Roses. So delicate looking, so beautiful, and yet…Namine hated them. Oh how she hated them. The way they deceived with their gorgeous appearances, luring you in, tempting you with their sickeningly sweet perfume, and then cutting you with sharp thorns. The way their vines crawled over everything, snaking closer and closer….ensnaring you and pulling you into the darkness. And the thing she hated most of all about them; the one who controlled them. She shivered, clutching her notebook for dear life, trying not to think about him, no, IT! That monster hidden under the guise of an angel, who made her life a living hell….
"Oh Namine~," a silky voice purred, breaking her out of her thoughts. She gasped, looking down as the black leather-clad hand of her captor settled itself upon her shoulder. "Have you been doing as you are told?" he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "Y-yes Lord Marluxia, I-I have. See?" she choked out, holding up a drawing of a young, spikey haired boy. Sora…. Oh how she hoped he'd forgive her… "Yes…I can see you have made such wonderful progress!" the monster called, once again waking her from her trance in a mockingly kind tone. "But I have a suggestion as to how you can make this masterpiece of yours even better…" Namine gulped, willing herself not to scream. "Add a little more….red!" With this, Marluxia snapped his fingers. Springing seemingly out of nowhere, were three thorn covered vines. Before Namine had time to react, the horrid coils wrapped around her, thorns biting into her pale flesh. Liquid trails of crimson dripped down her skin, falling onto the page she had so painstakingly worked on, drowning the once perfect image of her white knight in red. She bit her lip, drawing even more blood in her attempt to keep quiet. She would not, nor ever give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. "Ah, now that looks so much better…" the Graceful Assassin sighed pleasurably, as though he had just had the most lovely stroll instead of crushing a young girl's dreams. "But," he paused, twirling Namine's flaxen locks between his fingers, "I believe that now there is too much red…I guess you will just have to start over, won't you, my pretty little witch." With these final words, he summoned a dark portal and disappeared, leaving behind the bloody, sobbing mess that was once a pure young maiden, now tainted with hatred and sorrow.
"Oh what a horrible man, or should I say nobody, that Number Eleven is….." A smooth, mischievous sounding male voice chimed, echoing around the room. "Who's there?" she whimpered, fearful eyes darting about the surrounding area like blue marbles. The voice chuckled. "Me? Why, my dear girl, you should know who am. After all, we are one in the same." Suddenly, she felt a pair of strong, smooth hands cover her eyes. She gasped, and grabbed at the offending hands, desperately trying to remove them. "Now now, relax. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need you to sit still for a minute." The voice muttered a few words under his breath, and just like that, the pain was gone, as well as all the blood and cuts. Namine looked up, and found herself face-to-face with a masked boy in a tight fitting….body suit? It looked a bit too organic to be one, but that was the only word that came to mind. From under the mask she saw what looked like two gleaming golden eyes, almost resembling those of a heartless, but more human in nature. "Who…are you? I mean, thank you for healing me, but I don't believe we have met before." She asked tentatively, unsure what to make of the situation. "Call me Vanitas. And as for the healing, I have my own reasons for doing so." The mask clad figure replied leisurely, like this was all one big game to him, before fading back into the shadows from whence he came. "Vanitas…."she whispered to herself, savoring every syllable. "Vanitas the Shadow."
