Dark Voices, Psychotic Purposes

She sat at her desk as always, reading her book as Strife presumably slept soundly on the sofa. But she knew he was awake, only tried to stay away from conversation. He saw this too, when he peeked through the corner of his eye, and decided to make one. Strife opened his eyes, staring up at the large, sandstone ceiling as he spoke.

"So, what do I call you then? It's been about two weeks, so it's about time I did. Will it be Master, Mistress, Ma'am, or maybe Your Grace? Seems everyone around here calls you that."

"Call me whatever you want," she answered.

"Really?" he grinned menacingly. "Alright then, lady."

She looked to him sharply, finally diverting her sight away from her book. "Just don't call me that."

He laughed, sitting up and turning to her. "Then what do I call you?"

"Nevaeh," she replied. "Just call me Nevaeh."

He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. "You don't really want a servant do you?"

"No, not really. Especially one who talks too much," she shot back. "I like me solitude, thank you, and I always have. I don't really like it that much when the maids come to do my hair, either."

"Then why did you get one?" he asked.

"Because I had too. He said it would make me look more...well, that I control the life of another person."

"He?" Strife inquired. 'Who's 'he' ?"

"The one who brought me here. Who said I had great potential, like my father."

"Oh," he nodded. "So you fight here like your father, do you?"
"I guess, or at least that's what he said. I don't know."

"You don't like this guy very much, do you?" he asked.

"Not really. See, I don't exactly want to fight, but I have too, for the cause. If I fight, then he'll take control of worlds and I'll be able to find my family." Her face frowned. "Though...I don't quite remember them...I have no idea how I lost my memories, but I must've hit my head before I was found, like you almost."

He just stared, wondering. This sounded almost familiar, like something was missing. He asked when she had been found, and she told him three years before. It was almost too coincidental then, but there was no proof. Maybe it was just a fault, for the worlds had begun to disappear three years before, so maybe the same had happened to her, just on a different world.

She sighed, closing her book and standing. She walked over to him, leaning over to get face to face and shrugged. "Want to go for a walk?"

He started to laugh, Nevaeh smiling in realizing the irony to it. Strife nodded his head, Nevaeh standing straight and grabbing his wrists. She flipped the chain that had been around her neck to reveal a key, pulling it off her head and unlocking the cuffs. Going to the table as he rubbed his soar wrists, she turned, Strife finding that she soon tied a rope around one. Nevaeh only grinned, explaining.

"I have to put you on something or else you might drag behind and the guards will think your an assassin."

"But aren't you suppose to be all great and powerful?" he questioned.

"Yes, but sometimes I neglect my sense of people."

"Why?"

She did not answer, but only tugged him along and out the door. They entered into a dark hallway, guards standing at her door. She told them to watch the place while she was gone, where they stood their ground as they past. With it, the hall lead out to another, the brightness of the sun reflecting on the battle grounds. A fight was taking place, with one side being a human, the other a team of Heartless. But Nevaeh only pulled him along past it, as if not wanting to look anymore. She lead him to another hall, this one with no battle arena but still bright with the outside. The stone roof kept them in shade, but Strife did no such thing. As Nevaeh let the rope go, she told him he could go look off the edge and into the light. He did so, turning up to the sky to get the rays of the sun on him. When he looked back, he breathed in the fresh air, looking to the ground. From high above he saw something, narrowing his eyes in thought of what it was. But he really didn't need to, for Nevaeh would explain.

"That's the statue of my so-called father. I can imagine him with the silver hair and green eyes, but I do not see him. Though I do not remember much, I do remember that my father was not evil. That statue, no matter if it was a mistake or not, depicts one who is."

"Oh, come now, you don't really think that, do you?" a voice came from the side, Strife looking behind to find a dark, blue-fire haired creature, an icy glaze over his face. Nevaeh didn't need to look to know who it was, even before he spoke.

"What do you want, Hades?" she questioned.

"The question to be asked is, what are you doing out here?"

