Impermanence

Mind, for example, he wasn't entirely sure of but he could make an educated guess.

The response got a head tilt.

New one like these ones? Not these ones. Like mind? Not like mind?

The gears turning in its head were almost visible.

New one not those ones. New one new, yes. Like not-like. Yes?

"You got a name, then? What are you?"

It tilts its head in apparent confusion at the question.

This one is this one. One of these ones, yes.

The hand is sniffed at cautiously. Strange smell, unplaceable. Metal not-metal.

It doesn't take him long at all to notice the weird creature following, amusement tugging at his mouth as he rolls his eyes. Did the kid really think he wouldn't notice something that dark contrasting against the bright sands?

Once spotted, the Flood slowly solidifies into its normal shape.

This one follow, yes. New place, new things. This one see new things, yes.

Recon was a pretty common task for a Flood. Plus finding food. And stealing food. And stealing other things, on occasion.

He propped a hand on his hip, trying to pretend he wasn't amused that the kid had chosen to hide under the bed. He could understand it, honestly. He'd have done the same, once. Had.

Town? And get seen by more people that could tell the old geezer or one of his flunkies where he was at? Fat chance.

"I'll stay here."

He'd have a chance to actually scope this place out. If he was going to be stuck here, he needed to know the best hiding spots know the layout. Swipe some food while he was at it.

There was no way this guy would notice one tag-along Flood anyway.

Mission accomplished, Knives heads off to do his own thing for now. The kid can call on him if he needs Knives; otherwise, they can talk more in the morning.

The Flood has in fact turned the blanket into a nest under the bed when he gets in there, eyes immediately turning to Vanitas.

"If he tries anything, you know what to do."

Vanitas could trust the Floods to at least distract someone, no matter how strong they were.

It was a bit of a squeeze to fit under the bed, but he'd managed to fit into much smaller spaces. The nest was quickly burrowed into, helmet put aside.

Soft. Even with everything else that had gone wrong, this... wasn't horrible.

“̷̦͎̰̪̃͂͐͜Y̶̡̪̥̩̞̐͊͌̃͊̽͂̀̄͛̚ò̵̢̼̣͓̦͓͚̖̩̙̲̹͓̓͒̌̾͜͝ͅu̴̢͕͚̥̬̠̓͗͗̉͌́̚ ̷̧̨͍̻͉̲̙̝̤͔͙̤̜̦͒͌̀̔̇̚̚͝f̷̢̣̫̝͚͓̿́͌̈́̇̅̆̋̌̕͝i̸̲̣̥̗̯͖̽̀̃r̵̨̮̦̜͚̖͈͚͓̬̹̬̳̞͕̄͛̽́ͅš̶̛͇̦̠̲͛̈́̓̍̾̓̿̐͊͝͠ͅẗ̷̡̻͔̙̤̳̻̙̀͒̈͗̑͂̏͗̈͋͆͗̒̚͠.̴̢̢͕̙̟͚̺̟̼̗̲͙͍͂̃͑̂͗͌͒̎̀̒͝ͅͅ”̴̨̠̖̳̺͚̙͓̍̒͂̀̍̒̆͜

They say, voice echoing with a soft hiss at the end of the -st. Zero keeps still, focus as they are on the stranger. There is a twisted smirk on their face, though lost in the visage of a grotesque monster whom could tear this man a part with little effort.

There is a pause. A breath held. The time in between seconds.

Xehanort tilts his head just the slightest bit, observing. This opponent will surely be no difficult than any he's encountered before, especially one that had likely been wandering the wastes for days, its homeworld destroyed.

It's only reflex that saves his head, Keyblade swiftly brought up to block as he quick-steps away.

The thin line of blood at the back of his neck betrays that his speed was only just enough to prevent a swift end.

"Very well."

Holding back is a liability here, it seems.

Knives pokes his head into the kitchen once more to check on him before looking pleased. "Great. Showed your rabbit thing the room and I think the rest of them are on the way there. Bathroom's that door there if you need it. Left for hot and right for cold if you decide to use the tub."

He'll trudge room-ward, at least. Town though? With people? It was bad enough that he'd already been spotted the once. He could probably get away with not getting noticed for a while if he kept quiet.

"Pass."

He didn't even need a bed in the first place. He'd slept on worse. The floor would be an improvement over his usual.

"Alright, that should be it. Since this is his room, it's his. Got it?" he asks the odd being that has apparently decided to curl around his feet now that he's standing still to inspect the room for a moment. "So no one comes in here unless he says so and if tey do then he's allowed to eject them through the window. That includes my idiot brother, as long as he doesn't kill anyone."

Not murdering people and providing an example or whatever of safe space meant he had to not advocate, encourage or allow actual murder.

A little light maiming was alright. Probably. ...He'd address it later if it became relevant. Yeah.

"Okay. Kitchen then."

