She is afraid, strangely enough. The kinds of pencils she has been drawing with for—well, ages, it seems, are suddenly frightening and alien. She hasn't dared even doodle since leaving the Organization for good, scared of what might happen. What if she messes something up again? She almost ruined everything once, already. What if it happens again? Maybe Sora will never speak to her again. No, that's a silly fear, isn't it?
Maybe she can't draw anymore. Maybe that's it. Maybe the second the pencil hits the paper, she'll draw something that's complete garbage. She probably doesn't have that ability anymore. So why bother trying?
The part of her that is disgustingly optimistic informs that the only way she'll know for sure is if she tries. Psh. Yeah, right. Drawing was all she was. If that's not still there, then what is left of her? Then she really will be a true Nobody. That would make Marluxia proud, wouldn't it?
She sighs. Her stupid, optimistic side acts up again. Honestly, can't it just leave her to mope by herself? Stupid happy side. Okay, fine, so maybe she misses drawing—but just a little, alright! Hardly at all. Barely enough to even elicit notice. She's just…bored. Isn't there anything to do around this stupid place, anyway?
But it's who you are, that little voice presses, concern lacing the ever-present joy. And you've never had more to draw—least of all for fun.
But what if she can't draw anymore?
Of course you can still draw.
But what if something happens? What if something goes terribly wrong?
Nothing is going to happen. Nothing bad, anyway. No one will laugh at you.
Right, whatever. She doesn't even like drawing anymore.
Don't make me laugh. Just give it a shot, okay? I'm right here.
Right there? Really?
Of course. It's not like I can be anywhere else.
Fair enough. She mock-sighs, knowing that nothing can match her optimistic side for sheer determination.
It's dark in the room, but a single figure can be discerned. Her fiery hair seems to be its own light, softly shimmering in the scant light coming through the window. Her bluish eyes furrow in concentration, as a pencil in her hand moves swiftly across the white page, making broad strokes and careful shadings. She stays that way for a long time, looking up briefly when she gets her pens for inking and coloring. The simple joy on her face seems too much for a single person to feel.
Finally, she finishes. She scrutinizes it for a moment, apparently satisfied with the work. Perhaps she will give this one to Sora. She puts it gently by her bag, picks up her pencils, and begins again.
Nothing belongs to me...but the plot, of course. Semi-based on something I've been feeling. If you didn't follow, it's from Namine's point of view, and the "happy side" is Kairi. It's all set roughly post KH-II.