"I went for a walk. Big deal," she stated.

"And you took him with you?" Hades asked.

"Of course," she said. "His feet are better, and it's about time he went out and saw some daylight!"

"Unlike you, I suppose," he mumbled. Nevaeh looked to face him, clenching her fists and the hair on her had began to rise. He smirked, holding up his hands and backing away. "Whoa, now, only kidding! Jeez, tough crowd! Anyway, I'm here to tell you that your battle has been changed. Instead of later today, it should be right about..." A bell in the distance rang, and his sharp teeth were exposed when he grinned, "now."

She huffed, annoyed already. Hades looked to Strife, reaching out a hand and a dark essence wrapping around his neck. A black chocker collar with chain to his hand formed, Hades pulling him along.

"I'll just take care of this for yo-"

"No!" she shouted, calming when they both stared in question. "I mean, I'll take him. If anything stall the match, but I'll take him back to the room myself."

Hades frowned, snapping his fingers and the chocker disappearing. She went over to Strife quickly, grabbing the rope still around his wrist and soon walking. Hades scowled in anger when they were gone around the corner, disappearing in a puff of smoke. She walked slowly from then on, finally getting to her room in silence a few minutes after. He sat back on the couch, knowing that she would have to put the chain back around his hands. Oddly, he would've thought she'd put them on first before she let the rope go, but instead she took the rope off his wrists and then paused, sighing as she put the metal chains back on him. When she stood up, she turned away, walking to the door.

"I'll be right back," she said, depressed. With it the door quietly shut behind, leaving him in silence.

He just sat there for the longest time, wondering why. She had always seemed to depressed, and now, he finally realized she was sad. But why? She had everything anyone could want here, so what, she didn't want it? If anything, this was better than being in the mines, with no sunlight for ages. But was it really that bad to live your own life, only for the price of fighting once a day? It only lasted for about two minutes, and she came back everyday, sometimes with blood on her armor and sometimes not. It reminded him when the first time he knew she was like this. She came back one day with blood of another competitor, washing her hands off. When she had looked over her shoulder, he saw that she had blood on her one white wing. She knew this too, looking at it for a long while before she plucked it, holding it in front of her. He saw her grip it in her hand, shutting her eyes. He could see her sadness as a tear had fallen down her cheek, and it was not because of the pain in her wing now. There was no expression to her, but as she dropped it, he could hear her whisper, though she had not intended for him to do so.

'Is this all I am?' she had asked, though he did not know what she was speaking of, and to that day he did not know.

Maybe, with all these questions he had been asking, and all those she did not answer, were leading up to something. Or maybe...she did not even know herself. Maybe she didn't know why she was the way she was, but had just been that way. If she really didn't know who she was, where she came from, or why she was even there or how she got there, maybe she found it hopeless to know and just went along with everything like a puppet of some kind.

A puppet...Somehow, back in his mind, that reminded him of something. Something of what he had heard long ago. But he shook his head, finding it useless to think these thoughts. He couldn't remember anything, and she certainly wasn't going to tell him anything, so what was the point?

He sat back up when he heard the door open, but was surprised when it was just a crack. It slowly creaked and Nevaeh came scuffing in, holding out her hands. Her eyes were paler than usual, bloodshot around the edges. There was blood again on her, but as she slowly made her way to the pool to take off her armor, she did, revealing a hole in the metal. A severe gash plagued her side, Nevaeh slowly putting her hands into the water and splashing it in her face. She still continued to blink, and as she looked to the ceiling widely he could see it did not help any. She stood up again, fumbling once more, as Strife stood up, approaching her as if she did not see him.

"Nevaeh? Are you okay?" he asked.

She laughed, her voice chocked. "I won...That's...always good. The only problem is," she turned to face him, her hand out in front of a wound gouged into her stomach, bleeding tremendously through her shirt, as she looked emulously around, "they forgot to blot out the sun when I was out there."

