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Crack!
A spider web of fissures skittered across the blast resistant glass. Irritated, Vexen glanced at the window for a split second and resumed fine tuning his equations. The boss wanted a new clone from the Replica project and did not leave to imagination what would happen should Vexen fail to meet his demands in the recommended time frame.
Crash!
The sound of breaking glass convinced the irate scientist to investigate, hopefully Zexion did not spill any dangerous substances. Vexen rubbed his eyes. Lank, blonde hair escaped the messy ponytail on his head and he rounded the giant laboratory counter and stopped at the floor to ceiling length windows overlooking the nighttime, technicolor landscape of Los Angeles.
The teeth of a black Keyblade protruded through the seemingly impenetrable glass; the weapon vibrated, before tearing out of the window and flying downwards. A siren wailed in Organization XIII's building before the entire window fell apart, large sheets of glass cascading to the floor.
Vexen stood dumbly. Too much coffee and energy drinks? He rubbed his eyes. Gale force winds furiously grabbed his coat. Funny, the chilly academic thought, the tree lined street far below was alarmingly still.
A cyclone ripped through the office. His shield materialized in a flash of ice, bracing against the glass shards spearing inwards. Bewildered and worried about his experiments, Vexen strengthened his shield and inched backwards, to engage the safety systems in place.
Searing pain erupted across his chest. A crimson flower bloomed on the left side of his lab coat.
He gurgled for air. Black prongs, the teeth of the Keyblade, he realized belatedly, jutted from between his ribs.
Crack!
Hints of jasmine and sandalwood scented the perfumery. Slender vials rattled on the desk and Marluxia, frustrated with the low tide of this season's sales, swept his arm across the counter and smashed the bottles to the floor.
A symphony of smells rose from the perfume saturating the ground. The scents clashed overwhelmingly, burning his nostrils. More often than not, this hazardous stench prompted him to think of a new perfume.
He drew inspiration from the wells of chaos.
A sudden tempest whisked the scents away. The floor to ceiling length window offering a sweeping vista of Los Angeles, contained a gaping, jagged hole. Glass vials crunched under boots and Marluxia tensed. Deep in the building, the klaxon blared, a dull throb of sound. Here in his studio, the tinted bottles lining the shelves vibrated. Shaking.
Clinking.
The first row of bottles smashed on the ground, the oppressive fumes of rose petals wafted to the air. Violent wind gurgled down the corridor, denting the door. Metal screeched in protest, the electronic locks short-circuited and the gale stopped.
Graceful Dahlia appeared in a flurry of ruby petals. Marluxia viciously swept his scythe, scowling in annoyance when the intruder ducked in record speed. Only a handful of blonde hair rained to the floor.
"Who are you?" Marluxia demanded. The individual hopped backwards, back winged by glowing swords. "How did you get in here?"
The flush lights in the ceiling flickered, momentarily plunging the studio in shadow. Wind whistled past Marluxia and gritting teeth, he twirled his scythe, fending off a flurry of lightning fast attacks. His foot slid in the sticky mess of perfume and glass fragments. Taking advantage of the split second confusion on the perpetrator's face, he slashed upwards.
A thin cut appeared on the boy's chin. He wiped it petulantly, irises pulsing gold.
Discarding the short keyblade, he pulled two of the crystalline swords from the arsenal floating behind him and effortlessly diced the perfumery workbench. Blocks of marble, wood and metal crumbled to the ground. Smirking at the annoyance clenching Marluxia's jaw, he flung his sword and the nobody jerked his head sideways.
The sword plunged into a group of essential oil bottles. Another deafening crash and Marluxia desperately reigned his leaking bloodlust. It only served to amuse the boy. Teleporting, he appeared behind the boy and raised his scythe, the child turned his head slowly.
A sharp pain erupted in Marluxia's chest. A bouquet of blood bloomed on his linen shirt and two swords stabbed him cleanly through his ribs and stomach. Freezing hilts pressed against his skin.
Gusts of wind scattered the blood dripping to the floor.
The boy, holding another blade, stepped in front of Marluxia who wretchedly clutched the swords through his body and rasped for air. His head see-sawed. Crows whirled in front of his eyes and shed feathers, forcing his vision to go blank. He found himself in a distant past, in a field of emerald green grass and vibrant poppies. A shard of ice pressed painfully against his throat.
"Where is Xehanort?"
That voice... Marluxia knew the tone. The boy... the...
Roxas?
09:45 a.m.
