It isn't so difficult to determine what his true fear is.
There are many things that the argent knight is afraid of--failure being one of them. Isolation for another. Losing his friends and so forth. Yet all were chained together and sourced to the one essence of terror that would always be pertinent in his travels. The one thing that would always threaten to take him in the end or in a single moment.
The Darkness.
Again, obvious--but it was not like the fright he attained as a boy with a power that he could not even begin to fathom. Much of his heart entraps the lone essence that aids him in his quest, much like the half of luminous that is seated beside it. Where terror had been was instead replaced by respect--determination--and strength.
But the chance would always be there. The possibility of that festering basis taking him in the end, just as it did with so many. The most prominent being his former Master, Xehanort. So alike they were--even down to their own little world. They walked the same path once. Tread down the hallowed ground that belonged to the denizens of the Light, yet remained in the dark.
A mercy more than an actual gift.
Unlike the Light, Darkness devours and consumes. It only engulfs and eradicates life--nothing more and nothing less. To have something that foul resting within your heart... well it makes him wonder. Wonder of just how long he can keep it at bay. A day may come where his heart may give in, or where the Light will no longer abide by his Darkness, or perhaps that even he will turn of his own accord.
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—Childhood movies. Those old tapes containing a magical fairy tale that either had a Princess and a Knight—or a daring thief attempting to steal for the people. They were his favorite as a kid and they’re still a favorite as of now.
♟ for something my muse admires
—Kindness. It’s something so rarely seen today, from his perspective, so to see someone go out of their way just to be sweet to a stranger or someone like himself—well it puts a smile on his face. And he can’t help but think if he were more like that, maybe he would have more friends.
—A lot of things. Mostly, he admires the determination within people. The fire that burns inside them to get what they want or who they want the most. Maybe he doesn’t always happen to agree with the reasoning nor the end result of where their path leads them, but he has to respect the courage in getting there no matter what.
☁ for something that makes my muse sad
—Being isolated. Which tends to happen more often then it should, really. True he does see a lot of faces in other worlds and the like, but being away from those most loyal to his heart like Kairi or Sora tends to wear him down. Not too pleasant of a feeling, being so far away from those you love.
☂ for something my muse wants to protect
—His friends. Ever since he was a child, Riku had always wanted to keep everyone he loved safe. That was his goal. He always felt as if it was his duty to be there for any of his friends, including those he met along the way to other worlds—assuming he’d see other stars that is.
"To protect the things that matter. You know, like my friends."
Those words...
They seemed like a far-cry in that moment. Like an echo in the distance, but one that you would simply ignore. A gull's cry or the sound of chimes--not something you wanted to pay attention to, but could very well acknowledge it. Where once beloved morals were steeled into a soul made of blazing illumination and murky obsidian were now replaced by a horrible burden. A realization--a truth that none could deny. And no one had even attempted to warn him previously, perhaps finding that the supposed 'Man' would find out himself. That there was no requirement to tell him. Or maybe even the wisest did not know--a chance that even they could not see the duty that lied before someone so young and so determined.
No. None of such trifling reasons were true, anyone could see that. Anyone as sharp or clever as he was anyway.
There was only the one truth--the single clear as day answer that they would not dare to reveal.
They were afraid.
Ｃ ｏ ｗ ａ ｒ ｄ ｓ
--The entire lot of them.
Ｉ ｎ ｂ ｒ ｅ ｄ mongrels that prayed upon the weakness of those who had nothing to give. Nothing but their own happiness--their family--their love. A planet that was deprived of technology, individuals only attaining proper sustenance from the soil that bestowed crops and the like. Not a glamorous life certainly, but one of tranquility. This was a small star, one of a very small population that depended on the kindness of each other. Anyone would snicker at the idea of complete and utter empathy in a society. The reason being that humans were not capable of such. Eventually, society would crumble as it always would and the people would clash against one another.
That was the nature of humanity.
--This world might as well had been a gem, in that case.
Or it was nothing. Not a damned thing to be conceived, no spark of specialty, but merely a place that held strong with its own people to keep themselves alive.
