After the Moon Fell {KH OOC! We talk. A lot. )

[James Phobos]

Ice Equals Water

"Don't even think about it, Demyx."

The hands which had been trying to slip around his stomach came to a pause. Fingertips linger at his zipper before disappointedly slinking away, and Vexen can only roll his eyes. Knowing Demyx as well as he does, he can just tell that the sudden silence is from him sulking. "Oh, don't give me that," Vexen sighs, pushing himself away from the microscope. Not even bothering to look behind him, he simply jots some notes down. Replica blood is showing no signs of abnormality...

"Well pardon me for trying to show affection," Demyx grumbles, crossing his arms. His mismatched eyes follow Vexen's back as the scientist continues to ignore him. That's the problem with him, it really is. Once Vexen gets into an experiment, it's like trying to get a turtle out of it's shell. Annoying, difficult, just gets harder the more you tap, and fatal... Just not for the turtle. Demyx pauses that particular train of thought, blinking. Wait... Okay, so it's not a perfect metaphor. As he shakes himself out of his thoughts, he notices Vexen has moved on from his microscope and towards the large tube towards the back of the room.

Oh yeah, Demyx is familiar with the Replica Project. It's Vexen's latest scientific obsession. Reflecting on it with a scowl, he can't see what's so great about it. Fantastic, he's making life! Funny, peopel have been doing that the old fashioned way for ages, with no problem... Well, except for disorders. And miscarriages. And mutants. And the unimaginable pain of pushing out a baby through...

Okay, there are a lot of problems, but still!

That's when it hits him. It's a theory, and it's so totally probably WRONG, but that doesn't matter. In what he assumes to be proper villainous manner, Demyx smirks deviously and steeples his fingers together.

He'll either get frostbite, or get Vexen out of his labs.

Just like before, Demyx tries to hug Vexen from behind, and just like before, he gets a negative response. This time, however, Vexen uses a good smack instead of words. Not to be deterred, Demyx latches onto one of the attacking arms, and only grins when a pair of brigh tgreen eyes turn to glare at him. "You know what just occurred to me?"

"Wow and amaze me," Vexen deadpans.

"I think you want to be a mother."

Abrupt and complete silence. Demyx has to fight not to grin like an idiot as Vexen stares at him. Instead, he keeps on an expression of somber seriousness. "Look into your heart. You know it to be true." That earns him a nice smack to the side of the head.

"Were you inhaling chemical fumes while I had my back turned!?" Vexen snaps as Demyx lets go of his arm. "And haven't we gone over how your heart humor is not amusing?"

"Heart humor, nice name," he chirps in reply, finally laughing a little as Vexen's clipboard clips his elbow. "C'mon, it makes sense!" With a duck and a skip back, he avoids the next smack. "It's why you're crazy obsessed about this new project. I bet it's because you have some secret maternal instinct, all repressed and stuff." Still grinning widely, he pauses, bouncing from foot to foot as he gauges Vexen's response. "You'd make a great mom."

The most fun thing about Vexen is how unbelievably expressive he is, despite being so stubborn on how they don't have hearts. Right now, his brows are furrowed, and his mouth hangs open slightly. While Vexen claims to know him pretty damn well, it's not a one-way street. The scientist is definitely thinking about how stupid he considers Demyx. At last, he places the tips of his fingers against his forehead. "You won't leave me alone, will you?"

"I bet I could get Zexion to totally back me up on this. He was a Psychology major, right?"

"Fine!" Vexen throws his hands up into the air, looking disgusted. "I'll leave the labs, since I know that's what you want. Just never bring that ridiculous idea up ever again." An accusing finger jabs against Demyx's nose to drive the point home. The sitarist only grins.

The problem occurs when he let's Vexen pick their 'vacation spot'.

"Why did I let you choose?" Demyx whines through chattering teeth. Helplessly, he tries to tug his hood over his nearly blue ears. It's a rather fruitless tactic, and he quickly returns to rubbing his arms and hopping on his feet again.

Stupid Vexen just smirks at him. Stupid ice elemental guy. Stupid smug smirk as he stands on that stupid boulder in the stupid Land of Dragons with his stupid hands in his pockets so stupidly casually. Stupid him in the first place for letting Vexen choose in the first place.

"You only have yourself to blame," Vexen snickers. He looks as happy as a penguin as he enjoys both the freezing cold and Demyx's obvious torment. (Stupid elemental advantages! ) "Now, cease your senseless complaints and stand next to me."

"How are they senseless?" Demyx grumbles, but obeys the order anyway. Vexen will be the one to complain this time if he doesn't anyway. Shaking terribly, he stumbles and slips through snow and over rocks before he can latch onto one of the Vexen's arms. Unlike last time, the scientist doesn't protests, even when Demyx begins to huddle against his side. "Did we have to come here so early? Before the sun's even gotten up?"

"Yes. Now shush and wait for it."

Wait for what? Demyx wonders, but remains silent, sleepy, and cold. It's a pleasant surprise when Vexen's arm wraps tightly around his shoulders. That's not saying it helps much, but still. The thought is nice, and Demyx smiles a bit.

The smile falls right off his face when the sun begins to rise.

"Light above," he breathes as the sunlight catches the snow in ways he had never imagined. Colors shift across the waves and mountains of white, flickering in and out of place. The entire world seems to shimmer with a soft glow, and it takes Vexen's nudge to snap him out of it.

"So I take it this is just the sort of thing which falls into that 'romantic' category to like to blather on about?" Vexen prods.

The words bring a bright smile to Demyx's face and he lays the side of his face against Vexen's chest. "You could have just told me your plans. I wouldn't have complained a bit then."

"And miss your look of remembered and physical misery?" Vexen smirks, and draws his arm back from Demyx's shoulders. "Never." Looking back to the sunrise, he begins a leisurely stroll through the snow.

As he tries not to pout, an idea suddenly strikes Demyx. Once again smiling that wannabe-devious smile, he kneels down to the snow. Quickly, he scoops up a nice handful, all the while keeping an eye on Vexen's back. At last, he finishes. Straightening with a giant grin and a hefty snowball, Demyx calls, "Vexen!"

With an exasperated sigh tempered by suspicion, Vexen turns around. "What n-"

SPLAT!

The silence of the mountains is broken only by the sound of snow dripping from Vexen's face. It's a silence further ruined when Demyx begins to laugh. With an eyebrow twitching and eyes narrowed dangerously, Vexen gets rid of the snow with a single swipe of his hand. "Demyx," he growls. The sitarist just continues to laugh, doubled over with one hand over his stomach and the other over his mouth. "DEMYX!"

Stifling his giggles, Demyx looks up, still grinning. "Yeah?" Very, very quickly, his amusement drains away as he spots the snow and ice swirling around Vexen's feet. Instantly, his face goes pale while his eyes go wide. "N-Now Vex, don't be hasty-"

"You didn't think this through, did you?" Vexen says in that low, icy tone he's infamous for. "Quite clearly, I hold the elemental advantage."

"Oh man," is all Demyx has time to say before Hell freezes over.

-------------

Throwing back his head in bliss, Demyx lets loose a shuddering gasp before moaning, low and hard. His fingers press and cling hard to white while he squeezes his eyes shut and his face heats up. "Oh man," he groans, legs bending as his body arches slightly, toes curling. "So good." The warmth flows throughout his entire body as he practically breathes the words. Opening his eyes halfway, Demyx gives another little moan as he looks up at Vexen.

"Vexen, your bath is the best one ever."

The scientist just rolls his eyes. "You and that bath," he snorts, meeting Demyx's upside down stare. The sitarist is lounging in the extravagantly large tub, arms stretched along the edge and his head rolled back. "You have your own, you know. Use that instead of invading mine."