Gatewater Hotel
Kitchen
Pristine steel tables gleamed under bowls of rice flour, sheets of agar-agar and an array of utensils. A pot boiled on the azure flame gas stove and Sora watched Kairi stirring the chestnut puree with a long spoon. She turned the flame off and whisked the pot to the counter.
Wearing a chef's apron and hat, Trucy whipped cream with a balloon whisk, taking care not to make a mess.
"Most people think traditional sweets are difficult to make." Kairi resumed working on the stove. Another saucepan boiled with a sweet, strawberry syrup and palls of smoke floated in the air. "But they mostly use a few key ingredients which you can experiment endlessly to create a variety of sweets." Without pausing, she expertly poured the clear red liquid in a mold. "This needs to set before I chop it up. Meanwhile... Trucy, is the cream ready?"
A dollop of cream dangling at the end of her ponytail, how did it get there? Trucy passed the steel dish to Kairi who clapped delightedly. She spooned it in a clear piping bag and squeezed a little mound of cream on a pale yellow steamed bun. Somehow, the cream evolved into a cute little rabbit with chocolate bead eyes.
"The sweets must be pleasing to the eye and palate." Passing the piping bag to Trucy, Kairi manipulated a pale pink paste and shaped it with into delicate cherry blossoms. A gentle smile lifted her lips. The rest of the kitchen staff tiptoed politely around her, taking care not to shatter her concentration. "Normally, sweets are made to reflect the season," she said. More blossoms lined the steel table, each more realistic than the last. "In summer you have a lot of agar-agar based deserts, they are refreshing and normally served cold."
She detailed the flowers with a ball tool and Sora was sorry to eat such masterpieces. Stick them on a branch and no one could tell the difference between the real cherry blossoms and the sugar spun ones. Kairi slid to her block of strawberry jelly, between making the flowers and bunny shaped creams, she found time to set another pot to boil. The tart flavor of litchis lingered on his tongue.
"Here," she slid a plastic bowl across the counter to Sora, "this is rice flour dough, try making little dumplings with it."
He regarded the bowl and its glutinous, glistening contents. "Me?" Sora floundered as bottles of natural food coloring joined the base of the bowl.
A group of novice chefs hung out of reach, admiring Kairi's work with starry eyes. Taking over the pastel pink concoction, Trucy churned more flowers. Anxiety contracting the pit of Sora's stomach, he slowly stuck his hands in the dough and shuddered at its sticky texture.
Carving the red jelly into tiny goldfish, Kairi delicately placed them on a bed of green jelly before setting it into another silicone mold and pouring a transparent liquid on top of it. She set it aside and inspected Trucy's work while Sora pounded the dough and prayed no one looked at him too closely.
"Sora, are you hitting the gym?" Kairi abruptly asked and gathered the flowers. "You look," she paused, "you're filling out your shirt," she eventually stated and smiled.
The compliment induced a warm flush of panic and pride. Tucking his chin into his muffler, he focused on the dough.
"You're right," Trucy exclaimed and gently tapped out a wobbly cheesecake from a cake tin. She and Kairi stopped working and attacked the still steaming cheesecake with forks. Twin pairs of bright blue eyes raked Sora. "You used to be skinny before, now you're more like Vanitas. Your shirt is tight around your shoulders."
Please don't notice me.
The team of chefs hanging at the end of the table increased, some of them glanced at Sora and finding nothing special, resumed ogling the traditional sweets.
"Do you go to the gym?" Kairi pressed. She wiped crumbs off her mouth and sliced what remained of the cheesecake, not much, into perfect little squares. Cream roses flowered on the surface of the slices and she packed them into a tray. "I'm happy you are doing something for yourself at least."
It's not like I have a choice.
The fan oven dinged and another sheet of round cakes trooped out. These were to be filled with red bean paste, which Trucy smashed vigorously and taste-tested by scooping it with her fingers. She nodded to herself and ate some more while the kitchen staff frowned disapprovingly.
Handling the cakes, Kairi liberally spread the jam on the dome shaped pancakes, filling the awkward silence with sounds, she sandwiched two together and offered it to Trucy.
"I think I want to be a pastry chef instead," she announced and Sora laughed.
He clamped shut when the two woman peeked at him eagerly.
