(Untitled)

[slightdisquiet]

Who: Xehanort and Braig; later Ansem
Where: Radiant Garden, underground labs
What: Braig finding out just what has happened to Xehanort. And it's not very pretty.
Warnings: Braig is going to lose his heart. That is all.

Comments

[spuriose]

[ He's noticed.

Of all the people who've come to know "Xehanort" as he is, Braig is the only one who really knows him -- or at least, as well as such a man can ever be. He knows who he was, who the man whose body he wears used to be, and none of the others even suspect. And why would they? Possession isn't exactly something widely spoken of in such pleasant circles.

It's why he walks the familiar hallways spiraling down into the depths of the castle. One of them, he's certain, will still be there. ]

[slightdisquiet]

[And indeed, Xehanort--"Ansem" now, he supposed, since he's assumed the man's identity--is waiting there, watching over the Heartless in their cages, the subjects crying out for help, all of it. He is silent, for once seeming entirely lucid. Perhaps even appearing sane and quite a bit tired. But in truth, he is only tired of one thing, and that will soon end.]

[spuriose]

[ There's always been something just a little "off" about Xehanort. Since the say he first appeared in Radiant Garden sporting his new ride with a decided lack in the memory department, he's watched him. Braig is no pushover, and there's little that can actually, truly unsettle him.

Looking at Xehanort now, a hint of unease settles in his chest. Not that it shows. ]

Checking on the critters?

[slightdisquiet]

Thinking.

[It's a rare, simplistic answer. Normally, he would go off on some kind of tangent, or perhaps talk at length about how the Heartless are doing or something else for that matter. But today is different, and there's a definite chill in the air.]

[spuriose]

[ He can tell. In fact, this is starting to seem like less and less of a good idea, but- well. Who else can talk to Xehanort when he's like this? ]

That so.

[ He comes closer, watching the other with a sharp eye. ]

You gonna share with the rest of the class?

[slightdisquiet]

[There's silence for a good few moments from Xehanort. The only noise is the wails of the subjects and the scritch-scritch-scritch of the Heartless trying to escape their own confinement.]

...Say you were given a unique opportunity: to give up your physical body and ascend to an existence purely of the heart. Would you take this opportunity, Braig? Or would you let fear rule you, remaining human with a frail body that is slowly dying?

[spuriose]

[ ...okay. This is definitely crossing over in weird, not-so-okay territory.

Sparing a brief glance at the keening shadows scrabbling behind the bars, he gestures at them, his eye trained on Xehanort. ]

What, like the little inkblots there? [ Of course, they're more, he knows they are. Playing things off is just how he rolls. ] I can't really see me with claws, can you?

[slightdisquiet]

[There's a low chuckle, and for a moment, there's almost a ripple over Xehanort's figure.]

You lack vision, Braig. That is not the only form they can take, after all.

[But then he'll simply leave Braig's side, walking over to one of the doors. He'll open it, reach in and... Scratch the creature behind the ears, as it if were simply a pet. And it doesn't seem to actually mind, nor does it move to attack.]

...An existence purely of the heart, able to travel freely between all worlds, to escape death... To become immortal...

[spuriose]

[ He stares. First at Xehanort, then the creature he's petting, and for the first time in a long time, it feels as though the bottom has dropped out of his stomach.

Xehanort has always been "uncanny" (to put it nicely), in this incarnation and the last, but now- ]

What are you saying?

[ Fear. He keeps it out of his voice, but it's there, snapping at his heels. He remembers the last time, the dark twist of a keyblade shoved in his face, and he's not sure which is worse. ]

[slightdisquiet]

[Uncanny is perhaps being too nice, in this case, since he stands, the Heartless at his heels, just perched there like a cat ready to pounce. Its eyes are on Braig, like there's nothing it could want from Xehanort. Another ripple over his form, and for a moment, he appears taller, his hair styled just slightly differently with purple at the tips down his back. The clothes, though, would be the most familiar. But it's brief, barely there for a second, and then it's gone, Xehanort back to normal.]

...Have you not deduced that much yet?

[He'll round on Braig. His eyes--once dulled to brown after possessing Terra--are a brilliant yellow-orange. Xehanort almost wonders how no one has noticed until now, but he's also not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. And very, very slowly, he's moving closer to Braig.

If he tries to door to the room, he'll find the lock has been tampered with.]

[spuriose]

[ He sees it. He sees it, and he knows.

He doesn't run, though. In fact, he doesn't do anything. Even if it didn't feel as though his entire body was drenched into ice water and frozen over from the inside out, he probably wouldn't have tried. This is Xehanort -- not whole, not anymore, and certainly not the Master who initially recruited him, but it's still him. Running won't help. In fact, it's likely nothing will.

His throat closes. For once, he's at a loss for words. ]

[turntodarkness]

[And he is very aware. There's a low chuckle as he approaches. One last ripple, darkness swirling around his form as he takes that form once again. But this time, it is permanent. He quietly reaches out, a hand toward Braig's throat. And, if allowed, he will lift him just slightly off the floor.]

Did you truly believe I would not remember anything?

[spuriose]

[ He doesn't answer. For one, there's the hand around his throat, lifting him off the ground. For two, he's not exactly sure how to articulate what's going through his mind.

Did this thing -- did Xehanort, truly remember? There's always the possibility, but...it's wrong. Everything is wrong. The old man already found a sort of immortality in body-snatching, and world-hopping was what Kayblade wielders did.

This couldn't be what Xehanort originally envisioned, it couldn't be.

He just stares at the apparition, the monster before him. The words still won't come. ]

[turntodarkness]

[He's angry. Very much so. And Braig isn't being let down any time soon.]

You have been quite loyal, have you not?

I do not have enough fearful icons

[spuriose]

[ His throat works with answers, excuses, anything that could get him out of this predicament. Looking into those horrible golden eyes (that color so like his own), he knows it's impossible. He's fucked, completely and utterly, and no one is going to save him.

The question makes him freeze, his eye widening with something other than fear. A little confusion, a little doubt -- but also something a little like hurt.

He tried, didn't he? He did everything the Master expected of him and then some. Even after he lost his memories, Braig tried to set him on the path his previous incarnation would have wanted. Staring at the creature before him now, he feels an inexplicable sense of failure.

This is his doing and no one else's.

It takes a moment before he finally finds his voice. ]

I tried.

[ Cracked and tremulous. He doesn't expect mercy, but it sure would be nice right about now. ]

It's okay <3

[turntodarkness]

[There is silence, and then Braig is lowered. But it's hardly mercy. Braig is prey. And prey can be toyed with.]

It has been quite tempting for some time to simply devour all of you. I am quite surprised, indeed, that no one picked up on the fact that I haven't had a bite to eat in weeks.

[Braig is released, the grip--something that had been very careful--leaving his neck entirely as the Heartless instead walks a few steps away. But let there be no mistake: he won't let the other leave.]