(no subject)
Roxas provides little insight on what the lesser nobodies actually are and even Goofy and Donald in all their eclectic experience know little more than Sora does. All Sora knows for sure is that they come to him in spiteful hoards and he can hear them now, a constant hum of wicked suffering and quiet insanity beneath the deafening strikes of his keyblade.
The Organization in all their self loathing, were fortunate. The thirteen hollow individuals that comprised the Organization dreamed, and harbored the ability to imagine ways to complete a life only half lived.
These smaller ones didn’t, and suffered without recourse. The dusks, berserkers and lesser nobodies viewed their world in a void where dreams dared not tread.
And lately, they’ve started telling him that in chilling whispers that only he can hear. Like they know Sora. Like he understands.
There’s no guarantee that these voices aren’t another ploy to force him off the path and into confusion, so he pushes it out of his mind and strives to send the nothings back from whence they came.
He can’t afford hesitation. So he reminds himself after every dusk, it’s only in his head. There is no method in the madness; They have no voices or consciousness. They don’t know what it is to suffer. And they certainly don’t want an end that only his keyblade can deliver.
Because if Sora believes it, the heartless he once was will stir and join in the murmurs of phantoms with a desperate need to destroy.
And he’ll like it.