A row of vaguely spherical pieces of dough lined a sheet of parchment paper and he relaxed when Kairi and Trucy discussed the best toppings to go with a water cake. Duty forced the rest of the kitchen staff to trudge forlornly back to their stations and before long, the kitchen grew steamy. An undercurrent of tension blanketed the atmosphere, evidenced by the way the cooks worked, in jerky movements, their every task dictated by the screaming head chef. The lunch hour approached and it put the chefs in a foul mood.
"I couldn't defend myself when I got attacked while shopping," Sora mumbled. Kairi needed some sort of explanation, he owed her this much for her unconditional kindness. "I was... Trucy and I were in hospital. I'm sure you have heard?"
She nodded, her hands busy and eyes lowered.
"I got mugged in the parking lot." Not really. "He pulled out two knives," keyblades, "and stabbed me." He hatched my chest with wounds so deep, it still aches when I breathe hard. "I couldn't do anything." Sora stretched the dough between his fingers. "He knocked me into a coma and when I came to, I thought I'd work out so the next time someone does anything, I can at least punch them in the nose... or... or kick them where it hurts." His smile faltered when he met Kairi's sorrowful stare. "I suppose its bonus points if I end up looking... err... uh... yeah," Sora stammered.
His cheeks burned like someone lit a fire on them. Trucy chirped another compliment and in a few short moments, Sora was back to cursing those abominable dough balls for failing to keep their shape. The girls sighed at his work and joined him, conjuring a tray of white spheres in record time.
"These will be boiled first," Kairi continued their lesson and the three of them stood in front of her stove to watch the rice flour balls rise to the top as they cooked. "Skewer three of them on a wooden stick and set aside while you make the sauce. Or you can do them simultaneously."
"Yes chief!" Trucy sloppily saluted, tilting her chef's hat. Kairi giggled and combined the glaze's ingredients into a small sauce pan.
Tuckered out from the morning's traditional sweets making lesson Trucy unceremoniously dragged him to the moment he set foot in the agency, Sora surveyed the deserts. He nibbled on a slice of cheesecake, carefully eating it around the elegant, cream rose before shoving the rest of it in his mouth. The jelly immortalized a tropical underwater scene, scarlet jelly fish suspended in a clear block, contentedly floating on a bed of vibrant seaweed. Little bubbles and kelp too. Fumbling with his phone, Sora snapped a picture, Vanitas must see this!
A mound of cherry blossom flowers heaped on the counter and he arranged a few of them together, playing absentmindedly and snapping photos. Steamed buns and little bunnies frolicked in the field of pastel pink flowers and the whistle of a pressure cooker startled him. Waitrons charged in an out of the swinging doors, expertly balancing plates. They waltzed away, passing in front of the pastry station and treating Sora to temporary whiffs of decadent food.
His phone vibrated. Swallowing a steamed bun and its cream bunny whole, poor rabbit, Sora stared at the caller.
Detective Skye?
He stupidly blinked while his phone spazzed on the counter. Did I take my medication this morning?
Probably not. Vanitas was not there to remind him every five seconds before bringing all the pills and an accompanying glass of water right up to Sora's mouth like the dutiful little brother he is.
Lately, when he closed his eyes to sleep, he often saw Roxas. The delivery guy wore a long black coat and sat on the floor, immobile. Seconds later his coat unraveled from the neck, invisible hands stripping him naked till the waist. A jagged scar dripped blood from his chest. The X weeping till a pool of rusty red liquid lapped around the teenager. His dull blue eyes focused on nothing.
"Sora."
The place contained a sea darkness, as if the entire planet knew no light. A rippling field, hypnotic when the glow of a golden, heart shaped moon played on the water. Heart shaped moon?
"Sora!"
A cyan, heart shaped moon peeked behind the round, normal one in the sky. He long stopped trying to make sense of a heart shaped moon.
A hand gripped his shoulder and he jerked back, tearing from the grasp and stiffening. "Sora," Trucy lowered her arm. "Your phone was ringing." She indicated to the device, now silent on the counter. "You were staring at it... are you okay?"
He glanced at Kairi, she politely busied herself at the stove.
"It's nothing," Sora muttered. His phone buzzed with an oncoming message. "Detective Skye wants me to help her investigate evidence." He grinned wanly, secretly relieved to get out of the kitchen. "I'll probably need to help Athena afterwards; she's grappling with a tough case."
Loading a variety of the traditional sweets on a plate, Trucy handed it to him. "These are for everyone at the agency." She waited while Sora undid his apron and fussily fixed his scarf when it came loose. "You should go on strike," she advised playfully, "Daddy is overworking you."
