Mmmkay, NaNoWriMo has given me a taste for the odd challenges. Namely drabbles. Because, with drabbles, you have a rounded amount of words (100-600) and it's easier to count. So I gave myself a new challenge!
It's a themes contest, of a sort, with a list of thirty that I compiled from about seven different sources. It's called the Numbers Theme. Basically what you do is assign nine or ten characters a number, 0-9. Then you generate a series of numbers by some random magical way (I just banged on my keyboard with my eyes closed. :D) and pair em up. Then you take the characters assigned to each pair of number, see which theme they correspond with, and write a drabble!
Example: My list of numbers starts with 83. Olette is number 8 and Goofy is number 3. The first theme is Beginnings. Therefore, I wrote a drabble, about Goofy and Olette (not necessarily shippy, though it can certainly be taken that way) with the theme 'Beginnings'.
And so on and so forth! I have ten characters (which ones, you shall soon discover. :D) and they're pretty much paired up all over the place. AND mostly because of this challenge and the similar one I'm doing for my OC's in my novel, I'm up to 16,500 words!
Woot.
Disclaimer: I own naught!
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Beginnings – Goofy, Olette
Things are constant in Twilight Town. It's always almost-sunset, the ice cream is always blue, Seifer and his gang are always making trouble, there's always some school project and, of course, it's always those three – Hayner, Pence, Olette (no more, no less).
The idea of change is puzzling, confusing and, if Olette's completely honest – frightening. Somehow, strangely, the idea of some part of her world changing (disappearing?) absolutely terrifies her. She isn't sure why she's so scared, but she is.
And that's why she suddenly blurts out, while waiting with Goofy for Sora and Hayner to finish talking about whatever, "Don't you get tired of having to start over all the time?"
She's immediately embarrassed, starting to fumble an apology (even though she wants to know, because how can he handle that much change?) but his answer surprises her. "Well," the dog-man-thing (she doesn't even know) says thoughtfully, "Not really. Cause, y'know, it isn't like we've gotta end everythin' when we leave somewhere. We just begin somethin' new!"
Giving her a dreamy, dopey half-smile that she's almost certain hides something much deeper, Goofy concludes, "And a lotta new beginnin's can be kinda fun!"
That gives Olette something to think about.
---
Rebirth – Aerith, Goofy
Aerith has dreams. In her dreams she's somewhere else, among different companions (but she doesn't wonder where her's are, doesn't ask 'Yuffie, Leon, Cid?', doesn't even seem to know), in a new city (but she doesn't compare it to Hollow Bastion) with a new name (but she doesn't fail to respond to it, with it's softer ending and gentler sound). In her dreams she's someone new, someone destined a cause higher than anything her girlish mind can imagine. In her dreams, Aerith folds her hands and smiles sweetly.
And in her dreams, Aerith dies.
She tries not to think about them, hiding them deep inside, hiding the fear and confusion and dread, until, one day they overflow to the most unlikely person imaginable.
And Aerith learns she isn't the only dreamer. In between loud gulps of lemonade, the knight, the silly-faced, drawling-voiced, simple Goofy talks about his own dreams (which are stranger than hers, where he's in symphonies and he's Pete's friend and, most peculiar of all, he has a son!) and those of other people, here and there, even Donald, though the duck doesn't talk about his.
"I kinda think of it like a different life." Goofy says without a hint of the worry the flower girl feels. "Y'know, like we had those there lives, and then we needed to do somethin' else, so we got a different one."
"Rebirthing." Aerith says softly, understanding. Goofy nods and smiles and, for the first time in a while, Aerith smiles back.
---
Taste – Axel, Olette
Synthetic world, with it's plastic characters and two dimensional scenery. Fake universe with it's frozen sky and trains to nowhere. Madman's playhouse with it's mindless games and make-believe adventures.
Twilight Town, with it's wide-eyed little girls and disgusting blue ice cream.
"No, I don't want any and how can you even eat that stuff?" he says.
"It's delicious! Are you sure you don't want a taste?" she replies, so innocent she burns like he does and he wonders what the real her is like, and if she's much different than the illusion standing before him, holding out the sea-salt ice-cream.
