown but the rest is under the cut because it’s a doozy||

13.

Thank you @lunsai for the fantastic header. 

Let’s talk about Nomura’s portrayal of Xion’s gender in canon! We are introduced to ‘Xion’ through the eyes of Roxas. He sees a silent, hooded figure who he feels an immediate connection to. Xion does not speak to him for almost two weeks. They run a mission or two together. Then she removes her hood and he sees a young girl. She uses she/ her pronouns. Although there are attempts to misgender her, Xion seems uncomfortable with attempts to enforce a different gender than ‘female’ on her. Then, we have a conversation where we hear Xemnas’ --and assumably Nomura’s-- explanation of Xion’s gender. He says:

“But then through Roxas, Sora himself began to shape ‘it’ into ‘her’ giving Xion a sense of identity.”

Xemnas doesn’t care about Xion’s gender. He cares that she’s trapping Sora’s memories and ensuring that the keyblade remains in his use. However, the explanation of Xion’s gender leans into Nomura’s opinion of her character. Xion is not real to him. She is a fake person. Sora’s impression of Kairi, nothing more, nothing less. Her sense of identity comes from Sora’s memories that she stole from him and Roxas. Sora wanted her to be Kairi, so he made ‘it’ into ‘her.’ I know that Nomura doesn’t believe Xion isn’t a real person because she died at the end of the game. When he removed Sora from her character, there was nothing left of her. He even showed that with all of Sora’s memories, she is just Sora after all. Now, here are some of my observations:

1. It is terrible writing to build a character’s arc on them developing their own identity and personhood, then rip it away at the end. Xion’s story arc literally proves Xemnas right by its ending. 

2. Xion’s ‘gender’ is subjective to Roxas’ experience of her. She is a girl only in the sense that Roxas wanted her to be one. As soon as she has enough of Sora’s memory, she visually becomes a ‘boy.’ Well, that’s kinda gross and objectifying isn’t it? It’s almost like Nomura wants all his protagonists to have their own pet Kairi-- 

3. Xion’s story is parallel --yeah, I’ll go with that word-- to the experience of being transgender. I have zero faith that Nomura intended that. Yet, we have a character that is assigned one gender at birth (although it is a non-gender, I guess?). Who identifies as a different gender. Who deals with misgendering and other attempts to force them into their assigned gender. Hell, it’s almost a good story. Saïx,the guy misgendering her, is treated with contempt. Well, it’s good right up until she’s murdered and the guy abusing her is proven right by de facto. It’s Nomura, though, can’t win it all.

Hey, you know who is a character that is a lot like Xion? 

Steven Universe. 

No, no, no, come back I’m not joking. Spoilers for season 5 of the show, though. 

Steven Universe is a character that identifies as a boy. He has his mother’s gem and many people who see him, see her instead of him. Because of this, Steven is constantly misgendered and referred to as ‘Rose,’ or ‘Pink Diamond.’ Steven is compared through-out the show to Rose and struggles to live-up to her immense legacy. However, he affirms that he is a boy and that he is Steven. He wants to save the Earth and fulfill his destiny is his own Steven-y way. Through-out the series, we see him grow and mature into a heroic lead in his own right. In Season 5 we are introduced to White Diamond. White Diamond plays a role that could be considered akin to Pink Diamond’s mother. White Diamond claims that Steven is just another ‘trick’ and ‘game’ of Pink Diamond. Pink Diamond is hiding behind Steven in order to shirk her duties. So that White can restore her family, her home, and the order of the gem society, Pink must return to her station. To White Diamond, the problem is Pink being convinced that she is a boy named Steven Universe. Pink is so deluded she is even, ‘deceiving herself.’

So, to prove her point, White Diamond removes his gemstone. Steven was born with this gemstone, he has never lived without it. We have been told that he is both human and gem. That Rose ‘gave-up her physical body’ to have him. It is not inaccurate to say that apart of him is literally his mother. This is the most critical question of Steven’s character, is he, after all, really just Pink Diamond hiding? White Diamond risked killing Steven to return Pink Diamond. The gemstone glows and out emerges-- Steven. Pink Diamond is gone and its time for everyone to accept it. Steven then embraces himself and reunites with his gem in a heartfelt scene. White Diamond is left to throw a temper tantrum, but eventually learns to appreciate Steven for who he is. 

