#helmsplit

when you’re a member of the fake trio with repliku and vanitas but they wont let you in unless you wear an ugly ass muscle suit

                 the cheer behind is voice is off-putting, enough so that it leaves him feeling unnerved. what was this person doing here and for what reason? he mentions that he just woke up, but that couldn’t be right. he was the only one that walks up and down these hallways since the others have died or went their own respective places ( he doesn’t know where that is and doesn’t care to ), which makes the replica filled to the brim with suspicion.

               “leave me alone,” he says much too quick, irritation dancing in his eyes. “get away from me. are you with them?!” why was he even entertaining this when he should just cut him down right where he stands?

▹ ☆  Riku ☆ ◃

                        ✣ 「 ヴェン」 ❦❧ ─ The tone and those aggressive words, interlaced with anger and bitterness left Ventus frozen on the spot and blinked in confusion at him. The blond didn’t know what  C o n f u s e d   him more. The sudden anger or the accusation tossed his way. Sure, the Wayward Wind Master had a lot of accusation before, and he’d learnt to tolerate it.. it doesn’t stop him from being curious. “With.... who?” Who was this person talking about? And why did they... looked sort of familiar? He resembled... almost like....’Riku?’ Although he didn’t dare to say that name out loudly, brows creased together in a frown. 

                                                 ‘How did I know that?’ That name...

It’s an odd thing, to step back into Castle Oblivion. He’s been avoiding it – not because he’s scared, no. That would be too pedestrian. Besides, the place should be empty now. No guests to worry about.

At least that’s what it looks like, until he opens the doors to the thirteenth floor. 

There’s someone standing there. It looks like Riku at first glance, but shouldn’t he be with the other keybrats? He seems younger, too. Paused like everything else in this place. 

And then it clicks. This must be the Replica. 

“Well, if it isn’t the fake,” Marluxia interjects, breaking the oppressive silence of the hall. He steps forward, cruel amusement gleaming in his eyes. 

    pardon his distaste, his almost fear of the other. while he had long accepted what the events surrounding his capture and practical death had been for, that didn't make him any less bitter about it. but something was a little different here, out of place. odd. his defenses dropped but only slightly, tension still rushing through his body, squeezing at his chest and bending his spine. ❛❛ you're not... ❜❜ he started, but the words seemed to halt in his throat, choking and suffocating him until his face would turn blue from oxygen deprivation. he swallowed it down. ❛❛ you're not riku. ❜❜

     Sand tickled Soul’s blade as she plunged him into it, cleaning off tar-colored splatter as it fluttered off gently and faded into the atmosphere. It took only a minute for its carcass to deteriorate and fall backwards into the air, flaking off like butterfly scales in stale wind. She spun him around her fingers before settling him into the nook between her neck and shoulder, his crescent of deep red surrounding her in a domineering arc. It made her comfortable, his knife wrapped around her back. She opened her mouth to speak: “Who’re you?” but the answer seemed almost obvious. Almost.

     … he looks like That Nuisance–cerulean eyes, brighter than a soul’s azure, lavender-silver hair that annoyed her with all the tangles, that same pretty-boy face she’d like to take a slug at. She clicked her tongue. But no matter how his familiar facial features incited the same feelings of irritation, he was undoubtedly someone else. After all, who would mangle something so precious so badly? Who would put something so juvenile, something as ugly as botched embroidery, as unrefined as shattered glass, as disgusting as extra-bitter chocolate into a body and call it ‘life’? It was laughable. She wanted to break down in hysterics. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to punch something. Her eyes twitched a little bit, lower lashes shivering with each cringe.

     “So… what the hell are you?”

     She didn’t shout or anything unpleasant like that–it was a matter-of-factly question. She really did want to know. She readied her scythe, letting him rest at her side in faux dormancy.

It’s been a long time since Syd had been surprised by the result of a Gravity Storm. Little bits of white stone littered the ground - he’d already shot all of the strange black and red creatures until they had dissolved into light - the thought made him vaguely uneasy. But he smiles and strides closer, kneeling down near the young man who had been swept away from his homeland and into a strange city.

“Hello there young man. What’s your name? Do you know where you came from?”

another old man who needs to go to bed