the light is — gone

they’d  be  lying  to  themself  to  say  that  none  of  it  was  true.    that  he  doesn’t  have  a  point,  that  he  isn’t  precise  with  every  intonation  &.  wording.    it’s  hand  goes  to  where  it’s  heart  should  be,  pulse  false,  just  like  the  rest  of  this  earthly  form.    ❪   your  tomb   /   your  prison.   ❫    ❛   you  act  like  i  just   ——   fall  for  it.    do  you  think  i’m  that  foolish?    like  i  don’t  know  any  better?   ❜    it’s  stupid  of  you  to  think  i  don’t  let  it  happen,  goes  unsaid.    it’s  smarter  than  that.    it’s  smart  enough  to  not  trust  anyone,  knows  to  pledge  allegiance  to  no  one  but  themself   ——   &.  maybe  that’s  selfish.    maybe  it’s  an  acclimation  from  prolonged  life,  a  survival  tactic.    ❪   you’re  an  outsider  here; an  interruption  in  a  natural  order  maintained  by  powers  that  wish  you  dead.   ❫

&.  maybe  time  softened  them  more  than  it  has  hardened.    or  maybe  the  circumstances  have  merely  reduced  them  down  to  something  pathetic.    ❪   pain,  blinding  in  its  heat.    repeated  death,  both  physical  &.  emotional.    the  sibling  that’s  forsaken  you.    that  has  sent  you  over  the  edge,  weakened  your  resolve,  &.  on  worse  days,  make  you  want  to  give  up  completely.   ❫    but  they  don’t  have  the  heart  to  stop  getting  up   /   they  want  some  insignificant  death  to  be  permanent.    they’re  too  embered  to  inspire  greater  desolation   /   they’d  give  everything  to  burn  this  world  down  if  it  meant  resolution.   they’re  tired.    more  importantly,  they’re  weak.

❛   you’re  wasting  your  time  telling  me  things  i  already  know.    are  you  done  yet?  ❜

     the feigning of ignorance is enough to make his teeth grind; enough to have the live wire of rage snap against the skin of his spine and leave vanitas burning to the touch, desperate for something to spit this surge of venom at. defiled god stands before him and even this simple act is enough to enrage / enrage / how dare this walking corpse look him so boldly in the eye? the weaker half of a pathetic whole, the piece that was torn apart and thrown to the side and how fucking dare this abomination walk as if they were any better than vanitas?      ( they were perfect images mirrored, vanitas and sol. two broken pieces originally forged into one greater whole, forced apart and forced against and of the original unions, vanitas and sol were the weaker sections. they were the part deemed unusable / the failures / the part that was better off abandoned — vanitas could see it. vanitas wonders if sol wants to kill their sibling the way vanitas wants to kill ventus. )

     ❛  you’re the definition of an idiot. you’ve been around for how long? and you think peaceful negotiations and favors are what will bring you closer to your goal?  ❜ monstrosities like them had no use for friendship and bargains / had no reason to trust the words of strangers and their pathetic little posters. vanitas laughs in the face of such a mighty deity and his darkness dares to reach for the shadow that darkens within their feet ( you’re casting such a fearsome shadow, my god. has there always been such a stain of wickedness upon golden veins? has the loss of your better half casted you towards the path of damnation? ) even in their anguish, they were two perfect copies / even in their rage, they were two perfect copies.      for the first time in lifetimes, vanitas has found a heart besides ventus’ that was truly worth devouring.

your  friends──    your  friends,    vanitas  says,    as  if  ventus  has  any  clue.    but  he  does──    small,    tiny  puzzle  pieces  to  fit  into  a  larger  whole──    &.    it  leaves  him  anguished.    of  course  he  wouldn’t  want  to;    it’s  what’s  expected  out  of  the  kind  hearted,    loving  boy  that  everyone  expects  him  to  be.    that  he  is,    that  he  believes  he  is,    but  it  sounds    [ … ]    false,    like  a  lie,    like  something  to  feed  his  ego.    “    what  are  you  trying  to  get  at?    ”  

the  question  is  a  miserable  admittance,    of  the  things  ventus  doesn’t  know──    his  hand  grips  his  keyblade  tighter,    tight  enough  to  turn  his  knuckles  white,    &.    a  sort  of  helplessness  overtakes  him.    “    i  don’t  remember──    i  can’t,    &.    you’re──    ”    not  helping,    not  making  it  any  better,    “    ──    taunting  me  over  it.    as  if  i  want  it  to  be  this  way.    i  never  asked  for  this!    ”    i  never  asked  for  you,    goes  unsaid.    but  he  wants  to  say  it──    oh,    does  ventus  wants  to  say  it.    but  he  won’t,    because  it’s  not  what  he’s  meant  to  say    /    it’s  not  what  he  believes  at  all!    the  words  burn  in  his  skull    &.    he  wishes    /    wants  to  tear  it  out    /    needs  them  gone.

but  they  stay  in  his  heart,    tainting  it.