She stumbled a bit more before she fell forward, Strife there to catch her. He held there for a moment as her eyes rolled back, asking where her guards were. She was able to answer they were on their break. So, all he could do was yell for help, sitting down for her to get off her feet. Someone heard him and found them there, screaming for help when the maid knew Nevaeh was in need for a medic. Several came, coming to her aide and taking her from him, putting on the bed to begin healing her. One of them began wrapping her head over his eyes in bandages, another trying to heal her side. Strife just stood back, watching as they did there work. As they all finished their tasks, there was only one thing that none of them could heal. It was the wound in her abdomen, for it was took deep for even them to heal. So they decided to just wrap it, and wait for it to seal up on its own to where they could heal it.

Even though he could've cared less in the beginning, right now there was too much he wanted to know about her. He was just too curious in her past to let them do this, for the fact she could die, when he himself out do something. Though, he couldn't do anything until they let him go, until he was far enough to put a hand on her forehead.

"Hey, you guys! I can help!" he said.

"Sure you can kid," one of them laughed.

"No, really, I can! Just let me go and I can help!" Every medic and guard in the room began to laugh, but Strife remained stern. "Look, what am I going to do with seven guards in this room who could kill me if I tried to do anything funny? Please, she's going to die if someone doesn't do something, and since you can't let me at least try!"

The room went silent, knowing he was actually being serious. The main guard shrugged, knowing that it wouldn't hurt. One of the other guards snickered, knowing that the only thing he could hurt was his reputation. Strife ignored them when the others began to do the same, being unchained when the guard unlocked the cuffs. All went quiet when he quickly went over to her side, putting a hand on her forehead and begin careful of his claws. He put his other hand over her wound, slowly moving his gloved hand back over her hair as he leaned over, putting his forehead on hers. With it he whispered something, something he had known but not quite understood how he knew it, only that it worked.

"Healing wind," he whispered, a soft breeze beginning to flow through the windows. A green essence came from the ground, ghostly coming up and breathed in by her, the other half circling into the wound. Strife stood back as she gasped for breath, the wound suddenly icing over in like a cast and healing rapidly. It dissipated like crystal shards into the air, disappearing without a trace.

The area grew still as she coughed, lifting her hand to her side.

"Your Grace?" one of the medics asked.

"Thank you, medics and guards, if you are there. I'll be fine, but please inform the person in charge of battles to make sure the sun's blotted out next time."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"You may leave," she said, waving a hand.

The guards put the chains back on Strife's wrists again, walking out as she had requested. Guards would stay by the door, more than usual, with no breaks until she was better as they were ordered after. She would be out of commission for some time until her eyes got better, so, Strife thought, she might be a good time to get some answers...or the best time to steal that key.

At night, when all was still and quiet. Strife knew for sure that she was asleep, so it was the perfect time to get that key around her neck. He stood up, trying to get the chains from rattling too much. He could be just in reach of the chain a little past her shoulder, thought that was stretching it. The moon shown through the wide, open windows, giving him light to see. He reached for it, the gold just reflecting off his fingers when he thought he had it. But he jumped, however, when a hand reached out, Nevaeh chuckling.

"I may be blind, Strife, but I am not deaf," she stated, letting his hand go for him to back away. She grabbed the key and put it back under her head so he would no longer be able to reach it.

He mumbled something in annoyed anger, sitting down. "So you knew."

"Of course I did!" she laughed. "What else would a servant try but to take the key for freedom when their owner's down for the count?"

"That obvious, huh?" he asked, and she nodded.

She turned her head as if she could see if, but still had the bandages over her eyes. "Then again, if you just ask you can have it."

"Really?" he said brightly.

"Well, then again there are about ten guards out that door, not to mention the ones roaming the halls, so your window escape is blown. And even if you pass them, there's no way of getting off this rock. There are no ships kept here."

Strife sank in misery then, sighing. "Great..." He shrugged. "I guess if I am stuck here I can resort to Plan B."

"Plan B?"

