So it's been a long time, friends. To be honest, I don't think I'll be posting anything new in the next few months... there is one piece I'll put up in a few days after revision, but that might be it for a while. So sorry! I do wish I could write more for you darlings, but I have college apps (wonderful) and I'm job-hunting and school. I'll try to keep you all updated.
Much love, and feel free to chat anytime. Love talking to all of you.
(And, as usual, only the idea and the words are mine.)
She was a frail little girl of no more than seventeen.
She was beautiful, but plain. She was alone.
She sat in her tower watching the starless sky, illuminated by that damned moon that mocked her for what she didn't have.
Freedom. Space. A heart.
So she drew and drew and drew, colored her dreams with golds and icy blues. Sapphire-blue eyes that haunted her dreams (though the only ones she knew were those of her tormentor, Larxene, and the ever-quiet Zexion, but neither of theirs held that same warmth).
She spent her days drawing in that white room. It had everything she needed -- a bed, a dresser, a table, a book shelf -- yet it seemed so empty.
So she drew pictures with every color one could possibly imagine...
But it was still as cold and empty as ever when she drifted back into her dreams at night.
Marluxia brought her a mirror one day. He told her that she ought to look into her heart to see who she really was, or something similarly cruel like that.
She glanced at her reflection for the first time in ages that day.
She nearly cried, she was so plain and miserable-looking.
If only she'd had a heart.
And more time passed. Demyx occasionally strolled in to play music for her, but it wasn't what she was looking for. No matter how kind he and Zexion (only when IX was present) were, she still felt the empty space where her heart should have been.
She had been watching the moon forlornly for a while when Demyx had danced into her room with the news, Zexion trailing quietly behind.
The promising number XIII had been found at last.
Axel had been dispatched to bring the boy back when he first ran away.
It was through the thick rain that she saw him for the first time.
Him.The boy with the messy blond hair and the cold glare and the chilling blue eyes.
"Number XIII," Marluxia sighed dramatically from beside her. "Roxas."
When she first saw him up close, the dangerous blades he wielded were forcefully jammed into her door. He had missed Axel's head, after all.
"Damn it, Axel, just leave me alone!"
An amused chuckle answered him before she heard the boy yank the keyblades from the heavy wooden door. She'd have to ask Lexaeus to get her a new one... Oh?
The blades had pierced the wood almost completely through, but there was a single hole left in her door where they had been. Tiny, but big enough for her to look through.
She knelt and peered into the makeshift peephole. Axel ruffled the boy's hair before disappearing in a swirl of black smoke and a quick dismissal of "See you later, kid."
She watched them enviously, Axel and Roxas.
The friendship had been gradual; at first, Roxas couldn't stand the redhead's company. However, as time passed and the blond became more tolerant of Axel's presence, a sort of bond had formed.
She watched the two dance around outside, Axel's chakrams flaming wildly and Roxas moving with a deadly kind of grace. A perfect pair.
Suddenly the blond looked up, straight at her tower window, ceasing his movements and letting Oblivion drop to his side.
Axel took the opportunity to knock the other blade from his hand, smirking victoriously.
"Axel, who is that girl?"
"Nothing you should worry about."
"Why is she up there? I've never met her before."
"You're too damn curious, Roxas."
She watched as Larxene turned the table over, wincing slightly at the crack it made when it hit the cold marble floor. The woman kicked aside a few pieces of scattered paper and turned to regard the poor girl angrily before leaving.
"You will never be happy, you stupid girl."
She sighed, gathered her sketches, and called for Demyx to come help her fix the table.
Zexion often joined her for some peace and quiet, muttering about the "imbeciles, can't they keep quiet for once?" She never minded.
Today he sat at the opposite end of the table, murmuring to himself and idly flipping through the pages of the lexicon, eyes scanning the words quickly. He looked up at her door sharply, giving a deep sigh and warning her that they were on their way upstairs (probably looking for him).
This, too, was normal. Demyx hardly spent time away from Zexion nowadays, and Axel would accompany him in his search when he pleased.