“    i  would  have  never  wanted  to  forget  them,    ”    he  finishes,    quieter  than  before.    (    forget  who?    /    forget  what  he  did  to  her?    /    HOW DARE YOU FORGET WHAT HAPPENED?    /    ‘  tell  me  what  happened  to  my  sister    [ … ]    what  did  you  do  to  ▓▓▓▓▓?    ANSWER  ME!  ’    )    his  left  hand  clutches  his  shirt,    right  over  his  heart,    pounding  louder    &.    louder    &.    LOUDER    &.    he  wonders  if  vanitas  can  hear  it  too.    if  vaintas  wants  to  steal  it  from  him.    “    i  never  asked  to  forget  them!    ”

     addicting / addicting / the way ventus squirmed in discomfort and the way the truth was beginning to settle uncomfortably between the layers of his skin was an addictive sight that vanitas couldn’t get enough of. he wanted to see more —— wanted ventus to scream and cry and hate the world for the weight it slammed atop his shoulders the way vanitas did when he had been created / the way vanitas did and continues to do so. to see ventus tortured was vindicating the same way it was agonizing and somewhere in the darkness that was his heart, vanitas wanted to reach out and offer comfort. he wanted to make it hurt some more.

     and there it was — his chance! the golden opportunity to reach in and to reach out and to tear ventus apart, presented in the form of a question lashed out in anger! laughter rises and spills in an uncontrollable manner because ventus hadn’t asked for this? ventus hadn’t asked? WHEN HAD ANYONE CARED ABOUT WHAT HE WANTED?! ❛  it doesn’t work like that, ventus! it doesn’t work like that and we both know that best.  ❜ oh, vanitas could cry / wants to cry / unless the tears had already begun to leave streaks across his face, in which vanitas wanted nothing more to snarl and fight the agony that drowns him. wasn’t this meant to be his moment of celebration? to stand tall and shove ventus into the dirt where he belonged, an insignificant speck under the heel of his boots?      his heart hurt. the beating was too loud / too loud / it shouldn’t be this loud / IT FUCKING HURTS, VENTUS! 

     ❛  it doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t ask for. you forgot about them, ventus. you forgot about her. you forgot!  ❜ just another victory / another benefit to being ventus instead of being vanitas because vanitas has never been able to forget anything; the trauma of being torn apart, the torment of the unversed / the torment of ventus himself, to be separated and destroyed and restored only to be destroyed again — no, vanitas hasn’t forgotten a single thing! ❛  i guess they couldn’t have mattered much. they couldn’t have, ventus! because you forgot them!  ❜ the darkness laughs alongside him and vanitas tenses in preparation. it wouldn’t be much longer now.

they  feel  ill  just  standing  in  his  vicinity.    too  many  things  have  failed  sol  in  this  world,  but  at  least  some  instinct  has  preserved:    whoever  this  was,  whatever  he  was,  his  presence  was  ruinous  &.  more  importantly,  his  presence  was  too  insufferable.

he  speaks  down  to  heavens  embodied,  &.  if  it  were  a  different  world,  if  they  were  not  tethered  to  this  awful  form,  it  would  have  ravaged  him  where  he  stood.      ❛    …   oh,  you  insolent  little  shit.    ❜      there’s  an  accumulation  of  divine  rage,  weakened  &.  near - false  in  it’s  luminosity,  but  it  is  rage  all  the  same.    the  traveler  takes  a  step  to  the  side,  slow,  but  sure  in  it’s  resolve.    &.  admittedly,  he  strikes  a  nerve.      ❛    what  i  was,  what  i  am  now?    i’m  still  me.    weaker,  yes,  but  i  still  am.    ❜      words  are  acrimonied  like  no  other,  timbre  carefully  regulated  to  maintain  some  façade  of  composure.    the  bone - white  of  your  knuckles  &.  the  slight  tremor  of  your  blade  tells  another  narrative.      ❛    but  if  you’re  just  going  to  stand  there  &.  wish  to  further  enlighten  me  on  things  i  already  know,  then  go  ahead.    i  implore  you.    ❜

