#jesusfactor

        Cataclysmic room, disaster area; pages ripped and strewn and pencils broken, crayons crumbled, myriad of colors dragged along once-pristine walls. Red ( bright as blood ) dragged along, intersecting blue and, for just a moment creating a violent purple. CHAOS. Arms of skin and bone ( little else, poor little doll was so weak, the entirety of her skeleton would crumble beneath the slightest of pressure ) hung limply, fingers skimming at the fabric of pallid dress.

        ( Memories flickered across her eyes —— they were always there, always playing —— yet none could explain such a state. )

        Otherwise presence within those walls was so massive that it would have been impossible to miss yet still silence reigned, chest rose and fell with life giving breaths. And she felt vulnerable, like a small prey caught within bright moonlight, paralyzed by the hungry gaze of a predator. Would she be eaten? There was no way of knowing —— and blanc femme abruptly wished to laugh, illogical reaction, yet the twisting in her chest and at her gut demanded it of her. Still, though, she retained some control of her false body, and lips bled to white as they thinned, and jaw shifted.

for jesusfactor

tw: referenced psychological torture

It never gets any easier, does it? Marluxia thinks as he's dismissed from Xemnas's presence. He doesn't say anything as he leaves. He has no vicious backhanded words today. He's tired. Drained, even. There is nothing he hates more than not being able to say no. In the presence of Xemnas, refusal can often lead to punishment. Marluxia thought he'd been building up a resistance to such things. Punishment lose their affect when you no longer fear them. Xemnas just taught him in the worst way that his complacency would be the death of him. He curses his own hubris. Just hours ago, he knew could take anything Xemnas could throw at him. He knows now that he'd been very long. He's disgusted that Xemnas can get so deep under his skin. Not just his skin but inside his mind. Marluxia's efforts to get closer to Xemnas has only resulted in all of his secrets being revealed.

He still feels like he's being followed. If he hadn't come into the world of nobodies with no memories, he would've gone mad trying to pick apart reality from fabrication. He's so shaken that can even bother to tend to the damage to his body or his appearance. His body is not important. He can sustain damage. It his mind. It feels violated like his deepest thoughts had ripped themselves apart and dug themselves into his skull. This feels like the moment he first woke up, knowing nothing but his sore body and the slow burn of hatred where his heart should be. Now he had nothing but the persistent shadow of fear lingering behind him. He's being followed and observed like a rat in a cage. He'll never be free. He'll never be clean. For a moment, he even truly feared that Xemnas had truly become omniscient. He has one last task to complete before being alone with his thoughts.

        scars tell many STORIES. the skull kid likes stories, and he has to wonder what this guy’s is. that strange x-shaped scar over his face... where’d it come from?

        must’ve hurt.