Silhouette

The Nine Lives of a Shadow

By Perfect Image

Eleven to Twenty

Tick, tick, Boom--

- For three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays-

~English Proverb~

::Chapter Five::

Ages Fifteen to Sixteen

Burn Out

Roxas lost Xion, gained a purpose, and made up with Axel. Life was a good as it would ever get, and the young Nobody continued to remember in secret. He slowly regained control over those memories from times long past and worked his way toward the present. He remembered the teddy bear, given to a five-year-old Sora by his younger brother (who wasn't his brother) when his own was lost at school, forgotten in a cubbyhole that was cleared out when they went to school the next day. He remembered his mother (the bitch who had done this to him, to Sora) smiling at him and making cookies, because she loved to bake.

And then he shut down that train of thought, because it strained his consciousness, to do such things. The Superior had done something to the Nobodies, whenever he flicked the switch and enveloped them in darkness. The memories were vague, and the visuals were often confusing and blurred – like a dream of something seen through another's eyes. The words were muted, as if heard from underwater, and the general mood of it was accented by a deep, continuous ba-bump. The main thing was, he noticed, that the feelings he had experienced at that time were subdued, barely there and – and they were shrouded.

Roxas could hardly contain the ice-cold chill that spread across his senses, because that hatred had never been locked away – fickle and always fighting against the darkness. Nobodies could regain feelings lost in the process of becoming Shadows by using memories of those same feelings to dictate their actions. However, and Roxas shoved against the darkness that scattered his snapshots of times gone past, this shroud had to have been produced by Xemnas to keep the feelings out and far away.

In fact, they all must have known. Because he had asked, had asked them all if there was anyway to get the memories back during a time of weakness and confusion after Xion died. And only Axel had refused to answer (the others all saying there was no way, though they all had fragments of feelings) and shook his head with a quizzical smile on his face, as if asking why Roxas didn't see the answer, right there in front of him. But, he could do nothing – already under watch constantly by the Superior, even his mind having been infiltrated whenever he first came and the switch flipped to relieve him of all feelings (even if they were locked in memories).

Roxas, whenever he wasn't out on raids, focused upon two objectives. The first was beating all of the Organization members in combat, learning to predict their moves and utilizing the elements around him. The second was the more important of the two, though he would need to accomplish the first one before the second. His main goal, his wish and what he strove for, was to remember everything. To regain memories and feelings to where he was a Somebody again. To where he was not Organization Number XIII or the Key of Destiny. He wanted to be Roxas, fully and utterly, from his core outward until everyone knew him as Roxas.

He wanted to be the Roxas who had gotten married to Sora when they were six, wanted to be the dressed-in-white-bride. The blonde wanted to be wheels rolling down the pavement before hitting air and flipping in the sky, carrying a body of electric space and heated flesh. Roxas wanted to be a normal child, no longer bound by the rules of the Organization. He wanted to have friends named Axel and Namine, Hayner, Pence, and Olette, Cloud and Sora, Kairi, Riku, and everyone that they had met while he was away – trapped in the Castle Oblivion (and he found it funny that the castle was named after his dark Keyblade that had existed since the dawn of time, with nicks sprinkled across its neck and rough around the handle) then later the Castle that Never Was. Because, during his time trapped in his memories, Castle Oblivion had been destroyed by a traitor. It didn't take Roxas long to piece together the facts and realize that it had been Xion.

Roxas wanted to be someone, something. And he remembered, finally, the day he became a silhouette. Roxas decided he wanted to be that silhouette again, draw on yet another mask and another identity. He wanted to learn more of the Shadow that had been a traitor, so long ago. One of the ones who had rejected the Organization's rule and fought back. He knew because he had seen all the Scouts before, the ones who alerted the Superior about news in the City (and Gods, it had been forever since Roxas had been there, safe and ignorant to all but his own troubles) and traveled the plains outside the walls, searching for new towns that had cropped up.

He went to the Dusks. They were the weakest of the Lesser Nobodies, but they respected Roxas as they did all the Organization members. It had shocked him, when they first spoke to him during one of his training exercises (because Xemnas was pushing him harder, harder, get stronger and beat – who?), yet he had quickly learned that all Nobodies could speak to him; nevertheless only a few could formulate opinions. Such was the case with the Dusks; they had been around the longest, and they had been the first. Besides that, those Nobodies that committed pardonable crimes could be transformed to Dusks, via a technique that only the Superior knew – he who was like a god among them, if only because of his extensive knowledge.

