Axel's bright green eyes gazed at the black and white coils of wispy color winding in the nebulous ceiling of…well, wherever it was you could call this place. He wondered, vaguely, foolishly, if Roxas would remember him at all, if he would really be forgotten, erased from the page of history when he died.
That is, if his process of ceasing to exist could be called death at all. What really defined death? The fading of a heart? Or the fading of a consciousness?
One brow furrowed ever so slightly in consternation before Axel simply gave up and curled the edge of his lip in a bemused smile. It was funny that he would be thinking of such philosophical, deep things on his—pardoning the possible technicalities of calling it this—deathbed.
"See? I can be intelligent when I want to…"
His eyelids fluttered shut, and he swore he heard a harp and a song somewhere far away, playing a strain of a melody strange yet familiar…was this his other side awakening? The real Axel
And the last thing he thought was that Roxas would have been proud.
As long as we shall exist,
we shall never truly die
we shall sing to our children for all of time and beyond
and we shall dwell eternally in the stream of life.
We shall linger in the hollows of the woods
we shall visit in spell of dream and reverie,
For we shall live on and on, forever and ever
in hearts, music, and memory.