| The Twenty Eighth Aura • Video |
[ - Forward Dated To Saturday Morning | Filtered From Bubbles - ]
[There's a stillness that fills the room as the PCD turns on, the camera aimed directly at the bed located in a room at the clinic. The sheets are stained and bloody, an obvious sign that someone who had been gravely hurt had once laid there. However hurt they might have once been, ( Read more... )
[There's a stillness that fills the room as the PCD turns on, the camera aimed directly at the bed located in a room at the clinic. The sheets are stained and bloody, an obvious sign that someone who had been gravely hurt had once laid there. However hurt they might have once been, ( Read more... )
[She has the keyblade with her, actually, held loosely in her grip. But before she opens the door, she leans it quietly outside in the hall. She has things to say to him, and the keyblade will not be a distraction. The doorknob twists, she steps inside and closes the door behind her, silent, hair in her eyes.]
...you're back, huh?
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That is for trapping me in a box for hours--
[Another one on the other cheek (so much for that pretty face, Riku)--]
That is for dying on me, you idiot--
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[It takes a moment for her to be able to articulate the last, quieter part.]
And this is for dying on me, too... dumbass...
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He could feel the keyblades presence, finally, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He would listen to whatever she had to say, glad that he didn't have to go back out and look for it.]
Yeah, it looks lik--
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But he never got a chance to finish, since the first ringing slap came into contact with his skin, stinging harshly against the recently injured and mended skin. He supposed he deserved it, even if he did think there were better ways to welcome him back from the dead.
He had barely even opened his mouth to speak, to answer her, when she was slapping the other cheek, hard enough to bruise. Well, so much for the healing he had done to it.
Lifting a hand, he rubbed it against the second cheek, bright green eyes staring at her. Better get to talking, Sango, before he decides to do something drastic.]
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The words were quiet, but he heard them. Of course he heard them.]
I didn't want you to come looking for me. I knew if you did, you would have died with me. You didn't deserve that.
[He takes a deep breath, because really, all of this? Had been harder on him than it seemed. But he can't seem to feel grief over his own loss. Guilt, yes, but grief? Not in the slightest, and it only added to the hollowness that rested inside of his chest.]
I didn't mean to worry you, I just... wanted you to be safe.
[His voice was quieter the second time, and even more so when he spoke again, his voice almost a whisper:]
I'm sorry.
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[There's a lot of things she's had to get used to, here. Living with Naraku a stone's throw away constantly. Living with her brother again, dear gods. A life and routine that doesn't involve constant travel. The various oddities of her new friends and various others--]
[And now, the death of people (a person, to be exact) she cares so much about. The last time that happened was close to a year ago, with her family and friends and village and people, and she wonders how she ever could've forgotten how it feels to watch someone die while completely helpless to stop it.]
[Her hug eases up only slightly--and she's short enough that her cheek ( ... )
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And made him wonder even more what he had lost.
He wants to pull away, wants to tell her that it was his job to do this. He had been given this gift for a reason. He had made a promise. His only memory of Terra was the oath he had agreed to. He was a wielder of the keyblade, a protector of the Princesses of Heart, the friend and companion of a king, the successor and inheritor of darkness and the bringer of dawn.]
I was given my strengths for a reason, Sango. To protect the things the matter. [He had always know the strength he needed was out there, somewhere. The strength to ( ... )
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[He may have made a promise, yes, and maybe it's his job. But protecting the people who have the misfortune to be cared for by her is one of very few things she has left--and perhaps it's selfish, but it's not something she's about to give up.]
[Their problem? They are so, so similar. Because doing whatever it takes to protect those who matter... it sounds a lot like her, too. She's realized this before and it only becomes painfully more transparent as she sees that their roles could so easily be switched. And nothing would change.]
[How are you supposed to be angry with someone who's done something that you would do exactly the way you would do it? (Sango will find a way.)]
Could you blame me for wanting ( ... )
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And somehow, he knew. The hollow feeling. The inability to feel emotions he never had, one's he didn't have memories of.
He knew, without even having to speak, to think about it.
He knew what they had taken.
They had taken his heart.]
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How it felt to be happy. How it felt to be angry. How it felt to love and be loved in return.
He wasn't sure memories would ever be enough. And the hollowness he felt only increased, spreading rapidly throughout his chest, until it was all he could feel. He was empty. Completely and utterly devoid of any emotion.
And when he looked back up at her, it was like everything had changed. A memory sparked in the back of his mind, of him asking her to dinner and calling it a date. She stilled owed him an answer, but somehow, he knew whatever answer she was going to give him would never be fair. If she said no, he would feel the fleeting memory of rejection and move on. If she said yes...
She would never really know what it felt like to have him care about her anymore than he already did, only what it felt like to have him apply the memories of the care and love he had for Sora to her ( ... )
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Lifting a hand, he rubbed at his forehead for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, what he wanted to say.]
I know you're not useless, Sango. I've fought you, remember? [And he had been forced to be crafty and use spells he hadn't practiced in months in order to win.] But I didn't want something taken from you because of me. I -- [care to much about you to let that happen. But could he still really say that?
And the answer was yes, because he did. He had cared that much about her before he died, and he cared that much now.] There are people here who need you. I didn't want to take you from them.
[His voice was even, calm. He couldn't even feel sorrow even his own loss. It was like another blow, one that only caused pain to erupt in his chest, like his heart was being twisted and wretched from his body.]
Forgive me?
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[But of course--that's the easy way out, and besides, she can't muster the energy or the will to punish him even more, to punish herself even more, or to brave her own hypocrisy.]
[She's about to reply that she'd rather die than watch him do the same--that there was no price that would be as painful as watching that happen, helplessly, again--but the change in expressions written all over his face stops her dead.]
[Even as she realizes something's wrong, very wrong, she knows that she has no right to ask--not when he died trying to protect her, not when he's already broken and bruised and, apparently, guilty. Nor does she think that at the moment she has the capacity to ( ... )
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[She can already hear the no she's going to receive. Because that is definitely the answer she would give. But she has a bargaining chip--one she'd rather not use if she doesn't have to--but still, leverage all the same.]
[Promises are dangerous things and she knows it. Especially when they're made to be broken. But that doesn't matter so much.]
[This is what matters. And Riku had told her he'd wanted to protect the things that mattered. He can't blame her for wanting the same thing.]
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