"Yeah...I finally ask questions about your past."

"About my past? Why would you want to know that?" she asked.

"Dunno. Just curious I guess."

"Well, if you're going to ask me questions I get to ask one to you."

"Okay, shoot."

"You were the one who healed this wound of mine, didn't you? And if you really did...why?"

He paused, not quite sure of the last question himself. But at least he could tell her he had done it, for truth reasons. When he had, though, there was a long moment of hesitation. He couldn't answer the why, and she knew it, but just for the fact that he had surprised her.

Strife finally grinned. "Okay, my turn. Where do you come from?"

"I...don't know..." she answered finally, looking away.

"Then do you know who your mother was? Your father's name?"

"...No..." She turned on her side, away from him. "Strife, do you mind if you ask me these things in the morning. My eyes hurt too much for this."

"What? What does answering questions have to do anything with your eyes?"

Again, a long pause, when she sat up, carefully crawling out of bed. Strife stood as she slowly walked over, reaching out a hand before she ran into him and stopping. She moved her hand up to her face, going under the bandages and bringing her hand back, Strife standing back as he saw what it was. Blood, and more came down her cheek like tears and her expression finally turned sad.

"My eyes will burn with the tears, my eyelids with be scraped and bleed if I cry...So if you don't mind I'd rather you ask these things when my eyes are a bit better."

"Yeah...sure..." he answered.

She twirled back around, trying to find her way back to the bed. She did not know, though, when the step would be there, and hit her ankle on it. She fell to her knees, clenching up her hands and gritting her teeth. Her throat tightened, her eyes squeezing out yet another stream of blood-tears. She spoke, her voice twisted.

"Such a pathetic creature am I, to suffer in such weakness. I have always lived in darkness, and if my eyes meet the sun shall they burn as they did. I can never walk out without a hat because my skin is too fair, and I must wait for years if I am ever to just walk out and look at the blue sky above. What a shame, that I live and hear those dark voices say, "Are we having fun yet? You like this psychotic purpose set for you?" You tell me what is worse...living as you do, with no memories, with those haunted days in the mines, or to live your life to be served upon and still have no memories, yet to fight and strike fear in those who serve and oppose me?" She shook her head, slamming her fist into the marbled floor. "I can't take it anymore. Someone else can do this job, because I can't stand it any further. My life is worthless, only used to defeat obstacles in the way..."

Strife suddenly came behind her, sitting her up and lifting her chin. He smiled with empathy, even though she could not see him, shaking his head.

"Your life isn't worthless, Nevaeh. No life is worthless. You want to find your family, that is why you do this," he said. "Once, to tell you the truth, I thought of myself the same way. Life...had no meaning towards me. I thought that I might've done something wrong in my life I couldn't remember, and that I paid for it with being stuck the way I was. Life was gray...literally and in myself. But on that day when I saw the first ray of sunlight I could remember, I knew I was not cursed this way...but instead did I know there was something else out there. I could bring my life to a new if a really wanted to. You could do the same, and you are."

"The only thing wrong with that is I can't witness a ray of sunshine," she said.

"Yeah, but you don't need to. Not if you know it's there."

She turned her face away, thinking. "So... though there may always be a storm, there's always a bright sky to see too..."

"Now you get the picture." He moved his regular hand across her face, whipping the blood from her face. "Now no more tear from your eyes, okay? No more lonely cries." She nodded her head, leaning against his arm. She just stayed there for a long moment, Strife, almost feeling himself blush, but pulled away gently, standing and helping her up. He helped her to the bed as far as he could go, Nevaeh finding it and climbing in. He turned to leave back to get some sleep, but suddenly she reached out her hand, finding his.

"Thank you, Strife. You're a real friend, you know that?"

"Thanks...You are too," he replied, gripping her hand slightly and then letting it go once more, falling to the side. He mouthed the words 'Good night' as he went back to the sofa, kicking his feet and shutting his eyes, falling asleep in knowing he had finally done something good in return for her kindness.