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[x___s y l p h]

c h a r a c t e r : -jynx, the resonant tempest
l o c a t i o n : ----the world that never was

If Jynx had a favourite place within The Castle That Never Was, it would be no room inside at all, but rather the Altar of Naught – the highest tower in the looming grey bastion that the Organization called home: the place that, from what Jynx had been told, used to be so close to the Kingdom Hearts moon that it seemed one might be able to touch it simply by reaching out. She had always wondered what kind of music such a moon would play, sure that it would be gorgeous. Jynx made a mental note to return when Kingdom Hearts was complete, or nearly enough to make the moon, to listen to its music and play it on her own instruments.

It was here at the very precipice of the Altar of Naught that the Tempest now stood, always dangerously close to falling but never in any danger. As per usual, the strange girl had somewhat shunned her standard-issue Organization coat; she wore only the bottom half as intended, zipped up to her waist – the top half hung loosely at her hips, arms tied around her waist like one might wear a sweater on a hot day. The odd way in which she wore her coat revealed a black turtleneck shirt that lacked sleeves and a kind of corset over that. A broad bandolier crossed with a smaller strap over her torso, both of which looked as though they had been made to carry weapons – the strap had some kind of weapon holster in the back – but they were empty. Had one of the Cuore been watching her standing there with her face up to the rain and her arms spread invitingly, they probably would have thought Jynx insane. Whether or not she actually was, however, remained to be seen. The girl certainly was a little eccentric.

Her hair – the part of it that she hadn’t styled into dreadlocks after her larger father and tied back in a high ponytail – hung soaked and tangled across her face, shielding her open violet eyes somewhat from the sting of pounding rain. Contrary to popular belief, the woman was not simply lazing off on days like this when she spent hours standing just so, as if a statue – though she dearly loved being outside, Jynx was actually doing something constructive: she was studying. She felt things, saw things, smelled and heard and tasted things in the weather her comrades could not: subtle changes in pressure that would bring on a massive storm, a tang in the wind that meant a change in season, the music the sun played that would tell her whether or not to dress warmly. It was as if the whole universe was one big computer program written in a language only she could understand and manipulate.

Jynx grinned at the thought. She may have been the newest replica…but she had power at her fingertips.

She felt rather than heard Demyx arrive; the Corridors of Darkness had their own nightmarish breed of weather, one that touched on her “sixth sense” so to speak in a way that frightened Jynx – made her feel sick. Every time she passed through one she felt as though she would lose herself in that chaotic, heart-stealing storm, as she sometimes did with real weather, only she knew that if she did in the realm of darkness, she would not find her way back. The coats, apparently, did not protect against such a terrifying feeling, and though Jynx knew she was in no danger of falling victim to that particular fear, she still avoided the Corridors whenever she could.

An automatic sigh of relief escaped through pale lips as the door to darkness closed behind her. She turned with what she deemed an appropriate smile as Demyx commented on the weather, which he obviously did not appreciate as much as she. “Hihi,” came her response. Jynx snapped her head back, flipping her sopping black hair out of her face, and whistled a pattering, somber tune which oddly suited the weather and the pair’s surroundings. The rain storm slowed considerably in response until it was a light sprinkle, then nothing at all; though void of any indication such as stars or a moon, Jynx had cleared the sky of clouds – at least around the Altar of Naught. Demyx was already looking a little soaked. “Better?” she asked hopefully. Jynx lived to please, particularly when it came to her fathers – she didn’t want to seem like a failed replica.

“What can I do ya for, father?” she asked with what she considered to be the right amount of curiosity – but that curiosity turned into excitement as she thought of another question. “Oh, oh! Can we go somewhere to see the sun? A sun? Any sun. I miss the sun. I mean, I love the rain, and I love the dark, especially the dark and the rain – it makes a gorgeous song, in this sweet minor key – so heart-breaking! – but I miss the sun.” Her violet eyes grew bright and big in her most convincing puppy-dog face (which, by the way, she had down to near-perfection). The Cuore had been hassling the Organization for so long now that her fathers had taken to keeping Jynx within The World That Never Was for training, but maybe she’d finally get a chance to leave again. At this point, Jynx would even be willing to go through a Corridor of Darkness if it meant she could leave the castle.