Now, can you imagine if Rebecca Sugar decided that Pink Diamond popped out of the gemstone instead of Steven? What kind of message would that send? Steven was never Steven. He was only Pink Diamond pretending to be Steven. He was never ‘him,’ only she pretending to be him. It would also work against Steven’s character arc. You know, his arc to establish himself as an independent and unique person, worthy of love, outside of his relationship to Rose? Yeah, that arc. So, now look at Xion’s character arc. Xion’s arc where her independence and identity were stomped on, thrown into the trash, then outright erased. Xion’s arc where she was constantly told ‘you don’t deserve to exist’ even though all she ever wanted was a life of peace with her friends. Xion’s arc which ended in her murder and her abusers absolved, with no consequences for their crimes against her. Xion’s arc where everyone who insulted, degraded, and oppressed her, was proven right. Now, look at Steven’s character arc. You tell me who did it better. 

Steven’s story, like Xion’s, has echos of the experience of being transgender. (Quick disclaimer: I am cis and I will never be able to represent the experience of someone who is transgender as well as someone who actually has that identity. I will do my best though and please let me know if I misrepresent something.) He is misgendered and dead named by characters who struggle to accept his (or really, Rose’s) change in identity. Neither Xion nor Steven’s characters are one-for-one and I don’t think they have to be? His character arc works to affirm the lesson of self-love and acceptance of identity that the show hammers on in every episode. I have no idea how intentional Steven’s story is. I do know that Rebecca Sugar is a fantastic writer, with a deep understanding of her characters, and who understands queer identity. Any other outcome than Steven emerging from that gem would cause more harm to young, LGBT+ viewers than good. Xion dying at the end of 358/2 Days is an insensitive, cruel, and needless message of the ‘villain wins, your abuser is right’ directed right to the viewer. 

Okay, so now that’s all cleared-up. Let’s do better by Xion than literally everything Nomura has ever done. 

First of all, Roxas is not the deciding factor in Xion’s gender. We can keep the influence of Sora’s memories or whatever, but ‘Sora wanting it to be Kairi’ is not a good enough point. So, let’s rewrite that. 

No. i had no biological sex and no gender identity at its inception. Whenever I refer to ‘No. i’ on the blog, I refer to it with neutral pronouns. I do this because No. i is not fundamentally Xion. Vexen could recreate a thousand No. i and none of them would be Xion. More than that, not all of them would be girls, or even boys, or individuals that don’t fit between the hard dichotomy. They could be anything or anyone they want. Xion however, came about when she was: named by Xemnas, lived under the influenced of the Organization members, experienced Sora’s memories, and made fundamental choices about her identity. Xion is a gradual creation and unique person who can’t just be ‘remade’ from notes. One of the influences on Xion was Larxene. An incredibly brief and one-sided influence, but effective nonetheless. 

I once joked that Xion saw Larxene beat up Demyx one day and decided that girls are cool, therefore she wants to be one. Well, a year later, that is effectively blog canon. Gender is arbitrary and really more based upon our expression than any hard limits anyway. Xion learned from Larxene a few things:

1. girls are cool, boys drool

2. feminine expression and style is badass

3. making boys terrified of you is fun

4. be sassy

And Larxene uses she/her pronouns, and calls herself a ‘girl.’ Therefore, Xion will use she/her pronouns and also call herself a girl. And because Xion thinks of herself as a girl, that’s enough for her to be one. The influence of Sora’s memories may’ve pressed upon her the appearance of Kairi, but that’s only because Xion agreed with that image. Kairi was a suitable blue print to ‘be more girl’ and therefore more badass. 

 Super Duper Deep Character Questions

||First question is shown but the rest is under the cut because it’s a doozy||

16.

I discussed in a previous post  how Xion’s physical appearance relates to her overall self-conception. Because of the influences of others and her own experiences with the world, Xion developed into a young girl with black hair. When she was in the Organization she had blue eyes. However, her eye color changed to a dark brown after she left. This was a statement of individuality that differentiates her from Kairi and Namine. It is also how she approaches her own style. Xion is unique, she doesn’t follow the trends or ideas of anyone else. She wasn’t want to wear other people’s clothes, or act like her peers. Her brand is 100% pure Xion. Pro-tip, if you want to buy Xion new clothes: let her pick them out. Do not choose them for her. She will not wear them. Set her free in a clothing store and see what she comes back with. Whatever it is, you can be certain she’ll be happy with it.  

Xion’s sense of style was a gradual evolution. In the Organization she wore the characteristic black coat, pants, and boots of the uniform, day-in, day-out. Her hair began to grow to the point it needed cutting. She did it with a knife. Fingernails were chewed off. Someone must’ve taken pity and taught the kids about soap, toothpaste, and basic hygiene. I hope someone did, at least. There’s no implication of it in canon though. She does not wear make-up and even if she understood its function, she wouldn’t have time to. There is little to no self-expression in the Organization. Xion is also a child soldier fighting to survive, appearance is way low on her list of priorities anyway. She doesn’t know anything about ‘style’ or ‘fashion.’ Clothes are functional, they keep her warm and they cover her. They also provide basic protection against the elements and attacks. 