     it was just too easy. so easy that vanitas had to ask himself; who was the true god among them? the forgotten supernova, who held their sword with a trembling hand and a weakened heart? or the abomination with no hope of salvation, ravenous for destruction in a painfully cruel world? even this false god was deserving of a ruined fate / deserving of abysmal pain / deserving to be caught and clipped and torn and — oh, but wasn't that already on its way? vanitas can see it clearly, the darkness rooted in the gold within their heart ( the anger / the sadness / the pierce of betrayal and the exhaustion of abuse and it's within those shadows that vanitas sees his victory. )

it was just too fucking easy!!

     sol invites him to take the floor and vanitas absolutely loved to run his mouth. ❛  they have you believing you’re some hero.. when you’re nothing more than a doormat! letting these fucking strangers command your actions, letting them manipulate you and here you are, falling for it again and again and again! don’t you see it? you’re nothing more than their errand boy!  ❜ vanitas can’t help but to laugh at them and at their situation and at the fact that this incredibly all powerful god had allowed themselves to be reduced to something so fucking pitiful! it was comedic —— it was pathetic.

i  remember  dreaming  a  lot    [ … ]    &.    there  were  some  more  people  i  didn’t  recognize.    the  words  hit  him,    hard.    ──    don’t  you  remember?    don’t  you  remember?    ──    no,    i  don’t!    i  don’t  know  anything!    ──    others,    he  didn’t  recognize──    different  from  terra,    &.    aqua──    a  keyblade  that  feels  familiar,    isn’t  that  master  eraqus’?    but  who’s  holding  it──

agony.    it  burns,    coats  his  mind  in  ash  just  like  his  nightmare  did  to  his  armor.    like  sora’s  nightmare  did.    ventus  doesn’t  remember,    can’t  remember,    doesn’t  want  to.    “    you’re  just  messing  with  my  head!    ”    he  yells,    but  he  doesn’t  believe  it.    there’s  a  spike  of  fear  that  tastes  like  lead  in  his  mouth,    heavy  on  his  heart──    some  wild,    ferocious  terror──    &.    for  a  moment,    he  wishes  their  places  were  switched.    (    forget  being  beloved.    forget  walking  with  the  light.    ventus  just  wants,    so  badly,    to  know  what  vanitas  means.    wants  to  know  anything  about  himself,    that  isn’t  carved  up,    that  isn’t  someone  else’s.    wants  to  be──    wants  to  be  chosen,    because  he’s  never  chosen,    because  he  was  never  chosen  to  be──    )

“    SHUT  UP!!!    ”

     it hurts, he knows. he knows because vanitas was like his cracked mirror and so, it’s only natural that he felt every single fucking thing that ventus felt —— oh, but never anything positive! vanitas didn’t have the right to feel anything that belonged to the realm of light and so all he was ever left with was the smell of blood and the taste of bile and the constant rip rip RIP! of his very center being torn apart and reconstructed. 

     not that it mattered, what a shadow felt. lucky ventus was the one chosen to be real.

     but vanitas felt vindicated now. finally —— finally it was ventus’ turn to suffer / to hurt / to feel just how worthless he really was. it wasn’t enough though, it wasn’t nearly enough; vanitas wanted to see ventus tear his own skull apart to allow easy access at those memories, he wanted ventus to scream and scream and scream until there he sounded as broken as vanitas did, he wanted that darkness to stain ventus black so they could finally be ——— brothers.

“    in  common?    ”    in  common    /    &.    the  words  sting,    because  maybe  sora  was  right.    maybe  they  were  different  after  all,    &.    the  thought  of  being  anything  like  vanitas──    cruel,    cold  hearted,    &.    brutal  vanitas──    makes  ventus  uneasy.    his  keyblade  falters  in  his  grip,    but  doesn’t  shake.    he  doesn’t  let  it.    (    do  you  remember?    chirithy  asked,    &.    the  grief  in  the  spirit’s  voice  had  shaken  them.    )    they  never  gets  to  know  anything──    ventus  is  always  the  last  one  to  catch  on,    the  last  one  to  find  out.    he  grits  his  teeth  in  anger    &.    shakes  his  head  at  the  thought;    he  holds  his  keyblade  higher,    as  if  it  proves  his  worth  at  all.    (    it doesn’t.    )    “    what  could  i  have  in  common  with  you?    because  to  me,    you’re  just  a  being  who  only  knows  how  to  hurt.    ”