When he went to them, those that constantly patrolled the castle (and it wasn't far from where the ruins of Castle Oblivion had once stood, cloaked in an expanse of trapped twilight and infinite darkness), he found the Dusks waiting for him, walking around him in a continuous circle until one broke away from the circle and drifted up behind him, bending like the flexible nothing that it was to come face to zippered face with him and hiss, "So you have come, my liege."

Roxas twisted away from underneath it, and the Nobody chuckled along with its companions – the lead one settled down on his feet, and the rest stopped around the two. Then the lead Dusk made a soft shushing sound and stalked closer. The others all abruptly stiffened and Roxas stood tall because he knew it would not hurt him. "My liege," the Dusk said, "wants to know of something that other deities shall not tell him; is it not true, my lord?"

"No," Roxas spat, "I've already learned of that." And the Dusks whispered to one another, swaying once more as their chief calmly stalked around him, sizing Roxas up with its zipper mouth opening and closing over and over. Then Roxas sighed and his Samurais, who had been waiting patiently farther away, slid closer, dropping into dual stances because the Lesser Nobodies worked together only because of the Organization and didn't trust each other. Roxas cast them disgusted glances before growling out, "I want to learn about a Scout I saw before; it was a gray cat with blood on its muzzle."

If anyone else had given such a description to anything other than the Lesser Nobodies, they would have most likely been given a long list of names because only the Scouts were unique – they had to be, one for each different type of situation. When Roxas said that, the Nobodies all grinned at one another, hissing in glee and wobbling giddily. "The traitor, the traitor," they chanted, "our liege wishes to speak of the traitor." The lead Dusk swam in close, sliding through the air like it was space and stars and no gravity whatsoever.

The Dusk settled down before him, bending so low it seemed like it was deflating before springing back up to its full size. "The traitor had no name; we simply called her Blue. The traitor destroyed hundreds of the red-bloods. However, we blue-bloods stopped her before she could move on to us. During one of her scoutings, she heard those rebels speaking and decided that she could face down m' lords and ladies alone. She was destroyed utterly, my liege." Roxas stared at the Dusk, allowing the words to sink in and trying to draw a conclusion from what information he had gathered. However, the only thing that stood out in his mind was what the Dusk had said.

"Blue-bloods?" he asked, because he had never heard of such things before and besides that, he bled red. The Dusks regarded him pityingly, as if he was utterly ignorant and he repeated his question with considerably more coldness – once more Number XIII, known for killing without regret. Then they hissed warningly and one Dusk stepped forward to stand beside its companion. It flashed forward and Roxas felt a chilling cold rip through his veins and saw the blood bubbling up from the scratch – except it was blue?

He blinked and rubbed a finger against it, watching it become stained cobalt, with lines of sapphire tracks from where the blood had thus spread (for it seemed that these blue-bloods were designed differently). It stung slightly, but the pain was numbed and icy and – that wasn't his blood. It was some weird mutation of his blood, and Roxas seemed so horrified that the Dusk that had struck him and revealed the truth fled in terror. The leader watched it go before huffing slightly and gliding closer.

"You have been changed later than most, my liege. I fear the Superior did not quite believe you would be able to use your abilities to help us, at first. However, the day Number XIV died and you regained most of your memories," and Roxas wasn't going to ask how the Dusk knew this – they just did, "the Superior decided you were ready to bleed blue like the rest of the Nobodies, like us and your companions. Number XIV also bled red, however, she never proved herself. My liege, it is this blue blood that gives us our life and blocks such troublesome feelings."

Roxas lopped off the Nobody's head because he was sick of it talking. It was a gentle hit, not one to destroy it and scatter it into a million pieces of twilight. And Roxas watched in fascination as the zippered head went flying one way, already dissolving back into particles of light, and the body spurted blue blood like a fountain before also disintegrating. Then its companions flipped out and charged Roxas, which was a bad idea since his Samurais were on them and slicing them to pieces.

The Nobodies bled blue because of something the Superior did, something that had to do with the heart. And, it made sense, Roxas supposed – the blue blood circulated through the heart, thus destroying any feelings that might be hiding there. The shroud was there to destroy memories of feelings, but Roxas had been so emotionless because he was in shock at first, and simply being around others like him had set off the switch that had been hidden inside all that time, waiting to be flipped and to send him into oblivion. The blue blood also allowed the Nobodies to live longer, and it could heighten their senses and produce different hormones such as those that could cause Axel to go berserk.