"Positive." He says flatly, deciding he's had enough, ready to leave and return later, when the person he came for isn't surrounded by his imaginary friends and their sugar-salt confections, ready to do whatever it takes to get her to leave him be.
But she just smiles and returns to licking and she leaves him, not vice-versa and the brightness and color in her eyes is as real then as it is later, when he invades her world again and leaves without a backwards glance at the fairy-tale city turned real and the Popsicle princess on her faded couch throne.
---
Storm – Olette, Donald
There are few storms in Twilight Town, mostly at night. Olette is grateful for this, always taking time to stop and enjoy her quiet city, settling the fears that arose after a stormy night where she trembled and cringed under her warm safe bedcovers, covering her ears against the roaring outside.
But, one day, the unmistakable sound of thunder makes her flinch, tensing with the childhood fear that's never quite left her. And, even though she longs to run and hide, the confusing contrast of peaceful sky and thunder drives her forward and she goes, up the hill to the station.
And what she sees astounds her, because she knows it's magic. She knows, peering around a corner at the battling three – Sora, Donald, Goofy – that it's nothing less than that which equips the white duck, who is closest to her, with the power to raise that staff aloft, bellow (quack?) unintelligibly and call down thunder from an otherwise blank sky.
Olette gapes, envying and marveling, wondering suddenly with a confusing pang what it's like to control the things you fear, like thunder and lightning and storms (and loss and grief and forgetting).
She wonders…but, of course, she doesn't ask.
---
Death – Axel, Namine
Namine's used to being lied to. She's learned to carefully examine what she's told, searching desperately for that hint of truth that has to be there, must be there, because if they're that far gone, what does that make her?
But no, she tells herself, projecting imaginary worlds onto sheet after sheet after sheet of blank paper, no, she's different. She can be whole again, someday, someday the sun will rise and the shadow will disappear (no, you won't disappear! you'll be whole!) and all that'll be left is the princess, the pretty, pretty princess on her perfect, perfect island with her two bright beautiful boys.
And she'll forget about the faded, failed men that surround her, weaving their lies around her inexistent heart, especially him, especially that specter of ash and fire who smiles cruelly, beautifully like the velvet-clad blade of a knife and captures her with his green, green eyes and tells her there's such a thing as deathdeathdeath and even pretty, pretty blonde shadows can't escape it, because everything fades and everything fails and 'just what makes you think you're so special?'
Namine's used to being lied to, so she tries to make him into a liar.
---
Fixed – Roxas, Aerith
Aerith is a caretaker, a nurturer, a protector, a mother to everyone she sees and everyone she meets. You only need to watch her in her garden or kitchen, tending her flowers and making meals, an endless smile on her perfect, sweet, flawless face, humming a gentle tune, gliding across the floor on delicate bare feet, strands of hair falling into her luminous eyes, to realize THAT. Aerith is made to discover the problems, the wrongs, the imperfections and insecurities and fix them.
And Roxas wishes to God she wasn't. Because he doesn't want this, the first taste of realness he's had in forever, the only thing almost like happiness that he's experienced since before he can remember, the one precious facet of his fleeting life that mirrors all the things he's ever longed for (feeling, happiness, contentment, love…) to be about her FIXING him.
"Don't fix me, Aerith." He tells her warningly, in a whisper, holding her at arms length. "Don't fix me," but save me, want me, love me, please "because I am NOT broken."
And Aerith smiles. "I know" she says softly.
And even though he knows she doesn't, she smiles and he can't keep her away.
---
Days – Donald, Namine
Namine unlinks the chains of memory like a child undoing a daisy chain (he loves me, he loves her not). For her, a day is just one in a hundred, to be unwoven, undone, untied and twisted to fit a purpose that no longer has anything to do with her.
And when she's done with Sora's, she moves onto those close to him, who have become names that blur together like some ritualistic chant (tidusselphiewakkaleonaerithcidyuffierikukai-) and smears of color on blank canvases. She just lets the names brush past her ears and the faces fly past her fingertips and she doesn't linger and she doesn't stop and Namine just doesn't care.
