syvia
in
kh_drabble
You want it? You got it!
Title: One of the Evils
Word count: 854
Spoilers: For KH2 and CoM
Notes:This fic is a companion piece to The Lesser of Three Evils
Let it be remembered that persistence pays off. People kept asking ‘who said what?’. Well- here’s your answer. ^^
What’s remembered, lives on. ... In some form. So what might have happened to the five Nobody casualties of Castle Oblivion?
They just couldn't get death right, it seemed.
First to lose hearts but retain bodies-
Then to lose bodies.
One would have thought that would be the end and yet-
It wasn't.
Lexaeus had a theory that that which is remembered, endures.
Vexen had thought it nonsense, but here they were... weren't? ...Seemed to be.
What will become of us when the Organization forgets?
Vexen was unsure whether Lexaeus' lack of answer should be taken as a positive or a negative thing.
They clung to one another.
They clung to the Neophyte Traitors as well- although none would have admitted to the fact.
If all they had was remembrance to sustain them, they would have to remember each other.
They still retained the will to survive- if nothing else.
Vexen decided that, if XI and XII chose to remember him with distain and taunts, it was remembrance still- and he would take it.
They lingered in the null space that had once been the Castle. But only for a short time.
There was an instinctive pull- a sense of gravity and weight that beckoned them in an unknown direction. With no other sense of purpose in them but to maintain their own meager existences, they followed it.
They found themselves in the Underground of the Olympus Coliseum.
Observing the river Styx and all the souls who traveled along it, Vexen could admit their new residence seemed appropriate.
If they were not exactly the same as those dead- well, neither had they been the same before death. But they were here, and there was an odd sense of... belonging.
First human, then Nobodies (and one may assume, Heartless), they were now Unseen.
They could not see one another- none of the denizens of the Underworld could see them. But sometimes- sometimes they could be heard.
The dead kept memory.
Vexen had listened to them speaking idly of their lives- the manner of their deaths.
They remembered these things.
The Unseen spoke together, quietly plotting a way for the dead to remember them.
They stayed away from Hades.
If anyone could destroy them- completely and utterly- it would be the God of the Dead.
He was not, Vexen felt it necessary to point out, the God of Death- not even for his own world. Still, the Organization knew of his power, and the Unseen knew better than to test the extent of that power.
They avoided him.
Or quickly made themselves scarce when he came looking for them.
Marlxuia found he could manipulate the plants with but a whisper- a suggestion of growth and direction.
With time, Vexen could freeze a layer of ice upon dripping stalactites.
Lexaeus directed the tumble of falling rocks- blocking some tunnels and uncovering others.
Zexion found it simple enough to create small illusions- a flickering light, the silhouette of a person.
Lightning was difficult to find in the Underworld, but Larxene did what she could.
Will and command- that was all it took- all it had ever taken.
They had far less control over their elements- but enough to annoy the God. They would scatter when he approached, but they quite deliberately caused actions that would aggravate him.
They made it their personal mission. He was one more person.
Surely the remembrance of a God would help their cause.
Then, unexpectedly, Naminé arrived.
No.
Her Other.
They whispered her name together, and could see her attention being drawn.
She heard them.
She got angry at them.
They laughed at her.
See us? Zexion wondered.
Once we had form and heft... now we are nothing, Lexaeus told her.
Nothing but voices to those with ears to hear us, Zexion answered him. His interest waned, and turned away.
Marluxia took up the thread of conversation. Like you, Naminé.
“That’s not my name.”
They laughed at her again.
She would remember them. They would make certain of it.
This one has spirit, Vexen observed. More backbone than Naminé ever had when faced with them.
Of course- they were hardly intimidating now.
That did not mean they were harmless.
I say we keep her, Larxene purred, send the traitors a message.
How fitting.
Deny Sora his princess- and Naminé her Other. Destroy any chance she might have to regain her heart.
Marluxia had a chamber just for the occasion- a nest of fragrant Underworld blooms- unfurled and, like everything else in this little slice of World, deadly.
He drove her to them.
‘Step into my parlor,’ said the Venus to the fly.
How very punny he was even now. ...That isn’t how the saying goes, Vexen scoffed.
Marluxia ignored him in favor of the girl’s impending death. Good night, sweet Princess.
Isn’t there something about flights of angels in there? Larxene chortled.
They all laughed.
She would die and remember that they were the cause.
Somehow the Keyblade master would find out- and he would remember as well. He would curse them and know what they had done.
They would live on.
Then Hades arrived- but he had no inclination to save the girl, and they hovered silently in anticipation.