As predicted, the musician burst through the doors and waved cheerily at her before launching himself at VI, going on about some undersea world and singing fish and a castle by the sea's shores.
She watched the two admiringly. Zexion's endless patience was a good match for Demyx's endless energy.
It wasn't until someone cleared his throat that she looked up... and right into those blue blue blue so blue eyes.
Roxas was shorter than Zexion, but only by a few inches. He had his arms crossed as he leaned against her door frame, rolling his eyes at the two sitting at the other end of her table. He donned the standard black leather coat of the Organization, and his boots tapped impatiently against the marble floor.
She blushed slightly, looking back down at her sketches. Zexion quirked an eyebrow but said nothing.
She could hear Demyx continue talking in the background, along with a faint clicking sound... what was that?
"Excuse me."
She froze, gripping her pencil more tightly, unsure of what to do. Looking up hesitantly, she saw that it was Roxas, watching her carefully.
"I don't think I've met you yet," he said, holding out a gloved hand. "I'm Roxas."
She numbly shook the offered hand, forcing her voice to work. "Naminé," she replied.
"Naminé, huh?" He smiled slightly, the curiousity shining in his eyes.
"Have you been up here a long time?" he asked, kneeling to rest his arms on her chair. "It must be lonely," he continued quietly, "being up here all day with no one to talk to."
She could only nod in response.
"Roxas," Demyx beckoned. Zexion had left already.
The boy smiled at her again, brushing her hair back and promising to return.
When she woke up a week later, a rose as red as Axel's hair was left on the table for her.
Roxas began to frequent her room, bringing her gifts from his travels to different worlds -- a bottle of sand from the desert lands of Arabia, a necklace of shells from Demyx's beloved undersea world, flowers from the gardens of Wonderland ("You don't know what I had to go through to get those roses.").
She thought each gift precious, but the time he spent with her was always too short.
They sat comfortably on the floor at the end of her bed. Leaning against him, her pencil dancing across the piece of paper in her lap, she smiled as his head dropped to rest atop hers. He had fallen asleep.
She closed her eyes, but they shot back open quickly as she felt a warm hand close over her own. Shifting carefully, she glanced up to see Roxas staring ahead blankly.
"Roxas? Something wrong?"
He snapped out of his reverie and smiled. "No, nothing. Just thinking."
He left on a mission with Axel. He was supposed to do some damage control in the Underworld of Olympus. Some demon or another wreaking havoc.
He did not return. She counted the days, each one longer than the last.
She sat up in her bed, clutching a white sheet in her hands and watching the dark figure stand up a few feet away.
Roxas rose slowly. He had stumbled into her room in the dead of the night.
"I'm back," he grinned, sporting a bruise on his cheek. He walked over and sat beside her on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight.
"Sorry," he muttered, peeling off his gloves and tossing them away. "Sorry I took a while."
And he looked up at her with an apologetic smile, pulling her closer until she rested against him. She wrapped her thin arms around him and buried her face in the warm leather.
"I've missed you," she sighed into his coat. She breathed him in, the warm scent of cinnamon and fresh leather and that shampoo he liked. He stroked her hair idly.
He brought her the ring one chilly morning. One last gift before they parted.
"For you," he explained, slipping the silver ring onto her finger. "Because even if we're not together, you'll always be a part of me."
She cried that day for the first time she could remember.
"I'll wait for you," she sniffed, leaning into his arms. "I'll wait forever."
Axel came back alone that night. Roxas was gone.
A year later, she looked at the ring on her left hand. It still had its luster, shining when the light hit it just so.
She looked up at the monitor. A boy of no more than seventeen laughed with a brown-haired girl, looking at her with nothing but adoration. He ran a hand through his blond spikes, blue eyes regarding his companion carefully.
When she stopped him in his tracks, his friends frozen behind him, he tilted his head slightly, confusion evident in his eyes.
"I've waited a long time, Roxas."
And it was barely a whisper, but she heard it.
"Nam...iné?"