They reached the town by mid-afternoon.
The docks are bustling, leading right up to the heart of the marketplace. There is a herald standing at the docks, greeting any guests that arrive with a smile and a welcome to the Destiny Isles. Roxas barely remembers visiting this town when he accompanied his father, though it wasn't because he wanted to take Roxas anywhere, more like a business trip than a vacation. Not that Roxas has evener thought about having let alone going on a vacation.
Roxas peeks through one of Captain's windows as the herald greets Marluxia and Luxord. As he moves away, he spots Ventus adjusting his tunic before pulling on a black vest and a beret hat. Roxas simply flicks his hood up over his head. Axel was the first to leave the ship as it docked, and left the crew to do what they please but reminded they be back by twilight.
"You should change." Ventus says. Roxas looks over and finds the boy fixing his hair and a mirror.
"I should, but I choose not to. What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Roxas asks as she places the gun he obtained from the captain of the rival ship inside one of Axel's many trunks.
Ventus looks to him as he buttons his black vest. "You don't think that your attire isn't, intimidating . . .?"
"That's the point. You'd rather I ditch my clothes of reputation and pride for those of filthy sea-hag men on a rotten tub?"
"Well, what if someone recognizes you?" Ventus points out.
"Guards and people can be bought." Roxas counters.
Ventus sighs. "You're pretty confident in what you do, huh?"
"As did my father teach me. As long as I act like I'm not suspicious, then there's no reason for anyone to be suspicious of me." Roxas wipes clean his daggers, all of which be obtained once more after the men looted the bodies of the entire crew he slain. Ventus look at Roxas and can't help but lean his head to the side on observation. Roxas catches him glancing. "What?"
Ventus' cheeks flush pink and he nervously clears his throat. "Um . . . don't you think it's weird that we look, alike?" he asks.
Roxas looks to him momentarily before shrugging his shoulders. "I admit, it is strange, but what are you going to do. I mean, thinking about it isn't going to change it."
"But you're not curious?"
"Not at all."
"Why?" Ventus presses.
Roxas looks to him in bewilderment and rather annoyance. "Well, yeah it's weird we look alike, but I have no memory of you, and you have no memory of me so why bother? We just look alike. There's probably someone who looks like Axel too, heck even Demyx."
"A clone of Demyx, now that's scary." Ventus jokes, and surprisingly when he chuckles, he hears it be accompanied by Roxas' soft laugh. "Hey, I made you laugh."
Roxas' smile doesn't fade, even when he rolls his eyes. "Congratulations."
As he heads for the door, Ventus bites his lip before trotting after, and catching up to him as they leave. "Hey listen, you mind, walking around together?"
Roxas looks to him with a quirked eyebrows, but he doesn't look annoyed. "If you wanted company, why not just leave with the Captain?" Roxas asks.
"I thought I'd leave with the rest of the crew, but I don't know, I just don't like wandering around towns alone." Ventus explains.
"Not like you're some street whore," Roxas says. "You have a weapon, use it if you have to. Or at least flash it so they now you're armed."
"Well yeah but -"
"But what? If you want to be like the rest of the men, then act like it. And if it makes you feel comfortable, just stick to the shops close to the ship." Roxas adds.
"I guess."
"Why do you look so conflicted?"
"Well, it's like you said, I'm, conflicted because I want to be like there rest of the crewmen. Ready for battle and eager to see the next town, but at the same time it's just not me." Ventus explains.
As the boys talk, they begin to wander off the ship together and onto the docks. Demyx comes up behind them, Ventus giving his greetings, Roxas nodding his head in acknowledgment.
"You shouldn't have to feel like you need to, be different in order to fit in."
"Says the boy who killed and entire crew of men within minutes. You have reasons to be confident with yourself, even with your shoulder wound that crew didn't show you down." Demyx interjects as he pops the collar of his jacket.
"I was trained that way, and my point is, be confident with who your are."
"Even if they tease me about being weak?" Ventus asks.
"You may be weak when it comes to blood and blades, but perhaps that's because your strengths lie somewhere past battle." Roxas vindicates. "I mean, you have a young face, perhaps your talents lies in manipulation or deception."
"Well, how do I figure out what it is?"
Roxas chuckles. "That's something you need to figure out yourself."
