Note: This fanfiction is based in the KH mythos, but beyond that, there aren't a lot of connections. Read on and you will see. Sections will generally be posted in single units; however this one will be two (Prologue and Stanza One) because both the Prologue and Stanza One are short.
0. A Whispered Prologue
"Luna." The whisper was torn from a raw, hurt throat, ripped mercilessly away. It sounded wrong, blasphemy against the shining paragon that was Luna. Lios staggered and dropped the Keyblade in his hand. It clanged harmlessly against the stone bastion jutting from the castle proper.
Only a whimpering, quiet sob answered him. Around him, the maimed and all but dead bodies of strange creatures, vaguely humanoid with wickedly curved and hooked blades in their hands shambled aimlessly, disoriented.
"Luna!" he shouted, his voice strained and cracking with effort. He stumbled to his right, his footing unsteady on the heaving, torn stones, bent and twisted, thrown and dislodged.
"I'm…here," she answered in a low whisper. He moved towards the sound, somewhere in front of him. He wiped the blood from his eyes and flicked his sweaty and bloody black hair out of his face. His hard-lined, scarred but young face was painted with greasy paints in tones of weariness, sorrow and death.
He found her, blood staining her once white top, a simple button-down. Once, she had been irresistibly beautiful in that top. She had been sitting on his bed, beaming; her shirt tails covering the smallest portion of her otherwise unclothed legs.
But now, the glimpses of her bloodied thighs through the tears in her pants were as painful as the gash along the boy's shoulder. He extended a shaky hand, his fingers trembling with the effort of staying outstretched.
She took it and limped into a standing position. One leg was horribly broken. Her Keyblade, her protection against the enemies scattered around them, had slashed circles that threw the light like sparkling arrows over the castle's wall, but now dangled, limp, in her weak grip. The dusk sun overhead blazed an angry orange, a blood-filled pupil that glared at the two that still lived.
The castle was crumbling, falling in upon itself, falling into an ocean far below. Soon, Lios and Luna would fall and find a brief, ecstatic pleasure in the release of death. Soon, but not yet.
"Lios, please hold me; I can't s-stand," pleaded Luna. Lios grabbed her and pulled her close. The sudden softness of her arms, the security in her embrace, it unnerved him. He broke into shuddering, gasping tears. She soon followed and together, they held each other and cried.
Darkness welled up behind Lios in a curving, cresting wave, veins of dark purple writhing within the blackness. Around Luna, a moonlight-pale light blossomed like some perfect flower.
"I love you," he whispered in between sobs. The sudden enemy reinforcements around them went unheeded, as did their blades that tore at exposed sides and limbs. The lovers were perfect, they were whole and complete in each other's presence.
"I love you too," she said, pressing her lips firmly against his. As they kissed, the darkness behind Lios and the white light behind Luna crashed and the world shrieked as it was torn asunder. Black ravens smashed mercilessly into white doves, shrieking, screaming, tearing to be away, away from the death. Reality and chaos blended into one steady stream of hell and in a sudden rush of sound and color, all was still, always quiet, all was perfectly gone.
I. The First Stanza: The Listless Flapping of Moths' Wings
"Yeah? What're you going to do about it?" Kuroaki gestured rudely towards the girl's back as she stormed off, her miniskirt swishing seductively.
"I know you're rolling your hips for me, babe!" he shouted with a laugh. She raised one hand and a single finger, and he shook his head. His black hair fell to his jawline in slightly spiky sheathes, swept back from his face, framing the angular beauty of his visage. Some might call him a pretty boy. Others, a murderer. Both were complements as far as he was concerned.
His crimson eyes scanned the area about him with boredom. Now that that girl—he couldn't remember her name for the life of him—had left, he had nothing to do. He sighed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black pants. His dark red shirt, skin-tight, was worn under a black shortsleeve jacket that only reached his mid torso. On each shoulder was a red x and the same x's were tattooed on the backs of Kuroaki's hands in graceful calligraphy.
As he walked, the multitude of bracelets and bands on each wrist jingled. The sleeves of his skin-tight vermilion shirt reached just past his elbow, and they revealed a mass of trinkets. There were bands of every color, a strip of cloth from something long forgotten, a chain of metal skulls, an ornate handcuff of ivory, a checkerboard-styled bracelet. On all the fingers of his right hand he had metal rings, unadorned and plain, except for the middle finger, on which rested a silver ring with a black pearl flanked by garnets.