███ █ --watch the end through dying eyes

R U N-- T O-- H E A V E N

[x___s y l p h]

c h a r a c t e r : -vexen, the chilly academic
l o c a t i o n : ----the world that never was

Vexen stared open-mouth, for once not caring about his dignity. No one was there to watch, at any rate – and he was too entranced by what he saw to realize how foolish he looked, simply standing there in his achromatic laboratory, gazing in shock at the panel screen that lit up before one of the five oval containment pods. Each of these opaque pods was dark, as it should have been – except one, lit from within by a soft white light, the gentle glow indicating its occupation. The Academic’s day had been bad enough already – someone had decided it would be a good idea to disorganize everything in his lab – some kind of prank, no doubt, as opposed to simply ignorance.

But, though the disorganization of his laboratory could be fixed (even if with some time and irritation), this new… complication… could not. Vexen keyed a command into the panel in front of him and the opaque pod cleared, like an iced glass defrosting at record speeds, revealing a female replica very near her completion. Vexen frowned. Yes, she was coming along quickly, this unexpected Replica. The combination of magic and science sped the process – it wouldn’t be long now before she would emerge from that pod, confused and vulnerable, unknowing of the world around her. The Academic wasn’t sure if he’d be around to teach her the basics of this world, as he had with the other replicas. The thought made him nervous. Of course, he hadn’t told Saïx about this new addition to the Organization. Not yet. But he would have to eventually…after all, this Replica was the “offspring,” so to speak, of the bluenette berserker.

The Luna Diviner and the Flurry of Dancing Flames. Easily, two of Vexen’s least favorite people. And this girl embodied both of them.

Complications, indeed, Vexen thought bitterly. She didn’t look like a replica made from Saïx or Axel – not from what he could tell – but the information from the panel in front of him glared like each letter was a tiny sun, proclaiming this grievous error to any whose eye it may catch: Look here! Vexen screwed up, and now you have a half-traitor to deal with!

The Chilly Academic shuddered, hiding the girl again behind opaque glass. It was better to just get this over with. He summoned a Dusk – the least of the Nobodies under Organization XIII’s control – to send his message to Axel. Vexen was not willing to put himself in that situation with the traitor. As for Saïx…well, Saïx would not settle for anything less than Vexen informing him, himself. With that thought in Vexen’s nervous mind, the blonde tore open a door to the Corridor of Darkness, emerging outside of the room he knew the Diviner to be working in for the day.

Knock, knock, knock. Vexen did not wait for a reply. “N-Number VII… your attendance is required in my laboratory.” He cursed himself for the stutter, but departed immediately back to his cold, colourless laboratory, busying himself with replacing what had been destroyed or disorganized by his unknown intruder. Saïx and Axel were sure to arrive at any minute.


███ █ --a false sense of urgency

R U N ,-- T R Y-- T O-- H I D E

[x___s y l p h]

c h a r a c t e r : -xaldin, the whirlwind lancer
l o c a t i o n : ----the world that never was

Xaldin, much like Jynx, had been outside in the World That Never Was – but for much more practical reasons than composing music out of the storm – whether or not it improved her skills over weather. No, his work was of the more active sort – eliminating the heartless that encroached upon the Organization’s territory. The city teemed with them – shadows and neoshadows and other heartless of the more artificial kind – leftover from the destruction of Kingdom Hearts, even now, several months after the event. With the Cuore harassing Xaldin at every turn every time he found himself in another world, he had not been given an opportunity to manipulate the strong-hearted into becoming heartless as he used to; instead, the Lancer found himself accompanying Roxas on small-scale missions such as these. The Key of Destiny could not be trusted to handle his own missions unaccompanied – not after his attempted betrayal of Organization XIII – the boy still held a grudge against the former-Nobodies, making every foray out into the darkness of the city an unpleasant endeavor, at best. He still apparently harboured a particular hate for Xaldin.