"Yours was the closer one," Demyx grumbles back. "Maybe if you hadn't almost killed me with snowballs, I would have gone to mine instead of worrying about hypothermia."

"Stop being such a child."

"Besides, yours is bigger." Sitting up, Demyx stretches his arms over his head. "I have more room to be lazy. Now shush, you, and get in already."

Shaking his head with another eye roll to accompany it, Vexen nonetheless listens and slips out of his bath robe. As he inches into the hot water, Demyx watches from the corner of his eyes while he leans back again.

Most people get the mistaken impression that Vexen is some super twig-thin nerd and, well, maybe he is a little bit. Yet behind that large, oversized coat that he was too lazy to get fitted are some nice muscles. Sure, he's not on Lexaeus, Xaldin, or Xigbar's level, but he's still not too bad. He's not some loser geeky thing fiddling with delicate little vials. There's some heavy lifting to be done in the labs (not even talking about the gummi hanger! ), and everyone knows how Vexen is loathe to rely too much on anyone else, or let them in his labs. That means Demyx has some pretty good eye candy as Vexen finally sits down in the bath.

"Doesn't this feel better?" he points out, scooting closer to his lover so he can lay his head on Vexen's shoulder.

"No" is the blunt answer. It's an answer which makes Demyx scowl, and he straightens from his slouch. Pressing his hands against Vexen's chest, he pins the older man to the edge of the tub, although he admittedly doesn't meet much resistance.

"Oh, come on," he grumbles, frowning. "You can't like freezing to death that much." Even though he remembers how badly the last one panned out, an idea hits him, and Demyx grins while pressing more of his weight against Vexen's chest. "Hey, I bet I know a way to heat you up that you'll like..."

Even as Vexen raises an eyebrow, Demyx is already composing a song in his head. Summoning his sitar would be too troublesome, but he's got it covered. For the level of control he's using, he just needs himself.

After a few seconds, Vexen gives a sudden yelp, and practically shoots up straight. His legs try to squeeze shut, but that's something of a problem since Demyx is still, y'know, between them, and still lying lazily against Vexen. As Vexen glares down at him, his face becoming a very interesting shade of red, Demyx just wiggles his eyebrows with a teasing smile. "Demyx," Vexen hisses, only to give a small gasp. Underneath the water's surface, his legs give a small spasm and try in vain to close.

"Yes?" Demyx sings as one of his hands follows the dry humps and curves of Vexen's chest and ribs down to the much wetter skin which stretches over his ribs. Then farther down to his hips where the water swirls...

"Quit that," Vexen snaps. He's wiggling, now, although whether it's from pleasure or the urge to punch Demyx is hard to tell. That's just how he is.

"Quit what?" Demyx hums, even as Vexen wiggles more. If this keeps up, Demyx has a feeling he's going to get kneed in the gut. "You mean my little water show? Well, no can do, Vexen. I mean, after all..." He leans closer, hoping to gain a kiss. "Quite clearly, I hold the elemental advantage."

Vexen's palm smacks into his nose so that the scientist can get a good grip on Demyx's face. (No kiss for him. Woe! ) "Idiot," Vexen snaps. By this point, Demyx is definitely expecting to be rejected, shoved away, or maybe even have his head smacked into porcelain. So it's definitely a nice surprise when instead, those fingers slip up his forehead and into his hair. Blinking, Demyx is only vaguely aware of his arm coming to a rest on his shoulder. All he's really aware of the flustered glare on Vexen's face. "But I expect a proper 'show' if you're going to be such a slave to hormones."

It's not hormones Demyx wants to say, but he knows it's no use. So instead of ruining the moment, he just presses closer for the chaste kiss he'd been denied earlier. "I am a performer, you know," He murmurs against Vexen's lips. "Good shows are what I do."

-------------

"Aren't you glad I got you out of the lab now?"{ Demyx asks much later, smiling into the back of Vexen's coat as they walk down the hallway. As he had expected, one of the Vexen's trademark snorts greets him, but Demyx just grins some more. Nobody can get stubborn ol' Vexen to admit anything he doesn't want to. Good thing Demyx technically counts as 'nobody'. "C'mon, admit it. It was nice."

"Please keep your ridiculous delusions about the emotional state of Nobodies to yourself i you're going to cling to me like a leech and thus act as a physical handicap," Vexen huffs. Patience's rewards are sweet, however, and Demyx's smile becomes softer as his eyes close at the scientist's next words. "...But I suppose it was a pleasant day out."

The thing with loving Vexen is that he doesn't give back often, but when he does, there's always some serious weight behind it. One just has to know where to look: in the way he gently reaches back to run gloved fingers through Demyx's hair, in the way he twists back to lay a quick kiss on one of his eyelids. They're actions which are all awkward and quick, and they make Demyx smile. "Told you," he murmurs, slipping his hand into Vexen's and shifting so that he's walking besides him. "So what's on the Science Agenda today?" he asks, wanting to help out. It's not something he needs to do, as if their relationship is some business deal or something. He just likes to help out sometimes.

...Besides, maybe it sounds nerdy, but Vexen is right; science is pretty interesting.

"Well, since someone interrupted me yesterday-" Demyx laughs at the none too subtle jab. "I still have notes on the latest replica to finish. It'll be dull work," Vexen adds.

"I can be pretty patient when I want to be, remember?" Demyx tilts his head to the side with a smirk as Vexen reaches for the handle of the lab door. "Like the time when-"

The deafening screech of heavy metal drowns out anything he might have said, but Demyx isn't talking now anyway. With curses, both he and Vexen clap their hands over their ears and wince. Demyx has no idea what the frick is going on, but as he glances to Vexen, he instinctively shrinks back. Oh boy. Just... Uh oh. That is not a pleasant expression to see. While Demyx nervously stumbles back, Vexen slams the door shut with his foot.

Who was insane enough to attach speakers to the WIP Replica?" Demyx mentally whines, shrinking further as Vexen turns that darkly pissed off face to him.

"Demyx," he hisses, fists clenched.

"Yes!" is the answering squeak.


Did you happen to see Xigbar before you invaded my lab?"

...Of course.

Demyx facepalming is all the answer Vexen needs to begin a string of curses so vicious, they'd make Larxene's ears go red. Before Demyx can even say anything, the scientists disappears into his lab and slams the door shut. Looking like a kicked puppy in the rain, Demyx can only stand there for a moment, dejected.

-------------

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad ,little dude."
Stare.
"I thought you liked the guy."
Stare.
"Besides, you're always pulling a Batman with everyone else, disappearing and reappearing..."
STARE.
"...Okay, quit that, you're creepin' me out."

"What are you babbling about now, Xigbar?" Marluxia's voice drawls form a row of bookshelves within the Library. The pink-haired man peers out, a book in one hand and Larxene and Axel on the other side. They all look at least vaguely curious as they take in the sight: Xigbar cornered against one of the Library's tables by Zexion, whose arms are crossed.The latter is also wearing a wide-eyed, blank expression which comes off as rather... disconcerting.

Ignoring the slight jab in Marluxia's voice (something which is always subtly present, no matter how he's 'feeling' ), Xigbar rolls his eye. "Ah, nothin'. Zexion here is just pissy because I told a boyfriend of his how to get a hold of him. And now he won't quit with the creepy little kid act." Snorting, Xigbar jabs a finger towards Zexion. "Man, when you get pissed, you really don't let up."

Staaaaaaaaare.