In the end, Roxas realized, the blue blood was living and alive and part of something else – what had brought about the beginning of the blue blood that traveled within every Nobody. It had to have been something Xemnas did, something he created before the Shadows were created – something he was working on before that. Xemnas was the master puppeteer in the end, Roxas realized. Even Marluxia was like a child plotting to steal cookies when compared to Xemnas, a man utterly consumed by the need for complete command of the world, a tyrant who was settled in a time period when anything and everything was possible.

-----

Roxas couldn't do anything about Xemnas or the Organization, though. He could only get stronger and hope that one day he might be able to escape their clutches completely. It mattered little to him whether or not the Nobodies succeeded in their world domination scheme so long as he was not bothered and could live a normal life. One might have said that he lacked ambition, but the truth was that Roxas was just so tired. Simply overcoming a whole legion of Shadows and fleeing to a place where they could never find him would drain away all of his strength. Completely destroying the Organization should be left to a group of rebels, ready to die.

Of course, if Sora decided to join them (and he might because he had seen the Shadows and was stupid and stubborn like that) then Roxas would have no choice but to fight. Duty to his elder brother outweighed any feelings of fatigue that might torment him. Because, with memories restored came feelings restored, and Roxas was somewhat snippy, somewhat prickly. But, at the same time, he felt calmer. With no heart and no emotions, one was vulnerable in the worst of ways. There was no way to form opinions, and any decisions were based upon the here and now and not the future where owed favors might save a life.

Roxas was often accompanied by Axel after that, the red-head's Assassins sliding around the air surrounding Roxas's Samurais. Xemnas must have heard of Roxas's destruction of the Lesser Nobodies and decided that the blonde couldn't be left alone. Roxas wouldn't argue with that; he felt that he might have been slipping at some points because sometimes he wondered about whether or not his training was worth it, whether his remembering was ever going to amount to anything except an ache to see his brother and friends.

He was deteriorating from loneliness, and in the end, even Axel couldn't draw him out of the funk that was slowly settling over him far too easily. The Superior must have noticed that Number XIII was wasting away and no one could do anything. Because, he drew Roxas to him and said that if Roxas waited he would soon see his brother once more. And Roxas was in shock, that his leader would let him see Sora again. But he was so happy, and he was told that Axel and Demyx would accompany him because some of the Shadows (mostly Heartless) were turning rogue and attacking anyone and anything.

So, Roxas was sent on raids everyday after that. At first, he felt confused – had the Superior not said he would see his brother? But, then he realized that this was Xemnas's way of trying to find Sora. If Roxas could find Cloud once more, or any of them, he would be able to go from them to Sora and everything would be all right. And the raids were hard.

Now, the group set against the Organization (Kingdom Hearts or something similarly stupid) was growing in power and they were everywhere. Once, Roxas fought against a blonde with tattoos criss-crossing his face, another time he faced down a woman that acted like Cloud, only her hair was strawberry blonde and she used guns – something that he hated. Probably the worst fight, though, was against a man with black hair and red eyes, a claw and a freaking big gun. Even after Roxas knocked the gun out of his hands (but not before taking two hits to his arm and chest, respectively) he retaliated by slashing his gauntlet-encased arm across Roxas's chest and spewing blue blood everywhere. Of course, that caused him to pause in shock which allowed Roxas to send him crashing into a nearby building.

No, it wasn't easy, and by the end of a month, Roxas was covered in scars from where even the best medicine failed to heal him completely. But Roxas was so strong now; he had defeated Vexen and Saïx at the same time, and all knew and respected him. However, his luck had finally changed, for Axel came to him with a sad smile on his face and said that Xemnas knew where Sora was. Then Dancers and Assassins swam around his Samurais and Roxas thought he might be happy for once in a long time.

-----

It was raining, and Roxas was ready to dive into the abyss. Axel and Demyx had gone different ways because he could handle himself with Oathkeeper and Oblivion at his side, forever and ever. His Samurais were easily slashing through rogue Heartless, the first he had seen since Xemnas told him of them. Their voices screeched across his ears and made his insides bleed, because they were wild. They were running wild and the skyscrapers in this city were so tall because the Organization had missed it, somehow, someway.

But Roxas could feel it; there was darkness here, dismal midnight kept outlining the entire city until it was removed entirely from view. The animalistic Shadows could find it though, had found it. The sky was darkened from bruises made by humans and it chose to reveal them to those that wished their destruction, bleeding crystal blue – lighter than the blood of the Nobodies, but darker than Roxas's eyes in the pitch of it. They were fucking neon with the need to find Sora.

