Sage of Shadows

“Of all these blasted books in this damn castle none of them can help..!” Freckled yellow spots had formed in the deep blue hues from anger, as she walked out of Radiant Garden’s castle. Taking a breath to calm down, a hand ran through the girl’s hair with a sigh.

How long had it been since the fight against the seekers again, nearly a year at best. Just what could she find to help the others was her problem.

There had been darkness on this world, likely recently. Strange. Where in the timeline had he emerged? Close to his own, or distant from it? Hm. The castle was one he definitely didn’t recognize, though it was impressive.

Well, he’d figure it out. He rounded a corner and spotted a local. Or what he presumed to be a local. Though... no, he likely wasn’t far enough in the timeline to be sensing that. Wielders were few and far between.

Maybe traveling to other eras in unwise, but... well, curiosity killed the cat and such. If he fails to find a way to extended his life indefinitely, knowing the future of the very small population of Keyblade Wielders is important.

Xeha.

Oh that was good. While the name obviously held no magical weight for this Xehanort, Maleficent had once known a Xeha for which that name had held weight.

“A good name.” Obviously he had never thought about what false yet true name he could call himself. “Although I have trouble believing you’re a mere traveler. Of no importance. When anyone with any strength of heart would be able to tell what weapon you wield.”

Perhaps she shouldn’t be playing with him the way she is. But then, it was just so much fun to see reactions to things she’s said but shouldn’t know.

He was certainly dealing with someone much closer to his own depth than he was used to, it seemed. Few knew of the Keyblade. Fewer still could detect its presence. It had been some time since he’d had to match whits with anyone that even knew that the weapon was more than just a fairy tale from a bygone era.

“I am certainly traveling, and if there are no threats to the safety of the greater World, then what I wield is of no great importance, as its presence will not be needed. Few know of such a weapon to begin with. The era of many wielders has long since passed.”

The War had seen to that, and while, in his readings he had found tells of way to draw all Keyblade Wielders to a singular point, to do so was madness.

“In that case, I do believe an introduction is in order…” She smiled, doing her best to keep it simple and not predatory at all. But she was also very much aware that when it came to names, sometimes she smiled too much or too strangely.

“They call me Maleficent, Mistress of All Evil.” Her arms spread in a small show of grandeur, only to end with one outstretched to the one she already knew as a Xehanort. “Might I have your name?”

A human, for the most part. She could tell he wasn’t fully such. Of course not, Morgana wouldn’t bother with a full human.

Well that was... certainly something. Evil was rather relative of a thing, in truth. Though that was most definitely an impressive... robe, was it? Clothing terminology wasn’t exactly on his mind on the moment. Maleficent was not a name he recognized, even vaguely.

He was going to not render moral judgement on a fae, of all beings. They were a little incomprehensible by nature.

“You may not, but you may call me Xeha. It will suffice.”

Names and pseudonyms were never his forte. There was much a reason that his apprentice’s name was based on a style of art he rather enjoyed when he’d fumbled for a name starting with a ‘V.’

Maleficent knew of Xehanort in a strange way. In every iteration of the universe that she’s seen, he was a being of darkness. Sometimes he knew her, sometimes he didn’t. But she could count on one hand how many times Xehanort’s aura and magic felt of Morgana. Just one.

That once-changeling’s magic was very familiar to everyone in the Otherworld, she had a habit of returning to the Realm of Light every century or two to teach more humans. It would seem Maleficent has finally stumbled on one of such students.

With a nod, she greeted him as well, now she just needed to know if he knew of her. “Have we met?”

Now that... was an excellent question. Xehanort had traveled much in his youth, traveled through his entire life as well. He was old, yes, but not that old.

“Unless my memory is beginning to fail me, I do not believe so. Unless in the past we met while at least one of us was under a guise of some sort.”

Fae were common on some worlds, rare or nonexistent on others. They were always to be treated with respect, as even Keyblade Masters taught and were taught to avoid them if possible, take caution if avoiding them was impossible.

How KH handles time travel is convoluted and weird and we’re entirely ignoring it. Honestly, time travel’s a convenience for noot Nort here to be able to interact with muses that exist outside of the era of BbS. This time travel has no real rules to it and is, unless otherwise specified, Xehanort attempting to time travel but, since you’re not really supposed to be able to do that, he enters a completely different world line/universe instead, albeit one farther ahead than his own era is relatively speaking.

He is, decidedly, not where he intended on being. Granted, time manipulation was probably not the wisest of idea, but scholars ought to test their theories. Even if they ended up being bad ideas.

It has been a very, very long time since his Master’s lessons on dealing with the Gentry. A very long time. But he did not live to the great age he had by forgetting very important lessons, nor my forgetting to look for the obvious signs that indicated he was, most likely, dealing with one of the Fair Folk. Albeit one who appeared to be deeply stepped in darkness.

He’ll settle for a polite bow, not to formal but not too informal, and hope that will suffice for the time being.

So I haven’t used this blog in ages, time to rez it I suppose.

It would seem he had taken quite the wrong turn on his arrival to this world. Darkness did not bother him, but tunnel systems were not exactly easy to navigate, even less so when he was certain he could hear some form of train every so often. 

He swears, if he sees a single other self-taught Keyblade wielder, he is never setting foot anywhere within this set of worlds ever again. They’re horribly untrained, unaware of the traditions and even large parts of the inherent nature of the Keyblade. It’s sad.