The two woman bade him goodbye and Sora weaseled out of the kitchen.
At the steel counter, Kairi created a giant swirl of cream on a neat square of cake. "Oops," she sighed and put the piping bag down. "I don't think I was supposed to see that." She brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
"Hmm?" Trucy spooned cream in her mouth with a spoon she found in a pot. "Oh..." she tugged her glove, "he used to wear formal attire for work, now he hardly wears a suit unless he is going to court." She drew a shape in the whipped cream. "It's horrible, isn't it?"
"He said he was stabbed."
Furiously blocking the tide of bad memories threatening to wash over her, Trucy inhaled deeply. "Stabbed and cut." She swallowed. "The wacko plunged the knife and dragged it downwards."
She never wore the pinstriped dress again. It joined her too small clothes in the magic box.
02:15 p.m.
Wright and Co. Lawyer agency
Forensic Laboratory.
A laptop whirred on a counter messy with bottles of fingerprint powder and prints lifted from all sorts of surfaces. Chewing the last of the traditional sweets, Sora slid into a bench and waited for the Ema to notice him.
She typed on the keyboard and worked through a giant bag of chocolate snackoos.
How anyone could eat that junk after sampling beautiful traditional sweets was a question Sora pondered and gave up on. His seniors defied logic.
The detective gestured for a file and he hurriedly opened it for her. Feeding information to a slew of empty boxes, she yawned and stretched her arms. "I'm updating my databases," she explained and pushed up her luminol glasses. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Working obsessively again. "The police only has a fingerprint listing," she pouted critically, "and it's not enough. There are cases where the suspect does not leave a fingerprint, but we have a toe or a foot print. If we cross-examine it with the database here," she tapped her screen, "we can pinpoint the criminal and it also acts as decisive evidence." She offered her bag of snackoos to Sora. "Science saves the day."
Touched by her offer, Ema has never invited Apollo share her snacks, Sora ate one. "This is surprisingly delicious," he blurted and she grinned, placing the bag between them. "Sorry I didn't pick up the call earlier, I was busy."
Waving his apology, she pushed the laptop to the far edge of the table and handed him a pair of gloves.
Time for science!
"I want you to check these fingerprints against the database, we need to double check for accuracy. The last thing I want is matching a print with the wrong person." Skye violently munched her snackoos to make a point. "Then, we expand the foot and toe print information and we can consider creating one for shoe prints..." she delved into thought, forehead scrunched into a map of lines.
Tipping fingerprint powder over the samples, Sora blew the excess and brushed it to get a precise picture. He photographed the prints and uploaded them on the laptop. "You should take a break," he advised when the detective rubbed her eyes, smudging her glasses. "I can work on my own." She considered him blearily. "Did... did you have breakfast?"
"Snackoos," she murmured with puffed cheeks.
"Those don't count as breakfast," Sora wearily snapped. "Get some proper food and sleep. I'll finish up here."
Nodding gratefully, Ema stumbled out of the laboratory and the door closed behind her. Frosted glass blurred the corridor beyond.
The ship sailed seamlessly under the cover of thick, ominous clouds. Occasional beams of moonlight clawed through, shining on the pebbly shore of the beach. Standing on a crate with his leg propped on the varnished taffrails, Vanitas peered through the spyglass, searching for anything to break the monotony of blackness. He thought he caught a flash of silver, however, the clouds smothered moonlight and the Isle de Muerta plunged into abysmal darkness yet again.
"See anything?" Jack asked, the beads in his hair clinking as the Black Pearl swayed. "It's full of the undead," he pointed to the shore, "they are only vulnerable to moonlight." He chuckled, a rasping sound Vanitas hoped never to imitate.
The Black Pearl bumped to a gentle stop on the beach and the deckhands ground into motion, anchoring the ship and fastening the sails. A brawl broke out, someone accusing someone of sneaking a last minute drink. Barely did the gangplank hit the sand and Jack descended, followed by Nox.
Eager to meet the infamous pirates, Vanitas, flanked by Donald and Goofy, landed on the beach. Orange outlines seeped from the ground, a mismatch of disemboweled ships and tangerine sail cloths hanging like cobwebs from masts cracked in half. A glowing, acid green soup undulated under the ships and a sudden pain spiked through Vanitas' head. Is that a monstrously sized uvula?
Cold metal sliced his cheek. Shrieks echoed from the beach and sailors fell, blood foaming from their mouths. The reek of metal mingled with the dank smell of the sea. Vanitas moved back and stumbled over a body. He sidestepped a cutlass flashing from the gloom and the blade sliced his jacket.