The pair, both hooded to protect their faces from the driving wind and rain, wandered along the streets of their dark city, Roxas eliminating heartless with his pair of keyblades while Xaldin watched on. As per usual, their expedition did not provide a great source of entertainment for the Lancer – at least, not until a Dusk appeared from the shadows, jerking and flailing stupidly.

“Wait,” he called to Roxas, who had been killing heartless so automatically that he only stopped Oathkeeper from striking down the Dusk just in time before blinking at the realization that it wasn’t actually a heartless.

“What the…?”

“Xaldin,” came a rather poor mimicry of Vexen’s voice from the Dusk’s unzipped mouth, “Saïx orders, Saïx call Xaldin, here ASAP.” It opened a Corridor of Darkness, presumably to wherever Xaldin was supposed to go and see Saïx, before disappearing. The Lancer blinked violet eyes for a moment, but otherwise did not react. He opened another portal for Roxas a moment later.

“We’re done here. Return to the castle.” As Roxas moved to his own Corridor, Xaldin stepped into the one the Dusk had opened for him and emerged into one of the training rooms, which had apparently been in use recently.

He pulled down the hood of his cloak upon his arrival, but if he noticed – or cared – about the damaged room or the seemingly blind replica, he did not show it, but instead remained silent. Another Organization member appeared shortly afterward, obviously shaken by something, but before he had a chance to come up with any other thought on the matter, Saïx began to speak.


███ █ --death does not exist for us

R E M E M B E R

[x___s y l p h]

c h a r a c t e r : -lexaeus, the silent hero
l o c a t i o n : ----the world that never was

Silence – sweet, satisfying silence – little else compared to it then there was work to be done. It left Lexaeus able to concentrate on his experiments, which went well (all things considered), without the interruption of mundane things like Vexen missing some beaker or another, or (more likely) one of the neophytes feeling the need to bother him with some other insignificant thing. Zexion wasn’t here to share in his experiments – and neither was his replica – both something he considered a shame…but there was a certain peace to his work that could never quite be duplicated amongst others, even fellow, amicable scientists.

“Hmmm.” Lexaeus’s profound, bass voice rumbled contemplatively like the earth itself as he studied his notes with the utmost care of someone who is very serious about what he does. Science was…well, a science – to make even the smallest of errors was to ruin the entire process, and Lexaes was not the kind of person to let any amount of effort go to waste.

And so, the impressive man sat at a dazzlingly white desk of a size that aptly accommodated him, studiously examining old records of experiments he and his comrades had once conduction years ago, hoping to come upon an epiphany that would aid the Organization in their constant battle against the plight that had come to be known as the Cuore. The pencil Lexaeus used to denote ideas that might be of benefit when expanded on (and which he used to write his thoughts out on particular subjects as they came to him) was laughably small in his great hand, having not been made to accommodate the man – frustratingly, it had been his third pencil of the day, its unfortunate brethren having been snapped in the midst of the Silent Hero’s note-taking.

“Hm.” Lexaeus did not sound contemplative this time – the short noise came into existence in response to his most recent pencil snapping in half in the man’s grip. He lifted one broken half to his eyes for inspection and had been just about to search for another when a knock at his door interrupted his thoughts.

Felixia, came the unnecessary thought as his blue-haired replica became visible. Lexaeus stood – a courteous formality, though he now dwarfed Felixia – as she entered, nodding his greeting and his permission for her approach (not that she needed it, at this point; Lexaeus had made it known that she was always welcome in his laboratory long before). He listened as she began to divulge information on some new blunder of Vexen’s without any prodding from Lexaeus – a normal ritual. Lexaeus did not speak much.

He frowned in response to Felixia’s news, though not in any particular emotion – indeed, he did find himself somewhat amused by Vexen’s error. How did one…accidentally create a replica? He had personally seen the initiation process involved in creating one – it had been designed with safety in mind: one couldn’t simply accidentally press a key or two and suddenly find a replica on their hands. Further, the scientists working on the renewed Replica Project had made it possible to abort the process as long as the replica was early in its creation – even if, somehow, Vexen had sequenced in the commands to begin replica production, he, of all people, would have known how to terminate it immediately.