The cake is gone by the time Knives leaves the room that there were already Unversed starting to trail toward to find nooks and crannies to hide in, to find blankets to make into a suitable cozy place to hunker down. No murder was a caveat he could deal with. For now.

He'll keep a Flood trained on this guy, though. Just to be safe.

"This'll be his room," he tells it as it skitters around his feet. "I'm gonna clean it out a bit and make up the bed; I've been using it to store crap I don't really use."

It seems pretty interested in watching, setting down in a corner to do exactly that as he gets to work.

Even if his emotions were nuisances that didn't always listen to him, they were damn helpful. They'd have to be careful, but if he could manage to toe the line, he had a chance to get at least some revenge against the old geezer.

And if he couldn't. Well. His trail would lead either the old geezer or one of his flunkies here. And they'd be in for a surprise either way.

The creatures had missed the fruitcake in there, and he deposited it on the table with a gesture. "Something a bit more filling. Unfortunately I don't really have proper food on hand since I don't normally need it but I'll do a grocery run in the morning."

Every Flood sat at attention, antenna twitching. Whatever the block of food was, it smelled sweet. Vaguely cake-like, though not like any cake Vanitas had ever seen.

The fork gets a skeptical look as one of the Floods pokes its head up over the table and takes a cautious little nibble.

The resulting trill is audible. The temptation just to rip a hunk out of the cake is immediate, but he'll deign to play nice. For now.

That doesn't stop him from using the fork to hack off the biggest possible chunk that he can shove in his mouth, though, holding the fork like he's angry about it, which he definitely was. A little.

Escaped, from somewhere. Presumably whoever would come looking wasn't to be considered a friend if that flinch earlier was any indication. Able to generate odd creatures, and do magic.

Also incredibly irritable and probably prone to stabbing people. Just like Knives, in fact. So, what to do?

Knives tapped against his table for a moment, considering options. Vash could potentially handle it but he'd probably try to be all bright and soft and kind and the kid would not react well to that. Not now. Knives hadn't wanted company (Zazie didn't count) but he did have a spare room and the weird creatures did seem like they might be useful...

"Why?"

He could survive fine on his own, even without the Keyblade. He didn't need charity.

...But at the same time, a meat shield against the old geezer or his cronies wouldn't be a bad idea. Especially a meat shield that could turn into knives and destroy Keybl-

...Oh.

Well then.

Knives was pretty that in theory he could create fire but it wasn't something he'd ever bothered trying in practice. So he still wasn't sure. "And you don't have the ability to hear or feel other plants around you?"

He picked a Flood up by the scruff. It chittered at him and licked his helmet. Nuisance.

"And I make them, so they don't count."

He wasn't going to bring up his other half. No point.

Feel what? "No."

Either he was a plant who had been severely restricted and under-educated on his own kind, or he really was some sort of alien 'darkness' or whatever.

Vanitas turned his gaze to the rejected food pile. He couldn't do most elements. Electricity and fire and that was it. (Darkness wasn't an element, it didn't count.)

He held out a hand and summoned a fireball, one augmented with darkness to be slow moving. And a small one at that, just enough to set one of the tomatoes in the rejected pile of food alight.

"They the only thing you can generate?" He hadn't seen him make anything else yet so perhaps he just didn't know how? Or maybe they were all he could make and there wasn't anything else he could do. Did the sword thing count?

"Unless you're counting magic? Yeah."

He wouldn't, personally. Or the armor. That was just darkness made solid and useful. Keyblades also didn't count, that was a summon, not a creation thing.

There's no other way to explain it. Darkness made solid, half a heart still managing to maintain physical form. His existence was partially a fluke.

"The Unversed are a side-effect."

He'd intended to bring that to town later but, well. That was fine, they clearly needed it more. He watched the thing take small nibbles out of every single thing it held before it would concede to putting them on a pile in front of the boy on the table. Some were instead set aside and ignored.

Taste testing? Interesting.

...Sweet. Of course the Floods picked that out.

"...Vanitas."

Not that it mattered.

He didn't know why he bothered trying to have a rational discussion with the feral little beast; he knew from personal experience that it was pointless until he'd burned out the energy again.

It. He... couldn't really argue that one. He settled for trying to struggle free instead. He was running out of anger. The Unversed he summoned, darkness trailing off of him in sputtering spirals instead of the angry waves he wanted (too stunned, to numb to turn his emotions loose like they should have been able to) did... nothing. The Red Hot Chilis retreated to corners and didn't even so much as spark. Not one of any of the extra Bruisers did so much as move.

He struggled and flailed until he ran out of energy, going limp.

A pair of Mandrakes tried to settle at his feet, but the floor was too slid for them.

It was pointless. Keyblades were nearly lost to the worlds. If there was some way to mend them, if it existed, that art had been lost to the Keyblade War.