The three men leave the boat together and strangely, Roxas isn't at all annoyed, not even seeming like he's tolerating their company. He stays with them as they wander up the steps and Demyx takes the lead taking them right and further into the maze of stalls. It looks as if the town is preparing for a Summer Festival. There's more merriment than normal and banners have been strung up connecting buildings opposite of one another, standing face to face like partners ready for a waltz.
As the crowd thickens, Ventus instinctively goes to reach for a hand, as he normally would when he would walk with Captain Axel. What he didn't see is that he went for Roxas' hand, and realizes his mistake seconds after. Roxas wrenches his hand away and glares at Ventus.
Ventus lowers his head, his cheeks warm. "Sorry."
Around them, the whole aura of the town seemed upbeat and rather welcoming. Roxas' eyes scour the buildings and shops. He walks with his hood up and the holographic emblem of his guild on his back. He doesn't notice it until he sees that Demyx and Ventus are no longer at his side. He look behind and sees them walking behind him, and when Roxas looks back ahead, he sees people parting their ways, allowing a straight path to wherever their destination may be.
"Any idea where your Captain may be?" Roxas asks.
"I'm not his dog." Ventus remarks.
"You behavior says otherwise."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ventus challenges as he walks level with Roxas.
"It means that you follow the captain around, sticking to his side like a lovesick puppy."
"L-Lovesick?! You must be joking!" Ventus corrects.
"I don't joke."
"I won't deny I like to accompany the Captain, but I assure you it's so that I can keep him calm." Ventus defends.
"I have to tell you, you do seem affectionate towards the Captain, as he is towards you." Demy suddenly chimes in, the boys nearly forgetting he was there. They turn their attention away for what feels like moment and already he has his arms full of flowers and bagged food and breads.
"No one asked for your opinion!" Ventus snaps, causing Demyx to snicker.
"Look, there's nothing wrong with liking your captain." Demyx continues.
"I don't like him!"
"Then you shouldn't be acting to defensive." Roxas points out.
Demyx laughs as Ventus groans in aggravation and aimlessly wanders over to a stand selling leather shoes. Roxas chuckles, his lips morphing in a small smile as Demyx scarfs down a bit of raisin bread. Roxas can spy the other crew members walking about the streets, others waling into not so pleasant looking buildings, their coin pockets, heavy.
No doubt with the people preparing for the festival there will be lots of pockets to pick.
Roxas can't help but smile. He manages to slip away from Demyx and morph himself into the crowd. As people line up, Roxas ripples his fingers and smoothly walks past the people. His hands suddenly billow shadows and his hands jerk forward and he snatches the pockets. Roxas is nearly towards the seamstress shop, located near the back of the main road, his pockets already heavy with the stolen money, when his name is called.
"Roxas!"
The voice rings out and startles Roxas to the point where he drops the bag. Demyx comes trotting up, and Roxas goes up smoothly ramming his knee into Demyx' stomach; hard enough to lower him to his knees and stuff him in an alleyway next to a pile of sacks of flowers. He goes to pick up the coin purse, but as he tries to walk on, he bumps into the body of the man.
Roxas quickly clears his throat. "Um, you dropped this, sir." He forces himself to say.
The man looks at Roxas wearily first, then he smiles. He takes the purse and opens it. "How nice to meet such an honest young man." He fishes out a single gold coin and drops it in Roxas' hand.
Roxas forces himself to smile and waves as the man turns and walks off. He gives a soft laugh, but when the man is out of hearing range, he snarls. He goes back to Demyx who is already on his feet, dusting flour off himself. Roxas grabs him by the collar and hooks his elbow around Demyx's neck.
"What do you think you're doing?" he snarls then shoves Demyx aside. "I'm trying to work here."
"What do you mean work?" Demyx wrestles himself free.
"I mean my work." Roxas says as he continues down the line and effortlessly picks pockets. With Demyx at his side, he actually blocks the crowd on the opposite sidewalk from seeing what he's doing. This in his mind, Roxas tolerates Demyx glancing over his shoulder, eyeing his work; in fact, Roxas doesn't mind showing off a bit. They run into Ventus at a candy stand and Demyx nudges him to go with them. All three men can't help but notice a black cat with icy green eyes looking at them
As they reach an intersection leading into the western portion of the market, Roxas needs to divide some of the coin since he's run out of compartments in his uniform. The cat still hasn't left, and even when Demyx leads the boys over to a stand selling fruits and vegetables, the cat emerges from the shadows alleyways and comes up to Roxas. It nudges its head against his ankle, purring and head-butting his leg.