He certainly attracted attention, though not for his clothing or trinkets. Eyes followed him—mostly females' eyes but the occasional males' eyes—for his attractiveness and the strange, hypnotic grace that flowed from him with every movement. He had an arrogant smile on his face that never seemed to falter, even in the throes of violence.
Of course, living in Halloween Town, violence wasn't uncommon or even rude, depending on the circumstance. It was a daily thing, and living in the largest population of Dark Keyblade wielders must have had some effect in the say of things.
Naturally it's the perfect sadist's environment, he thought to himself as he let his feet take him away. He liked to get lost in his thoughts, to wander in the ethereal realm of daydreams. Besides, there was no where in Halloween Town where he could possibly feel unsafe; the reverse was true…there was no one in Halloween Town that felt truly safe around him.
Odd, though. All the Heartless have been hiding lately. Surely they're not afraid of me too. They'd better not be; I've got worlds to corrupt before I'm done with them.
He smiled eagerly. For decades, now, the universe had been aligned into one of two factions: the Light Keyblade wielders, and those of the Dark Keyblade wielders. Morals and ethics aside, the Lights fought endlessly—and uselessly, Kuroaki believed—to stop the oncoming rush of the Heartless, whereas the Darks wanted a total dimensional coup d'etat resulting in shadowy supremacy, to allow the human, the natural thing: a violent release of emotions.
Personally, I just want to get out. Out of this damned routine lifestyle, he thought, reflecting on the past fifteen years of his life. Nothing important stood out, save for his murder of his parents—most Darks ended up killing someone when they received their Keyblades, and Kuroaki was no exception—and, obviously, the reception of The Thirteenth Autumn, his Keyblade. With an expert controlled use of power, he allowed the Keyblade to materialize in a swirl of dark energy, smoky and wispy.
The Thirteenth Autumn was a formidable weapon, with a long handle unencumbered by a square handguard, and with a long, flat blade ending in a series of vicious spikes and sharp crenellations that formed a sort of crescent crown shape. On the back of the blade were what appeared to be leaves, razor sharp and raked forwards, extended like snake's teeth. It was a dull, charcoal gray, so much like dead, frosted trees and tombstones alike.
"Something up?" called a cheery female voice from somewhere behind Kuroaki. He spun and instinctively readied himself to attack. He did not move, but the way he tensed was too akin to the way a wild wolf stalked. He immediately relaxed upon seeing the owner of the voice.
Charlotte waved and trotted towards him. He couldn't stop himself from admiring her, even at that distance. Her black hair allowed her light blue eyes to run rampant with color. And with a dancer's toned body and already luscious curves, Kuroaki realized he was humming to himself as he studied her—he always hummed when he was checking someone out.
"You might want to close your mouth, sweetheart," said Charlotte, crossing her arms over her dark blue shirt framed with a black pinstripe blazer. Her dark pants formed nicely to her legs, Kuroaki noticed.
"Yeah, and you might want to—" he began, but she interrupted him.
"—start undressing?" She smiled coyly. "I know you too well, Kuro."
"Yeah, just a bit too well," he admitted, chuckling.
"So why did you have your Keyblade out? You know if you play with it you'll go blind, or something." She laughed teasingly and Kuroaki cleared his throat. He remembered, now, why Charlotte was his closest friend and occasional lover; her blatant flirting rivaled his own sexual drive…something odd in most of the human species.
"Just admiring it, thinking about stuff. You know we're old enough, now. Old enough to leave and go fight and all that?" he let The Thirteenth Autumn disappear in the same small, contained whirlwind of black and purple smoke and stuffed his empty hands into his pockets, his various wrist accessories jingling.
"Yeah, so?" replied Charlotte. She kicked at the dead gray ground with one stylish sneaker-covered foot. "That doesn't mean we have to."
"But it does! I can't stand one more hellish minute in this place!" he exploded, pacing back and forth. His agitation was quick and merciless, and he took his hands out of his pockets, raked them through his hair, and put them back in, only to remove them once more.