But when she comes to smudge that's blue and yellow and white, the part of the droning chant that has a belligerent air and a vaguely garbled voice, Namine lingers. She stops. And, even though she knows she shouldn't, she cares. She slowly unwinds that part of the story, the part belonging to a court magician whose life changed so quickly, and who may never reattain what he had (a home, a love, a life) before the day he pushed open a door and greeted an empty royal room.
It gives her comfort, which she desperately needs, to be reminded of all that can change in a day, even a day in a multitude of days. It gives her something like strength to see that your world can fall apart and you don't have to break into pieces. It gives her hope, something that's been unattainable for so long, as she weaves apart and back together the days belonging to an individual who doesn't seem to care that everything's disintegrating around him, because he knows that in the end he'll triumph.
It makes Namine almost believe she can too.
---
Earth – Roxas, Axel
Ring around a rosy, pocket full of posy…
Roxas has always reminded him of earth. Down to it, no-nonsense, focused on his goals, his pursuits, his dreams, flawed and warped as they may be. Axel thinks it's unfair, almost, that hair like sunshine and eyes that blue should belong to someone who always has both feet planted firmly on the ground, who never looks up to the sky he so clearly belongs in. Roxas is always looking down, Axel remembers, looking at the sky.
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down…
Axel has always reminded him of fire and ash. For obvious reasons, for the fact he toys with it, plays and teases it until it's inevitable that he'll get burned. Roxas thinks it's unfair that someone should be able to cheat destiny and death for so long, to dance around with flames licking at his feet and never be reduced to the ash that so clearly defines his being. Axel burns so bright he'll burn out someday, Roxas remembers, watching the fireplaces dancing flames.
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust…
In the end it works out for both of them, now doesn't it? Flame to ash, earth to sky.
---
Touch – Roxas, Olette
It had been an accident. Really. The ground was uneven on the way up to Station Hill or something, maybe an upside-down cobblestone, or an old soda can that some jerk dropped carelessly. At any rate, Roxas certainly didn't MEAN to trip over whatever (maybe it had just been his own feet) and stumble into Olette, automatically flinging his arms around her to keep from sprawling flat on his face. It had been an accident.
Really.
It had been a mistake. Honest. They just thought alike, or had the same tastes, or both liked the look of the weird white animal-thing with the pink nose and funny boingy pom-pom on its head. Anyways, Olette hadn't TRIED to brush her hand against Roxas's when they both reached for the stuffed creature, then blush and stumble backward, bumping into someone, then trip and land on top of her friend. It had been a mistake.
Honest.
It seemed there were a lot of these mistakes and accidents. Tripping, stumbling, falling asleep on each other's shoulders, sitting too close, stepping on feet, brushing fingertips, hands, arms, running into each other, kissing in the moonlit sandlot –
Oh, wait.
That last one had been on purpose.
---
Healing – Donald, Tifa
"You sure you don't want my help?"
Tifa stands, wavering slightly on knees that will give way any second, forcing her hands to stay still and not tremble as she brushes her long, dark, tangled hair out of her face (which is so pale, too pale and she knows it and she hopes no-one else will notice) and takes a deep breath. "No thanks. Aerith." She says slowly, deliberately, trying not to look at the concerned young brunette who hovers a few feet away. "I'm okay."
And she's lying. But she can't let Aerith – or anyone – know that she's become this weak, that the greatest marital artist in Hollow Bastion is on the verge of tears because she lost a fight. Tears of exhaustion, of confusion and disappointment and the bitterness of defeat.
Tifa makes it outside before she crumples to her knees, wondering, why, why, why can't she be good enough? She tries hard, so hard, so incredibly HARD…and it's not enough. Her long-fingered hands curl into tight fists, blood soaking her palms as she sobs once. It will NEVER be enough…
Blackness consumes her without consent or warning, unconsciousness masquerading as darkness and Tifa is certain she's succumbed to it at last –
Until she hears a sharply squawked (that's the only good word for it) 'CURAGA!' and senses the green magic spreading through her body, healing her wounds (physical at least) and bringing new strength to her exhausted limbs.