The wielder had arrived in orbit not but a day ago, finding this quaint little land in an unknown region of space. Scan upon the surface of this world had indicated that there were life-signs--only a steady one-hundred or so. A rather ordinary landscape, not desolate but barren enough to cause concern for those who lived here. How naive of him to believe so--what on earth did he know about living in the wilds of splintered terrain and dry wind? Within minutes of wandering into the two neighboring villages, the man felt a sensation similar to that of the islands. A tranquil ambiance--calmed warmth that burst into his torso. A feeling that eased the soul, relaxing one to near slumber but not enough to cause exhaustion.
It mattered not what work they had to do. Not when they had one another. Not when all shared the mirth between each other, allowing it to spread throughout the land. A civilization built upon the fringes of hope.
--And all of it decimated. Torn to shreds by the vile monstrosities that came to this star. It didn't take so long to figure out how they managed to get there at the same time as the knight--most likely following his vessel or some sort of signal. The warrior was no expert in vessel mechanics, but they were here because of him--he knew that much. But he was far too late in discovering travesties that occurred upon a now mutilated planet. A week was that had transpired when he had left. They were not in danger, no shadows lurked the grounds of their home or anything of the sort. There was no reason to stay--and he was required to leave. Those were always the terms.
So to gaze upon the scars streaked across the once serene dermis of this planet, to lay witness to the piles of mangled bodies that reeked of a foul stench. There was the urge to look away, to simply glance away from where the lifeless limbs of mothers, fathers and children lied. There was horror imprinted across visages stained with crimson. Expressions that no one should see nor even want to. A token that could very well tell you of how that individual went--how they had spent the last moments of their life in the face of imminent carnage.
And he nearly chuckled--Just the smallest of noises to tear betwixt dry lips. Because there was a lack of tranquility. That serene air had been destroyed along with the people of this planet. In the end, this place was nothing short of ordinary--
--But the citizens were everything. They had given all of what they had to the source of that mirth, the warmth that touched each and every villager within this desolate place. It was something they had created for their sake alone. A gift unworthy of a million treasures, nor even a thousand feasts or a dozen ships.
They had done nothing to deserve this. Not a single ounce of evil to implore such needless slaughter.
Ｊ ｕ ｓ ｔ ｉ ｃ ｅ was nigh. Wrath had been invoked--scarce fury crackling to life in eyes that so rarely held anger of any kind. Especially not one of this nature. Not in a flurry of rage that made his blood boil, or ignited the festering obsidian that resided in the heart of a Phoenix doused in Twilight. None would hope to scurry away from the path of blazing inferno, nor the shadows that rose to rip apart their frames as if they were mere twigs. Rarely would he display the power beyond normal horizons, so keen on hiding that which could be considered a weapon--an endowment--an unending tempest destined to vanquish those with not a heart for anyone but their own wretched hides.
--And from the ashes of innocent would the Knight of Dawn rise, blade of divinity already summoned in a snap; knuckles whitened from the grip upon crimson hilt. Steadily was the armament of an ignited heart brought to the line of vibrant vision. There was no pause, no amount of mercy left upon a visage that couldn't bear to keep in the emotions that were brought forth as free appendage was extended. He could feel the balmy drops traveling across cheeks, the way his jaw clenched in utter disgust and rage. Eons it felt like since the man had felt so invigorated, so forced into something that must transpire. And so single index finger came to tap upon the slit in the center of circular piece around the hilt--the eye resembling some form of monster, cerulean highlighting it.
One tap... two... and three--
Before the Key burst into a outbreak of luminous and dusk. Like a breach between dimensions, the two blazed in ferocity and vigor; the essence of his heart split into two blinding sights. Yet the warrior would not look away--only further gazing into the center of the two that began to conspire. They collided with one another, light melding with black, darkness consorting with refulgence, twisting into the one source of power that none could withstand. No one could even hope to achieve what he had gained, to graze against the surface of ultimate strength.
The core of Ｔ ｗ ｉ ｌ ｉ ｇ ｈ ｔ stilled within the space before the Keybearer. And both were apart of each other, in the end. He yearned to believe that this weapon--this... tool, was alive and aware enough to know that they were about to do something different. Something beyond the parameters of noble knights and heroes who safeguarded the universe. This would be something that they would remember for the rest of their duty--their never-ending task that Fate had put them to. A wielder and his blade, hand in hand to fight the forces of evil. To defend those that were swallowed by the Darkness.
--...To protect the things that matter.
