[ E V L E W T ]
[Written // 99.5% hackable to Flonne, but filtered against her [open to anyone else]]
The day sky... is truly a sight. Pulses cannot understand it, not truly. A place in which the light shines on everything, and a world without limits -- the limitless sky. A sky in which you can get the feeling that everything is possible. The blanketed illusion in which those who are incomplete, neglected, or imprisoned can pretend, however briefly, that they too have freedom. The blue is so... inviting, even to one such as me. Even to something which is not can can never be complete.
A pulse might look up and see blue, beauty, or any myriad of other things, but I see an illusion of freedom. And illusion of being free of the chains of purpose, to move outside that which we, the incomplete, can never avoid. It is fate, perhaps. The binds of fate which cannot be broken. We, the incomplete, exist only as flawed mockeries of our originals. I am Sora. Roxas is Sora. We, who have individuality in spite of our nature, are cursed with the knowledge that the only way in which we can break our ceiling is to be destroyed -- to cease to exist. And in my case (and Roxas's case as well) we have been denied even that. Sora exists. Roxas and I both "exist" as fragments even as he still breathes.
We are rubbish, refuse left over from a cross-roads in the fate of the keyblade itself. We are fragments which were never meant to be be created. Lies, all lies. Even as, bit by bit, I break down the walls and even as I defend the name which Flonne has given me, I am still bound to that ceiling. Heartless; never anything more.
Dancing shadows, fading stars -- that is what a heartless should be content with, as that is the only purpose that we who are flawed can serve -- to devour, to desecrate. We can never co-exist with pulses. Rage, revulsion, terror -- all these things grip the hearts of pulses in the times that we see one another. A statement becomes a threat and a promise becomes a lie. For, what is a promise to a pulse? A heart cannot lie, but a pulse can fabricate lies. Does it not stand to reason that we, those without hearts, exist only as lies? Without a heart in which to found truth, all is as void is the "bodies" which we inhabit.
We hunt endlessly. A pulse cannot understand the maddening sensation of the void. They simply cannot -- there is no comparable thing I have seen in Sora's memories. Need does not compare, hunger for food nor thirst nor even love cannot compare. The strength of a heart and the fluttering of one's darkness...
And what is "love" to the likes of I? Yet another lie on which the baseless fragmented existence of a heartless builds upon, really.
I miss the blue of her eyes.
What is a "promise?" Something which cannot be trusted, against on the fear of lies. Something which a pulse can see and take in terror, in fear. Something which needs to be guarded against, for there is no honor in a predator. In which, they are right. There is none, only the need to fulfill that damnable hunger. I exist only to be a predator.
All is void to a heartless.
I grow tired of the sight of deceased pulses, though I know such a thing is the mantra of my life-force. I grow tired of seeing the flickering and fading stars of the night sky. I grow tired of the constant reminder that nothing does -- can -- matter to an incomplete.
[[ ooc: ... For the event, Aros's personality switch is that he's become loquacious. Meaning he's gunna ramble and actually talk and explain himself for once. His personality aside from this is unchanged from normal though -- so yes, these are a lot of his inner thoughts ]]
The day sky... is truly a sight. Pulses cannot understand it, not truly. A place in which the light shines on everything, and a world without limits -- the limitless sky. A sky in which you can get the feeling that everything is possible. The blanketed illusion in which those who are incomplete, neglected, or imprisoned can pretend, however briefly, that they too have freedom. The blue is so... inviting, even to one such as me. Even to something which is not can can never be complete.
A pulse might look up and see blue, beauty, or any myriad of other things, but I see an illusion of freedom. And illusion of being free of the chains of purpose, to move outside that which we, the incomplete, can never avoid. It is fate, perhaps. The binds of fate which cannot be broken. We, the incomplete, exist only as flawed mockeries of our originals. I am Sora. Roxas is Sora. We, who have individuality in spite of our nature, are cursed with the knowledge that the only way in which we can break our ceiling is to be destroyed -- to cease to exist. And in my case (and Roxas's case as well) we have been denied even that. Sora exists. Roxas and I both "exist" as fragments even as he still breathes.
We are rubbish, refuse left over from a cross-roads in the fate of the keyblade itself. We are fragments which were never meant to be be created. Lies, all lies. Even as, bit by bit, I break down the walls and even as I defend the name which Flonne has given me, I am still bound to that ceiling. Heartless; never anything more.
Dancing shadows, fading stars -- that is what a heartless should be content with, as that is the only purpose that we who are flawed can serve -- to devour, to desecrate. We can never co-exist with pulses. Rage, revulsion, terror -- all these things grip the hearts of pulses in the times that we see one another. A statement becomes a threat and a promise becomes a lie. For, what is a promise to a pulse? A heart cannot lie, but a pulse can fabricate lies. Does it not stand to reason that we, those without hearts, exist only as lies? Without a heart in which to found truth, all is as void is the "bodies" which we inhabit.
We hunt endlessly. A pulse cannot understand the maddening sensation of the void. They simply cannot -- there is no comparable thing I have seen in Sora's memories. Need does not compare, hunger for food nor thirst nor even love cannot compare. The strength of a heart and the fluttering of one's darkness...
And what is "love" to the likes of I? Yet another lie on which the baseless fragmented existence of a heartless builds upon, really.
I miss the blue of her eyes.
What is a "promise?" Something which cannot be trusted, against on the fear of lies. Something which a pulse can see and take in terror, in fear. Something which needs to be guarded against, for there is no honor in a predator. In which, they are right. There is none, only the need to fulfill that damnable hunger. I exist only to be a predator.
All is void to a heartless.
I grow tired of the sight of deceased pulses, though I know such a thing is the mantra of my life-force. I grow tired of seeing the flickering and fading stars of the night sky. I grow tired of the constant reminder that nothing does -- can -- matter to an incomplete.
[[ ooc: ... For the event, Aros's personality switch is that he's become loquacious. Meaning he's gunna ramble and actually talk and explain himself for once. His personality aside from this is unchanged from normal though -- so yes, these are a lot of his inner thoughts ]]