Tifa takes a slow deep breath and glances up to see Donald, standing a few feet away, arms crossed, giving her his usual glare, one orange-yellow foot tapping impatiently. When her garnet-colored eyes meet his, he scowls fiercly, then says in a warning tone, "Next time, just let Aerith heal you, okay?" Tifa's too stunned to reply, so she nods once, then again, a half-smile spreading across her face, removing some of the weariness etched there.
Donald almost smiles back. Then he 'hmphs' loudly and turns his back, almost stalking inside, clearly done with this conversation. And, as he goes, Tifa can just hear him mutter, "Ya big palooka…"
---
Family – Namine, Roxas
Some things are lost in a world of revenge and malice. Other's are given up, because it's too hard to keep a hold on them in a cycle of endless darkness. Still other's are forgotten about, because it's hard to place importance on things you have no feeling for. It's hard to remember light and life and love, when all you know now is the opposite.
Namine tries, at first. The hours blend into each other, with no beginning or end and she tries to break up the sameness of them by conversing with the other Nobody's. She reasons that by talking about the things they've lost – fading memories that diminish with every day – they'll keep them alive.
After a while, though, she gives up. The other's don't care for reminiscing, or recalling. And what is there to talk about in a castle with no windows or doors? The weather? Namine is not even permitted to inquire after the health of the others' family and friends, because they have none.
And she misses that. She has none of her own, but they appear in her drawings, figures of crayon and pencil and paint, people she'll never know. They belong to him, they're his friends, his family and she's forever forbidden from them. Namine lingers most on the drawings of his family, his mother, his father, even his aunts and uncles he only sees on holidays. She's almost jealous.
And Namine envies his Other, because when the time comes (and she knows it will, even as she listens to the automated voice chirping 'Restoration 35 complete') he'll have what she never will. He'll finally be whole and complete and he'll get everything that comes along with it, friends, a home…family.
And she'll have to settle for whatever fate holds for her.
---
Passing – Goofy, Axel
Life is passing him by, flying across the sky like lightning-colored fireflies, slipping like grains of diamond sand between his fingers and Axel couldn't care less.
Life doesn't hold anything for the Nobody, because he's Nobody, a Nobody, nothing, no-one, zip, zero, nada. So why should he care when another sunset comes and there's nothing about the dying day that makes it special? Why should he be concerned when, upon the rare occasions when he looks back and reflects, he finds nothing of value, nothing that will last, nothing that will make anybody remember him.
The only person he'd thought would remember him doesn't, didn't, won't, and Axel is sick and tired of trying to make him see,make him realize, make him try and turn Axel into something special. He's through with trying to find something worth anything, that one moment, that one person, that one thing that gives everything a sense of realness, of value.
Axel doesn't want it anymore. He doesn't want to be meaningful. He doesn't want to be important. He doesn't want to be special, or valuable, or remembered. He wants to pass away, like everything does, without a word, without a word.
And, above all, Axel doesn't want to end up like some of the optimists he knows. Take the dog for example, the so-called knight with his drawling, obnoxious, nerve-grating voice and that stupid shield and that sunny, bright, ever-smiling view on life. Who wants to be like him? Who wants to turn even the most ordinary of days, the most menial of tasks, the simplest of acquaintances, into adventures, quests, life-long companions? Who wants every moment to be precious and special and valuable and not passing like dust in the wind? Who wants that?
Not Axel.
Or so he keeps telling himself.
---
Birth – Namine, Aerith
There's a kinship between them, between this slip of a girl-child in her palace of stone and this spring-eyed beauty with her valentines dresses. Though they'll never meet – save through violet eyes and on cream-colored paper sheets thumbtacked to the wall – they're still tied together.
Words like whispers slip through the birdlike blonde's mind as she draws scribbled figures in a town where lost people come to lose themselves further – Sephiroth, Cetra, Lifestream – and though she doesn't quite understand them, there's implications of something higher than her and there's respect in her fingertips as she shapes her face.