Unsheathing his cutlass, Sparrow declared, "The undead Pirates are here to give us a warm welcome." He thrust his weapon at the air. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed.
"I'm suspecting he's not totally right in the head," Vanitas growled and decapitated a pirate. The zombie, skin desiccated into a mummy brown, picked its head up and screwed it back on it shoulders. "Hey!" Vanitas hissed. "You're not Link with thirty hearts. Die already!" He followed his sentence with a vicious stab and the undead clobbered him.
"I'm suspecting you might not be totally right in the head either," Nox muttered and raised his hand, filled with a capering fira. It feebly illuminated the surroundings but did nothing to weaken the seething mass of undead gathered on the beaches. Most of the sailors fled to the safety of the Black Pearl and nudged the ship out to sea. "Donald," Riku called and the mage rallied to him. "Let's use Meteor."
Light flared behind the clouds. The rattling of bone and clashing of metal on the beach halted and everyone craned their neck upwards. Blinding trails of light punched through the sky and slammed into the ground, each steaming meteor creating a crater and a shockwave. Flung everywhere and exposed, the undead pirates panicked and attempted to run. They jerked and fell as more rocks rained from the sky. People petrified, from fright or awe, or the carnal need to survive.
The Grey knight blitzed across the screen of sand, Keyblade a shining beacon against the inky darkness of the night. Donald followed him, leaving thunder and ice in his wake while the pirates sluggishly recovered from the onslaught of meteor. Vanitas shook his head, when the devastating attack hit, he slipped. Goofy found him and together, they huddled underneath the shield.
As abruptly as it began, the fighting drew to a close. Nox flicked dark brown blood off his keyblade and moonlight bathed the scene of carnage. Dead, dismembered bodies, as numerous as the crushed shells littering the beach.
How did you do that? Vanitas wanted to ask.
As usual, pride stood firmly in the way and he listlessly followed Riku leading the way deeper into the Isle de Muerta. They stopped every few meters and scoped the area for straggling pirates. Vanitas crushed any breakable thing in immediate sight; rotting planks, barnacle crusted boxes, an iron grille rusted by seawater, all met their end at his blade. The stone steps of the Isle were eroded smooth by the passage of time.
Donald, flapping after the Grey Knight, fell back till he drew level with Vanitas and Goofy.
"A welcome change of pace, fighting with him after so long," the duck quacked.
Goofy faltered. "I'm sure with a little more braiding... err... training, the three of us will be able to use team attacks effectively." He ducked when Vanitas flung Void Gear and demolished an old casket. "No one ever learned the Drive commands as fast as Vanitas."
"...Yeah?" He stopped setting fire to patch of withered grass. The orange-red flames threw dancing shadows across his face. He petulantly kicked a pebble and it skidded across the cobblestone. "How long do you think it'll take me to get on his level?"
Raising an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic display of self-woe, Donald unleashed a bolt of thunder at a bunch of stray heartless. "If your aptitude for teamwork increases... mpfh!"
Clamping a paw on the mage's beak, Goofy chuckled, "Ahyuck, I'm sure you will learn it quickly enough. Riku was with us since..." he mentally calculated while Donald escaped his grip with ruffled feathers, "he was thirteen years old, he went through a lot of training, compared to him-"
"You're inflating his already inflated ego," Donald interrupted rudely. He cracked open an eye when Vanitas failed to articulate his latest duck roasting recipe. "Be alert, we have to find Barbarossa," he quacked. "You can't give it your all when you are sulking."
The Black Saint remained silent.
"He is most likely holed in the Dead Man's cove," Jack Sparrow abruptly stated when the group faced a dead end. The Captain tapped the grimy wall and put his ear against it.
Sucking a breath through clenched teeth, Riku brooded with crossed arms. "And how do we get to the Dead Man's cove?" he demanded, teal irises trained on the lackadaisical Captain.
Tilting his head, Sparrow smiled. "I had a map, I think I lost it." Everyone sighed. A solitary beam of moonlight illuminated the grotto and its craggy, grey walls. "Or maybe it's still on my table... I'm not sure." He retraced his steps while anger surged to Vanitas' head. "Perhaps it's this way?" Jack pointed to a fork in the road. "Or this way?" he indicated to another street with his cutlass. "...Or further back?"
