Falling into darkness.
This feels like nothing I've ever felt before. What –
He falls deeper into the perpetual abyss, feeling nothing but a slight breeze, a slight emptiness in his chest. As he descends further into the darkest depths, it seems like walls are forming, invisible barriers beginning to block his airways. He can bear it for a while, but he knows it won't be long before he stops breathing all together.
Everything's uncomfortable, and everything's commodious. The suffocating hands on his throat almost feel welcoming, pleasant. The utter lack of light brings forth a sense of protection. The distant wails of loneliness and agony grow in familiarity to him with each passing second. Without the black creatures surrounding him, his body wouldn't know where to go in this world, and he finds himself appreciating their large, filthy, benevolent, grotesque, guiding hands. This is the first time he's able to hear their beautiful, hissing language.
It's horrifying.
Or is it delightful?
He can't – and doesn't particularly care to – decide anymore. His days spent in the light are a long forgotten memory now. He can't tell how long he's been here, looking into the large, bright yellow eyes of the things he used to hate, the things he now looks to for protection. And he can't remember whether or not he's forgetting something – someone? – on the other side. . .of what? His mind fails to come up with the correct word.
Still, he continues to plummet to the depths of eternal darkness. Nothing but that annoying, stubborn memory could prevent his descent, and even that's growing too insignificant every second to matter now. Just small, irrelevant fragments of what appears to be red hair, a peculiarly-shaped weapon, and. . .an island? The images are gradually fading, leaving his mind nearly blank.
He has a feeling, however, that they're always going to bother him.
Just as he starts to feel the burning, excruciating pain of complete nothingness, he hears an echo in the distance to his right. Despite the mass of decaying limbs strewn across his body, he turns to see the tiniest speck of light emerging from the darkness. As the light continues to grow, so does the volume of the echo.
S. . .a!
So. . .!
He screams in frustration so loudly and with such force that the black creatures release their hold on him and back away, trembling slightly.
Who's there! he thinks, panicked now. Who is this? What do they want?
After what feels like an eternity, he finally hears what this person is saying.
Sora!
His thoughts – or lack thereof – scatter wildly, his hands ball into fists, his eyes squeeze shut, as the light overwhelmingly conquers the darkness, annihilating the black denizens surrounding the him. The black skin crawling over his own, forming a new body, cracks and breaks, its remains fading into the black around him. The white brightness burns his body and causes him immense pain, but he can't stop himself from moving toward it. With all the strength left in his withered, tired limbs, he rushes forward, pushing the more powerful and relentless beings away. His free hand reaches past the creatures and gropes around until -
- a small, pale, delicate arm comes forth from the light.
He stops breathing when it touches his, gently taking hold of him with the warmest, brightest feeling he's ever felt. He exhales when he registers a slight pressure, and his body slowly edges closer to the newly-formed opening in the darkness. The creatures pulling him back into the depths they call home vanish, shrieking, but he can't hear them. His eyes close, his body floats, and the welcoming warmth radiating from this tiny arm beckons him into the light.
So...a!
Sor...a!
He winces, and slowly, his eyes open.
"Sora!"
He accepts the sudden embrace. He recognizes her red hair as it's poured over her shoulder and onto his face, tickling his nose and cheeks. Laughing lightly, he hugs back, and he notices something. . .familiar about the way she feels. He - reluctantly - gently pushes her away, apparently giving her an odd look, because she laughs. She continues to hover over him, looking straight into his big blue eyes.
"You okay?"
He doesn't know. He's a little confused and dazed, but he knows that warm feeling, that gradually increasing warmth that could very easily bring him back from. . .
He looks down and sees his hands still holding onto her arms.
They're small, pale, and delicate, and they've saved him again.