Xion had mastered the art of losing. She had lost her father, her friend, and her dream of a heart. The control on her life was not hers from the start. After all, she was not human. Her thoughts weren't decided by her actual self, but lines of numbers, symbols, and words upon words upon words. She was an actor; she lived a script. Xion had mastered the art of losing and lying, but to her, this was no disaster.

In her loss grew a new sense of independence and accomplishment as she learned to mourn and rise again. AI were children to some extent, and most never were told about cruelties and monstrosities that careened by them. The ravenette often felt that this was something that she could boast divided her from the rest. Most of the other Level 4's and on up were buffered by their separate reality, by The Database. When Roxas and Axel had decided to watch the horror movie, she felt that her time might be better spent in different company, and once she had powered down and stepped into a parallel plain, Xion felt the shackles of the real world drop from her limbs and the chain on her tongue break. There where flesh was flesh and blood was blood, no matter how hard she tried, she did not belong. No matter how she scrapped and screamed and struggled, she was not real. She was not human.

But here- here in The Database- she was an equal at all times. Sadly, when her eyes opened, there was a flaw in her plan to retire, "Oh."

The word fell to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. In her home town, the world had been built up as a collective. In that digital realm that was shared and sacred amongst the town's AI, they had lived in a forest of oddities. In the mist that settled in from their world's ocean, it wasn't strange to find large colorful birds, animals that talked, trees that sang, and homes of ages past. Namine had always had a particular love for white, so she had made a sun bleached picturesque lighthouse from the 1950's for herself on the edge of the coast. Her room plugged into her shell like all personal rooms did, and she had a good view of the reality behind the reality. When Namine disappeared, so did everything her code had created.

Xion had a lot of time to herself in The Database, so she rebuilt. It didn't take long to recreate the puzzle pieces of their town that had been stolen when Namine's light had gone out. Not only did she do that, but she built up. Higher, and higher, and higher. Clock towers, church bells, cobbled streets, sunsets: The Twilight Town behind the oh so boring plain Twilight Town. The other AI didn't mind either. They watched with disinterested apathy. Occasionally they would comment or give advice, but when a new house or building appeared, they accepted it with listless appreciation. Sometimes Xion really hated Level 4s and 5s. When the new Level 7's started being made, that was when things had begun to get interesting. She had new companions, who commended her on her creations, but they were still prototypes and projects of the Moshiva employees. They glitched occasionally, and those glitches leveled Twilight Town. Xion lost two towns, lovely ones, a forest, a river, but to her that was no disaster. No, she had accepted the loss, realized that it was a part of a human life. With loss, it made her personality more than just code, it made her vaster.

She hadn't realized when entering the city with her friends for the competition that her network was also moving. Her entity was no longer in Twilight Town. She was in a new environment. One she had never experienced before. She shivered. She shuddered. Everything was so empty. Instead of the inviting lively hues found in the nature that usually surrounded her, it was as if a sociopath had designed the landscape. If Xion was vast, this desert was the universe. The sand was an orange-red like the sunsets that she was so familiar with, but this shade held a hint of melancholy as it was disseminated by the wind across the dunes. Small sketches of structures stood on top of hills far on the horizon, and she began her walk towards them, towards where she hoped to find signs of life.

[Analysis complete: Landscape recognized :Construction similar to Dust Bowl. 1930's. United States History Archive states: -] She cut the program off, that was all she needed to know. If there was no change in landscape, then she herself would need to change. Switching in her skirt and tank tops for some cowboy boots, denim jeans, a plaid shirt, and a cowboy hat, her code called for a horse to complete the image and a horse she was given. Patting the beast on the nose, Xion clambered a top and gave the animal two small taps to the side. Holding the reigns loosely, it instinctively knew where she wanted to go and ambled up the pyramids of sand. Time trotted by, and soon she stood in front of a skeleton of a home. Dull gray planks made up the sides of the house as the sun screamed down, trying to exterminate any life form that may walk here. The shingles on the roof had almost all been torn off by the wind. If this was a room to plug in, it was a pitiful excuse. She had yet to build one in this new network, but the AI felt that she could do better than this given a few minutes to apply herself.

Further investigation is needed on the inside, so she enters after tying up her horse to a post. The floorboards creak under her weight, and goosebumps coat her arms regardless of how hot it is. The decorating gives her a healthy fear, focus and senses heightened for anything that might happen. A faded cloth couch with a flower pattern sits next to a dark wood coffee table with a fine finish. The varnish would glimmer in the sun if not for the sand that dusts it. On top, sits a pitcher of ice tea. A cold pitcher of ice tea where sand sticks to the condensation. As she reaches for it, a shiver runs down her spine. She wished someone else was here. Someone she knew, because she's well aware that someone else is standing behind her right now. Stopping in her movements, she stands there with her back turned, not willing to face this character who could be anything from an ice cream scooper to a construction worker in the real world. The real world rules don't apply in The Database. There is no form of law. If an AI is killed, the humans just reload the file into the shell. So simple. So permanent. Xion would cease to exist, but File: Xion wouldn't.

"If you're thirsty," Comes the dry voice of an older man, "Then drink."

Her tongue feels thick and her voice wants to quiver, but she resists, "Not thirsty, Sir. Just looking for what happened here. I'm not from around these parts, and it's clear to me that your network is in a sorry state." With that said, she stands strong to turn and face the other.

"Well," A devilish grin, "You could say that, but you can't judge a book by its cover, poppet."

Xion inhales deeply at what she sees, and suddenly everything makes sense. If there was a whole city of AI, and they aren't on the surface…

Then they must be somewhere else.

Layla~ Thanks, and review :3