I Sleep In A Nest

Reaper Creeper

“Description of the monsters.” The Babylonian epic of creation restored from the recently recovered tablets of Assur. 1923. 

He turned out pretty lol

His anger was overtaking him. It was overwhelming, these feelings- intense sorrow turning into indomitable rage. Darkness seeped from his body, caressing his body and reaching out towards his silent companion.

Xion flinched. It was such a tiny movement that had Vanitas not been so interested, obsessed, with XIV he might have missed it. Was she scared? Like all the others who looked at him with disgust. A strange, dismal feeling at that thought welled up in him and soon a flood appeared.

Her hand pressed back and the feeling vanished.

It was a such a soft touch, reassuring. Calm but questioning. It was the first time Vanitas had experienced such a thing. Touch always hurt. It was never kind.

But this was.

The flood looked up at his master, seeking direction.

“Go to her,” he ordered the small monster, “Do not attack.”

The flood darted towards the hooded figure. It looked up at her and cocked its head to the side, as if evaluating the figure in front of it. Deciding the figure to be safe, it advanced forward, butting its head against the outstretched hand.

Once the Unversed nears them, instinct warns their limb to retreat to keep themself from getting hurt. They’re wary of these new creatures, too used to the heartless on the field which only attack mindlessly but mercilessly, and do nothing but swipe and claw at anyone who dare approach with or without intent to fight. Softness was also something the puppet had been deprived of until this masked boy came along, often giving it to XIV through one-sided, mundane chatter or small gestures. Still, newly reformed vessel had been unable to appreciate it all, unable to reciprocate and return the same soft kindness to the one who needed it most.

The flood’s movements slow until it stays put, steady and calm beneath XIV’s touch. It takes another few silent seconds for the puppet to adjust to its mild behaviour, and eventually they move their fingers to gingerly caress the monster’s crown out of fascination. The puppet’s other hand does the same to the boy whose anger has settled down to a mere simmer– the emotion eventually dissipating from the arid air all around them. 

Curious… XIV had never felt this kind of calmness surrounding them before, it’s almost surreal. But it is… pleasant. It goads a satisfied hum from them, causes parched lips to quirk up ever so slightly at one corner, and XIV finds themself wishing to get to experience such a situation more often.

No fighting, no pain. 

“The flood is yours,” he said, trying to sound offhand, “It’ll do as you say and keep you company.” When I am not here.

More importantly, it could offer protection until Xion could protect herself. The others thought her useless, perhaps a mistake or a failure even. Vanitas knew better. They key blade could only be wielded by those powerful enough- whether powerful in spirit, body, mind, magic or heart. 

Xion’s hand on his felt nice and he had the sudden urge to remove his glove, to feel her skin on his. The only time he’d felt another’s skin had been the the Master had struck him. His hand, clenched more desperately to hers and he tried to be careful of hurting the petite hand.

Xion seemed to be asking what to do with he box. 

“You open it,” Vanitas explained, with a new found patience he’d never used before, “Inside is a present. For you. Like I said earlier, it’s chocolate and almonds. It should help you.” 

Was it just me or was no one happy about how he ended except him?