Challenge [261]: Defiance
Title: Defiance
Challenge: [261] Disobey
Word Count: 240
Notes: So there I was, wondering what to write about this week, when DiZ wandered in and was all like "ME!". In capitals. Because he's demanding like that.
He hadn’t really believed she’d gone until he went into her room in the mansion one afternoon perhaps two or three weeks after the fact. Part of him expected to find her back there already, as quiet and unassuming as ever, bleeding into the background.
What greeted him instead was nothing: bare walls, organised furniture, neatly made bed. The window had been left open slightly, the curtains fluttering slightly in the breeze and only making the stillness filling the rest of the room more absolute. It was almost as if she’d never been there at all- fitting, really.
Except for one thing.
The angle of the chair at the table concealed it from him at first, but as he stepped further into the room he caught sight of the pencils- her pencils, each and every shade and hue imaginable, snapped in half and piled high where she used to sit. He knew perfectly well what it was meant to say: Sora’s restored. No more.
He laughed then. Laughed at how little he’d understood of her, really, and maybe of Roxas too; laughed because he hadn’t seen this coming, no matter how blindingly obvious it seemed now. He laughed until his throat hurt and his eyes stung, and when his eyes closed, he tried not to see another room in a far off castle, with only a little slate-haired boy in the middle of all that order, bleeding into the background.
Challenge: [261] Disobey
Word Count: 240
Notes: So there I was, wondering what to write about this week, when DiZ wandered in and was all like "ME!". In capitals. Because he's demanding like that.
He hadn’t really believed she’d gone until he went into her room in the mansion one afternoon perhaps two or three weeks after the fact. Part of him expected to find her back there already, as quiet and unassuming as ever, bleeding into the background.
What greeted him instead was nothing: bare walls, organised furniture, neatly made bed. The window had been left open slightly, the curtains fluttering slightly in the breeze and only making the stillness filling the rest of the room more absolute. It was almost as if she’d never been there at all- fitting, really.
Except for one thing.
The angle of the chair at the table concealed it from him at first, but as he stepped further into the room he caught sight of the pencils- her pencils, each and every shade and hue imaginable, snapped in half and piled high where she used to sit. He knew perfectly well what it was meant to say: Sora’s restored. No more.
He laughed then. Laughed at how little he’d understood of her, really, and maybe of Roxas too; laughed because he hadn’t seen this coming, no matter how blindingly obvious it seemed now. He laughed until his throat hurt and his eyes stung, and when his eyes closed, he tried not to see another room in a far off castle, with only a little slate-haired boy in the middle of all that order, bleeding into the background.