"I didn't even know Zexion had a boyfriend," Larxene hums, leaning lazily against Axel while entwining one of her arms around Marluxia's; with a simple tug, she has him pressed against her other side. "What other secrets are you keeping from us, hmm?" she asks with a smirk.

Never one to be rude and ignore a teammate, Zexion returns Larxene's smirk with one of his own. "If I told you them, they'd cease to be secrets, wouldn't they?" he points out smoothly.

"You're no fun," Larxene says with a deceiving pout. When Axel suddenly looks over tot he side, an eyebrow quirked, Larxene follows his gaze to a portal opening not too far from the double doors of the Library.

The look on Demyx's face is out of place enough to draw everyone's attention. With his eyes narrowed into a sharp glare and a tight frown on his lips, he's the personification of 'foreboding'. In a worryingly calm way, and not at all in his usual cheerful and relaxed tone, Demyx asks, "What did you do to Vexen's lab, Xigbar?" Before an answer can be given, bubbles and water swirl around one of Demyx's hands, becomes a bright light, and solidifies into his trademark sitar. "Because now he's pissed off. And since I was the moron who listened to ;your stupid advice about how he was cooping up in his lab again, he's dubbed me as an accomplice!" There's the old Demyx again as he practically begins to wail. "We were having a good day!


As Xigbar tries to calm down the distressed sitarist, Marluxia wrinkles his nose in distaste. "I honestly don't see what Demyx does in Vexen," he murmurs to his companions, to which Axel snickers.

"Who knows. Opposites attract?" the redhead suggests. A soft chuckle draws the trio's attention to Zexion, who has one arm crossed over his chest and his other hand posed by his chin.

"You really have no idea?" he says softly, almost to himself. With a smirk, he shakes his head. "And here I had been under the impression that it was fairly obvious."

Before anyone has a chance to interrogate him (a fruitless endeavor, as Zexion rarely reveals anything), there's a roar, akin to waves crashing against the shore. Looking distinctly amused, he returns his gaze to the scene at hand. The air is thick with moisture which settles on the back of his neck in scattered droplets but also swirls about the air in angry twists. In the middle of it all is Demyx, looking ready to either drown Xigbar or whack him hard with his sitar, tears of frustration welling up.

"And now it'll take ages for him to forgive me... Xigbar, you're a dead jerk!"

[James Phobos]

Returning Time: Filtered Sunlight

In a subway car, crowded with every kind of person imaginable, from blue-collar joes to the homeless to mothers with children clustering about their legs, they meet:

A girl with hair as dark as the hidden side of the moon.
A boy with sunshine embedded in his spiky strands.

They're ghosts among ghosts, drifting in a dead dream. For a moment, they don't notice one another. Their minds are focused on their daily routines, school, family; all just somnium hazes to parts of their hearts. Then dual iris sets of the same setting sky blue meet past blurs of cloth and skin...

Twin suns bursts behind their ribs and inside their hearts.

They shove past students and China Town goers, brief cases banging into their hips and legs while backpacks scrape against their arms, before their hands clasp together. Their fingers are callused and rough from all the same things, like skateboard falls and the tumbles of children (or holding the hilts of swords and keys and destiny). Wanting to laugh in euphoric relief, happiness, they cry instead, holding onto each other like the world has ended. She fumbles for a hold on his white button-up; he wraps his arms around her waist from where a black skirt flows. He whispers the name of a flower that only wished to be remembered, to which she replies with the name of a sky that was hidden by plaster.

They cry.
They laugh.
They do no know why.
They do no recall a life before.

They do no remember fighting for cause built on lies.
They do not remember wearing coats the color of molten tar.
They only remember sunsets and ice cream and another and...

Love.

The subway car stops. It empties of people. Except them. Them, who kneel on a flor of paper, dirt, and discard. Them, who hold hands. Them, who kiss for the first time.

It feels as gentle as soft ways, as a spring sun.

In a subway car, they meet; a reunion akin to filtered sunlight, gentle yet blinding, heralding a new day...

A new start.

[James Phobos]

Returning Time: Igniting the Phoenix

Fire rages through his veins, propelling him throughout the city as if he can leave a path that burns. Monotone and routine threaten to anchor him down, drown him for good. THe flames within his blood hiss and snap at the idea, so he continues to move, switching from job to job to job. The wildfire in his heart refuses to be sated, no matter what he let's it consume: food, pleasure, knowledge rom books, those who try to claim his friendship...

Yet settling down is impossible, and with every day that passes, he feel as though he will spontaneously combust from the inside out.

The day starts out at night, at a stand full of popcorn and candy. He forces out bursts of his inner fire through his appearance, sharp green and spiked firecracker red. He gives himself relief with his personality, all backstabber sharp wit and sarcasm. Movie night after movie night, he plays the game, plays heart strings and buttons. Every kind of spice he can think of is added to the mix, added to prolong his stay, but it's no use. The monotone is threatening him once again. It's wrong, all wrong, because something is missing-

Boom boom boom says his heart.

He has to leav,e eh thinks as yet another night starts, another night of being a flame without a glow. He has to get away, has to find that missing somethign which has forever plagued him.

Rushing through the line of people like one would suffle a deck of cards, eh pays attention to no one, barely looks up. They may be strangers, but he's seen them all before: typical families trying to have a night out, teenage couples pretending they have something deeper, loners here to see a new premier... No one is something he hasn't seen before, and he treats them all the same.

The line continues like an automated machine, and the next customers cause him to look up. They another teenager couple, but...

Boom boom boom says his heart.

Their eyes are the same blue, ocean reflecting the sky blue. She stares up at him beneath long lashes with a little knowing smile. Something inside him twists in surprise as he realizes that the only black on her is the short hair which frames her face. Everything else are composed of deep reds, languid oranges, and scattered flecks of pale lavender and dark blue. The sunset he knows she must love covers her body as if it's belonged there all along.

Boom boom boom says his heart.

He, on the other hand, is the opposite. No longer afraid of the dark, but no longer dependent on the light, he wears blues and greens instead of white and black. Countering the softness of his companions, he smirks with confidence, teasing him with a sliver showing of teeth.

Their eyes have the same euphoric glow.

Boom boom boom says his heart.

Their order goes right over his head, hearing blocked while his eyes remain locked on the couple. He snaps to when they move on, away, presumably to their movie. They look back at him before disappearing around a corner, but he doesn't notice. Doesn't notice because he's too busy shoving off his ridiculous red work vest and hopping over the counter. As his chucks pound against hte ground, he can hear yelling behind him, but the fire in his blood is at the hottest he's ever known. Flames flare from his heels as he skids to a stop, tumbling through a theater door-

Boom boom boom-

-and right into two pairs of waiting arms. They wrap around his waist while a feminine laugh sounds off against his chest. Laughter of his own is stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him even as he drags the two strangers-but-not closer to him. It has all the feel of a reunion, a familiarity he had thought impossible, yet he doesn't even know these two kids' names. It shouldn't make sense, but all he can think is Finally finally foundyou togetheragain as the boy's seasalt ice cream smacks into his bare elbow, popcorn cracks underfoot, and the girl plasters a clumsily happy kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Later, in the dimness for the theater, they relax; they recline against both sides of him, trapping him in the middle. His fireblood is slowing, changing into glowing embers at long last.

"Boom boom," whispers Axel as he closes his eyes.

[James Phobos]

To (Not) Meet You Again

"DUCK!"

The second he crouches down, something is whirling over his head, sliding through the air smoothly. It's a scene that almost reminds Seifer of their childhood in Twilight Town, where Fuu would toss around her favorite Frisbee. That Frisbee is nothing like her favorite toy these days, however; her Frisbee never had flames of curling blue and green protruding form its outer edge, was never constructed of sharp metal, and never tore through Heartless as easily as it tore through air. As Seifer straightens up and slicks back his blond hair again, he doesn't bother to look behind him. There's no need to confirm what he already knows. Some might call that hubris, but it's more like trust. Fuu, after all, never misses.