The Shadows were focusing upon one skyscraper in particular, one that held a man at the top – and Roxas didn't need to throw his hood back to see that it was a ghost from the past. He simply wondered as some of the Heartless turned on him. Then he was twisting and turning and his dear friends were humming, purring – because they followed no laws except their own, and they were ready to be offered rushing bleakness and twisted crimson.

Roxas slammed Oathkeeper through one, violently ripping it in half to where it had no time to bleed, rather being forced into dark pieces of nothing that faded within a second. Roxas shuddered with the recoil before throwing Oblivion high in the air, raining red mixed with darkness and gray-blue as it destroyed perhaps ten of the rogues. But they were forever coming, and Roxas felt his cloak grow heavy upon his person as his strokes became heavier. Muttering a quick spell that Axel had taught him, Roxas felt replenished and saw that the damned figure was still there, head turned slightly to the side and water blurring his features in a way no shroud ever could.

"Riku," he hissed the name like a curse because there was a wall separating them, different paths chosen and being made through grass far too tall to struggle past to the other. He smirked for a second as he came to the foot of the skyscraper, and then his back was stiffening, legs burning as he flew up the side of the building, Keyblades destroying those Heartless that followed. And then Riku was gracefully going down the side of the building, and Roxas threw Oblivion at him because he couldn't do this alone.

The other caught it, and even as he traveled down and Roxas headed up, the blonde's eyes followed him. It was stupid, Roxas thought, to hide from the darkness because it was a part of everyone and rejecting it was like rejecting yourself. Embrace it and you accepted yourself, though Roxas was loath to accept his present self. Because of this, Roxas reached the top of the building and pivoted on it, twisting his ankle to where he thought it might crack before plunging after Riku's silver-on-black-and-alabaster form and allowed the darkness to overcome him.

Then, it was simply the sound of Keyblades crashing through half-formed beings and puddles being violently displaced every time a black-soled shoe or boot came down into them. Oathkeeper was light in Roxas's hand, and Oblivion moved like a feral version of itself underneath Riku's hands. Then the silver-haired man brought up a hand and darkness was blotting out the Shadows and Roxas knew who had made the veil upon the city, now ruptured as Roxas called upon Light – sending pillars of the energy flying this way and that like out of control chess pieces. It was a new trick, one he had learned while fighting Vexen and Saïx and he had never used it against an actual opponent until now.

He didn't know Heartless could burn and scream, mouths bubbling with ebony-scarlet drops of insides and outsides mixing. But they did whenever the light statues or spheres came into contact with their body and he heard Riku curse softly, back-to-back with one another. And then it was over and the raindrops were falling in a rhythm not unlike the death symphony that accompanies any tragedy. And Roxas heard it, the soft ba-bump and the gentle taps of fists against door and shattering glass. It was the sound of being kissed into a coma and dying from a love so pure it was the essence of sin.

The Nobody shuddered, and their roles crashed back into place. Riku spun away from Roxas, the ends of the blindfold around his head whipping him gently. And Oblivion keened as it was dropped, only to be rescued from crashing to the muddy, watery grave that was the ground as Roxas called it back. Then Riku was drawing forth what had to be a Keyblade mockery, and Roxas had to feint to the left to avoid its oncoming attacks.

When it came down in a move meant to split him straight down the dotted line, Roxas barely caught the slick blade that wasn't the same as his two, was a bat wing stretched taut, with this horrid blue eye that wasn't like his, would never be like his. Then Riku was sliding from his standstill, the same he had used to catch others before and swung out at Roxas's remaining Samurais, they having been scouting the area for more rogue Heartless, returned to die for their masters. Roxas heard them give soft moans before they shattered and he was alone.

They had been his, and he had watched over them, protected them. To have the Samurais wiped out so completely too where none were left and if he wanted more they would have to find more strong hearts with which to make them – it made Roxas feel betrayed and Oblivion rattled with need, and Oathkeeper begged to cut into Riku, just a tiny little slice to coat silver with russet. And Roxas scolded the blade in his mind because the handle would be tainted with rust then, and Oathkeeper seemed to reply back that it fed off the blood, always washed it off.

Roxas finally, reluctantly, agreed and Oblivion dropped to shoot Oathkeeper high above Roxas to where his arm that was attached to the silver Keyblade ached, and then it came to a shattering conclusion on Soul Eater (Oblivion said it was that, and Roxas knew that the blade of Time's End knew eternity's secrets) to where the bat wing cracked then screamed as it fell to pieces, and the sword that had tried to match a Keyblade's power was no more.