"I think it likes you." Ventus says with a smile.
Roxas kneels down and extends out his hand to let the cat sniff as it proper cat etiquette.
"Hey puss, puss. Puss, puss." Roxas coos.
The feline sniffs and then rubs its cheek against Roxas' hand and Roxas scratches behind its ear. For a moment, Ventus fears for the cat, thinking Roxas so cold he might strangle the feline. But to his surprise, Roxas scratches and pets the feline, the cat even walking, rubbing and purring between his legs. Roxas smiles, and for a moment, Ventus can't believe how different a smile gesture can make someone look. It transforms Roxas into someone you don't want to fight, to someone you actually want to get to know.
He nudges the cat until it purrs around his ankles again before scurrying off into an alleyway.
"Hmm, guess that's it." Ventus chuckles. He turns to join Demyx in observing the woman's watermelons and pears.
Roxas looks back and taking a few careful steps first, when neither of them turn around, Roxas turns and begins to job after the cat. He enters the alleyway and after turning a left, he finds the cat sitting, its tail tapping the cobblestone. "You'd better not lead me into a dark hole." Roxas warns.
The cat meows and starts to run down straight. Roxas follows, darting through alleys, cutting back and forth as if to lose a pursuer. Roxas' path remains steadily eastward, regardless of how crooked and curved. Once Roxas realizes this, he begins to shrink the distance by taking a more direct route.
Where are you taking me? he wonders.
Roxas rounds one final corner and finds the cat gone. Roxas, puzzled, looks around and up. He finds the cat up on a fire escape, a metal ladder strung high. Roxas jumps up, clinging the metal rungs and quickly climbs up to the rooftop. The cat meows and then hops down onto a wooden banister and walks across, stopping at a window on the other side. Roxas sighs and follows, keeping an eye on the shuffle of his feet as he follows. As he looks down, he sees the street of where he was with Ventus and Demyx, both of who are now gone, probably looking for him. Townspeople mingle and laugh and children chase one another down the street.
When he reaches the window, the cat sits on the ledge. Pulling out his dagger, Roxas sticks it under the window and wriggles it before jerking it down a prying the window up. As Roxas opens it wider, the cat jumps in and Roxas follows, closing it behind him. Finding himself in an attic, Roxas follows the cat, peering right into another room, filled with cages of birds. The can easily maneuvers through, its presence not even disturbing the murder of crows.
Following the cat's direction, Roxas spots a painting at the end of the room. Knowing such a beautiful painting wouldn't just be left alone in a dusty attic, there has to be something behind it. Roxas mimics the trail of the cat, who now sits on a crate liking its paw, and begins to caress the painting's sides. His fingers find a small uprising, a flick of his finger and the painting suddenly slides up revealing a safe.
Roxas laughs. "Not bad, kitty cat not bad."
Picking the lock, Roxas opens it up to find a beautiful jeweled ruby necklace. As he carefully picks it up, observing the giant ruby at the center of it, the birds suddenly squawk and caw. Roxas whirls around to find the cat looking up at the roof. Roxas watches as he hears stomping footsteps go across. Dust and grit shook down around him, pieces of grime landing in his hair. Like a storm that had blown itself out, the thundering tapered off into hollow thudding, growing farther and farther away.
"Well, they do call the rooftops the Thieves Highway." He says, the cat meowing in return. "I wonder if that's who I think it is." He grins.
The cat hops out of the open window and Roxas follows. Together they climb up a drainpipe attached to a house and shimmy up it until reaching the other rooftop. This roof is like ones old ladies use to keep their pigeon coops, flat-topped and with a small bridge connecting to the other roof next to it.
A tall dark figure stands, his hood down, revealing his jet-black hair. The cat wanders over to him and purrs against his ankles.
Roxas can't help but smirk slightly.
"Vanitas." He says through a breathe laugh. The muscles in his face relaxes. "I should've guessed." He mumbles. "Care to make a little more noise next time." His voice rising.