It sparked into a state--vortex of scarlet turning rapidly, inferno of Darkness and the Light seen within the soul of unyielding pyre--
Till it barreled straight into the center of the knight's chest, akin to starlight absorbed into the darkened void. A grimace immediately settled upon countenance that was suddenly burning as was the rest of his body. Muscles were flexed in a rigid state, knees buckling out from under him and sending the man unto the fractured terrain. Tips of alabaster were dug into the earth, dentures grinding in what could only be described as searing agony--as if the sun itself had decided to take shelter in one so dark as he was. Sparks akin to a blossom erupted from the dermis of achromatic shade, skin along every crevice of muscles and face cascading into an amber intensity.
The radiance transcended into a blinding flash, shining so bright against the night-sky--and the wielder roared in agony at the conclusion of this transformation--
Until he became one with the source of Ｄ ａ ｗ ｎ itself, form now effulgent with a furious glow beyond comparison with any magic or ability. Like an arrow through the night, the blur of lucence rose into the heavens stained by stygian--renewal finally shifting into what he and his heart desired. No longer were muscles prominent, nor even skin at that moment--no longer did he appear to be the lone 'Boy' that others made him out to be. Instead he was a tempest contrived of valorous flare, continuous umbra of a sunrise shifting throughout furious pattern. The being grew in size, length of body taller than an couple of vessels constructed of gummi blocks. Two wings burst from the body, grand and brilliant in their terrifying appearance yet so gigantic in comparison to the body.
Legs were formed just seconds after, curved talons formed along the end of each foot--somehow so sharp like finely crafted steel even in the state of turning flame. Soon enough, the neck would extend outwards and the final touches were placed upon amaranthine force; a beak shot forth, and socks shaping into the head of infinite destruction. The eyes were opened, combustion flowing out the apertures of radiance and fright. There was nothing left of his humanity in that moment--all discarded and consumed by the cruelty that they ached to inflict. And oh they could sense them--see the flesh covered by crude space-armor, mugs in their hands in some poor bar they managed to build in front of their towering ship.
If only they could chuckle, just one tiny laugh to accommodate for how unfortunate they were. There were at least an army of them, from what they could tell. Aliens, humans, species in the like covered in the same set of hideous shell that represented their line of work. Assassins, Bounty Hunters, it mattered not--they so clearly wished to expand their base of operations to this planet, the reason for innocent being slaughtered now clear and absorbed. They would dare to build upon the desecration of those who worked for generations to acquire what they needed--to celebrate in merriment of how fortunate they were that these people were so weak. So defeneless.
If there had been any inkling of hesitation left beforehand...
It was certainly gone now.
--In an instant the fowl arrived in their region upon the planes of death within a flash, their speed unmatched with any in this vast realm. And that was when the first of many shrieks began to bellow from their worthless frames. The force only hovered just feet from where they were enjoying their festivities, but even that was enough to cause the most excruciating of anguish. There wasn't even a requirement to look upon the dozens below him in their howls of pain, for they knew what was occurring. Their vision was blinded, bodies hurtled unto the ground and their voices reaching into a pitch that men wouldn't even dream of hearing. All invoked from the steel covering their skin, the metal liquefying into their tender flesh. Their faces were no longer recognizable to be anything but repulsive, never-ending screams transcending into manic pleas for the material that pours into their eye-sockets--rupturing the crimson within.
The fresh fetor of blood surrounds the place, abdomens and chest cavities exposed to reveal the insides that continued to dissolve into darkened red from scorching heat. The poor cretins could not even bare to look upon their foe, those in the safety of armored vessel sprinting away from the windows to keep the white of their eyes in check. And oh the avenging constrait was aware of how they could vaporize each and every speck of vile life or machinery within seconds; but the point was to make them suffer. There was a lesson to be taught here, at the end of lives engulfed in their own innards and blood. They simply were required to realize the error of their ways before they were sent to whatever heaven or hell that wished for their company.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
--The beak owned by equity actuality was opened, bright and blazing orbs of power summoned within the center. And a piercing cry left the gullet of the bird along with the sphere, propelled straight towards the top center of their beloved craft. Terrorized screams echoed throughout the grounded abode, the foundation buckling away to the immense heat that descending into the bowels of technology. The massive globe had split into dozens, hundreds of travelling balls composed of crackling combustion that stuck to any living thing next to them. Once more did the howls of cowardice fill the air, mingled the resonance of limbs exploding off their lifeless shells. They would all be left in shambles before the ship could even explode--something that the two meant for. A quick and painless death? Far too good for these few. Certainly so.