"Nice shot!" he calls as he charges towards her while the chakram returns to her fingers. Fuu returns the gesture as she darts to him before flipping right up and over him. Fingertips press briefly down on his shoulder, but then all Seifer is aware of is the feel of the gunblade in his hand and the strain of his muscles as he slices through a large Heartless. Smirking confidently, he quickly surveys the rest of the battlefield, the area outside of the town and before the forest.

Not too far off to his left are Rai and Vivi, electricity crackling around the pair. The origin is their little friend in blue's hands. He's quite the sight to see, with his hidden face and powerful magic at his fingertips. The thunder spell only seems to make Rai stronger, and the lovable moron is swinging away without a care in the world. Every so often, Vivi squeaks in terror from his perch on Rai's shoulder, balanced precariously. Snickering softly to himself, Seifer turns his eyes to Fuu.

They've all changed a bit, just a part of growing up. He's lost the beanie, Rai has become impossibly taller, Vivi a little more outspoken... But Fuu has changed the most. At first, it's nothing noticeable, since most are distracted by her physical appearance: shorter hair, revealing the gruesome scars she has over her left eye. They all have scars, and none of them can remember how they got any of them, whether it's Seifer's facial scar, the ones littering Rai's back, or Fuu's missing eye. All they have is Vivi's word that he had been sick the day they'd been found unconscious and bleeding in the forest.

But for them, it's all a blank. Their memories are gone. The only thing they feel for sure is that they lost something more than flesh, blood, and a bit of pride.

Besides, none of them are artists, but some one had to have drawn the group picture of them they had found in one of Fuu's drawers... along with an unknown girl included in that picture.

As she stands among all the chaotic black, Fuu carves her own little niche. The chakram whirls around her, and for a moment, she is the eye of a hurricane given physical form. Cooly apathetic, she catches his eye and smirks. Replying with the same expression, Seifer casually drives his blade through a Heartless in mid pounce before fancily twirling his weapon.

"Alright, TTDC!" he yells. "Time to quite having fun and clean up."

"I remember when I used to be surprised that you guys loved to do stuff like this so much," Vivi says with a small laugh, gloved hand pressing harder into Rai's short black hair. With a wave of his free hand, Bliazagga consumes a line of Heartless.

"Gets the blood pounding, y'know!" Rai laughs, hefting Vivi further up onto his shoulder. Batting away another Heartless, he gets back to back with Fuu and Seifer. They all grin and-

"FIRAGRA!"

Flames that don't come from Vivi rage across the field, annihilating Heartless. Even as the fire still flickers and glows, a silver-haired figure suddenly appears, smirking and wielding an odd blade with a wings motif. "Mind if we cut in?" he asks smoothly, even as he's joined by another teen. The boy with the wild spikey hair grins at them and waves his keyblade in greeting.

"Hey there!" Sora greets, casually twisting about and defeating a Shadow. "Remember me?"

"Looks like the little punk grew up," Seifer snorts, competitive streak propelling him to rejoin the battle. Giving a whoop, Rai joins in; Vivi, rather helplessly, can only tag along.

Fuu is the only one to stay behind as she shakes her head, vaguely amused. Twirling her chakram in her hand, she looks around for what she knows is the third member of this little group that's joined them. After all, it wasn't a boy's voice that called out that spell. She doesn't have to look hard; a red haired young woman in pink trots up to her, wielding a keyblade in her hand like her friends and a smile on her lips. "Hello there!"

Something in Fuu's chest squeezes tight.

Despite having never seen this other woman, Fuu knows her face almost perfectly. The curve of her face, the tilt of her nose, the blackness of her eyelashes; it's all so achingly familiar, yet wrong at the same time. The red strands of hair and indigo irises aren't right, something in her says. Blonde and pale blue is what belongs, what she doesn't remember.

Once they really come face to face, the redhead's cheerful expression changes. Perhaps it's from how Fuu's expression is twisted into a look of confusion, maybe it's from the scars Fuu wears with pride... Or maybe she has the same feeling Fuu does. Regardless, the redhead slows to a stop, flinching at something. Perhaps it is the scars after all, Fuu muses. For a moment, they jsut face each other, Fuu trying in vain to remember a name while the other woman shifts in place nervously. It's only when the field falls silent does Fuu look back to her friends.

All the Heartless have been vanquished, now, and their boys are focused entirely on each other, apparently in a heated, energetic conversation. "The guy with the silver hair is Riku," the redhead suddenly says, and Fuu's gaze switches to her. There's such a look of love in her eyes as she stares at her two friends that Fuu begins to really hurt. "And the other is Sora, although I think you guys all met a while back. I'm Kairi."

Kairi, the sea, the sea which makes waves, and waves... and waves become... Unconsciously, Fuu is silently trying to sound out a name she knows she must remember, forgotten symbols on the tip of her tongue. Kairi stares at her sadly, and fiddles with her fingers as if internally aruging with herself. At last, she reaches forward, and it's as if a tsunami has hit her-

-ghosts after them, squeaks when they confront her-
-smiles at them with a shy crescent of teeth and with pale eyes of blue-
-summer will go on forever-
-first love, shy love, a breeze and a soft tide and fingers fumbling to hold onto others-
-"You can't wait," Seifer says with an encouraging grin and a smack to her back so that she stumbles towards the other girl-
-needs a name, so Fuu brings down the old books from her father's homeland and they look together, two girls together-

"Namine," Fuu and Kairi say at the same time, the name coming out in a breath, and with wide eyes, Fuu feels like she's suffocating-

-Seifer's struggle bat knocks the twisting white monster back, and then they're running, hands linked, Rai following-
"-forest, we know it better-"
-blonde hair and malice, electricity and fire-
"-gonna have to take the lil' miss now-"
-Namine is crying, it'll be okay, okay but she can't say the words, can't, only seeing red-
-"STOP STOP STOP" screaming, pounding on Rai's arms as he shields them, as things thunk thunk thunk into his back, and Seifer lies bleeding-
-tastes blood as she drives her teeth into the hand which reaches over to grab at Namine-

And then it all goes black, with Namine's sobbing being the only sound.

Gasping for breath as if she's been submerged, Fuu stumbles back for a moment, Automatically, she reaches up to trace her scars, staring at Kairi all the while. She returns the stare guiltily, keyblade gone as she folds her hands in front of her skirt. "I'm sorry," Kairi says softly. "I really am. Especially because..." She pauses, nervous. "She... She was my Nobody. So, when we met-"

"Understood," Fuu interrupts, not wanting to hear the explanation outloud. With a shuddering breath, she closes her eye. The memories still barrage her, little details her heart has remembered all this time. Resisting the urge to clutch at that area over her heart, Fuu opens her eyes once again. "Communication possible?" she asks, voice unwaveringly calm even as her heart breaks all over again, for the third time.

One for when she remember. One for when she couldn't. And now another, after all these years...

Kairi looks thoughtful. "Well... I think so. Anything you say, she could probably hear through m e."

That calms her nerves slightly, and Fuu jerks her head in a nod. "Good." She takes a step closer to KAiri. "Deliver this.: Then, without a second's hesitation, she takes a hold of Kairi's chin and pulls her in for a kiss.

Off in the distance, Riku squawks in alarm.

