#masteredgrace

Xion’s never known how to make things better; she was built to break and batter, and while the girl is working diligently to remake herself (  a sadness, isn’t it?  that she thinks she has to?  ) she is not yet sure that she is good enough to help anyone.  Let alone someone like AQUA, who is so strong and so bright and so good.

But --- she has to try, doesn’t she?  Aqua is so gentle with her.  But who’s gentle with Aqua?  It occurs to Xion that she’s never seen anyone care for the master.  It’s always...Aqua, caring for other people.

( she has a secret : she drew her, once. half there / half not, colored pencils dragging over paper and she is blue and blue and black. and another, knitted around her rib cage : she tried to follow her heart, once / and darkness swallowed her / and she couldn’t find her. )

❝ ——— hello, aqua, ❞ the name comes unbidden and automatic and this woman doesn’t know her but she ( witch / nobody / no body —— ) knows her and isn’t it strange? isn’t it odd? shouldn’t it be impossible? as impossible as herself, that is. and her voice is soft and far-off and she is feeble waves trying to crash and never quite building, never quite growing. ❝ you don’t know me. my name is naminé. ❞

tweet tweet mf – Accepting – @masteredgrace

It’s easy to get lost in all that’s new.  This body is better than her old one; the sensations are stronger and more real, her emotions more difficult to control but more beautiful, too.  The ache she feels when she is far from Roxas or Axel too acute to ignore, but the joy when she can hold their hands is stronger than any hurt she’s ever felt.  When Aqua approaches, the girl is studying her hand --- one of the nails is painted black.  Olette did it for her, and it had been good.  Strange, but good.  She can’t seem to stop staring, though; at this form.  At this body that is something like real.

light hearted.  /  accepting.  /  @masteredgrace

It’s one of the days where she can’t be near Saïx — Isa.  One of the bad days.  Lea is gentle with her; had offered to follow when she’d gone stiff and needed to leave when she’d realized that Isa was with him, but she’d told him no — she wanted to be alone.

It’s not true.  Not quite.  But she hadn’t wanted to be with Axel.  Some of it is selflessness —— Axel loves Isa, and she doesn’t want to be the reason they can’t be near.  More of it is anger.  It hurts, sometimes, how much Axel can love him when he knows how much he hurt her.  She knows that that’s not fair, but she is young, and it’s — hard.  So here she sits beneath a palm tree on this familiar beach, ice cream in hand.

It’s lonely, eating alone.

Aqua’s always quiet; graceful.  A master, not a weapon — nothing like Xion.  Warmth.  A full space of sunlight.  Xion is – what?  A wasteland.  The aftermath of something.  Trying to grow flowers in the barren soil, but struggling with it.  But — Aqua is quiet.  Xion doesn’t notice her until she’s sitting gracefully beside her, legs folding beneath her body.  Xion once again feels a strange sort of ugly; weaponry meant to destroy, not dance.

“I heard from Lea what happened,” the wielder says, and Xion merely nods, head low, taking another bite from the ice cream.  “— Are you alright, Xion?”

Oh.  Had Aqua…sought her out?  Just to check on her?  It surprises Xion; knocks the wind out of her, almost.  Aqua is kind in a way that’s unfamiliar to Xion.  Axel cared for her and cares for her still, but not like this, and Roxas is much the same.  Most of the people she’s ever known have treated her with derision.  This tender is strange — not bad, but strange, and the memory girl is still learning to be cared for the way Aqua wants to care for her.

Xion shifts, tugging her knobby knees closer to her chest.  For a long while she’s silent, gazing only at the sand beneath them.  It’s hard.  How does she answer?  He hadn’t done anything to her.  He’d said nothing cruel, called her SHE instead of IT (  ‘let her go, lea.  she doesn’t wish to be near me.  i…can’t blame her.’  ) and apologized when he’d noticed her distress.  But the memories are loud, and his face is so much the same as it had been when he’d worn another name.

“—— Before, when were still…when we were still Nobodies.  He called me things like ‘it’ and ‘broken,’” she says finally, still not looking at Aqua.  “He made me think I was useless.  That I was just…a weapon, or a thing.  And not even a thing that was worth anything.”

She shifts minutely, eye lowering further yet.  “Sometimes, when I see him, it makes me feel…like I did then.  Like I’m not real.”  She breathes in slowly.  “Like I’m worthless.”

Aqua is silent except for a hitch of her breath, and Xion doesn’t dare look at her.  What can she expect?  What if Aqua agrees?  What if Aqua thinks she’s useless, too?  What need has anyone for one broken puppet when there are wielders like her out in the world?

Yet when she speaks, her voice is fierce with concern, not derision.  “Xion.  Xion, look at me.  Please?”

She tries.  She can’t make eye contact, still feeling more like a puppet than a girl, but at least she manages to look just past her face rather than at her own knees.  Aqua doesn’t push, a hand resting slowly on Xion’s shoulder.

“You existence alone has altered the world,” Aqua says, and the surprise of that has the dark - haired child stiffening, eyes blowing wide, and turning her head to look square at Aqua’s face.  Her eyes are strong and unrelenting, but kind.  Xion feels tears pressing at her eyes.  “You are more important than you know.”

The tears fall, and Xion makes a quiet, wounded sound.  Her chest shudders and her hands shudder and her shoulders shudder; she blinks hard and Aqua’s hands are moving and — gently tugging her into a hug.  Xion hesitates, hands stiff and shaking, before they reach around and return the embrace.  The whimpers turn guttural and aching, raw ——— a too - short lifetime of feeling like she was nothing at all breathed and sobbed into the older woman’s collarbone.  It hurts.  It hurts so much.  But at least she’s not alone.

@masteredgrace

Her smile is exhausted and sweet and aching, far too old an expression for one so young (  young — she can’t remember her age and wonders and are you still young are you still a child if you’ve already died once before?  ) but not entirely without joy.  And absolutely dripping with sympathy.

IT’S NOT OKAY, BUT NOTHING IS GOING TO CHANGE.  It’s a sensation that Hana knows intimately.  THE WORLD WILL NOT REARRANGE ITSELF FOR YOU OR YOUR BROKENNESS.  IT IS NOT OKAY BUT NOTHING WILL CHANGE SO YOU HAD BETTER CONVINCE YOURSELF THAT IT IS OKAY OR ELSE YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE IT.

It’s a feeling she figures that Aqua knows intimately.  She is sorry — so sorry — that it is a strange comfort for her, to know that Aqua hurts and is still good.  That Hana hurts but still has the chance to be good.

“It’s okay,” she echoes, leaning forward where she sits, arms resting upon her half - bent knees.  She thinks of the words she tells herself every day, and — “It’s okay.  And if it’s not, it will be.”  The words are a lie, and they are still all that keep her going some days.  Most days.

She looks at aqua and smiles and hopes that it’s comforting.