Vexen never ceases to amaze me, Lexaeus thought – though his expression remained as stoic as ever, revealing little (if any) of his amusement.

The reports on his desk and the notes that accompanied them (both taking up nearly its entirety, but somehow in a neat fashion) apparently attracted Felixia’s interest, provoking her into asking a question that – finally – required a verbal response from Lexaeus. He returned to his chair – large and white, effectively complementing the desk – and peered pensively at his papers. “Old work,” he said simply, pausing for a moment before deigning to elabourate. “These,” he indicated one particular sheaf of papers, “Are reports on experiments that I conducted in Radiant Garden.” He nodded, gesturing at another small stack. “My notes – more recent, borne from the thought that I might be able to use this information to spark a memory – or idea – that we can use against the Cuore.”


███ █ --all i ever wanted was a fraction of the truth

W A L K I N G-- I N-- T H E-- S H A D O W S

[x___s y l p h]

c h a r a c t e r : -xemnas, superior of the in-between
l o c a t i o n : ----the world that never was

Darkness pervaded all in its heavy embrace; it was in darkness that one sought the unknown; in darkness, one found mystery. In darkness, one sought shelter; in darkness, one found comfort. There was something to be said for the profundity of darkness, for the effects it had on others – and effects it did have, for better or for worse, on all who met its shadowy visage. A source of reconciliation for many, a source of distress for most, all things fall again to darkness in the end, no matter what light chases it away. Darkness was, ultimately, eternal, peaceful, powerful, and so, by extension, was nothingness.

It was within this bastion of darkness, this capital of nothingness, that the Superior of the In Between thrived. Not quite the darkness that Saïx had perceived after having entered from the glaring brightness of the hall beyond, the room that Xemnas had found himself squandering away most of his time in was lit by ample twilight, emulating the time of day that the World That Never Was would never have – the time of day that suited the Superior and his Organization XIII better than morning or day or even night. He sat at a desk strewn with papers cluttered with extraordinarily complicated diagrams, theories, equations, and problems of the mathematical and scientific sort that would conceivably make sense to no one but himself (and, possibly, Zexion, who had always been particularly bright for his age). It was at these seemingly endless sheets of scattered paper that Xemnas stared, studying with bright sunset eyes that almost appeared internally lit, and from which the Superior did not remove his gaze upon Saïx’s advent. His countenance, fixed in its ever-present mask of an expression something like boredom-tinged blankness (fully indicating how little sentiment the Superior actually felt, as the appearance was not a façade but an accurate representation of his emotions) did not change in the slightest at the knock preceding his second-in-command’s arrival, but, as courtesy dictated, he did speak his permission for admission in a voice more profoundly deep than one might expect from the man: “Enter.”

Saïx did just that and, his sharp eyes evidently already adjusting to the near-darkness of the study, closed the large door behind him. Yellow-gold eyes surveyed the austere room, though the Superior had certainly entertained this particular audience in the past. He knew what Saïx would find: a large but otherwise unimpressive room, sparsely furnished, dominated by walls lined with shelves containing books of the same nature as the papers on his over-large desk – normally a solid black marble, but currently suffering a mottled white surface from his extensive research.

“Vexen,” Saïx's distaste for the man was hidden well, but still detectable, “Or rather, as it has come to my attention, Larxene, has caused us somewhat of a problem,” he announced, his voice low and dangerous – and something else, too, which Xemnas found himself unable to determine with his ears alone.

The Superior of the In Between replaced the most recent report to catch his interest on his desk, looking up at Saïx for the first time since his subordinate entered, and his sunset eyes widened, just a fraction, at what he saw. He did not expect to see his second-in-command battered from some battle, and he found the thought mildly disturbing – whatever Saïx had come to him for, the Diviner had clearly deemed it important enough to see Xemnas before tending to his own injuries. “Continue,” he said in that bass voice which always managed to sound commanding and powerful, even when spoken in his softest tones.

The Superior had expected an explanation for Saïx’s state of appearance – perhaps Larxene had betrayed the Organization again, or had somehow managed to coerce Vexen, of all people, into doing her bidding. He did not anticipate that Saïx would begin with a different topic entirely:

“We have added a new replica to our numbers.”

