There were no windows in Castle Oblivion. No way to see the sky, which wasn't even blue, and no sun to glimpse. Thus, there was no way to tell the time, day or night, those that passed and stretched into weeks, months, and even years.
Namine could never know how many days had gone by while she sat in her little white chair, in that moderately sized white room at the very top of the castle. Everything in that castle was also white with the occasional tinge of angelic blue and gold, even the decorations delicately carved into the likeness of flora - specifically, the rose. Marluxia's favourite flower.
A beautiful flower that Namine could only rue as much as she rued whom admired it, that venomous man swathed in black and a face framed by soft auburn-pink locks. His narrow indigo eyes were burned into her memory, as full of malice as they were; as devouring and deceiving.
He watched Namine like a hawk throughout those indistinguishable days. Haunting her with his presence and the sharp clicking of his heels on that also - regrettably - white floor.
If there was a single kind act Marluxia had done Namine could account for, it would have been his gift of the crayons and sketchbook which rarely left her side.
"Draw me, if you'd like." Marluxia's deep, velvety tones wormed into her ear. His voice was much like the rest of him. There was only a hint of subtlety that Namine saw through.
And Namine did, in fact, end up drawing Marluxia. She drew many things, anything that caught her interest or merely seemed a challenge to sketch. She had drawn the other inhabitants of Castle Oblivion on occasion, the shadowy denizens of Organization XIII. They were akin to distortions, black-clothed as they were amidst the stark white of the castle. Distortions wouldn't be an inaccurate description either, for if there was one thing Namine could truly identify with the others, it was their common heritage as Nobodies.
Purposeless, empty creatures without the capability to earnestly smile or cry.
Or so it was said, but on some days Namine believed differently. How could she not, when the loneliness that seeped into her made her feel so crushingly sad?
Yet there was one thing she could not deny - Her existence in all the worlds meant little to anyone. Nay, she was nothing but a hindrance to the light, even while she strived to belong. She could only lie caught hopelessly in-between it and the darkness.
On some days, there was anger. Of her caretakers - if such a word could be used - Larxene was perhaps the most outright cruel, taking any opportunity available to her to taunt and torment Namine with startling truths and mockery that cut like the blonde nymph's knives and settled down into the pit of her stomach, glowing a red hot that mingled purposefully with the dejection of her livelihood. If only she had been stronger, Namine would of struck that laughing, sadistic woman down, but to consider it as she was would mean only death. Larxene was so much stronger then she, though Namine often wondered - without conceit - if more valued.
Sometimes she dreamt of the sky. Dreamt of that caressing blue that stretched on ad infinitum. In her sketchbook she would replicate it's likeness, but she would never know what it was like to stand beneath it and have the sunlight warm her pale skin. She dared to hope she could meet the sky, but hopes were hopeless in a Nobody. Oh, but realizations like that couldn't stop her. It was all she had, that desperate longing for the sky.
There was another who was fond of the sky too. He didn't have to say it for her to know; she could see it in his cat-like green eyes, glowing in a way that was just slightly unlike the others. That is, when she dared to lift her chin and meet them. He spoke little to her, not pleasantries but preferable over the hisses and howls of Marluxia and Larxene. The latter he seemed to share a bond with; the former a deigning, secret rivalry.
Once in a while he brought someone with him on a visits. A boy with unruly blonde hair of her own age. He was another black-cloaked Organization member, but when Namine saw him she felt like she was staring at a piece of the sky, embodied in the shape of a Nobody.
Why? She wondered. How? Why does this boy cradle a piece of that elusive sky in his breast, where no heart thumps? In his blue, blue eyes the perfect shade of her dreams?
When they'd meet, her own to his, she'd still. If she'd had a heart, would that still too? The connection was so drawing, so strong. Soon, she dreamt of him too - and others, one so much like he. One who was he, but so much more then he, and Namine knew without guessing who he was.
Pages and pages of her sketchbook were filled with colour, dedicated to the heroes of her daydreams, those who she learned of as though she stood beside them throughout their lives. She couldn't help but wish to be saved by them, whisked away from the captive loneliness she endured, and the discomforting touch of Marluxia.
"Bring the Keyblade Master here," the Graceful Assassin commanded, leaning over her shoulder, wisps of his hair tickling her skin, "Go into his memory and lure his heart here with the lies only you can conjure. Make him our slave, or else..." His fingernails traced over her neck and applied pressure, leaving painful indents. Namine did not give him the satisfaction of whimpering.
Yet when he had gone, she had no choice but to obey. She did as instructed, and reached out for that piece of sky - but in her solitude, she allowed herself the comfort of a single tear. An impossibility for a Nobody, but Namine did not care to consider impossibilities. The dread was tearing her apart, as much as the hope for liberation was lifting her.
"Please..." Namine whispered with trembling lips, "Please help me... Sora."
But she didn't know back then, that the sky could be so many shades, not only blue.