"Well, it's been a while since I've seen you how else would you know it was me?" Vanitas says picking up the cay and snuggling it against his shoulders. He turns and leans against one of the coops, the cat trying to paw at the birds. His pale skin and golden-yellow eyes contrast against his hair, and even with his cloak around his body, Roxas can still see his tall, muscular build.
Vanitas is, according to Roxas' own calculations, the closest thing to a friend he's had. The boys were thrown together one day, back when they were both twelve, thirteen - Vanitas being older – and told to work together to retrieve a prized artifact of a rich aristocrat family. Vanitas being older thought his plan was more suited and normally outweighed Roxas', but with Roxas being stubborn, argued against him. They fought for nearly an hour before even getting started on the mission, pointing out each other's flaws in the plans and what the outcomes will be, but eventually with their fathers' at their backs, they reached a compromise.
Being Roxas and his father lived far, Roxas thought they'd write to stay in touch, but Roxas never found the time, and even when he thought he did, his father called for another training secession, and soon he eventually forgot to write anymore.
"Aw come on don't tell me after all these years you aren't happy to see me." Vanitas says as he strokes the cat.
"Well I'm not walking away so what do you think?" Roxas counters as he takes a couple steps forward.
Vanitas snickers. "I . . . think you haven't changed a bit." He sets the cat on the ground and it hops up on one of the coops. "Now, I have a job for you. A job I wanted to finish myself, but I thought I'd' share with you. Because I'm that nice of a person.
Roxas rolls his eyes.
"I need an extra set of hands to watch my back, take the pressure off."
"What are we after, Vanitas?" Roxas reminds.
"Well, it's more like a search and destroy kind of thing. There's this precious bust in the library that's worth a fortune. Too heavy to carry, and my client said that nearly all the citizens want it destroyed. Show the leader he's not untouchable by the crimes of the city."
"I can relate to that."
"So what do you say, babe? Want to go around?" Vanitas grins.
"Why do you call me that? It's something used for couples."
"Because I like to push your buttons." Vanitas as he playfully pretends to punch Roxas. Roxas counters and blocks with his forearms. "Come on, it'll be just like old times!"
Vanitas then turns and bolts into a run across the roof, leaping up and coming down, rolling up. Roxas follows and together the boys leap across roofs, dash through attics and flip up and vaulting around crates and vents and chimneys. Over the last hurdle, Roxas follows Vanitas sliding down a ramp made for cargo wheelbarrows. He lands square on his feet, Vanitas leaning against a streetlamp.
"Glad you could make it." he smiles.
"Did you pick that route because it was fast, or because you thought it'd be fun?"
"Can't it be both?"
Roxas shakes his head. "Come on, let's see if this job is what you make it to be."
Vanitas smiles and goes up ahead, hunching over low and then crouching to pick the lock of a gate. By now the sky is starting to turn pink and orange, and Roxas knows he's pressed for time. A part of him wishes he didn't take this sudden job, but seeing Vanitas, he realizes he could stay with him until he could find another route home should he miss Axel's ship.
"Are you going to use any of those shadows, Sir Sunlight?" Roxas teases.
"I was just scouting ahead. I know you always like to go first." Vanitas says as he pushes through the gates.
As the boys travel through the streets, keeping to the shadows, Vanitas takes it upon himself to try and catch up.
"So, what've you been up to?" he asks as he peers around a corner.
"Oh you know, killing thieving, helping my father rise up a rebellion." Roxas answers as he sneaks up behind a guard and chops at his neck, knocking him unconscious. Vanitas follows behind kicking out a man's feet and punching him in the face.
"Rebellion huh? Sounds fun." He says as the boys now hurry down the street.
"Not when I have Seifer constantly up my ass." Roxas sneers.
"What? That old man's still alive?"
"Not just alive. He has an heir now, and he may even have a bitterer attitude than his father." Roxas groans.
"Oh, how wonderful."
They run down the streets now, flipping over crates and even exchanging a few laughs as they reach the destination, Vanitas being the leader. Before them is a temple on the other side of the street. They hide beside a shop set up to take advantage of the temple's traffic, selling a multitude of sweet cakes and treats that get devoured after every service.