"Someone needs to calm down. Seriously. It's no big deal, and besides, I thought you liked Halloween Town." A look crossed her face then, a look of hurt that Kuroaki did not notice.
"Yeah, it's alright. But how many more murders can I get away with? I want to kill some Light bastards. I want some real opponents, not children or old, weak Darks who can't even draw their damn weapons anymore. I need to get out!" With visible effort he made himself stand still and kept his hands in his pockets, though his foot tapped wildly.
"You've killed, what, like nine people? So what? You know Lorinus, right? He killed a good thirty people, Kuroaki, thirty, before he had to leave Halloween Town. You're still a little kid compared to him. And in more than one way," she added, laughing lowly and patting him on the shoulder.
"Okay, whoa, that was a low blow, sugar. I don't think that's fair…" he said, fake hurt crossing his eyes. Fair was a foreign concept to him, he who had murdered a veritable infant in a desperate moment of uncontrolled (Please no don't no no please) angst.
"Really now? And what're you going to do about it? Punish me?" she asked, stepping closer.
(Don't breathe)
"I had something in mind, yes…" he said with a feline smile.
"Wow, that was the first time I've ever kissed anyone," whispered Mina, her hands clasped behind her back to stop them from trembling from excitement. She slowly opened her eyes and saw the warm, soft, handsome face of Mattie before her. The afternoon sun in Twilight Town set his golden hair aflame and bathed his face in a gentle orange.
They stood just beneath the eaves of a building, recently closed and the street all but abandoned. Her dark brown hair, the color of rich, fertile soil, framed an oval face of healthy, rich and creamy skin, golden from long summers in the afternoon sun. She had an athletically slender body but was far from unfortunately attributed, and she knew it, but regardless, she did not dress as skimpily as some of her friends did. It just didn't seem right.
Mattie, with his hair the same color as hers, though somewhat curly and falling to his diamond-clear grayish blue eyes, had a strong, handsome face and a winning smile. He flashed one such smile at Mina then, taking her hands in his.
"Yeah, me too," he said, laughing nervously. "It was kind of fun." His eyes were comforting and entrancing, and she smiled deeply.
"Yeah, it really was." She hesitated, then added, "And even though we're best friends, this doesn't change anything, right?"
He shook his head with a reassuring smile. "Of course not."
(Lie)
She stood up and kissed him again, softly. "I've got to go," she said, turning to leave. He sighed and stretched, yawning a little.
"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," he called after her as she disappeared around a corner and down the street towards her house.
(Lie)
She hummed to herself as she reflected on what had just happened. Mattie was one of her closest friends, a good kid with a sensible head on his well-muscled shoulders and with a hug ready for whatever troubled her. She could warmly recall more than one time wherein he had protected her, been her salvation and her stronghold.
Her lips tingled slightly and she giggled. It was
(horrible they're all dead)
funny, she never thought she'd end up with him.
End up with him? All we did was kiss! she told herself, though the voice in her head sounded doubtful…and happily so.
She reached her house, still wrapped in her thoughts, and extended a hand to open the door.
Her hand fell through empty space.
She looked up, startled, and saw an empty lot where her house should have been. Panic hit her like a brick and she barely stifled a scream. In her panic she did what she rarely did and disliked to do: she summoned her Keyblade.
She was one of the few children in Twilight Town able to produce a Keyblade; being a sort of neutral world, it was hard for the powers to be to align one way or another and manifest themselves as Keyblades.
Hers, which she called Morningstar, was a lustrous bluish-silver, the color of, well, a morning star against a bright, forget-me-not blue sky, just before day truly comes. It was serpentine and curved, the end terminating in a gently sloped key shape, as if all the lines that should have been straight were wavy and sharp. The handguard was a hollow rectangle with the handle going through the middle, so that parallel bars on either side of the handle protected her hands.
She tried to make it dissipate in the tell-tale sunburst of white and yellow and bluish light, but it would not leave.
This is bad, she thought.
Behind her, came a horrifying sound that froze her blood. She shrieked upon realizing what the sound was, and her Keyblade disappeared and reappeared in crazy bursts of light. The sound, the haunting scream, penetrated into whatever remaining sanity she retained and poisoned it.
That sound was Mattie's scream.