    ❛ don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?  ❜ vanitas speaks and it could be equivalent to the sound of nails scraping down a chalkboard; irritation / discomfort / unsettling, unsettling, unsettling —— the darkness by his feet hisses and spits at the obscene purity that was ventus. oh.. but no, that wasn’t right. it’s enough to make vanitas smile, enough to make vanitas laugh, enough to have vanitas sneering at ventus with nothing but absolute pity drenching every word. ❛ come on, venty.. drop that innocent act. you’re not that fucking stupid.  ❜ aaaah.. this was just too fucking funny!!! ❛ you and i — we have so much in common, ventus! you truly are my brother.  ❜

the  glass  in  her  hand  shatters,    &.    gone  is  the  amusement  laced  in  her  tone.    “    &.    why  would  i  tell  you  that?    ”    the  woman’s  serene  smile  is  cold,    but  the  question  is  borne  out  of  annoyance    [  …  ]    &.,    admittedly,    sincerity.    her  gaze  flits  to  her  hand,    nails  picking  out  the  shards  lodged  between  metal    &.    leather.    “    i  find  that  there’s  little  in  it  for  me,    to  be  frank.    unless  you  count  getting  out  of  my  sight,    even  for  a  moment.    ”    not  even;    what  is  she  supposed  to  do,    when  she  is  the  one  he’s  looking  for???

You aren’t Ventus, he say, like it’s easy, you’re Xion.  She’s trying to believe that.  It’s hard, most days — still has nightmares where she looks in the mirror and sees the wrong face, or where the others kill her for daring to think she’s a human being — but it’s not impossible.  It’s getting better, with Roxas and Ax — and Lea.  Hayner, Olette, Pence, people who never new her as anyone or anything other than Xion.  But with the rest of them, Xion is bound either by her own memories or others memories of her (  or one of the others who she is made of, ventus or roxas or kairi or sora or naminé or or or  ).  Her hands tremble, just a little, where they press together.

She wants to try.  She wants to learn who Xion is, now that she’s spent so long fighting to be here.  And she’s never been anything other than brave, so she takes a deep breath.  What does Xion feel?  “Xion feels…I feel — afraid.”  It’s quiet, shouldered by fear.  She’s not supposed to be afraid of them, and that’s bad, and if she doesn’t earn being alive they’ll ——— hurt her.  But she has to believe that’s not true.  Other keep telling her that’s not true.  “Not of you, exactly, just of…everything.”  A pause.  That’s not exactly true.  Her shoulders hike, nerves nerves nerves.  Please don’t be angry.  “And of…you.  Or your face.  But I’m trying not to be.  It’s not your fault.”

it takes a certain kind of bravery to confront the emotions in your heart. to face the ocean waves and willingly let yourself to be pulled under / to be dragged down into the painful depths of vulnerability / to allow others to see the inner workings of your heart. terra sees the strength xion has to speak her truth and so —— he gives her a smile. a nod of his head and the attention returns to the horizon; perhaps breaking the contact would help ease her into a feeling of comfortability. ❛  it’s only natural to be afraid. of everything.. and of me.  ❜ if one were to close their eyes, the phantom of memories begin to play like a horror movie; the inhumanity of obscene experimentations / the destruction that’s befallen by the actions of his body — atrocities were created by terra regardless of terra being the one in control. and he accepts this.

❛  thank you for being honest with how you feel. i’m... glad, that you were able to tell me your truth.  ❜ that wasn’t the right term to describe the sense of peace her admittance brought out of him, but that’s a confession to leave for a time when terra and xion felt.. at least, a little closer. ❛  i’m trying, too. to not be afraid.  ❜ of himself / of the darkness that still lingers within his heart. ❛  to not blame myself for everything i— this body has done. returning to this world after everything that’s befallen.. i don’t think i’m used to it yet.  ❜ a blemish against the pristine / darkness stained into the realm of light; would he ever feel at home, truly? only time would tell. 

the sunset was a comforting sight.