Looking rather nonchalant, Seifer just smirks at the reactions of the other men. Both Sora and Vivi are making hilarious squeaking sounds of surprise while Riku continues to flail about in alarm. Ol' Rai, like usual, is rather slow on the uptake, or maybe he just doesn't care as he stands there blinking. And him? Well, he's not too surprise. Fuu must have had the same feeling he had about that girl, and she has her own reasons for what she does.

"Oh, chill out,: Seifer snickers as he smacks Riku's back. "I would have figured you'd enjoy the show."

Riku gets over his panic long enough to glare at him. As they both glance back at the two women, Fuu is beginning to walk away from Kairi, casually wiping her mouth with a swipe of her thumb. Suddenly, Kairi jogs up to Fuu, and words are exchanged, although none of the men can hear exactly what is said. All they know is that Kairi is telling Fuu something before she warps her arms around Fuu's neck and kissing her back.

Raising an eyebrow, Seifer is halfway into a wolf whistle while Riku looks about ready to storm over there, but they both stop. That's all the signal Seifer needs to know that he's not the only one who, for a brief moment, sees a different girl in Kairi's place. Instead of red, there's straw yellow flowing over one shoulder, and she wears a white, plain dress instead of elaborate pink. In an instant, it's over, and Kairi steps back, looking sad. Fuu, on the other hand, is unreadable, and only nods to the other woman before she continues walking to her friends.

Ignoring Sora's look of quiet understanding, Fuu looks right at Seifer. "Clean?"

"Sparkling," Seifer says approvingly, patting her on the shoulder. "Now, let's get out of here, you guys. Later, Sora." That said, they turn back and head home to Twilight Town. As they walk, they all instinctively cluster closer to Fuu. Even if they don't understand, don't yet remember, they offer comfort nonetheless; Rai slings a muscular arm over her shoulders and grins, as if she were a brother and not just a girl. She's always been one of the guys to him. Finally back on the ground, Vivi offers her a small whirling ball of wind which she takes with just a hint of a smile. Tributes to her namesake always seem to amuse her.

Seifer's comfort comes later when they're back home and alone. It takes the form of time spent on a rooftop, legs dangling like their beer bottles dangler from their hands. Glass clinks against glass as they remember a girl of summer with crayon smudged fingers.

[Tuna Salad Sonnet]

This would make a little more sense if you read Thank You For Believing in Me.

Metaphor
Luxord talks to Tifa about running.

It is their first night in Paris when they get caught in the rain. They were walking around at night, like they did in Twilight Town, when the drops splashed down on their shoulders. Soon, the entire city was drenched and the pavement shone, reflecting the streetlamps like smouldering stars.

She grins suddenly and takes his hand. “Let’s run,” she says.

“Where to?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” Then she starts running.

He could let go or simply refuse to run along with her, but he finds he can’t bring himself to. Going somewhere with no definite end in sight intrigued him. He finds himself laughing when water splashes down out of an eavesdrop and lands on their heads.

The fingers on her other hand glow lightly as he matches her gait. She raises her hand and some of the raindrops trail her fingers and follow behind them like a dancer’s shawl. He has never learned any of the magics beside his own.

Her hair clings to the back of her neck before she laughs and pulls him into the gates of a park. He grips her hand and comes to a stop on a terrace filled with benches. “Tifa, slow down.”

“Why?” She turns to him, grinning, her eyes burning with life.

“You’re tired.”

“I’m not.”

He sighs at her, smiling warmly. He can see how she is struggling to catch her breath. “You’re lying, Tifa. You shouldn’t lie to a gambler.”

“I’m a gambler too. Did you forget?” He knows how she breaks her limit.

“Of course not.”

He lets go of her hand and cradles her face with both of his, brushing wet hair away from her eyes. “You deserve a rest.”

She shakes her head slowly, looking into his eyes. “I can’t until I find...”

“You will. I promise you will.”

“And then what?”

The rain falls down on them, pattering against the leather shoulders of his cloak. She can see where the zipper is broken, the scar on his empty chest through his white button-down shirt. “I don’t know.”

“But you’re staying with me? That’s risky.”

“I’m a gambler. I take risks.” He says it casually, like it doesn’t matter when it clearly does.

“Don’t lie,” she admonishes, taking his hands down from her face. “You shouldn’t lie to a gambler, you know.”

He closes his eyes and smiles at the pavement.

She takes his hand and they roam the city, walking this time.

[Tuna Salad Sonnet]

Aahahah, I should've proofread this, but I sorta ran out of time. Also, I love how these two are the only married couple in my head, but are perfectly fine with me just friend-shipping them. Stop being so nice, you two.

Onwards and Upwards
This is the part where we move forward. Ready?

“You’re doing it again.”

Lexaeus turned his gaze upwards and saw that Nakoma’s small dark eyes were narrowed at him, her lips quirked smugly. The jungle’s green sunlight rested on curves in her short black hair and in the pelt of the leopard cub in the crook of her arm. The kitten looked at its jungle home through blue-grey eyes from its new angle above the ground.

“Nakoma,” he greeted, nodding to her as she sat next to him in the same cross-legged position as him. “Are you alright? Is there anything the matter?”

The shaman woman blew air through her teeth, dismissing the thought immediately. “You think I came up here to talk about myself?”

“Hm.” Lexaeus couldn’t resist a small smile at that; he knew as well as she did that Nakoma was the type of person to worry about her friends and family’s needs far beyond her own. “I suppose not.”

They observed Sabor’s third cub climb over Nakoma’s bare legs and knees. The third was quite fond of testing her retractable claws on her handler’s skin, it showed in the off-colour marks and scratches in the woman’s copper skin. Knowing that Sora and Yuffie would prefer their leopard cubs without the extra pain and that Nakoma had lived alongside protective animal mothers and their clawed kin her entire life, made her obvious caretaker for the cub. “Have you named her yet?” he asked, indicating the mass of tawny gold and black.

“Manaag-gwas,” Nakoma answered simply, stroking her cub’s head. She closed her eyes and stretched up toward her hand, enjoying the scratch. The woman smiled up at Lexaeus, who only blinked in response.

There was a beat and then Nakoma understood that she had slipped back into her native tongue without realizing. “Butterfly,” she translated.

“Ah,” Lexaeus sighed. He cast his gaze back down into the clearing in they looked down upon from the sandy cliffs and Nakoma followed him.

Below, Sora skidded to a stop as his leopard cub darted in-between his legs and leapt over his big yellow shoes. He laughed and tried to decide which way to move that wouldn’t make him step on the cub’s long tail. Just as he said “Hey, no fair!” his cub shot off like an arrow and the Keybearer gave chase. The boy nearly collided into a ninja who had been led in the opposite direction by her cub, but the two just recovered themselves and continued in their romp. Lexaeus furrowed his eyebrows as he heard a rumbling growl not native to the jungle world and then –

He winced as a pain like being pelted with one large rock hit him in the arm. He touched his bare shoulder and watched as an orange-red light faded back into Nakoma’s skin. He had forgotten briefly that she could channel Nobody spirits if she was close enough to them. “What exactly was that for?” he asked as Nakoma glared up at him.

“You’re being all… contemplative again,” she said, gesturing with her hands to indicate how much she didn’t care for the word.

“What’s wrong with contemplating?” Lexaeus tried to look as upset as he didn’t feel but couldn’t help grinning at the shaman beside him.

“I mean your thoughts are dwelling in the past.” Nakoma looked down to watch Sora and Yuffie chase the leopard cubs. “Sora is your son, one way or another.”

Beneath them, two new figures enter the scene. Aeris and Sabor stride next to each other, two entirely different kinds of power and grace. Nakoma observed the way Lexaeus shifted just the tiniest bit as the white mage came into view. “And Aeris is his mother.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Nakoma asked, pulling Manaag-gwas into her arms and stretching upward to whisper in his ear. “I think you may still love her.”