Roxas drew back cleanly as Riku went completely still in defeat. Oblivion and Oathkeeper stared in triumph at their ruined foe and Roxas watched Riku through too-wet bangs that looked almost silver in the glimmering, flickering light of midnight rushing away to return to the sky and regain the night from the twilight. Roxas was ready to ask Riku where Sora was, because his brother had been at the back of his mind since the start of their alliance and later battle.

Roxas might have spoken and revealed himself as a friend but hurried footsteps and a gasp of "Riku!" (And wasn't that too similar to when he had last met Cloud?) sent Roxas sprawling away. A brunet in black and blue and red with crosses here and there stood before the defeated teenager, and Roxas slid back further, his blades quivering – Oblivion more so than Oathkeeper because its motif was the crown of Sora's necklace painted pitch black. Then Sora was hissing "Organization XIII" with the voice of a stranger and – cruel, cruel irony. To pit two brothers against one another was Fate's joke, but to make it to where twin blades fought as well was deepest despair and harshest betrayal.

When Sora dropped into a defensive stance, clothes of before shifting to clothes of twilight, Roxas's Keyblades appeared in his hand. Except, they weren't. Oblivion had minor differences from its counterpart that lay in Sora's hand, the largest being the huge scratch across the guard from where someone had tried to break contact between Master and Keyblade. Oathkeeper, however, was silver in Roxas's palm and white in Sora's. There was confusion and then Sora acted spontaneously in that infuriating way that he did – that he was known for.

Sora slashed his blades at Roxas, and the younger nearly fell in his haste to get away. Because he wouldn't fight his brother, would never do such a thing. He had to run only – something made him circle back, and he realized that now was the time for a resolution. Roxas was a copy of Sora, with only minute differences. Either Roxas would have to fade from existence, or the original would have to be changed.

Sora fought with the need to kill, and Roxas realized that time apart had been well spent on both parts – neither Roxas nor Sora gave an inch as they danced across the battlefield that had once been an ordinary square in an ordinary city. Except, that with Roxas, nothing was ordinary and his eyes narrowed to slits as Sora seemed to disappear into the water only to return out of nowhere and slash both of his weapons deep into the other's skin. The scream that ripped from Roxas's throat as he literally felt the skin peeled away left him weak and panting, regarding Sora with weary malice.

Self-preservation was the largest instinct ever implanted within a person, real or not, original or copy. Family members mean nothing in a fire, and often it's every man for his self when shipmates jump deck. When you don't see someone for almost two years, your love fades and becomes a memory. Roxas was discovering all of this, and in the heat of the moment he made a choice between Roxas and Sora. It was an easy choice, and he felt guilty afterwards, more than guilty, horrible. But, if he had chosen the other option offered, the story would close now.

Roxas chose himself over Sora, and when the brunet drew back to draw his breath and regain his grip on reasoning, Roxas was after him. The blonde was faster, was like a cockroach. No matter how many blows Sora scored, Roxas was still able to deal twice as many, even if they were weaker. Because, it didn't matter – Roxas wasn't going to die and even if the asphalt was sprinkled with blue diamonds of liquid he kept going on. Then Sora did something stupid.

The older twin tried to bring his blades together on Roxas's waist in a pincer movement. And the Nobody took that split second before the blades met skin to send cold onyx into colder cloth, into heated skin, past pulsing muscle, digging through bone, opening daylight on a heart that didn't deserve such a thing. Roxas choked, because Sora finally recognized him – the blades cutting deep into his sides had sent a large enough shock through the blonde that his hood had come off.

"Too late," Roxas forced out, hoarse and damn his sides were killing him. But he had won! He had won against Sora and…the other wasn't moving, and his electric blue eyes were going dull, peaceful with this quizzical smile on his face. "Found ya, Roxy. Finally did…" He slumped against Roxas because there was something wrong with Oblivion – his Oblivion because Sora's Oathkeeper and Oblivion were gone from his sides and he was once again spurting blue blood. But…

Sora, who had given him the necklace with the x that unlocked Oblivion, was gone. His breathing was ended in only a few seconds as the heart had been done for too long, and the brain was dead which meant the whole body was dead and – it just didn't seem possible because Sora couldn't die, damn it. And by Roxas's own hands, using the Oblivion and he could have done something else, anything else. Roxas gave a half-sob and shrunk away from his elder twin, because they were both on the ground but Sora wouldn't be getting back up.