Looking at the temple, Roxas wonders how in the world they were going to get inside. He sees no windows, just rows and rows of columns. The columns themselves are too smooth and wide for them to scale. The giant front doors are closed. They are unguarded but most likely locked and barred from the inside. The roof is sharply sloped, pointed in the middle but nearly flat at the edges, the shape created by a clever interlocking of additional tiles. A statue creates by a clever interlocking of additional tiles. A statue looms on either side of the short white steps leading up into the temple. The left is of a noble-looking man in armor holding a set of scales. The right is of a young woman with her arms raised to the heavens as if singing in praise.
"This, is where I needed your help." Vanitas says.
"Never abandon as hopeless something you've never tried." Roxas whispers aloud. One of his earlier swordmasters had favored that saying. There is only one place left Roxas and Vanitas can check, and that is the roof. So to the roof they go.
Roxas takes the lead this time. At full speed, he curves to one side and leaps into the air. He kicks off the statue of the woman, vaulting himself atop the other statue. Not letting his momentum slow, he leaps again, his whole body reaching for the edge of the roof where it is flat.
Vanitas follows, same maneuvers and to the roof. His fingers brush it, slips, and then he is falling.
The front of the temple has large inset sections depicting mountains, fields of grain, and a rising sun. Below those carvings is a second edge jutting out just before the pillars begin. Vanitas bangs his elbow against the edge, twisting him midair before he can grab hold. A sharp intake of breath is the only cry he makes.
"Vanitas!" Roxas hisses through a breath.
"I'm fine." Vanitas replies.
He swings one foot up to the ledge, glad for once that Roxas had moved aside to allow room. They have an inch and a half to stand on. More than enough with their feet turned sideways. They stand upon is, their backs to the carvings, and look down at the street. No one is around. It seems whatever activities might be normal for the night, they took place nowhere near the temple.
They run over the siding of the temple and to the back where they stop and crouch, blocking part of their view is a large obelisk, one of four guarding the corners of the courtyard. A large fountain is at the very epicenter of it all.
A heavy wind rushed by, causing the leafy heads of enormous, ancient looking trees to swish back and forth. The sun poked through the clouds, lighting the very center of the court where a huge fountain stood. No water poured from the enormous green basin, and the elevated base was surrounded by graceful swans and solemn-faced shrubs.
At the very top of the fountain, a statue of a voluptuous nude woman looked down on them as they passed. She held a swath of fabric that clung to the lower half of her body and appeared to billow out behind her in a suspended arc. Curly-haired cherubs frolicked beneath the basin in a captured moment of abandon. Though the figures might have seemed playful in the daylight, something about the mix of shadows and stark light cast on their small faces through the trees made them appear more mischievous than free-spirited, more impish than gleeful.
The large swans that reveled with them, rearing back with wings outspread, looked somehow frantic.
Blocked by the wide bowl of the basin, the light could not reach the sultry figure of the nude woman who stood at the very top of the fountain, her veil billowing out behind her. She remained swathed in shadow, a silhouette that belonged to the night.
Guards patrol the entire area, weapons in hand and talking amongst one another. Roxas and Vanitas peer over the edge.
"That's a lot of guards." Roxas whispers.
"They're definitely not here for the summer festival dance. A lot of guards means a lot of steel. Thieves and swords do not get on well."
"I've never had a problem with guards, but then again I'm not just a thief."
Vanitas eyes Roxas and together they sneak through the gardens, all the while hearing the guards' conversation for signs of anything interesting. But so far they're only talking about setting up a party for guests to arrive later in the night. They run across a long pergola surrounding the fountain and towards a set of stairs. They slip back down to their fingers, take a deep breath, and then try to fall forward instead of straight down. The higher up on the steps they land, the better. Luck is with Roxas as he lands on the very top step, which gives him plenty of room to roll. Vanitas lands after him, his knees aching, but it's better than a painful tumble down the sharp edged steps.
Roxas sneaks ahead of Vanitas and they listen carefully as a couple of guards mingle with one another.
"Every time I get it going, in fizzles out again." One guard says.
"You couldn't set a cloth aflame if it was doused in oil, son." says the other. "I'll how you it's done." Vanitas and Roxas watch as he kneels before a firepit. "If you pack it together too close, then the air won't feed the flames."
