Machinations and Mesclun Greens
Who: caliginose and tomodarishi
When: Late afternoon, before the sirens.
Where: Sector Five, in a lovely establishment called Chakra.
Summary: Master Xehanort has invited his former (or still current, if you want to be technical) pupil out to a friendly dinner. Yes. With no strings attached and agreements made to keep the evening violence-free.
Warnings: NONE other ( Read more... )
When: Late afternoon, before the sirens.
Where: Sector Five, in a lovely establishment called Chakra.
Summary: Master Xehanort has invited his former (or still current, if you want to be technical) pupil out to a friendly dinner. Yes. With no strings attached and agreements made to keep the evening violence-free.
Warnings: NONE other ( Read more... )
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Did you teach them nothing, old friend? Did you think that locking them away would be to their benefit?
Even dressed as they are, he remains a stranger.
In a context such as this, Xehanort is not a cruel man. He does not laugh or put on a slim smile of mockery. This, as he sees it, is a deficiency, a trouble that Terra did not necessarily have to have. It was a Keyblade Bearer's prerogative to adapt and to blend but most importantly to tailor their own attitudes. Xehanort himself had neither changed nor acted in any way particularly different from his usual manner, but at most he was spared a glance or two before he was summarily forgotten.
Just an eccentric old man. Nothing more. ]
Ah, Terra.
I am happy to see you. [ Xehanort moves with deliberate slowness when he folds his hands on the table. ] You are looking well.
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I was told once that looks can be deceiving.
[Terra replies stiffly. He meets Xehanort's gaze again a moment later and holds it. It's too easy to imagine lunging over the table set between them, calling his Keyblade to hand. Being done with it here and now. The worlds would forgive him for breaking his truce. His friends probably would, too.]
What do you want, Xehanort? What am I here to talk about?
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Has your rage truly taken such a hold in you? On the one side, it is something he could have expected, even predicted, but the time it would have taken to nurture such an overwhelming emotion...he's curious again, as curious and silently obsessed as he had been that first night, when he had glimpsed the awful rawness that poured off the young man in an endless torrent.
How he must struggle for control. ] When I originally sent you my invitation, it was purely for the sake of cordiality. I see so little of you or Ventus.
[ He steeples his fingers on the table, lowering his eyes as his voice takes on a grave tone. ]
But a new situation has arisen. I am certain you must have seen him, the Heartless that wears your face.
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...so endlessly fascinating, Terra.
You never cease to amaze.
There is the threat of danger; it is always there about him, like a current, like steel waiting to be sprung. The sheer, awful tension makes him wonder once more how long it must have been for the young man. How long have you been waiting to spring? ] Then you may have anticipated what I have to say.
[ He lifts his gaze again, turning steady, always-piercing eyes up to meet Terra's own. ]
He must be done away with.
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And then everything... just... stops.
Terra stares openly, dumbfounded. His expression shifts, but only between different shades of confusion and disbelief. He isn't sure he heard Xehanort right. Done away with? The Heartless?]
What?
[He doesn't disagree with that sentiment at all, but... Why's Xehanort saying such a thing? In the uncertainty, Terra completely forgets the haphazard plan he'd been about to put into action.]
You want the Heartless destroyed?
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The threat has, for the moment, dwindled. Xehanort shows no outward sign for having known and does not acknowledge the change. He only continues, words steady and steeped in seriousness. ] You have seen him speak, Terra, seen him act. He possesses abilities and power no Heartless should have and has shown himself to be interested only in destruction.
[ He shakes his head slowly. ] Not only that, but I have learned of something wholly disturbing.
The Heartless possesses little to no memory prior to his birth. He is acting based on partial or, worse, entirely incorrect information. I do not know how it was that he came to be in such a state, but it has made him a serious threat to this world, a world on which we are all trapped together with no means of escape, even for those of us that can normally traverse between worlds with ease.
He must be removed or, failing that, nullified.
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We may be able to utilize the Keyblade to seal the remains of the heart he still carries and thusly seal most of his power. While some threat would remain, he would become much more manageable than he is now. [ Xehanort sits back in his seat, only the most vague of motions revealing the stiffness that had begun to set in the small of his back. ] I do not believe he is aware that I am in possession of such a weapon. That part of his memory has left him.
If there were a way to distract him, to lower his guard just long enough, I would be able to perform this act.
[ The alternate means is implied but unsaid: for Xehanort himself to keep the Heartless' attentions away while another placed the lock on his heart. Each scenario is, of course, joined by a single common thread: the joining of ( ... )
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[He knows seals. He still remembers the book he was assigned to read, another musty tome from the library he'd been told to be careful with. The chapters had been especially long. The words written out in them had become a blur not a week after he'd flipped through the yellowed papers, hoping with each turn of the page that the next section might just be illustrations. He'd gotten lucky a couple times. He still remembers the pictures. How the seals drawn in the book had looked just like those the Master had shown him when he'd taken him aside. The lesson had stuck, but the ability had remained chiefly unused over the years ( ... )
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One has a marginally greater chance of success than the other. If you would let me explain--ah, yes. Our order? [ A server has, at last, approached their table. A plain, unassuming girl with curled hair - she speaks to Xehanort first, as the elder, but her eyes are most obviously on his companion. Perhaps not simply because of his posture and clothing and scowling, but for those physical attributes that so often dazzle the young.
The interruption causes an interesting mix of slight amusement and slighter irritation, for all that his expression does not change. ]
The sea bass, if you will.
No wines. Or--[ Xehanort turned his eyes to his former pupil and smiled blandly, taking upon an air of utter normalcy. No more than an old man with his...grandson? Son? Out for an evening. ] Would you care to sample some while we talk?
I imagine you have never had the opportunity to dine as we are now.
[ So simple, so inconsequential, each word as boring as the last. But not without ( ... )
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Do you fool them all in this way?
How they must worry for you. ] Very well.
Success in either case hinges on two factors: that the Hearltess be kept sufficiently occupied yet nearby and that the seal itself is complex and powerful enough to hold him.
You should know perhaps better than any other save myself how powerful a creature he must be. [ Xehanort wonders still how he came into being, how it was that his moment of triumph became...that. The truth, all of the truth with all its complexities and impossibilities, will be difficult to come by, given the understandable reluctance of this younger set to share it with him. Which only begs the ( ... )
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