Xemnas listened in discontent as Saïx went on to explain the details of Xylia’s creation – what had happened, who was responsible, who the creators (though Saïx and Axel really had no hand in creating Xylia) were – and Saïx’s opinion on what should be done. He closed his orange-gold eyes for a moment as he considered this new state of affairs, deigning not to speak for a long while.

“Larxene should be aptly punished,” Xemnas finally decided, nodding once before opening those startling eyes. “She is a child, and such a prank only accentuates her immaturity…however, as long as she remains loyal, she is of use. I will leave the decision of how she might best be reprimanded up to you. Try to keep her alive, for now. As for Vexen…” Xemnas drew his hands together, twining his fingers pensively. “His recent success with the Replica Project is enough to make up for this grievous oversight. His stupidity did not account for Larxene’s immaturity, but ultimately the fault lies with her. See to it that it does not happen again.”

“What of the new replica, Xylia?”

Xemnas exhaled slowly, mulling over the problem. He could, of course, see why Saïx would have it destroyed before it had a chance to become problematic. But it had already been created…and with the proper upbringing, the Superior thought it could be trained to be loyal to the Organization, despite having Axel’s blood within her. “I will have you or other trustworthy members of our Organization keep a close eye on it. We will see if it is useful before eliminating a potentially useful addition.” The Superior nodded, blinking slowly, and returned his attention to his research.

Recognizing the dismissal, Saïx nodded his assent and turned to leave the room.

He hadn’t taken his third step before Xemnas spoke up again, not moving his sunset gaze from the papers at his desk. “And Saïx,” he said, lifting an arm to gesture vaguely at the Diviner (and, more particularly, his injuries), “Take care of that immediately.”


███ █ --damned is the dawn of a new day

G O D - F O R S A K E N-- S O U L

[x___s y l p h]

c h a r a c t e r : -xigbar, the freeshooter
l o c a t i o n : ----the world that never was

If getting coffee involved getting a tall glass filled with various drinks that involved copious amounts of alcohol…then sure, grabbing himself a coffee had been exactly what Xigbar was doing when the Nocturne came barreling into the kitchen faster than a speeding bullet, spouting off some nonsense almost too fast for Xigbar to quite catch in his current, slightly inebriated state. Though he had not (for once) been doing anything in particular to get into any sort of mischief or mayhem at that particular moment, it sounded as though Demyx was providing the opportunity to do so.

“Whoa, there, kiddo,” he said, alcohol forgotten (but only for the moment). “Let’s start by taking a deep breath.” As he paused, it occurred to him that Demyx literally gasped for breath, as though he were some normal human trying to get help for an emergency – though clearly the boy was much too excited for whatever he had discovered to have possibly been anything too particularly terrible. Besides, even Demyx was smart enough to use a faster method of transportation if he had stumbled across some kind of emergency. Right?

“Did you run a marathon or something to get here? You do realize we have these, uh, things we call Corridors of Darkness, right?” He managed to keep his words from slurring – he had to be a good example for the kid…or something (or, more likely, Xigbar didn’t think Demyx would “allow” him to go inspect whatever the big deal was if the Nocturne discovered that he was drunk – even if only tipsy).

As Demyx caught his breath, Xigbar tried to piece together the near-nonsensical stream of syllables that had poured from the blonde’s mouth like water from a hose. “Sparky did what now?” he inquired, referring to Larxene. That’s what it sounded like the kid had said, at any rate. Something about Larxene and accidentally doing something to a replica. Sounded kinky.

As if – the only logical explanation linking the fire-hazard Nymph to a replica would be Larxene killing (or otherwise damaging) it, which put a damper on Xigbar’s imaginative musings. Though the Freeshooter didn’t understand why Demyx would be so excited if that was all he had to report.

He thought he heard Demyx mention something about Saïx and Axel, but that didn’t make sense, either – Xigbar could barely imagine the words “Saïx, Axel, Larxene,” and “replica” in the same sentence – let alone the same room.


███ █ --i deal with darkness ruthlessly

L O V E-- T H E-- W A Y-- I T-- F E E L S