12. Never Speak About The Ashes
They find a piano at the edge of the sun-setting town. Axel brushes it lightly, hesitantly, at first. The instrument leaves ten patches of pale dust on all ten of his clothed fingers. Then he presses down on the keys. They go down. Up. Down again. Thud thud thud thud thud.
"Courtesy of Mr D.," he says, and Namine grins back at him. The strange, disjointed, careful, clumsy noises send shivers along her spine. When he finally settles into the melody proper he sends little sparks, little candle-flames, dancing over the keys as they move. She gasps, claps. It burns visions and dreams into her head, the sight, sound, everything. This is life.
They get up to leave, one tiny meal and much-needed nap later. Once outside, Axel's piano-playing fingers go snap. Slow, callous flames paint the house's walls, lick across the room, trickle up the piano.
This is -
Namine grabs his arm. "Why? Nobody's going to hunt us down. DiZ can't, Riku won't, Organization XIII…" Tears burn in her eyes. "But you didn't need to…"
He almost laughs her passion aside, not understanding her grief - the way someone with a real heart is supposed to. And she doesn't know how to tell him that back in the abandoned house it is fire devouring wood and wood consumed by fire. That it is precarious, the balance between gentleness and brutality. And the way they both live off each other. In storms, in fireplaces, in blank castles... ever since the beginning of time.
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Note: Challenge prompt - Fire.