Roxas looks back at Vanitas and motions him forward. As Vanitas approaches, Roxas draws his dagger free without sound and sneaks up behind as the other guard sighs in aggravation. "I should know better, my family used to be charcoal burners."
As he finishes, Roxas hauls up and cover's the one guard's mouth and stabs him in the front of the chest, then slicing at his throat silently.
"Oh yeah? That's work you don't see much since the factories came." The other guard replies.
Roxas drags the body out into the shadows created by the firepit once it's lit. The guard dusts off his hands and turns, and Vanitas draws a sharp breath at the thought of Roxas getting caught, but he ducks behind a bench as he turns.
He notices the body, but doesn't seem alarmed. "Huh? Oh come on, what?"
Vanitas is suddenly there and he rams his knee in the back of the man's spine, hearing it crack and as he drops to his knees, Vanitas cushions the blow so it's not so loud for oncoming guards.
With a frown on his lips, he hurries over to Roxas' hiding spot, but not before he drifts his fingers to the guard Roxas killed. His fingers hovering just at the end of his nose, checking for breath.
There is none. Vanitas grow angry and slaps Roxas' arm. Roxas was looking out ahead, Unphased and uncaring, and this sudden motion makes his turn around confused.
"What the hell just happened?!" Vanitas sneers through grit teeth. "Why'd you kill this guard? He was barely older than you!"
A frown forms between Roxas' eyebrows as they narrow. "He was a guard, Vanitas! Wrong place, wrong time." He coldly says.
"God you haven't changed at all, have you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Vanitas sighs in aggravation as he checks their surroundings. "It means, I don't kill without thought or good reason and I don't get fucking paid for it!"
"So basically it's okay when you do it but not me?!" Roxas seethes. "I see, I get it. But you know what, my guard isn't going to wake up later and follow our trail to cause trouble."
"Oh and like leaving your dead body around is any better?"
Roxas' eyes narrow. "By the time any guard discovers my bodies, I'm usually long gone. I'm only here for a short while, so I don't have time for your lectures or tantrums!"
Before Vanitas can snark a reply, Roxas swoops over to the door that leads to the first floor of the mansion. He hears Vanitas come up behind him and can't fight the shiver that crawls up his spine like a mass of spiders.
"If you're so eager to leave, maybe I should go first." He says, and his tone hurts Roxas.
"It's not like that, Vanitas." Roxas states as he picks the lock.
"Then what is the story?"
"It's complicated."
Vanitas scoffs. "It always is."
"No, it really is. It's a long story and frankly I don't think I have time to talk about it."
"Of course."
Roxas sighs as he pushes open the gates and Vanitas suddenly bumps past him purposely. Roxas doesn't snarl of cruse, he only sighs again and follows. Shutting the door behind him, Roxas has to rush after Vanitas as he's already halfway down the hall. He hears no footsteps, no shuffling of a bored guard or soft breathing of a slumbering man. Taking a deep breath, Roxas turns around a corner keeping up with Vanitas, which he knows is picking up the pace purposely going faster to annoy Roxas.
The carpet is soft and thick. He couldn't have asked for better. Small torches are lit every twenty feet, hanging from iron loops embedded in the walls. Bits of purple flicker in their centers. They release no smoke.
Roxas follows Vanitas, who remains quiet. The hallway ends at a sharp turn. Roxas doesn't have the slightest clue where he is going, all the more reason to stick close to Vanitas. Looming before them is a great open chamber of worship. A statue of a beautiful woman with a veil draped over her head. The purple fires burn at her feet, the only light visible. Shadows dance across the pews. Two men knelt in prayer before their alter. A third slowly circles the room, softly singing something more akin to a funeral dirge than a worship hymn. His hands are lifted to the ceiling and his eyes half closed.
Vanitas and Roxas pause, Roxas moving up in front of Vanitas. The two praying they might sneak past, but the circling priest is another matter. Roxas leans back into the hallway, knowing his time to get to the library is fleeting.
"Keep circling." Roxas whispers. When the priest is on the opposite side of the room, Roxas and Vanitas run as fast as they can, their upper bodies crouch down. He motion makes their legs ache and their backs twinge, but while Vanitas grunts, Roxas recites a mental litany against pain taught him by one of his tutors. When they are halfway to the door leading to the library, one of the praying men leans back and shouts in a twisted cry of pain and triumph.