“I can’t love, Nakoma,” Lexaeus responded immediately.

She only snorted, rolling her eyes. “Says you.”

“Says every fibre of my being,” he retorted, leaning over her. Nakoma only met his gaze, refusing to flinch under his sheer size.

“If I lost my eyes, would I be unable to see?” Nakoma asked steadily.

Blue eyes stared into brown; a rock and a hard place. A scarlet macaw called for its mate up in the trees and Yuffie let out a surprised shout, though neither turned to see what had caused it.

Finally, Lexaeus sighed. “There are other ways of seeing than with just your eyes, but-”

Nakoma’s eyes narrowed, her damnably adorable smirk curving her mouth. “If I lost my ears, would I be unable to hear?”

Lexaeus had to suppress another sigh. “There are other ways of understanding than hearing what people say-”

“And if I lost my tongue, would I be unable to speak?”

“You would be able to speak, but I hope you realize that if you lost your nose,” Lexaeus touched hers with the tip of his finger, “you wouldn’t be able to smell.”

Nakoma laughed, closing her eyes and rocking the leopard cub in her arms. “I mean, there are other ways of loving someone, just as there are other ways of seeing or hearing or speaking.”

The Hero sobered, gazing back down at the two mothers in the clearing below. Aeris was glowing in the shade of the jungle’s trees, watching as Sora and Yuffie tussled in the moss with the kittens. “The only other way I have of loving someone is by pretending I can, Nakoma. And pretending stops working after so long without true motivation behind your mask.”

“Pretending to be happy or sad, maybe,” Nakoma said, standing up. “But love is always changing, Lexaeus. It survives.”

She smiled down at him serenely and let her fingertips touch down on his shoulder, like she would a sun-warm boulder. “No matter what happens…” she said, letting him fill in the blanks. And with that, she climbed down into the clearing, jogging lightly over the ground to Aeris’s side.

As he watched the two women who had changed so much in him, Lexaeus wondered if his heart would be beating against his sternum if he still had it, looking for a way to take to the air and flutter there, like a new-born butterfly.

[Anakha the Silver]

Ever, Ever After

“Where is he?”

Squall looks up to his wife, smiling warmly. She’s so nervous. Not that she doesn’t have her reasons, what with the occasional Heartless still seen around the Garden… But, still, he can’t help but feel things will be fine. So it’s with a light-hearted chuckle that he wraps his arms around her waist, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Don’t worry, Rin. He’s probably just walking home with friends and was slowed down by talking to them.” Squall tries to reassure her. She nods, leaning back into him for comfort. He knows she has every right to fear that something could happen to their little boy, what with how her life had gone.

When she was tiny, her mother had died. It had been sudden, a bout of illness. That’s how they’d met—the girl had run away, and he’d found her in an alley. He’d promised never to leave her alone, and he’d done his best to keep his promise.

A few years later, Rinoa herself had almost died. It’s an event the two of them have mostly pushed from their mind, but the lingering images of the terrifying Sorceress Adel are their proof it had happened. The horrific being that would seek out younger women, mostly young girls, and would then steal their life—their youth and beauty—to keep herself alive and young. Rinoa had been lucky Squall had shown up when he did, because she wouldn’t be here otherwise.

His arms tighten around her as those few images surface. He’d grabbed a pipe from nearby and, having the element of surprise, had rammed it through the back of the monster. He hadn’t been thinking when he’d done it, but it had been one of the events leading to his odd maturity. After all, he’d killed a person that day.

However, he’s also thankful for that day. He inhales his wife’s scent, storm blue eyes slipping shut. Her scent… Heavy with the magic flowing through her veins, passed from Adel to the young girl nearby. The power of a sorceress. The power that had later saved Miss Heartilly as a teen.

“…Denzel… He’ll be okay, right?” she asks suddenly, causing Squall to almost jump. She’s shifted in his arms, halfway turning to look up at him with those beautiful brown eyes—eyes that would always betray her innermost thoughts and feelings.

Windows to the soul, indeed.

“Of course he will. He’s our son, and practically worships the ground Sora walks on. If he couldn’t take care of himself, I’d be surprised.”

Reassurance. A nod from the woman before she turns fully, wrapping her arms around his strong neck. She rests her weary head on his chest, smiling as she takes in the sound of his heart. Such a comforting sound, one that lulls her to sleep each night and reminds her that all is well in her life. All the bad stuff is in the past.

They’d both been thinking the same thing previously, the memories of Adel. If Fury had heard about that incident, he likely would have welcomed the orphan boy with open arms. But it was best if her father never heard of how his daughter had nearly died. He already had issues about protecting her, and if he’d found out? Rinoa would only be able to see daylight from behind barred windows.

But that’s in the past. All of it—the death of Julia, the incident at the bailey with Adel, and even Fury Caraway. All of the bad has been left behind, and things have been going blissfully peaceful for the couple the past ten years.

Though there’s a pained throb in the sorceress’ heart as she remembers that she’d never made up with her father before his death, she feels certain he knew it was simple teenage rebellion. He knew everything, it seemed. Even that something bad was about to happen on the day Radiant Garden fell…

The sound of a door shutting causes the couple to jump, shaken from their thoughts. The woman untangles herself from her husband’s arms, rushing to practically engulf her son in a loving embrace. Relief floods her senses, even as the boy complains loudly about being held too tightly.

“Rin, might wanna let him breathe some.” Squall chuckles from the doorway he leans against. Sheepishly, the woman lets her son go, smoothing out his caramel hair—her father’s hair, she can’t help but notice. Another throb of pain in her chest.

“I was getting worried, Denzel.” Rinoa finally says, taking in her son’s appearance. Six already, and, my, is he growing. Already up to his father’s waist, and almost the spitting image of the man. The same stormy eyes of blue gray, an almost identical hairstyle (from when Squall had shorter hair, of course), and the same determined look to his round face.

“It was only my first day of school, Mom.” Denzel complains, though he’s smiling. He’s used to being showered with affection, because he knows his mom cherishes the moment. She’d had a hard life, or so he’s been told, though he doesn’t know the details.

“Well, then, you’ll have to tell me all about it later.” his mother teases, ruffling up his caramel hair. He laughs a bit, dropping his backpack by the door as he runs into the kitchen. Rinoa had no doubt laid out a snack for him, which he wanted to eat before doing anything else. Mom made the best cookies in the worlds, after all.

Slowly, the sorceress stands from her crouching position, arms crossing over her stomach. And almost wistful, but proud, smile crosses her lips, head tilted lightly to the side so that her hair spills over her shoulders in a way Squall hasn’t seen in ages.

“…Our baby boy’s growing up so fast. If I blink… Will he disappear…? Is this why Father was always so protective…?” she whispers into the quiet hall. There’s a sadness to her voice, the sound of tears wanting to well up.

Arms wrap around her again, and the chin is once more resting atop her head, nestled into her dark hair.

“…Don’t think about the future, Rin. It’s not like you. You’re the kind of person who lives in the moment. Nothing’s changed from then. Ten years ago, when we were married by a green fairy in a coliseum while everything was at its darkest. It’s still like back then for us. It’s still the moment, and we need to hold onto each of them and let our cares slip away.”

His words are a whisper, like a soft, summer breeze—gentle and reassuring, but with a heavy heat to it that makes one passive and tranquil. It causes her to sink back into him, dark eyes lightly shut.