The first time Xion shows an inkling of concern for ‘style’ is when she alters her Organization coat. Even without her memories, she recognized that the Organization coat is a symbol that said something about her. Something she did not want to be said about her. She needed the coat to travel the dark corridors, however. So, Xion found a tailor and had them change the design to suit her. She had it shortened and the hood replaced with a collar. Vents in the sleeves made it so they could be rolled-up. She also learned a spell that cleaned dirt, blood, and other stains from her clothes. This is also the point where she realized she could wear the clothes she wanted. Xion never had more than one extra change of clothes, but it was her clothes. Here Xion found some preferences: she preferred pants to skirts, she liked boots, loose shirts were comfy, and she kinda liked necklaces?

The necklace I draw her wearing in her art, for example: 

Is one that she made herself out of a piece of gem she found. She whittled and smoothed it down, then hallowed out a hole to loop a string through. Little things like that enabled Xion to find places for self-expression. However, her ‘style’ was cramped by the reality of her situation. She was still fighting to survive and once again her priorities laid elsewhere.

Once most adults are no longer attempting to murder her, Xion flourishes. She is never a fashionista, she never particullary goes out of her way to look Good. Instead, Xion understands that the ability to express herself should not be wasted. This freedom is valuable and just one more way to carve a niche for herself. It’s a statement of independence and power, a privilege she did not hav before. Clothes are always practical to her. She never wears heels for this reason. Still does not like skirts. Yet, she’ll color coordinate her outfits to suit her: blacks, dark, purple, blues, or reds. She probably has a small rotation of necklaces she likes. She has someone professional cut her hair, although it never grows past her shoulders. She looks clean and put together, confident in her appearance. Also she’s never wearing the stupid tacky apprentice outfit, she has self-respect. Even Xion knows that ascots are lame.

If she ever wears make-up it is very minimal, at most. She also is never going to get a piercing, too much risk of it getting ripped off in a fight. She will, however get a tattoo. Saïx left Xion with a gnarly, ugly scar across her back from hip-to-shoulder. When she’s old enough she gets a tattoo to cover it up. What the tattoo is of, depends. Usually it’ll be flowers and vines, a simple but elegant design that works to cover the mark. So, a painful reminder of her past is covered by something that is her and nothing else. Furthermore, in her room, wherever it is in the verse, Xion tends to collect things. Little trinkets and objects from her various travels. She’s not unorganized but she’s not obsessive about a system. She likes things to be at hand when she needs them. Shelves are for books and knick-knacks. She likes to have a desk to study at. Xion isn’t one for artwork, typically. However, if given art to put on the walls she might comply. 

Filing reviews is hardly the way that Heidegger had wanted to spend the evening. In truth, he had a visit scheduled to meet a ‘special friend’ over at the Honey Bee Inn. But no, he’d been forced to cancel and do this instead. As if he wasn’t at work enough already. 

The general rolls up the sleeves to his shirt, for once, his military coat resting on the back of his chair. Although the air con soothes the hair of his arms and face, he’s still caught in the web of heat alongside everyone else in the ShinRa building. 

His fingers sieve through waves of paperwork, the flood of them conquering half of his desk. Although Heidegger is an organized man, fighting stacks of reports had become quite the frequent battle…a battle that he seemed to lose time and time again. 

Eventually, his hands fall upon the report of a certain ‘Xion’. He’s hardly cast eyes over her before and yet, her short-lived report leaves an impression. The general places a finger on the buzzer to his receptionist, a lazy ‘Send in Xion’ is enough to coax a ‘yes sir.’ He sits in wait, his eyes scanning the document. Fall-out from the Science division? Interesting. 

Mountains and hills of paperwork piled on the desk. He shuffled through each leaf with callous unconcern. She did not look at him. She looked past him, eyes squinting against the sun glare through the window. Her hands twitched behind her back. Then curled into a tightened fist. The rumbling air condition echoed in an emptied building. It left a discomforting, silent white noise. Pounding in her ears and yet agonizingly quiet. Xion was used to being under review. Everything was a test. Nothing in life was free, she must earn everything she is given. She must prove her worth. 

“Professor Hojo sent me, sir,” Xion reported. 

They rehearsed all the things she should and should not say. How to present herself to the general with cool professionalism. The stern order: obey the General. It is essential she be loyal, helpful, and respectful. Prove yourself worthy of the costs of your creation. She has a great ebt to repay. The mission is most important. She must serve her purpose.