Feelings like nighttime shadows run across the willowy brunette's skin as she listens silently to the other speak, and slowly begins to comprehend what happened to her heart – fear, awe, even vague reverence – because what darkness can personify itself in the shimmering, lovely, achingly sad body of a young girl and still fool everyone?
Aerith and Namine both were destined for things greater (and more fallen) than any others. Every moment was planned out for them, by fate, by destiny, by the hands of others.
And yet, they somehow both found themselves ending up farther from their birth than they dreamed possible.
---
Missing – Namine, Olette
There's something wrong, something missing, something that's needed, something, something…
Olette sighs softly and gingerly massages her aching head with one hand, trying to drive away the headache that's been nearly constant for days and finish her homework. School's starting soon, and the four of them have to hurry or they'll never get it done.
Three of you. There are three of you.
With another wince, Olette closes her bright green eyes and breathes slowly, deeply for a while, as if that will help. It does, a little, and she exhales softly and slowly returns to writing her paper on the seven wonders of Twilight Town. It's tedious work, considering all the marvels had proved false, but it had been sort of fun competing in teams of two to see who'd discover them all first.
You didn't compete in teams of two. There are only three of you.
"Right." Olette says aloud to the gentle reminder somewhere in the back of her mind. But her pencil's stopped moving and she's staring instead at the picture of her and her three –
Two.
– two best friends, in front of that old haunted mansion. Hayner, Pence and her. They look so happy. Suddenly Olette frowns and slowly fingers the picture, wondering in a whisper, "Why did they change it? It looks so empty now…"
It's not empty. There are three of you.
"But…"
Three.
"Three." Olette repeats softly, waiting for the warmth that comes when she thinks about her friends and her. But there's nothing, except for that old aching sadness, and a sense of exhaustion. With an uneasy sigh, the girl slowly eases her head down to rest on her open books, closing her eyes and hoping this feeling will pass…
While, miles away, in a castle of white, another girl slowly puts the finishing touches on her latest drawing, a gated house with four children (where there are just three, in the picture on a young girls desk) in front of it. Four smudges of color, where there are only three now, brunette, dark-haired, sandy-colored and golden-blond.
Namine half-smiles as she makes Olette's hairband green, to match her eyes. "I know you miss him." She whispers to her drawing. "But he'll be okay. You'll be okay too." A smile is drawn, blissful and carefree. "You'll be okay. Thank you, Olette, for taking care of him…for as long as he was yours."
---
Sixth Sense – Sora, Kairi
He had so much he wanted to tell her –
Kairi, I'm a hero! I'm the Keybearer, can you believe it?!…Kairi, there are these Heartless and they're taking over all the worlds and there are other worlds out there, by the way, just like we always thought there were, but I'll take care of it, I'll take care of everything, don't worry!…Kairi, I have these new friends, you'd really like them, I think!…Kairi, it's Riku. I don't understand, Kairi.
– show her –
Kairi, look, I can fly! It just takes a little pixie dust, that's all. All this time we dreamed of flying and wished we could and that was all it took!…Kairi, check it out! I have a tail, just like the dolphins off the island! I can swim just like them!…Kairi, don't I look scary? I got this stuff in Halloweentown! It's so cool!…Kairi, I know I can save you. Just watch me.
– share with her –
Kairi, there are so many other people out there…Kairi, there are so many other worlds…Kairi, there are so many things we've never seen…Kairi, it's all so amazing and I miss you.
That he was almost disappointed when he found out she'd been there all the time, that sixth sense deep inside his heart, laughing and crying when he did, seeing and hearing and being a part of everything he went though, always there with him no matter what.
Sora was almost disappointed…but not quite.
"Don't ever forget. Where-ever you go – I'm always with you."
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So...yeah! Those are the first fifteen, the other fifteen will be forthcoming soon. (including Sofa. -drools- Gads I have a hankering for somma that!!! I'm not an addict, why do you ask? -goes to try and find some non-slutty Sora/Tifa...-)
Read/review/go punch some numbers.