“…Say those words to me again, Princess. The ones that made me fall in love with you.” Squall breathes, eyelids heavy with his own want to rest and feeling of inner peace. A small smile crosses Rinoa’s lips at the old nickname, one he’d used in their childhood, because the orphaned boy had once thought that Rinoa, who lived in such a big house, had to be royalty.

“…I don’t want the future. I want the present to stand still.”

Her own voice is a whisper, but it reminds her of how she’d lived until the days before this one. Denzel had changed her, yes, but not that much. He was a strong boy, and always would be. She knew that, a fog of doubt lifting from her heart. Every moment is to be cherished because, yes, Denzel will grow older and eventually leave the house, eventually move on.

But that’s not right now. Right now, he’s in the kitchen, happily munching on cookies and downing milk while excitedly contemplating what to tell his parents first. Right now, he’s six years old and just a boy, free of the worries of the worlds. Right now, he’s pondering over what cool class pet Mrs. Crescent will provide, because she’s the most amazing and quirky teacher ever who looks to be in her twenties when she’s actually in her fifties.

Rinoa smiles broadly, mind wandering to why she’d been so tense lately, to what had changed to cause her sudden alteration. She slips one hand to Squall’s, guiding it up to rest on her stomach.

“…Right now, I’m two months pregnant with our second child,” she begins with a purr, sensing the realization dawning on her husband, “…And waiting for them to complete our little happily ever after.”

[Captain amBEER]

James. I. I love you. Just. heart
Igniting the Phoenix and Filtered Sunlight. I can't even. My heart like. Explosion. So perfect. So perfect.
And and and Fuuuuu ;A; Just. I giggled when Riku freaked out, but BAWW when Namine showed up for a second. Poor Fuuuuu. ;A;
And Goddamit Xigbar when will you learn? XD XD Demyx just wanted one nice day and you ruin it with your damn death metal experiments. XD Lol watch that one be Zeny, and Vexen will blame Xigbar's experiment for anything Zeny ever does that is bad. XD "It's not my fault he's such a willful boy, I blame Xigbar's damned interference."

Heroes starts in about 14 minutes, so I'm gonna try and read Tuna and Ana's fics now. XD

Favorite lines will have to come later.

[Tuna Salad Sonnet]

Aaaaaand another improv fic! I wrote it that day that I was crying out of nowhere, so... No proofreading for you! {xD Test-test-testing an OC. *cough*ohgodwhyamidoingthis*cough* Aaaaand we're gonna wait for Kaiya and Amber (whoo she's here!), right?

Shu Sheng
A great calligraphy master.

Hua-Yong fits quite comfortably inside Xaldin's arms. She is tiny to begin with, and the Lancer is larger than most men. Having her rest against him is a soothing not-weight, like a stone that scarcely tips the scales.

Her touch is very similar, never quite making full contact, but never hovering. It is light and airy and it makes his skin prickle and she knows he likes it too much.

She likes to follow the lines in his back like paths on a map. She is especially fond of tracing the inked scales of the dragon that lives beneath his skin, leaning her cheek against him so he could feel the silk of her hair brush against his skin.

Sometimes she uses his back as a scroll, and paints calligraphy with her fingers. She writes poems on his arms, and recites them to him in Mandarin, harsh and smooth all at once.

"Her hands of white jade by a window of snow
Are glimmering on a golden-fretted harp –
And to draw the quick eye of Chou Yu,
She touches a wrong note now and then," she told him one morning.

"Hmm," he had said, letting the contented sound rumble from his chest. "Perhaps if you had played the harp, this would've happened a lot quicker."

She smiles and blushes and ducks her head, embarrassed. "Perhaps?"

"Please stop being adorable. It's simply disgusting sometimes."

Hua-Yong closes her eyes and smiles widely, red still in her face. She doesn't apologize.

[James Phobos]

I'm glad you loved them so, Amber. XD

I will comment to everything ever in the morning, I swear.

And Tuna, to add to your idea of Tony not remembering Mirage:

From the movie

Blonde Girl: Tony! Remember me?
Tony Stark: [walking by] Sure don't.

[Anakha the Silver]

Rainstorms

It’s a rare thing, rain in the World That Never Was. So rare that most welcome the relief that seems to come with the falling drops. The tense air in the castle seems to melt away, for there is the proof of passing time pit-pattering on the windows, reminding the people within of its presence.

But one person within seems to despise the drops of water with an uncharacteristic hatred. For someone seeming to lack any and all emotion, he loathes the rains and their offending music, for their melody only serves as a reminder of happy days long since past.

Xemnas.

And currently, he stands at the window of his office, glaring at the wet streaks that slide down the fogged window like tears. Silent rage is bubbling beneath the surface, as well as, perhaps, some strange pang of regret from a past life.

“...I like the rain, y'know? It's like music, beating on the cobblestone. And it's so refreshing, like a cool drink on a hot day! Or, when I'm sad, it seems like the tears of angels."

The words echo through his head, through the silence, telling him, reminding him, of a promise he’d never kept, of a woman he’d sooner like to forget if only she weren’t the driving force behind all of his actions. They whisper to him of lost hopes and dreams, haunt him like the pale maiden he’d walked with on that day.

Such an optimistic girl she had been, completely unaware of the tragic tale fate had woven for her. A tad ironic, as she had been gifted with prophecy. But still, optimism served only to blind one to the horrors of the worlds and to hinder them in the struggle for survival.

Rain, he tells himself, is a much darker force than she had ever thought. To her, it is a refreshing drink on a hot day? But it is also a dangerous flood during a drawn-out season of monsoons, claiming hundreds, thousands of lives as it pours down.

Music he hears not in it, not like what she heard. He hears the pounding of a force that cannot be stopped, seeking entrance in the most sinister and relentless of fashions. It threatens to spread a chilling cold, to drench those who wander out into it, and to perhaps make one susceptible to illness and death.

She had also described it as angel tears, falling from heaven to echo her sadness. But that is highly improbable, however comforting. Angels, he’d found, don’t exist. For if they had, she would have been one, and look where the tempting woman had led him.

She would have lived.

No. The optimistic view of rain had changed for him. The drops of water were deceptive, just like her, just like the silence in the Castle. After all, it could hardly be called ‘tense’ when a majority of the members are in hiding. No one wants to run into Larxene, powered up from the storms outside.

Axel had left for Twilight Town with Xion and Roxas. Demyx had gone to sit somewhere by a sea with his sitar. Luxord had decided to grab Xigbar and Xaldin to go drinking. Lexaeus and Zexion had gone searching for foreign books in other worlds. Vexen had muttered an excuse about needing to restock his supplies in the lab. Saix had long-since confined himself to his room. That left Xemnas and Marluxia, the latter of which was safe.

Larxene, however, wouldn’t dare to harm Xemnas, not on a rainy day. Anyone with half a brain would dare to disturb Xemnas now. The older five, those not including Xemnas, had warned the neophytes: rainy days put him in one of his rare moods when any who disturbed him, any who dared to enter his presence, would likely be turned into a Dusk or killed.

Wise words.

After all, rainy days remind him of her and the silence, the lack of tension in his Castle speaks to him of the deceptions she and the rain had woven for him, the web of lies and sweet words and touches.

Part of him used to ache. Part of him used to fight back against these thoughts. But that had been long ago, back when he still held optimism. Back when he thought of her often. Back before he’d given up all hope.

Back before he’d realized that even the cold chill of much-needed rain on a parched desert can only raise the dormant, not the dead.