Then, Oblivion snapped his gaze away from his dead brother, with a high whine that made Roxas cringe and Oathkeeper return to its place, hidden far away. Cracks appeared on Oblivion because the magic that had melded it and brought it forth to protect Roxas had run out with Sora's death, and the Organization would win in the end because Sora had been the savior – Roxas just knew this. And Oblivion severed into pieces, crying for its lost brethren because Roxas knew Sora's would not come back.

Roxas thought, and he thought he needed a memory at a time like that, utterly dysfunctional in his ways, but the message was clear. Oblivion reunited, converging into an entirely new Keyblade, made for Roxas in a way that Oblivion and Oathkeeper hadn't been. Theirs had been ancient magic, and one had been called while the other had been awakened. This new Keyblade reflected Roxas though, and it was called Two Across. The keychain motif was the X from the necklace Sora had given Roxas, and when Roxas saw Riku slip away with Sora's body to be replaced by Axel and Demyx, he knew.

-----

Oathkeeper came back, to fight beside Two Across (the Keyblade that represented Sora and Roxas united and together forever at last in the worst of ways – because Roxas could never wash the blood off his hands). They destroyed everything. Roxas would bring down the Organization because he had killed the one ray of light that might have broken it. He started with Number XII and worked his way down.

Of course, it wasn't long before the members sent hordes of Shadows to stop him. The thing was, you see, he had stopped caring. Nothing mattered, not wounds, not people; it was all about destroying what had ruined him, and Roxas was pitiless in his efforts. Larxene was pretty enough to eat, but he wasn't that far gone, not yet. The wolves got her, the rogues that had followed his example. She was screaming as they tore her to bits, and Roxas was laughing because he was the killing machine the Superior had wanted, dangerous and crafty – but Roxas was working against him, destroying everything and leaving his tracks everywhere because any one who followed him would die.

This is what he told Axel when the older was stupid enough to do just that. Axel smirked and said Roxas had broken the rules. Then he quickly switched to sorrow, and Roxas could taste it in the air – breathing deep the smell of bitter disappointment as well. "The Organization will send me to kill you," Axel said. And Roxas grimaced because that had happened to Xion, and they both knew Axel would try to kill Roxas, even if he didn't succeed in the end.

"I don't care," Roxas said back then added in a weak attempt to be humorous, "Who would miss me anyway?" And before Axel could say he would (because Roxas knew he would), the blonde continued with, "Nobodies don't have hearts, Axel. We're smothered in darkness."

Axel sighed and turned away, and Roxas half-expected him to leave then and there. But he added a few more words for Roxas to ponder on before he left, question unanswered and tugging at what consciousness Roxas had left painfully. "Why do you shine with light then?"

Roxas shined with light because he had been leeching it off his older brother for years, and with the regaining of his memories he had also gained control over it. Sora hadn't been the sun but the stars, burning – yes – but never in the same way as Axel. He hadn't melted Roxas's icy self like the blonde originally thought – rather, he had given it radiance and made it shine like a thousand burning silver suns.

Sora had been his light, and now that light was gone. Too many days after the brunet was killed, Roxas fell into darkness. Some might have speculated later on that it was also the day insanity came knowing. No, that came with New Year's Resolutions – a sense of calm came on his birthday. Hidden and blind in the shadows of the darkest day, Roxas celebrated the birth of the passing sun.

He also celebrated the decision to ignite the last wishes of that sun in a glorious, continuous fire that burned for eternity. Why just wash your hands with blood? Better to shower in the water and enjoy a whole coat of crimson skin wrapped around moon-lit muscle and bones and marrow. Roxas felt hungry, that night.

Happy Birthday – to you…

Perfect Image: I don't really have anything to say on this one. The tragedy happened, and the stage has finally been set – with all the pieces set up and positioned correctly, it's time to take the crown. Did I mention that I fully expect you all to hit with stuff because of how I resolved the problem that was Sora and Roxas?

A day late, and it's shorter than I would have liked it to be, but I felt it better to stop there. Yes, Roxas is fucked up. No, Sora won't magically revive. In the next chapters it will become somewhat dark, but in the end all will be concluded with a somewhat mundane finish. Of course, I consider people dying mundane. I also consider drugs and rape mundane simply because they all classify as day-to-day activities. Everyone dies, some do drugs, and others commit malicious raping. The world's a brutal place, kids.

Disclaimer: The characters from Square Enix are not mine and I do not claim them as mine. The story and concept are mine, however, so if someone wishes to write a story (or create an RPG) based upon the setting I've developed, please remember to credit me.