Kingdom Hearts } The Best Mirror
Word Count: 466
Genre: Introspective, General
Ships?: None (vague vaggggue implications)
→Friendships?: Nakoma&Pocahontas
Characters: Pocahontas, Nakoma
Rating: PG, for mentioned violence
Spoilers: Uhhhhh for Beating Drum Heart?
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, Pocahontas or any related characters. This was written out of enjoyment of the series, and no profit is being made.
Notes: So I guess this is really more of an AU Pocahontas character study than a full out Kingdom Hearts fic. Consider this the bridge between Beating Drum Heart and The New World. Or something. Why do I post things at 2-3 in the morning some nights.
“The best mirror is an old friend.” ~ George Herbert
The Best Mirror
The Darkness changes people. True, it sinks them down in tar pits of their own greed; sticky, dark, inescapable. But the Light only strengthens itself to meet it.
It allows Pocahontas the strength to heave her father’s battle-club onto her shoulders. She gladly takes the opportunity to fight with her people’s warriors and the settlers’ gunmen. Pocahontas’s heart is full of light, as it has always been, and it glimmers brightly in the dark.
It is the spirits of the living that speak to her in her dreams and whisper to her while she is awake. Pocahontas hears words in the wind that no one else can. She understands the secret language of the forest. The animals trust her now more than ever. One day in fact, when a Heartless lunged for her leg, a baby bear had charged out of the trees to help.
Pocahontas’s heart climbs the trees into the sunrise, and is filled with hope, tenacity, and adventure.
Nakoma, in a mirror image of her best friend, has her heart descend into the shade. But Nakoma is not afraid, because her heartbeat is steady as the beating drum; it always has been. Darkness can not kill tradition.
When she had been a little girl, the other children would nominate her to go out into the night when they heard the sounds of the scariest stories move outside the longhouse. Nakoma’s concern for the others had always outweighed her fear, so she had grown up unafraid of the night-time shadows.
Even now, when the Darkness grows glowing eyes and snapping teeth and tearing claws, she is unafraid.
No, Nakoma is the one to patrol at night. Alone in the forest, she takes the ribbon from her hair and ties it around her eyes. The spirits answer her unspoken call and rise from the depths of the earth to curl around her ankles to stand tall, stand straight.
The spirits that Pocahontas call and speak to are always alive and crash down from the heavens, but the spirits Nakoma hears are those who have passed on.
She walks through the forest, hears the stories of her people past and present. She sees the great antlers of the moose without seeing, feels once-golden feathers molt from wings she doesn’t have. Under the stars, her skin flakes off from her muscles and shed like the scales of a butterfly’s wing or autumn leaves. The spirits dance in her short hair, caress the marks the darkness carved into her shoulder; kiss the bottle cap she wears around her neck. The spirits guide her heart, and never once does she need to see them.
The past, the darkness, the dead gives her strength; and yet she lives. And it is in this way that Nakoma does as she promises.
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Genre: Introspective, General
Ships?: None (vague vaggggue implications)
→Friendships?: Nakoma&Pocahontas
Characters: Pocahontas, Nakoma
Rating: PG, for mentioned violence
Spoilers: Uhhhhh for Beating Drum Heart?
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, Pocahontas or any related characters. This was written out of enjoyment of the series, and no profit is being made.
Notes: So I guess this is really more of an AU Pocahontas character study than a full out Kingdom Hearts fic. Consider this the bridge between Beating Drum Heart and The New World. Or something. Why do I post things at 2-3 in the morning some nights.
“The best mirror is an old friend.” ~ George Herbert
The Best Mirror
The Darkness changes people. True, it sinks them down in tar pits of their own greed; sticky, dark, inescapable. But the Light only strengthens itself to meet it.
It allows Pocahontas the strength to heave her father’s battle-club onto her shoulders. She gladly takes the opportunity to fight with her people’s warriors and the settlers’ gunmen. Pocahontas’s heart is full of light, as it has always been, and it glimmers brightly in the dark.
It is the spirits of the living that speak to her in her dreams and whisper to her while she is awake. Pocahontas hears words in the wind that no one else can. She understands the secret language of the forest. The animals trust her now more than ever. One day in fact, when a Heartless lunged for her leg, a baby bear had charged out of the trees to help.
Pocahontas’s heart climbs the trees into the sunrise, and is filled with hope, tenacity, and adventure.
Nakoma, in a mirror image of her best friend, has her heart descend into the shade. But Nakoma is not afraid, because her heartbeat is steady as the beating drum; it always has been. Darkness can not kill tradition.
When she had been a little girl, the other children would nominate her to go out into the night when they heard the sounds of the scariest stories move outside the longhouse. Nakoma’s concern for the others had always outweighed her fear, so she had grown up unafraid of the night-time shadows.
Even now, when the Darkness grows glowing eyes and snapping teeth and tearing claws, she is unafraid.
No, Nakoma is the one to patrol at night. Alone in the forest, she takes the ribbon from her hair and ties it around her eyes. The spirits answer her unspoken call and rise from the depths of the earth to curl around her ankles to stand tall, stand straight.
The spirits that Pocahontas call and speak to are always alive and crash down from the heavens, but the spirits Nakoma hears are those who have passed on.
She walks through the forest, hears the stories of her people past and present. She sees the great antlers of the moose without seeing, feels once-golden feathers molt from wings she doesn’t have. Under the stars, her skin flakes off from her muscles and shed like the scales of a butterfly’s wing or autumn leaves. The spirits dance in her short hair, caress the marks the darkness carved into her shoulder; kiss the bottle cap she wears around her neck. The spirits guide her heart, and never once does she need to see them.
The past, the darkness, the dead gives her strength; and yet she lives. And it is in this way that Nakoma does as she promises.
← Back to Archive