❛  are you still talking?  ❜ disintered and indifference are the key components to his tone as body shifts to face her / only now giving her some of his attention. expression is hidden behind the mask but his boredom is heard loud enough, glancing around as if looking for something that was more worth his interest than she was. ❛  listen, hag. whatever it is you’re talking about, i don’t care. tell me where i can find the person in charge around here and then fuck off.  ❜

𝐢𝐭’𝐬  𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭  𝐭𝐨𝐨  𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤    /    𝐭𝐨𝐨  easy,    to  sink  her  teeth  into  this  one──    &.    the  smile  that  breaks  her  face  is  radiant  indeed.    delicate,    careful  movements  to  ensure  victory;    it’s  why,    still,    she  weighs  the  question  she’d  like  to  ask  carefully.    (    liyue  has  changed  much,    she  thinks──    she  still  remembers  the  structures  of  guili  plains,    the  road  morax  had  carved  for  his  people.    it  wouldn’t  hurt  to  be  careful  for  now.    )    “    well    [ … ]    ”    columbina  drums  her  fingers  against  her  cane,    faux  thoughtfulness  settling  on  her  expression  instead.    “    do  you  know  how  to  hunt?    ”

        ❝ you’re not from around here, ❞ their voice is warm with a teasing tone, lilting and bright like moonlight slanting across crystalline water / paired with a smile on his face and a curious gleam in their eye as he leans, perhaps a touch ostentatiously against rough brick. life is all about presentation and crafting an image and et cetera, and he arches his brow and gives the man a once over. a test? to gather information? yes to all of the above, naturally, kaeya never does anything without cause nor reason, and capturing people’s reactions is one of the most essential pieces of intel gathering. ❝ i’d certainly remember that face. ❞

he could laugh at the sight. an unfortunate thing if he’s ever seen one / a being worth only his pity and nothing more. features curdle in a sneer as the darkness whisper their secrets to him, as the layers peel back and there he sees; the darkness that festers in their heart. a miserable amount when compared to his own but enough to promise the stirrings of something akin to amusement from within. ❛  my, my.. how the mighty have fallen.  ❜ and now, he does allow the cackle to slip past broken smiles. ❛  look at what you were.. and who you are now.  ❜ darkness tears at the earth and it laughs with him / pitying the forgotten god. ❛  someone as pathetic as you should just do the world a favor and disappear!  ❜

“    𝐪𝐢𝐪𝐢  𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭  𝐬𝐞𝐞  𝐚𝐧𝐲  𝐲𝐞𝐭    [ … ]    ”    she  puts  a  hand  above  her  eyes,    searching  the  skies  above  as  the  other  rests  atop  terra’s  head.    qiqi  squints,    &.    still  sees  nothing.    maybe  they’re  a  bit  too  far  away–    she  had  just  barely  stepped  onto  guili  plains,    after  all.    they  seemed  to  congregate  around  there  more,    as  if  drawn  to  the  people  at  wangshu  inn.    (    maybe  they’re  drawn  to  the  food  instead?    )    “    but  qiqi  has  no  birdseed,    anyways.    verr  goldet  usually  gives  qiqi  some.   she’s  nice.   ”

@heartscrest​ ; there's an audible sniff on riku's end, before his face contorts into a grimace. disgust? ── no. that was too strong a word. ( he's well accustomed to this smell, anyways. he's grown used to it. ) " you reek, " he tells vanitas. " you smell like darkness. "

        is his intent to be crueler? to inspire fear in her? she doesn’t know ——— she can skim the surface of his memories, could push deeper if she wished / she doesn’t wish / once upon a time the pallid witch wished for everything and now wishes for NOTHING / he’s baring fangs and she stares at him. what is the origin of fear? fear is an emotion and she can / feel? feel ( … ) some things, perhaps. sometimes. and other times she feels empty. a blank canvas, white and pristine and unsettling, and others take brushes and colors to her and they all, inevitably, drain away. her chest is empty / there’s no one home / no heart at home. ❝ i know, ❞ she says, because she does, she knows : what he speaks is the absolute and unassailable truth. she does not belong here. she doesn’t belong anywhere, perhaps not even the dark. ❝ i’m not pretending, ❞ a soft tone and simple words and a simple truth. ❝ i don’t belong anywhere,” a pause, ❝ like you. ❞ it isn’t that she’s fearless. it’s that she’s EMPTY, and alive ( ? ), and nowhere / everywhere / no longer waiting to be found. sometimes she doesn’t want to be found. sometimes / sometimes.

yeah? Yeah??? what’re you gonna do when i pull out THIS