[Tuna Salad Sonnet]

aaaaaaaaaah I just finished reading everything. Everything touches my heart aaaaaaaah. Too much awesome. heart Where is Kaiyaaaaa

Edit: No, wait. I didn't read To (Not) Meet You Again, because I have a feeling I missed something there. xD

[Anakha the Silver]

I haven't read yet, 'cause I'm out of it. xx

[Anakha the Silver]

I'm feeling better, but Closer is on. XD

[Kaiya Mya]

Yeah, I'm here! Sorry, I was at the gym for most of the day. Here's my contribution-- the first chapter to an original story that I've been working on for a while. It probably still has a few rough edges to it, but I'll probably go over it later when I'm not on a deadline. XD (Also, very very tentative title-- I'm well aware of how cheesy it must sound. ^^)

Let Sleeping Princes Lie

The goblins smelled worse dead than they did alive, Cai realized with a grimace.

They were more stupid than the stories had said, and yet they'd somehow nearly gotten the upper hand. She thought it rather ironic that it was the temporary loss of her helmet that had saved her.

Perhaps they weren’t used to seeing female knights laying siege to the tower.

Perhaps they might have spared her, but Cai hadn’t been about to wait for a display of chivalry from the horrific creatures.

Besides, if they had been about to spare her life solely on the grounds that she was female and thus not a threat, then they deserved whatever they got, chivalrous or not.

Stepping over the bodies, she quietly made her way up the stairs. She had to be nearly at the top now, she reasoned, unless there was a spell cast on the tower that made whoever entered it wander its halls forever.

That was certainly a happy thought. Cai brushed it away, but the feelings of uncertainty still stirred in her stomach as she ventured farther. The goblins were easier than she had anticipated-- surely no knight worth his salt could have been caught off guard by them.

Maybe the tower was enchanted. Maybe the door she was just now preparing to open led to a trap or a maze or--

Cai pushed the door open before her thoughts could go any further, and beheld a sight that made her sigh in relief, though only for a moment.

Prince Edwin the Third, heir to the throne and possible savior to the known world, was lying upon a silken bed before her. For a second he looked dead, but the steady rising and falling of his chest told Cai that he was merely in the deepest of sleeps. Her heart sank. It figured.

Why was it always this way? The enchantments never were about rescuing royalty from cells or the executioner’s axe. It was always about kissing the princesses-- or princes, in this case-- and bringing them safely back to their people.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t prepared to fulfill the enchantment’s requirements. That wasn’t it at all.
It was just that this man-- comatose though he was-- would be her very first kiss, and although she knew it wasn’t important in the long run... dammit, it was rather important to her.

Her helmet pinched her temples, making it impossible to think clearly. She removed it, dropping it with a particularly loud clang on the hard marble floor.

She flicked her gaze to the sleeping figure on the bed. He didn’t stir. If he was able to sleep through that, then enchantment was certainly more than likely.

Cautiously she made her way over to the side of the bed, keeping an eye out for any signs of a trap. This wasn’t usually how these sorts of arrangements went, but Cai wasn’t about to leave her survival up to chance.

Despite her misgivings, no cage descended; no enemies lay in wait of an ambush. Cai was almost disappointed.

The prince had a rather pleasant face, she was surprised to see. Cai wasn’t sure whether it was because of his personality or merely because he was sleeping so peacefully.

Carefully she reached out to shake him by the shoulder.

“Hey...” she whispered, all too aware of how ridiculous she sounded. “Your Highness. I’m here to rescue you. Wake up.”

No dice. Not even a noise that suggested he was on his way to awakening. It looked as though she would have to do things the traditional way.

Biting back a theatrical sigh, Cai knelt down, hesitating a bit as she tried to figure out the best way to go about this.

How did her sister say to do it again? Tilt your head so that your noses don’t bump, that was important... but what else?

Why was she even thinking about this so much? It was just a simple kiss, wasn’t it?

Simple or no, she could feel her heart pounding in her ears as she leaned closer to him. Her tongue darted out, nervously wetting her lips.

She couldn’t stop looking at his own lips, full and slightly parted in sleep, and she briefly wondered-- it was hard not to-- if this was his first kiss as well.

Cai took a deep breath. Okay, she thought to herself. Here goes.

“Sorry about this, Your Highness...” she murmured, leaning forward.

Cai had one last regret that she didn’t listen to Helga’s instructions a bit more-- and then her mouth closed over his.

The poets had always insinuated that one would feel something when they were kissing someone-- flashes of light or euphoria or butterflies in the stomach.

The only thing Cai was experiencing-- as she lost her first kiss to a man who wasn’t even awake enough to enjoy it-- was a sense of awkwardness.

She wasn’t sure whether she should open her eyes or keep them closed or what she should do with her hands. Was she supposed to touch his face? Put her arms around him? Were the rules of the enchantment really that picky? And just how long was she supposed to continue kissing him, anyway?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the fingers of his right hand twitch just the slightest bit.

Without warning, something strong and surprisingly heavy wrapped around her waist. Cai let out a muffled sound of surprise as she realized it was the prince’s own arm.

Edwin pulled her close to him, and Cai was momentarily thankful that she was wearing chainmail.

His eyes were still closed, but now he was making low, throaty noises that caused Cai’s face to flare up with embarrassment.

His other hand was in her hair, stroking and caressing, and she felt a strange fluttering from deep within her stomach-- the butterflies the poets had told of, no doubt.

She was probably hardly one to judge, but from what she could tell, he was definitely a very good kisser.

Frantic, she worked her hands in between their chests and pushed hard, extricating herself from his embrace. Her breath came short; as if she had been running.

There was a sleepy smile on the prince's lips now. As Cai watched, his eyes fluttered open, and he looked upon her for the first time.

Maybe it was her blood-spattered chainmail and disheveled appearance. Maybe it was the fact that she had a sword lying beside her upon the bed.

Whatever it was, his smile curdled and froze. A few seconds later, he began to scream-- a loud, bloodcurdling sound that startled Cai and caused her to shriek in kind. That simply caused him to scream even louder.

Cai recovered first. She stepped backwards off the bed, holding her hands out in front of her in what she hoped was a placating manner.

“Stop! Stop! It’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you. Look, I’m putting the sword away, see?”

The prince’s eyes narrowed, but at least he had finally stopped screaming. He sat up, glaring angrily.

“You scared me half to death!” he cried. “Who are you, anyway? What are you doing here?”

Cai was nonplussed. “You are Prince Edwin, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m Prince Edwin!” he retorted. “May I have the privilege of knowing who has interrupted my sleep?” His tone was sarcastic.

“My name is Cai. I’m here to rescue you.”

“Rescue me?” He looked her up and down and gave a quiet little snicker. “Uh... thank you kindly, but I don’t think I’m in need of any... er... rescue. No offense.”

He brushed off his clothing. “Why is it so dusty in here...?”

“Oh no offense taken, of course,” Cai said acidly, struggling with the urge to clout him over the head. I gave up my first kiss to someone like him?!

“Trust me, I have everything under control,” he went on. “I just lay down for a quick rest, that’s all. Killing goblins and other minions of darkness is quite taxing.

"I’m sure you’d know all about it, judging from the state of your armor. I suppose it’s safe to assume that not all of that blood is yours, eh?

“By the way, don’t be offended if I don’t thank you for waking me. I was having a good dream.” He smiled to himself. “A very good dream. I-- hey! Where are you going?”

Cai, who really had had all that she could stand from this pompous a**, was already on her way out of the tower. “Home. We’re leaving.”

“’We’? How dare you talk that way to a member of the royal family? Have you no sense of decorum? Hey! I wasn’t finished speaking!”

His words broke off as he abruptly realized that he was the only one in the room.

“Have it your way,” he muttered, storming after his rescuer. “But this discussion is not over! Do you hear me? Not over! Ugh, would you kindly wait a few paltry moments?”