((This is about Pre-COM in terms of timeline.))
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All was silent, save the endless skritch-scratch of ink to paper.
Countless drawings and paintings, some framed, hung from the walls of the completely white room. Bent over the desk, the young woman occasionally paused over her work, and then continued, painstakingly inking in details, placing final touches on the portrait. Next color gave life to the sketch, the background and foreground working in harmony to prominently express the object of interest…
Naminé picked up the sketchpad, examining the piece whose muse had haunted her for months on end. The youth's eyes were stolid and impassive, as endless as the staircases of Castle Oblivion seemed to be at first glance He had a fair complexion, and his hair fanned out in short layered spikes. Months of work showed in the portrait of the young man, standing at the top of a bronze-colored clock tower. Light framed his face and clothing, as he sat watching the sun's ascension. The sky over the massive tower was between Night and morning: a rose-colored dawn.
She always had the time to draw in the cold, barren castle. The Organization's policy wasn't difficult to follow: they simply used her only when her memory-powers were needed. Her existence was rearranging and relinking the memories, the lives of those that were in the plans of the mysterious Order.
Carefully, the young Nobody tore the thin parchment from the pad, and pinned it to the wall. The painting was a splash of color in a sea of white, brightening the view of all that entered the room. Compared with her previous works, all landscapes of the sparse scenery that was Castle Oblivion, Naminé's recent work almost seemed to…comfort her. Her fingers brushed briefly against the paper face of the young man, almost as if the art itself would be her companion.
In the empty room, a cold wind blew in from the open window, unpinning Naminé's most recent work from the wall. As it fluttered to the floor, multi-colored sparks, like miniature fireworks, swirled around the watercolor. The sparks fanned out, creating a steady, glowing halo that engulfed both painting and room completely. Desperately Naminé tried to recover her painting, but couldn't make anything out in the blinding halo of light.
As the room's view finally returned to her vision, Naminé approached the painting warily, picking it up. The brilliant colors of sunrise still played upon the clock tower. However, one significant detail about the work had changed…
"Where…am I?" The youth from the painting stood, confused, on the white stone floor of the castle's highest level
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The boy was never able to figure out how long he had been trapped in the frozen world. The time on the Clock Tower never changed, and the harsh winds chilled him to the bone. But…was it the coldness that hurt him? He wondered this, as he sat, unable to move. All he had ever known, since he first was placed into existence, was that he was alone. The tower was his niche and cage…Beyond the tower, there was nothing…
But one day (was it a day? There was no time in the frozen world…) something changed. The surface of the stone tower emitted a warm glow. He had never felt light's full warmth, being trapped in eternal twilight.
All he had ever known was silence, the only voice in his world that of his own unspoken one. But all of that changed in the time-span of one breath. He could no longer feel the stone of the tower beneath his feet; it had been replaced by colder marble flooring. In the brilliantly white room was a girl, seated.
"Where…am I?" His voice sounded strange, echoing into the empty corridors beyond the room's open door.
"Castle Oblivion…" Naminé answered, taken aback. It wasn't everyday that drawings came alive, or that wishes were granted…Was it all a dream? She reached for a colored pencil, and poked him in the shoulder.
"Ouch, what was that for?" He winced, rubbing his forearm in pain.
"You're…real?"
"Of course, what else would I be?" He answered bluntly.
"…nothing…" The drawing of the tower alone was quickly hidden away in her desk drawer. "Nothing at all…" Did he have a name? Naminé thought to herself. She suddenly remembered the painting's title. Despite her powers centering on memories, the young Nobody hadn't ever figured out the origins of his name. It simply was there…
Roxas
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Truth be told, Naminé herself never really left Castle Oblivion from the day that she appeared in one of its vast white rooms. Occasionally Marluxia let her wander the gardens, but she never knew what lay beyond the forked roads that could be seen from her window. One led to light, another to darkness, and the third led… to an unknown place.
One day, she imagined, she would get out of the castle and find what the middle road led to. However, she currently had a different matter to attend to.
In the few days since his birth, if it could be called a birth, Roxas had shown unnatural curiosity and a tendency to wander about the castle. Namine would always come with him on these excursions, but they had to be extremely careful, because anything could happen if Marluxia or Larxene found out about Roxas. She didn't wish to consider the consequences of such an encounter.
"You know," Roxas looked outside the window on a particular afternoon, where rain pattered the rooftops of the castle noisily. "One day, if we ever escape, I'd like to see what's beyond this place…"
Naminé said nothing, but peered over her sketch, nodding.
"You know, I bet there are even other…worlds outside of here. But if there are any other worlds out there, why did we end up on this one?"
Her eyes widened at the casual comment. Naminé felt oddly nostalgic, her thoughts suddenly focusing on someplace far away, a sunny and familiar place on the seas…
"What's wrong?" Roxas waved his hand in front of her face. She promptly lost the vision of a tropical island. The elusive memory burrowed its way back into her mind…
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It had started as another of Roxas' simple expeditions of the castle's corridors. Naminé sat nearby, idly staring at the many carvings of flowers that adorned the castle walls. However, the sound of footsteps in the distance caused Roxas to scramble across the hall, hiding behind a large stone pillar.
Zexion was walking by, engrossed in a thick, leather-bound book. However, stairways and the long black coats that were the Organization's uniforms were not a good combination. The Cloaked Schemer suddenly stepped on the edge of the coat, and lost his balance. The spelled book that he carried fell to the floor with a clack, opening to a page depicting a map. Warily, Naminé edged away from it, since Zexion's books were never to be underestimated
However, it was already too late for the young Nobody. The map glowed purple with the experimental spell that Zexion had cast on it earlier. Strong winds whipped out, as the book soon was shredded by the swirling vortex created by the spell. Pages blew across the hall. Before Zexion or Naminé had time to react, they vanished into the abyss that was the map.
Confused and shocked, Roxas promptly leaped to is feet from his hiding spot behind one of many pillars that adorned the hallway. He shielded himself from the pages that flew about, flapping their paper wings like angered birds. Following his gut instinct, he leapt into the very center of the portal.
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