| ᵐᶤˢˡᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘᵗʰ

I chose:  ‘ sometimes people have to get hurt for me to get what i want. ’

Teeth grit as fists curl, anger bubbling up in a wave that is not uncommon, but uneeded. He can’t lose his cool, not when his opponent cackles and mocks; holding a Keyblade that bares the sharpness of it’s teeth with each blow. He is strong, but so is this Wielder-- and he’s faster too. It’s not an automatic loss, but he struggles here, his attacks landing a second or more too late and hitting nothing but ghosts of where the other had been standing. His weakness mocking-- it’s infuriating.

“You’re wrong.” He says it less in a statement of fact and more of an opinion of person. The Unversed cackle like the other, gathering around as negative emotions summon them, and he struggles. The fight will end poorly if he loses his cool more than he already has; he knows that his own lack of self control can summon more Unversed to the area. Why do they seem to ignore him though? He doesn’t know, but he will find out. His Keyblade hums, encouragement swimming in the blood that pounds through his ears as he yells; another attack lunging through him at the other.

“Is that what you think?”

Children has weakness. You pick at it, like a scab, and the weakness bleeds out. Gently chipping at their faults would help shape them over time. That is what a good mentor does; they figure out their pupil’s weaknesses and help pick at it, making it bleed out, and wash away. They were some of the unlucky ones: the pupils who didn’t have good mentors. Their mentors picked at the wounds to the point they got bigger, reached in, and tugged until they found the most crippling bit. Until he found the most crippling bit.

Darkness is in everything after all.

His words almost carry a chuckle to them, a soft roll of noise that might be familiar to Saïx. The Nobody that was made from this body shared some of this body’s cues after all-- his body’s cues. The lines of individuality blurred years ago, when memories were scattered by an act of good will, and youthful determination was paired with aged cunning. He is still there though, despite it all. He lingers, despite his failures, and his misguided actions. He will never stop fighting. He hopes he’s not the only one.

“Do you like it? The Darkness. How it aches and creeps inside. These coats-- they don’t do much. It’s a band-aid on a wound, but there’s still poison being dribbled on top. If you stay you know what will happen.” Did he have a choice? Did they have a choice? Yes. “I don’t remember you being the type to back down.”

“No one deserves to die!”

His voice booms; projected proudly from within him in a deceleration of ideals. A body disintegrates between them, the Heart fluttering away to Kingdom Hearts, where it would be safe. He will make sure it makes it there safely, his Keyblade already summoned, and humming in familiar energy beside him. Shadows skirt around, hungry, but wary. Their Her Darkness calls to them, as does the exposed Heart, but he won’t allow it. He won’t stand down.

“You act as if life is something that can just be thrown away! Like it’s-- a toy! Don’t pretend you’re so self-entitled to dictate the lives of others. You have no right!” Anger crawls like a line of blotted violet through him, blurring his edges with feathery tendrils of something familiar as his heart pounds in his chest. He had just watched her throw away someone else’s life like it was nothing. She acted as if this was all nothing. How absurd. How-- liberating.

Vivi hadn’t expected anyone to be out here – when he’d lived with his Grandpa, no one had ever really… visited. It had just been the two of them for the entire time they were together, so now that he had a quick moment to return to the only place he’d been able to really call a home, Vivi hadn’t expected that anyone would be… around.

Needless to say, hearing a voice where he absolutely had not expected to hear a voice had the poor boy very nearly jumping out of his skin.

“Whoa–!”

He whirled around so quickly that he nearly fell over; with a little wobble, Vivi managed to regain his balance, readjusting his hat nervously before speaking up again.

“Um… yeah, I have somewhere I’m going.” Not looking for something per se, but close enough. “No one ever really comes out this far… did you get lost?”

He hadn’t meant to startle him; he swears! The boy spinning about and teetering is hard to watch. He moves forward, a foot already in front of the other with a hand out stretched when the other steadies himself. The action of help would have been too late anyway, what with the distance between them, but-- it was second nature. He squares his posture again, carefully, and rolls his shoulders. Well, at least he didn’t get hurt from being startled...

● Birthday: April 8th, ‘95 ● Gender: Pretty Boy / Gendervoid ● Relationship status: Engaged (4.8.16) ● Favourite color: Black ● Pets: 4 Cats (Lucky Seven Toes, La Femme Nakita, Fluffers, Black Silk) ● Wake up time: Around 5.30am to 10am, depending if I’m at work or not ● Love or lust?: Love ● Favourite food: Coffee ● Met a celebrity?: No ● Last song listened to: My Time by Bo en ● First kiss: I just kissed my cat that’s enough ● Tall or short: short, 5′2″ish

TAGGED BY. @extirpeur

“You’re too forgiving.”

He’s ashamed. Guilty once more of being a hot head and pushing when he shouldn’t have pushed. He pushes himself on the daily, but sometimes he shouldn’t. He knows that and he did it anyway. He made a mistake someone his age shouldn’t be making. Eraqus scolds him after Aqua collects him, picks him up out of the injury he made with poor judgement, and brought him back to be healed. He should be thanking her; he should be grateful.

“I’m going to make a mistake that’s going to hurt you too one of these days.” A Keyglider crash was bad enough, but what if it was during a spar? Not a simple mistake where a no-blood spar suddenly becomes bloody because someone slipped in their stance. No; what if he couldn’t control one of his explosions? What if his canon misfired and hit her? What if he forgot himself and let the teeth of his Keyblade turn sharp. What if.

He’s supposed to be resting, but resting is hard. He’s itching to go for a run, to tape his hands and let stress bleed out while he hits the gym, or something. He hates sitting still. He hates being generally hobbled while he waits for ‘okay’ to take off his knee brace. He hates how he limps, even as he paces on the other side of the room. He hates his weakness; his judgement-- but.

He’s being an ass.

The realization isn’t sudden, it was there to begin with, but he didn’t want to admit it. Admitting fault is hard; it always has been. He’s misguided at times, but he’s not an ass-- well. He tries not to be. So he stops pacing, his palm finding the edge of the desk and holding onto it, just so he can gimp his leg just a bit. It hurts, but not terribly ( he knows it would hurt less if he would just rest ). “I’m sorry.” The words are ushered out with an exhale, a sigh of annoyance holding hands with just plain exhaustion. He’s not tired, but he is. He’s not this, but he’s that.

He’s a kid that’s got a ways to go.

“You don’t deserve my anger; I’m sorry. I just-- I don’t want to hurt you Aqua.” He’s honest, a proverbial heart tacked to his sleeve, and he’s not ashamed of that. He’s ashamed that he lets his emotions get the better of him sometimes, but of the emotions themselves? Never. “One of these days I’m going to screw up so bad that a ‘sorry’ won’t even start to make it better and I... I really don’t want that to happen to you.” He doesn’t want to hurt his peer, his friend-- heck-- his best friend. He doesn’t want to be that person.

He knows that every World is different, the Heart that holds it aloft in the sea of Darkness is unique, so whatever lives on that World would be unique as well. Unique Hearts, unique forms of Darkness, and evidently-- well; unique forms of people too. A small body spotted through tall trees isn’t what is surprising, it’s just... everything else about the other. Wasn’t there a type of monster that looked sort of like that? “Hey--”