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singingoriole2011-05-28 09:38 pm
walking-spoiler.livejournal.com) wrote in singingoriole2011-05-28 09:38 pm
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The brighter the picture-
Xehanort didn't like this place much.
No actually, scratch that, he absolutely hated this place. How, how in the name of Ausem the Wise, could anywhere be so. . . dead and dark and empty. He paused and looked at the sands and waters of this place. He'd been walking for awhile now. He stared across the endless black waters. He looked at the sky, darker then night itself. He looked back towards the shore. Far beyond the waters surface, a single star hovered, like a setting sun, yet its light was no brighter then a moon.
He'd never seen the ocean or a beach before, though he'd read about them in Master's many books.
He didn't need to look at an ocean beforehand, to know this was a cruel, distorted mockery of the idea of a real beach.
So, why was he here?
Because there was something -someone- in his head who wanted to find something. Wanted to find this something so badly, so, so very badly. In end, Xehanort had finally folded to its demands and the next thing he knew, he was dressed into a black cloak -to keep his Heart safe- with the hood pulled up over his tanned face, and walking straight into a swirling black oval of darkness with black, grabby fingers that clawed and brushed against his clothes, and then he was wandering in this desolate place, guided only by a voice in his head and a strange tug in his chest. This young voice promised him it'd keep him safe and so far, it had.
Nothing had attacked them so far at the least.
And then, suddenly the young voice was speaking louder then ever before, faint hope and desperation warring in its thoughts, urging him forward, and without him seemingly willing it, his legs propelled him across the dark, cold sands towards a figure, sitting in a defeated posture alone on the empty beach.
His echoing footsteps were the only sound in the cold darkness.
No actually, scratch that, he absolutely hated this place. How, how in the name of Ausem the Wise, could anywhere be so. . . dead and dark and empty. He paused and looked at the sands and waters of this place. He'd been walking for awhile now. He stared across the endless black waters. He looked at the sky, darker then night itself. He looked back towards the shore. Far beyond the waters surface, a single star hovered, like a setting sun, yet its light was no brighter then a moon.
He'd never seen the ocean or a beach before, though he'd read about them in Master's many books.
He didn't need to look at an ocean beforehand, to know this was a cruel, distorted mockery of the idea of a real beach.
So, why was he here?
Because there was something -someone- in his head who wanted to find something. Wanted to find this something so badly, so, so very badly. In end, Xehanort had finally folded to its demands and the next thing he knew, he was dressed into a black cloak -to keep his Heart safe- with the hood pulled up over his tanned face, and walking straight into a swirling black oval of darkness with black, grabby fingers that clawed and brushed against his clothes, and then he was wandering in this desolate place, guided only by a voice in his head and a strange tug in his chest. This young voice promised him it'd keep him safe and so far, it had.
Nothing had attacked them so far at the least.
And then, suddenly the young voice was speaking louder then ever before, faint hope and desperation warring in its thoughts, urging him forward, and without him seemingly willing it, his legs propelled him across the dark, cold sands towards a figure, sitting in a defeated posture alone on the empty beach.
His echoing footsteps were the only sound in the cold darkness.