Roxas' instinct is to freeze but he doesn't obey it. That is something else he's long ago been trained to ignore. He rolls before the pillar, dragging Vanitas with him, then spins about to look. One priest stands before the statue, a knife in hand. Blood spills from his other arm, his severed hand lying on the smooth obsidian altar. Vanitas tries not to think on the horror of seeing a man mutilate himself in the name of his god.
The other praying priest stands and wraps his arms around the bleeding man. The third continues his circling and singing as if nothing unusual is happening.
"Don't fight the pain." The unwounded priest says. "In darkness we bleed to prevent the darkness spreading to others. We must give all to defy the chaos of this world. Your pain is nothing compared to the suffering of thousands."
Vanitas tugs Roxas towards away from the sight. His footsteps went mute as they sank into plush gold and black carpeting. The walls were lined with shelves decorated with colorful glass knickknacks and boats. Tall floor candelabrums with fancy flat bowls accented the space. Scanning the walls, he could find no windows.
Old-fashioned threadbare tapestries depicting medieval knights, nobles, and ladies hung in their place over the decorative walls.
A plush Persian carpet runner ran the length of the floor beneath his feet, while tall curio cabinets full of strange artifacts like gold scarabs, foreign ankhs, and bleached animal skulls lined the walls on either side of him. Long hallway tables holding stacks of ancient books sat outside several set of closed double doors along with heavy high-backed chairs, the arms of which bore the carved images of crouching sphinxes.
Golden candelabra shaped like women in flowing gowns adorned the walls, the low and steady light they offered between their outstretched hands providing minimal relief from the darkness that saturated everything.
He rushed, keeping his aim on one of the many gigantic ebony pairs of double doors.
With it being on the ground level, the library expands all across the walls. The forty-foot high ceiling makes you feel like you've shrunk. The crystal stain glass dome allows an expanse of natural light to brighten the room. An expanse of plush couches and loveseats and armchairs are scattered across the floor and on the upper level. They're around fireplaces and near windows so one can enjoy their novel in the upmost comfort. The shelves on the floor level are a least twenty feet tall, and to get to the second floor you have to take a metal spiral staircase. Priests here visit on a rainy weekend, but today it's fairly empty.
Apart from tables being scattered about, Roxas could easily spot the bust Vanitas mentioned. The thing was about the size of the man it was inspired off of. It was that of a gaunt, deep-browed man with unruly hair and a small black-comb mustache. His eyes look sad, desperate and wild all at the same time. Sunken and pooled by enormous dark circles, they seem to ache with sorrow.
"This, is a great man whose reputation we need to tarnish? Might as well be the slave of the Abyss." Roxas says as Vanitas closes the doors behind them.
"If I was strict on religion I'd order you to hold your tongue. Thankfully I'm not."
"There are no limits for the faithless." Roxas remarks. "So, how do you plan to ruin this?"
"Well, breaking it would be too, simple." Vanitas sighs. "We need to really, smatter his image. Show the townspeople we don't care who you are, you abed to our rules."
"Sounds like something we should've left for someone, mentally more creative." Roxas carefully words.
"No mere lunatic could s easily sneak into the temple. But any ideas?"
"You're asking the wrong person." Roxas says as he wanders around. "I'll leave that to you."
Vanitas shrugs and draws a dagger and a burlap sack. The minute he pulls it out, Roxas catches the scent of something foul. Knowing what's in the bag, Roxas leaves him and explores the cast expanse of shelves. His heart thrums at the sight of all the books holding so many secrets; about training, fighting skill, the history of the town and previous rulers.
Roxas follow the labels until he reach the History section on the second floor. So far nothing seemed worth looking at. As he weaves between the shelves, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a short hallway, with an old door at the end with a large door pull hand forged.
It seemed separated from the rest of the library, like a forgotten section that was undergoing demolition soon. Something about it seemed, different. With curiosity eating at his innards, Roxas follows down the hallway and pull open the door and discovered a long stairwell that went down into endless darkness. It took him down below to what he assumed would be the basement.
