She was no longer herself. The distorted beast staring mindlessly out of its glassy prison would never compare to what she once was. Not that she really knew, but she was sure she didn't use to be this way. Ugliness like this didn't exactly come about naturally. The shriveled gouge which once formed light delicate lips were flecked with sanguine flecks of decaying flesh and spittle and she couldn't bear to look at her skin. No. She was content, for the moment, to continue staring onward at the smoke streaked mirror watching as her mouth slowly folded in on itself. You see, Xion was dead. And yet, dying. But, death wasn't what she desired, although she didn't mind it so much…she just…
"You look like shit."
Vacant eyes finally ended the staring contest, tearing away from their captor and shifting toward another. The very sight of his flawlessly smooth skin brought sour vomit up her raw throat, ripping familiar streaks of pain through her. Shaking her head, desperately crawling out of an endless trance, Xion flipped up her hood, promptly zipping it closed.
"Thanks."
They both lingered for a moment, his pristine mouth pulling back into a grimace as he took in the perfume which was Xion's decaying body. His cold eyes penetrated into her as if they were searching to see through her thick layers. They brandished a reserved sort of curiosity, equal parts of disgust and fascination.
"Do you have it."
Xion's voice was choppy, having the timbre of a boat scraping against a rock as it fought against stormy waves. His grimace broke into a crooked smirk.
"Xi. Xi. Xiiiii. It's always the same with you."
He ran a lithe hand through his exquisitely arranged locks.
"Aren't you getting tired of this dance?"
Xion stood silently, focusing on how to scratch the itch on her hand without tearing any extraneous skin off. "Do you have it." She prodded again, the delicate hold over her anxiety starting to shatter. Groaning loudly, he crossed his arms.
"You're no fun anymore…."
He unfolded a thin parcel, tucked into the sleeve of his streamlined coat.
"Here. Take it."
Pouncing on the package, Xion ripped it away from his hand. Tearing the thin paper off of the bottle she pressed it to her torn mouth, downing the purple contents in one horrendous gulp. Not bothering to look away, he sighed once again with gusto, his eyes settling on the misshapen mirror.
"Xion. Have… have you contacted him recently?"
Collecting herself, she flopped back into her chair, joining him in locking eyes with the mirror.
"I saw him a few nights ago but…he couldn't speak this time."
Breaking contact with the mirror, she rested her hand tentatively on his, her voice cracking from what may have been sorrow if she could feel that sort of thing.
"He's getting weaker."
Not moving his hand, he nodded. All signs of smirks and grimaces wiped from his dismal expression.
"I see."
After a moment of silence, Axel's hand reached up to touch the mirror and unable to sense anything through the filthy glass he fell away, stepping through a dark portal. His hand clutched the necklace around his neck, feeling more solitary than usual.
Watching Xion from the other side of the mirror, a deep sickness burst inside him: a starburst emanating pus from his gut all the way through to mangled fingertips. As he joined her in their unending staring ritual, his teeth ground, aching terribly with each minute that passed by. He knew that she could no longer see him, and frankly he didn't care. He just wanted her to set him free. But. He knew she wouldn't. Xion was lost at this point, possibly more than he was.
He dared to look at his translucent face in the mirror; like a meal worm which had been left out far too long in the sun, the skin around Roxas' jaundiced face crinkled in on itself, pulsing slightly with each labored breath. Green veins garnished the only recognizable feature on him, his eyes, which desperately focused on Xion, daring to catch her attention in any way.
He spat. Tired. Tired of the mirror. Tired of this shit hole which never ceased to smell like sulfur. Tired of not seeing…The static hit. Harder than usual this time. A deep current flowed through him, burning into his flesh, blackening the tips of his otherwise opaque fingertips. Scarring them further. He bent his head back and held his breath, taking it in, focusing on the swirling blue cosmos above him. It was easier to bear it this way, he'd realized after one too many punishing shocks. The current was still sizzling his blood vessels when the pain began to ebb, allowing him to see the room in more detail.
Helpless, he watched on as Xion locked eyes once again. Her prison seemed far harsher than his in many ways and yet, he didn't care. There she sat. Refusing to do her part, refusing to do the one this she could to set him free. He hated her for this. Roxas was tormented by the demand for freedom, and yet he couldn't bring himself to subject Xion to this. He made this choice, not her. As time passed he found struggled to remind himself of this fact. But, he couldn't ignore the truth. He didn't have the right.
He felt himself collapsing under his own monstrous rage as he continued to throw his body against the mirror, as always his body phased through the space, fizzling like a busted monitor. He seethed, his mind blanking out as he transformed into a rabid animal, his fists pummeling wildly at the sour glass. Spittle flew from his mouth as he shrieked once more. A guttural plea rising in his throat once more.
"Please….Xion. I want to go home."
And then, he appeared. Roxas' fists clenched tight, disregarding any thoughts of forgiveness. While he and Xion crumbled with each breath, Axel's features had changed little, excepting his eyes. Where there had been hope and ideas there only lay desperation peppered with its dear friend, exhaustion. As he flew through the mirror he came to a stop. His fists balling impossibly tighter. His pain ceased to matter. He wanted out. Throwing himself against the twisted mirror, his fists crashing into the swirling glass before him, each thrust dissipating his hand, blinding him with burning pain. Selfishly, he scream out at him, his name ripping through his throat. Reaching no one. Still he begged.
"Let me out! Let me out right now!"
He continued to throw his body against the mirror, as always phasing through the space, fizzling like a busted monitor. Exhausted, his hand passing through it a final time. His resolve disintegrated.
"Why won't you look at me?"
And as he reached up to touch the glass he unwittingly, automatically and emphatically did the same. He pressed it as deep into the horrid trap as he could, grimacing as another wave of electricity flew through him blistering his blackened fingers. But. For a brief moment, he was able to hold it up to his hand. For a moment they were together.