"Do you suppose the universe hates us?"
The Sea of Stars is a vast and powerful existence, an immense home to the three separate frames of existence make up the known universe.
One frame lays claim to the Realm of Light. Grassy plains and sunny skies. Immeasurable ocean depths and architectural wonders.
One is host to the infamous Realm of Darkness. A foreboding, nightmarish place, brimming with ghoulish and dangerous Heartless, ready to literally rip you a new one. Amoral and inhuman is the law of the land, and few dare trespass without risking life and limb.
Yet another is the almost unnoticed Realm of Nothing- a pale existence of remnants, outcast from both the aforementioned major powers of the universe. Here, Nobodies reign supreme.
Here, in this third realm, was The World That Never Was.
"Dude, the universe? Tone down the melodrama an' take another sip before you rile everyone an' their Somebodies up."
"...you mean Others?"
"That too, Mister Politically Correct. C'mon, I'm not here to mope."
"Somebodies" is an important word- remember it.
The World That Never Was was a world fraught with sorrow. This sorrow was built into the paved streets, the retched excuse for light that illuminated the city, and the rain that fell across the pale gray uniforms of the hundred thousand Nobodies that traverse the world daily. Without a heart to call its own, not unlike most all its inhabitants, this begotten world tries to make do with the eclectic slew of forgotten pieces that the "true" worlds have left behind as time seeks to tear down the aged.
These beings that inhabit the world feel the burden of this hollow existence daily. Some respond to this remnancy with an equal sense of tragedy- others, a sense of necessary retribution.
Most, nothing.
"The facts yet remain that we are half our original existence."
"Mmmmmmmhmm..."
"...that missing half being emotions."
"Oh! Right, that. Bummer. But what else is new, right?"
Somebodies are those lucky individuals with both Heart and Body. Call it a fantastic first birthday present, courtesy of The Universe.
When a Somebody dies by giving into the Darkness, they lose their Body and become a being governed by instincts and feelings- a regular animal, born from the dark emotions harbored in their Heart. These dark creatures are called Heartless.
But sometimes, very rarely, the Body is capable of retaining will without the presence of the Heart. Without their emotional counterparts and Hearts, though... in time, the Body loses all emotions and memories. This sad existence- remaining human in mind, but not in soul...
These are Nobodies.
"We don't have any emotions. We're losing more and more of our past selves- our memories- as the days go by. Some of us don't remember who we were at all."
"...kinda makes you feel bad for Master Roxas, huh. Starting off as a blank slate, I mean."
"Don't forget Master Xion. But now we're off topic."
Clouds parted about the tall-as-heck skyscraper standing true and stall in the night-washed Dark City, forming an iconic circle around the sky born spire. No stars gleamed down at the black and blue world before Memory's Skyscraper, no moon to comfort the eyes forced to wade through the brash of neon lights shining from any and every sort of building in the cluttered mishmash of buildings littered around the tall structure. Most all of the neon lights served to create a false impression.
You see, the City That Never Was was hollow land.
No footsteps echoed in the street. No busy click-clacking of hurried shoes beating against the steel macadam.
No beings traversed this no man's land.
But just at the feet of the monolithic black tower, the jumble of neon lights managed to form something other than what happens when you give a three-year-old crayons.
Alright, maybe a two-year-old.
This mangled jumble of yellow could be read as Dark City Den.
The Dark City Den was a cafe. That much was obvious just looking in through the broad walls made solely of glass- white tile made up the unsurprisingly clean floor, a grey sort of wallpaper lined the walls, the broad countertop, and then the dead giveaway- customers.
A few Dusks humbly sipped at their Grey Memorys while chatting amiably with their compatriot Dusks sitting apart from them. A Gambler Nobody had sat himself down in the only booth in sight- in the far right corner of the cafe- but had the sole company of a glass of Thought Draught in his hand. He didn't seem to mind.
There were a few larger Nobodies sitting atop the barstools before the countertop separating the owner of the Dark City Den from his customers. Seats with backs, you see, are hard for a large and... well, spiky Dragoon to slip into. Barstools make for a far more comfortable option, something the Dragoon sitting in one just then no doubt appreciated on some level.
Speaking of the owner. A solitary Sorcerer Nobody manned the cafe from behind the counter, with untold might and power apparent from the manner in which he powerfully wiped away at a glass. Which says something. It's hard to clean dishes powerfully, you know.
It was a good day. Not a bad one, not a spectacular one. There were customers, though not many. The floors were clean, but not everyone here had been polite enough to order a drink.
Fez was content. He continued to polish the glass.
One Dusk shoved his elbow into the side of another.
"Off topic? I dunno about that," the first of the two individuals replied. "They're plenty related- maybe they're, like, an example of what's to come."
"No," the second one said, placing the glass of Grey Memory down on the countertop. He glanced down at the glass, looking at the myriad of shifting grays layered upon each other, his mind in deep thought. "No, I don't think so, Flatcap. They're Organization."
Flatcap paused, his mind chewing on the stingy rebuttal, his mouth downing the Thought Draught faster than most would think sane. Er, safe. Flatcap's mind found the reply far too stingy to bother asking for seconds.
"Alright," the Dusk conceded, "they're all Other-ly and stuff-" to which his compatriot looked back down at his drink, biting down the urge to correct Flatcap- "but I seriously doubt that means the universe's out to get us or anything, Ber."
Ber- short for Beret- shook his head.
"The entire premise of our existence is that we are half our original selves," he said in his continued, monotonal drawl. "And if that's not convoluted, I couldn't say what is."
Flatcap took a sip from his Thought Draught. Only a sip- he'd found his reply halfway through bringing the glass up.
"You don't believe that."
Ber turned to look at the other Dusk, a question so obvious on his mind that it needn't be said.
"If you did, you wouldn't be a Nobody in the first place, now wouldja?"
Ber cocked his head in thought.
To become a Nobody, the Body left behind from the Darkness must be... well, opinions differed on the circumstances surrounding a Nobody's Other. But a certain amount of determination was largely agreed upon.
Ber wouldn't have had that determination if he was a pessimistic sort of Somebody.
As is such, he couldn't find much of an argument.
"True enough." Ber nodded.
And with that, the conversation was dropped.