She was the falling one
I own nothing but my own ideas
In the realm of darkness, shadows take form and rise up around Aqua. Related to "So comes Snow after Fire" But I feel it can stand on its own.
"He thought she was his shining star. She was, the falling one."Nitya Prakash
One foot in front of the other, you march forward, out of habit more than anything. Today is not a good day, for you. It's taking more and more force of will to continue.
Somedays, you think you will die here, fading into nothing, until you are just another shadow. Not from thirst, or fighting, but from the dwindling sense of purpose. Each day, its harder to get up and look for a way out. It's like a void is inside of you, eating everything that mattered, until you are left as nothing but a hollowed shell of yourself.
The darkness stretches in front of you, pale reflections off of the ice providing enough light to see. It's getting painful to cast fire, or thunder, after your eyes have adapted to the dark. You shiver in the chill, both craving and hating the fire.
How long have you been down here?
It feels like forever, like anywhere else was little but a distant dream, ashes on your fingertips, blood on your tongue. Any taste other then dust or blood, would be really nice at this point, as while you do not feel a need to eat in here, you had never truly appreciated the luxury of food, and the sheer variety they brought into your life. Not to mention the energy it gave you to do activities.
If you get out of here, you are going to make it a point never to miss out on the little things that make living worth it. Listen to the wind in the grass, and sit in a forest and smell the pine trees, curling your toes around the grass and pine needles, fingers mapping the bark of the trees, drinking in the sight of light filtering through the treetops. You will cook food over a fire, and eat it, even if it is burnt to a crisp.
You find, that you are thinking a lot about your childhood home, from before you became an apprentice. While the memories are old and faded, you are still a child of the cold, and the lessons you learned are proving useful here.
You have become very complacent in the Land of Departure, used to warm winds, and sunshine. It has left you ill prepared for the cold.
Should you get out of here, you are going to go buy winter layers, boots, and dry nutrition bars, and put it in your bag, for the next time you visit a cold world. You don't want to shiver again for at least ten years, if you can avoid it. It feels as though the chill has seeped into your bones, and the numb feeling will never leave you again.
What hurts more than the cold, more then the dark, is the absence of your friends. It's been an ache that's been with you longer than you like to acknowledge. Yes, new friends helped, but when was the last time you sat down and talked to Ven, or listened to Terra. The last clear memory, was before the exams. That night of the meteorite shower.
Did you use it well?
You gave them wayfinders, a way to stay connected, in spite of all that goes wrong.
It doesn't feel like it worked. Or maybe it just wasn't good enough.
When you went on your journey, it was as if you were all talking past each other, rushing into new things, never checking that you were all on the same path. You felt brushed off, and it hurt. You remember the hurt on Terra's face, on Ven's face, when you revealed your reasons.
The words "I trust you. I'm just supposed to supervise, I know you will become a master too." They get stuck in your throat, in the moment of truth. And it hurts, how the words to a spell come to you in a crisis, but not the words needed to help them understand. Sometimes, you want to voice them.
"Please, please, can we listen to each other, answer each other, even if it seems silly, or unneeded, or obvious. I need to know, that I'm not talking into a void, that my words are not pointless, that they are acknowledged."
But they always stayed inside your head.
And maybe that's why you failed, maybe that's why you are down here, because when it was important, you couldn't say anything, at least not anything meaningful enough to matter.
The important things,just seem to slip away, lost.
What is Ven's favorite story? You should know, you have spent many nights reading it to him. What did Master say to you every day when you got up in the morning? Something about the sun. But what was it? Where was your favorite place to stargaze, before you made your home Castle Oblivion? When did you and Terra try to turn your master into a frog, as a prank? What do their laughs sound like?
The details are harder to recall each time you try, because all you have are memories, fallible and prone to distortion , and it hurts, because these memories are what give you strength to try, to continue to get up, and walk. Forgetting, numbs you.
Your legs burn, and forever stretches in front of you. You talk to yourself, hoping to distract, to stop this train of thoughts from spiraling further downward. You walk out of habit, rather then to anywhere particular. You feel that if you stop, you will not start again. The way is forward.
You hear something. Hopefully a good distraction.
Taller and taller, shadows rise up around you. You ready your keyblade ready to fight. But you hesitate. You are alone. And it feels as though you have always been alone and always will be. You let what was important, slip through your fingers like sand, no matter how hard you tried to hold on. It wasn't enough. Maybe this is what you deserve.
Maybe you deserve to fade away into the darkness, to be forgotten, and your fighting, is only delaying the inevitable.
This is meant to be.
With that thought, your key disappears.
You are prepared to accept your fate.
Avert your eyes. Wait for the end.
Only it never comes. Something destroys the shadow.
Bursts of light, from seemingly nowhere. When you squint, you can make out the shape of keyblades. Familiar ones. They belonged to your friends. Though you couldn't say, whose was whose, right now. They are too bright, too new, shining like stars, cutting through the dark.
They destroy the shadows effortlessly. And with them, they bring memories. It feels like, sunshine in the winter, and and a breeze in summer, and a rainy day, with warm winds, mud squishing under your feet, as it tap- taps against the window and dirt, unearthing new smells.
It sounds like like laughter, and arguments, old and well worn, and theories at midnight, and your name, and how you say theirs.
You have friends, and they are still watching over you in some way.
You have friends.
You feel a smile, on your face.
You can't remember the last time you smiled genuinely.
You take out your Wayfinder, and it has weight and warmth today. You can feel your connections, the strength of them.
Today will be a good day for remembering.
You have friends.
And today they sent you a reminder.
You have no intentions to forget again.
You have friends.