Then Axel showed up.
Word count: 854
Spoilers: For KH2 and CoM
Notes:This fic is a companion piece to The Lesser of Three Evils
Let it be remembered that persistence pays off. People kept asking ‘who said what?’. Well- here’s your answer. ^^
What’s remembered, lives on. ... In some form. So what might have happened to the five Nobody casualties of Castle Oblivion?
They just couldn't get death right, it seemed.
First to lose hearts but retain bodies-
Then to lose bodies.
One would have thought that would be the end and yet-
It wasn't.
Lexaeus had a theory that that which is remembered, endures.
Vexen had thought it nonsense, but here they were... weren't? ...Seemed to be.
What will become of us when the Organization forgets?
Vexen was unsure whether Lexaeus' lack of answer should be taken as a positive or a negative thing.
They clung to one another.
They clung to the Neophyte Traitors as well- although none would have admitted to the fact.
If all they had was remembrance to sustain them, they would have to remember each other.
They still retained the will to survive- if nothing else.
Vexen decided that, if XI and XII chose to remember him with distain and taunts, it was remembrance still- and he would take it.
They lingered in the null space that had once been the Castle. But only for a short time.
There was an instinctive pull- a sense of gravity and weight that beckoned them in an unknown direction. With no other sense of purpose in them but to maintain their own meager existences, they followed it.
They found themselves in the Underground of the Olympus Coliseum.
Observing the river Styx and all the souls who traveled along it, Vexen could admit their new residence seemed appropriate.
If they were not exactly the same as those dead- well, neither had they been the same before death. But they were here, and there was an odd sense of... belonging.
First human, then Nobodies (and one may assume, Heartless), they were now Unseen.
They could not see one another- none of the denizens of the Underworld could see them. But sometimes- sometimes they could be heard.
The dead kept memory.
Vexen had listened to them speaking idly of their lives- the manner of their deaths.
They remembered these things.
The Unseen spoke together, quietly plotting a way for the dead to remember them.
They stayed away from Hades.
If anyone could destroy them- completely and utterly- it would be the God of the Dead.
He was not, Vexen felt it necessary to point out, the God of Death- not even for his own world. Still, the Organization knew of his power, and the Unseen knew better than to test the extent of that power.
They avoided him.
Or quickly made themselves scarce when he came looking for them.
Marlxuia found he could manipulate the plants with but a whisper- a suggestion of growth and direction.
With time, Vexen could freeze a layer of ice upon dripping stalactites.
Lexaeus directed the tumble of falling rocks- blocking some tunnels and uncovering others.
Zexion found it simple enough to create small illusions- a flickering light, the silhouette of a person.
Lightning was difficult to find in the Underworld, but Larxene did what she could.
Will and command- that was all it took- all it had ever taken.
They had far less control over their elements- but enough to annoy the God. They would scatter when he approached, but they quite deliberately caused actions that would aggravate him.
They made it their personal mission. He was one more person.
Surely the remembrance of a God would help their cause.
Then, unexpectedly, Naminé arrived.
No.
Her Other.
They whispered her name together, and could see her attention being drawn.
She heard them.
She got angry at them.
They laughed at her.
See us? Zexion wondered.
Once we had form and heft... now we are nothing, Lexaeus told her.
Nothing but voices to those with ears to hear us, Zexion answered him. His interest waned, and turned away.
Marluxia took up the thread of conversation. Like you, Naminé.
“That’s not my name.”
They laughed at her again.
She would remember them. They would make certain of it.
This one has spirit, Vexen observed. More backbone than Naminé ever had when faced with them.
Of course- they were hardly intimidating now.
That did not mean they were harmless.
I say we keep her, Larxene purred, send the traitors a message.
How fitting.
Deny Sora his princess- and Naminé her Other. Destroy any chance she might have to regain her heart.
Marluxia had a chamber just for the occasion- a nest of fragrant Underworld blooms- unfurled and, like everything else in this little slice of World, deadly.
He drove her to them.
‘Step into my parlor,’ said the Venus to the fly.
How very punny he was even now. ...That isn’t how the saying goes, Vexen scoffed.
Marluxia ignored him in favor of the girl’s impending death. Good night, sweet Princess.
Isn’t there something about flights of angels in there? Larxene chortled.
They all laughed.
She would die and remember that they were the cause.
Somehow the Keyblade master would find out- and he would remember as well. He would curse them and know what they had done.
They would live on.
Then Hades arrived- but he had no inclination to save the girl, and they hovered silently in anticipation.
Then Axel showed up.