"Make up your mind before I bury you six feet under!" Vanitas barked, fingers curling over his dagger. His humor returned. "Why don't we split and search for the cove? We'll signal each other once we find the entrance, and before you ask," he fired a ball of flames to the sky, "we can send a flare. I bet the cowards on the Black Pearl would be able to see it."
Deliberating, the Grey Knight shook his head. "No. We stick together."
"You don't trust me?"
"It's not what you think." Riku tightened his bandanna. "This area is surrounded by the undead and moonlight is scarce." As if in response, clouds rushed overhead and the smell of rain hung heavily in the air. "If we are apart, we become easy prey." He followed Jack, ambling down a pathway strewn with driftwood. "Clavius, accepting a mission sometimes means you need to do a lot of unnecessary things."
Shut up. You're not Zack.
Dipping his head politely, Vanitas joined Riku and growled at Sparrow halting to peer at one thing or the other. "I wish I could wring his neck," he mutinously mumbled. "And don't tell me you feel otherwise."
Wind bore the smell of the ocean. It stank of fish and seaweed.
Caution! Read the word over and over again. Tape cordoned the entire area of Organization XIII's headquarters. Broken windows scattered as far as the park, situated across a wide boulevard. Forensics retrieved silvers of glass embedded in maple tree trunks.
Police cars swarmed the area and barricaded the streets. Helicopters swept powerful searchlights across the ground and crowds of curious citizens increased. Sirens split the air.
Organization XIII became a hollow carcass. Xemnas rooted in the paved plaza, staring at his pride and joy, mouth a perfect oval of disbelief. Crushed glass glittered around him.
It's always glass.
A police captain approached, a steely glint in her eyes. The squadron accompanying her did not appear friendly. "You are under arrest," she announced and he frowned delicately.
"Me... under arrest?" he echoed hollowly. The tie around his neck choked him. A mere hour ago, he finally reached a decision with the Amano Group and struck a lucrative deal. "What did I do to warrant an arrest?"
Were any of them alive? Saix...
The KBWA had Saix. Xemnas forgot.
"You are under arrest on the grounds of murder," the captain informed. She held out a pair of cuffs. Her hands... she was perfectly capable of shooting him in the leg if he decided to run. "It is suspected you staged this massacre-"
"What?" Xemnas jerked back, offended. "I did not-"
"Your opinions are of no importance to me Mr. Xemnas, you are to come quietly with us. Any attempt to escape will only result to your detriment. Of course," she snapped the cuffs around his wrists, "you are welcome to contact a lawyer."
His head pounded in tune with the sirens. Blue and red light flashed underneath his eyelids, like that day. The day Roxas died. His lips curved into a sardonic grin and several officers scooted warily away from him.
Is this the KBWA's game? Xemnas slid into an armored car, his long jacket caught on the door handle. Was Leonhart here? Or the mouse king? Xehanort chuckled to himself and hapless driver petrified. Did they think they cornered him? He never cared about those pawns working for him.
Burnished gold irises snapped back to the spindle shaped building. Demyx out of all people suggested the white metal lattice encasing the headquarters. Xemnas' gaze softened and the cop car pulled away, tires squealing. Organization XIII was Xemnas' pride and joy. His head hung low. He would never think of killing those working under him.
Sister
Late evening
Wright and Co. Lawyer's agency, Lounge.
The television provided a dim source of light. She recalled bright days in the Kurain village, waking up to her sister's gentle tones. When they hugged, she clung tightly to Mia and inhaled the sweet smell of jasmine. A part of her never accepted the fact of Mia joining the ranks of the dead.
But the blood, the stench of metal. So powerful and pungent. The tears she tasted. Salty... very salty and sad.
"What are you doing in the dark?" Phoenix asked.
"Burgers." Maya replied, hating how her voice cracked. He sat next to her, the couch depressed. "I miss her." She abruptly blurted and stopped obsessively unwrapping the burgers piled on a tray. "I miss her so much, my chest hurts. I can't... breath." Tears swam in her eyes. "Can't breath Nick..."
He clasped her shoulder and pulled her close. Her head rested on his cheek. "I miss her too." Nick gently brushed a tear from her cheek. "...I miss Mia too," he repeated, eyes mindlessly following the program playing on T.V.
A/N: Did everyone like what I did with Ventus? Maya and Mia's sisterly relationship was the inspiration for the last piece of this chapter, I wanted Mia to have a haunting-like presence.
Please read and review, wipe away Maya's sorrowful tears with your wonderful words!