So the lasting valiant flame flickered away against the backdrop of night, sufficiently severing any amount of life within the army of fools that suffered under their care. Some continued to live, though they would die soon enough--unable to screech for their lives any longer. Whether that was due to their chords fusing to their insides or that they longer saw the point in grasping for hope, it mattered not. For they had been taught of what abhorrence they had preformed, of what horrid act the monstrosities had preformed upon a star that did not belong to them. In the end, the blade and the knight were not burdened or forced to feel opposed of any sorts. No, far from it.
For once... the warrior appeared to be rather pleased.
Despite appearances or sounds that may indicate that he is unhappy, the young knight is quite content with his life. There are perhaps a few, or more, things he would wish to change—but other than that, he isn’t outright saddened with his life. The stars have stopped fading, his beloved is safe, and he’s been more appreciative of his friends than ever. The life of a Keyblade Master is a tiring one—but not without its perks and wonders.
☆ - Appearance headcanon
There isn’t much concern when it comes to how he looks. His hair, face, clothes, etc etc—other than the normal routine of hygienic actions, there isn’t much else he does to modify how he looks. Ordinary apparel consists of a vest and long-pants of some sort, and his hair is as unkempt as its always been. Whether people approve or disapprove of said appearance is of no concern to his, for he has a plethora of things to better occupy his time than looking glamorous.
☮ - Friendship headcanon
If you have made a friend in him, then you will certainly be provided with a fierce loyalty as well as a bleeding heart. Riku very much cares for those he’s befriended, whether new or old it matters not. If you require aid, he will try his best to help you in any way he can. And if you need counsel, he will always lend advice when needed of him. Helping and protecting his comrades if what he does best—and it’s something he loves.
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—Suffice it to say, the islands didn’t have the largest of claims on education. Of course they provided schooling for children and so forth, but with a small island and one city comes limited resources. But with a small community comes a smooth system, therefore schooling went smoothly for most days. For Riku, he had always gotten B through A average throughout high-school before the islands had been swallowed up.
It was around his junior year when the islands were gone, and upon returning to them when he would be close to finishing his senior—he decided not to enroll again. There was too many things to do in terms of being a warrior and so little time to do it. It stings a little to know he never completed actual school, but he certainly doesn’t believe himself to be a dunce of some sort.
A fate he would not wish on anyone--not even his most despised foes.
To be controlled by someone that you trusted, to have your soul and heart twisted into something so awful by a man with such a foul essence--
If there was any memory or experience he yearned to be rid of, it would be of those when his form was consumed by the Seeker of Darkness. The boy felt like a damned puppet, victim to succumb to whatever actions that the master deemed necessary. And this went on for days, weeks on end before a certain brunette came to free him from the villain's grasp.
But the damage had already been done. Riku had been controlled, his mind screeching out for aid--to end the anguish that scorched his core. A never-ending Darkness was his prison, shackling the boy that sought to see other lands from the borders of a small island. But in the end, he felt as if he deserved such a punishment after all that had transpired.
Suffice it to say, he really isn’t nor was ever aware of how built he was in the trials of his journey. Whether because he never had the time to even think about new-found muscles, or the fact that he could care less of how robust he appeared—the boy hadn’t taken notice. All until Kairi had pointed it out to him one-day, the knight so suddenly became aware of what his body had gone through. Sparring on the islands had managed to create some definitions in his arms, but beyond that? Nothing much. —Journeying out beyond the stars and achieving a plethora of abilities as well as skills? Certainly transformed almost every area of his form. And if she was pleased with it, so was he.
Send ϡ for a MENTAL STATE headcanon.
Perfectly sane. Despite the fact that he wanders into his own mind more often than naught, the wielder is perfectly aware that he has complete control over his own senses and actions. If ever to reach the point where he was a danger to those around him, then the man would certainly relieve himself of his home-land as well as any other populated world. After all, it’s nearly akin to what he did during the year in which Sora slept.
Send ✚ for a HEALTH headcanon.
Average at best. Eating habits and the amount of work carried out is beyond extraordinary, but the quantity of sleep along with worrying about too many things at once counteract all of that. At times, Riku goes on for twenty four hours without proper sleep—though he claims it’s for the good of the universe he’s protecting. And it doesn’t help that he’s becoming more pale by the minute, not staying long enough under the sun to get a proper amount of energy.