Instead, it leads him to another abandoned library, or whatever could be larger than that, since the first thing he saw is books. Inside, the musty air held an antique thickness, and the scent of dust and aging books combined to make breathing a chore. The front room stretched before me long and narrow, lined with rows of tall, sturdy bookshelves that reached almost the ceiling. Overhead, the tired light of torches burned a dull gold, adding little relief to the accumulated shadows. Carefully, he steps around a mound of ancient looking tomes gathered near the door. Roxas moves between two shelves and thought about calling out but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to break the dead silence. His gaze passes up and over the marked spines of countless books; every item categorized by its own number and date, and it makes him feel almost as though he is walking through catacombs. When he reaches the end, Roxas peers around the shelf to see a counter. Well, really, he sees a lot of books piled on top of something that at one time must have been a counter.
The small space has been completely dominated with spider webs over the years, had one wall with maps and pictures and even mysterious markings along its one side. Judging from the number of bottles scattered across the floor, whosever study this was, he was a drinker. Which means his information is less than anything useful. Still, Roxas traces his fingers over ritualistic markings along the wall, and pause when he sees one written in red.
"No one leaves"
His skin crawls with gooseskin as he looks closer and see the imprint of a fingerprint. Did he write this with ink, or his blood?
Ghosting his fingers along the artificial wood shelving, he comes to an old logbook squished at the very end. Its old parchment and leather binding showed it was probably from the earlier century. Pulling it off the shelf, Roxas blows on the cover, stirring up a cloud of dust.
The thing was heavy and thick. The cover has long been worn away and all that's left are faint gold etchings. Its yellow pages are crisp and wrinkled, popping and cracking as he breezes through them with his thumb. They went easily, as though the pages spent more time being pinned apart than clumped together. Its spine made a soft creaking noise as he pulls it open. Sheets of folded paper fall out to the floor, puddle at his feet. Gathering them up, Roxas finds the nearest armchair and table and begins reading through it.
It mainly talks about the original builders of the temple, along with a few handwritten sections, as if from a personal diary. Purple writing covered every inch of buttery parchment. It was the most beautiful handwriting Roxas has ever seen. Each loop and every curl connected cleanly to make the writing itself appear as perfect and uniform as a printed font. It baffles Roxas how someone could sit and take the time to form letter so meticulously.The folded sheets of paper talk about secret passages all throughout the estate for emergencies in time of war. Others held small notes that he's sure were meant to be put in later.
He hears Vanitas call for him, and Roxas would have commented on how stupid the move was, but he sounded close. Soon enough his head pops through the doorway and he's down the steps, his cape trailing behind him.
"Hey, all done. But we should leave before the smell catches on." He notions with a thumb pointing over his shoulder.
"Okay, just give me a minute." Roxas says.
"Man, you always seem to find the strangest places." He says as he looks around.
Vanitas follows Roxas as he heads further into the complex, through a maze of old armor, racks of swords crates of cloth and jars upon jars of food. He stops and turns towards a stack of paintings propped against each other. Each of them is rectangular, the length of a man lying on his side.
Roxas grabs one of the paintings, Vanitas grabs the corner to help. Together they hold the picture and stare. It shows seven men and women, their bodies wrapped in black cloth. They hold daggers, staves, and swords in hands hidden by waves of shadow that roll of their bodies like smoke from fire. At their feet lie over twenty dead paladins.
"Well painted, if a bit overdramatic." Roxas says.
"They are the Faceless." Vanitas says, his eyes going distant.
"Who?"
Vanitas is about to answer, when a cry comes from the outer library.
"Later, we need to go."
He takes Roxas' wrist and Roxas lets the painting clank back against the others as they rush up the stairs and out to the main library. The door creaked and they slip between the small opening and quietly shut it behind them. Clapping his hands, Roxas relieves them of any dust and cobweb residue.
The boys peak over the edge and spot one of the priests kneeling in front of what remains of the bust.
Roxas looks and finds the thing chopped in pieces, smeared with brown waste – the smell alone making Roxas wrinkle his nose in disgust. Then the head was decapitated and stuck to torn open inside out, the torso peeled and torn like fabric. The priest wails in agony and Roxas peers to Vanitas.
"You sure like to add your own flare on things don't you." Roxas says.
Vanitas shrugs. "What can I say? I like originality."
"Well let's see you 'originality' get us out of this." Roxas challenges.