Disclaimer- I own nothing.
AN- Angsty drabble with Sora and Roxas. Roxas' last moments, inspired by the poem by Rilke of the same name. Enjoy.
Edit 01.11.2012- This fits perfectly into a trilogy of angsty drabbles I've written as the first 'book', per se. The trilogy, in cronological order is; Evening, Remember Me and then Strangest Thing. It can stand on it's own, though. (I recommend reading it as a trilogy though, it gives more insight into the characters.)
This is what you lived for.
At least, if your existance can really be catagorized as life. You breathe, you can think, you've thought perhaps you'd known love but you didn't really live, did you? There was a key element missing from your existance.
You lacked a heart.
And without a heart, a soul, a conscience to help you separate good from bad, right from wrong, black from white, and without it, what is there really to separate man from beast? From a conscience driven creature, and a creature driven purely by their more primal instincts.
You weren't supposed to exist.
And if this is what you lived for, what you did exist for, is it truely enough? To give up yourself for the better purpose? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of few and all that, which you'd never really believed in. This had been the whole purpose of the Organization, to get back their hearts, and become whole again.
Your heart resides in this comatose boy, who looks so much like you, yet is not you, because you could never be as innocent, as untouched by the more unsavory aspects of society. Never as happy, or whole.
This is it for you.
The final choice, the one you get to make for yourself, the choice between doing what's right, and merging with the boy, becoming one, and the choice that's wrong, leaving now, before it's too late, to go find Axel, and tell him all the things you were never brave enough to when you had the chance.
You've made your choice already.
You step forward and in an ethereal cloud of blue light, you vanish, no longer a seperate entity, now you're a part of him. Of Sora. The keyblade master who is purer and kinder than you ever had been. Than you ever will be.
And so you watch, from the spot behind his consciousness you've hollowed out for yourself, you watch as his life goes on, and you sit there, in a sense, forgotten, alone, unknown and feeling even less whole than you had when you were really a nobody.
If this was what you had existed for, was it worth it? Worth loosing all of yourself, trapping yourself in his mind, so unlike your own, so much light that it hurt you, a creature of darkness.
You've made your choice.
This is what you lived for, what you existed for.
So, was it worth it?
No.
Evening
Slowly the evening takes on the clothes
held for it by a ridge of ancient trees
You watch and the land divides for you
one reaching heavenward, one sinking down
And leave you, not quite belonging to either
Not quite so dark as the house cloaked in silence
Not quite so surely pledged to the eternal
as that which becomes star each night and climbs
And leave you (inexpressibly to untangle)
Your life, immense and ripening and fearful
So that, now closed in, now reaching everywhere
It grows equally stone in you, and star
AN- And that's it. It's short, drabbleish but I think I like it. Poem at the end by Rainer Maria Rilke. Review please!
