fic: "Hard on the Nerves" (Organization XIII, #13)
Title: Hard on the Nerves
Author: laylah
Claim: Organization XIII
Character: Roxas
Theme Set: Light
Theme: #13, destiny
Disclaimer: Squeenix owns me, not vice versa.
Summary: Roxas gets sent to Halloweentown. And comes back.
Hard on the Nerves
Stepping out of Darkness for the first time into a new world is always disorienting, always a little hard on the nerves.
Well. Roxas hasn't asked if it feels like that for the others. Maybe he'll ask Demyx sometime, if nobody else is around to hear.
For him, at least, it always feels a little uncomfortable, forcing his way out of the lack of real space and into an actual world again. The air feels too thick, gravity too heavy, like he has to struggle to force some kind of presence into a world that doesn't need him.
It feels extra strange this time, as he tries to get his bearings in a graveyard under a cool yellow moon. He feels dizzy, sort of weightless and heavy at the same time, which even Xigbar hasn't managed to do to him in any of their sparring sessions. He has to take a minute to just stand there and breathe deep, inhaling the scents of turned earth and damp leaves, trying to adjust.
Eventually the vertigo passes, though, and Roxas straightens his shoulders, lifts his head. He's capable of doing missions on his own. He's been arguing for it for weeks. He's not about to run home now just because he felt a little woozy when he arrived.
His coat billows around him when he walks down the path through the graveyard -- he's sort of tempted to roll his eyes, really. It's overdone, too dramatic, like the tilted gravestones and the wispy wraith-shapes that rise from them as he walks past. Xaldin would like it here, he thinks. It's a good setting for villains.
He's not a villain, Roxas doesn't think -- the only things he kills, really, are bad guys themselves. His keyblade comes to his hand as a few Heartless wrapped in bandages lurch toward him, but even though they're more annoying than the shadows he's most used to, they're still no real challenge.
The gates to the town -- bent wrought iron with creaking hinges -- swing open a moment after he steps up to them, and Roxas walks through. There's a...spirit...here that he's looking for -- even in a town like this, there are hearts powerful enough to serve the Organization's cause.
There are a few buildings facing onto the main square, and Roxas picks one more or less at random -- more or less, in that he mentally marks the one with the biggest staircase and the forbidding apparatus on the roof as his last choice -- to march up the front steps. Tell them you're trick-or-treating, Axel said, whatever that means. You've got a trustworthy face. I'm sure you can get the locals to help you.
Roxas lifts one hand to knock at the door -- and stops cold. The sleeve of his coat has fallen back, and there's nothing underneath.
He lifts his other hand, holds them both up in front of him, and -- nothing. He can feel them, can open and close his hands, can clasp them together or tug up his sleeves -- but it looks like nothing at all, empty air inside his robe.
Reeling, he staggers down the steps, toward the fountain in the square. He must -- he has to -- he comes up short at the edge of the fountain, staring down into the water. His hood is a darker black shape against the starry reflection of the sky. He can't make out any features.
His hands are not trembling, he swears, as he reaches up to push back his hood. The night air feels cool on his skin. A chill breeze ruffles his hair. The reflection shows him nothing at all, just an empty coat bent over the water.
The nausea and vertigo almost make him fall to his knees, but he manages -- just barely -- with a hand that he's trying to believe in even though he can't see it stretched out in front of him -- to open a portal into Darkness. Somewhere safe, somewhere not like this, anywhere but here --
He staggers out into the bright light of the Castle That Never Was, onto the ragged white carpet of Axel's room.
"Run into trouble?" Axel says, sitting up. Roxas isn't sure whether it's better or worse that Axel is here.
"It was," he says, and licks his lips, staring at the floor, at the reassuring shapes of his gloves digging into the carpet. He sits back on his heels and tugs his gloves off so he can see his bare hands. "When I got there I felt funny, and then I -- saw -- I mean I didn't see -- I mean, there wasn't anything under my coat at all."
Axel looks sympathetic for about half a second, and then he shrugs. "What'd you expect?" he says. "You are a Nobody."
Roxas stares at him. "You -- did you know?"
"Nobody takes it well the first time," Axel says, with a little smirk that probably means he thinks the phrasing was clever. "You get used to it."
Roxas shakes his head. "No," he says. "I won't."
Author: laylah
Claim: Organization XIII
Character: Roxas
Theme Set: Light
Theme: #13, destiny
Disclaimer: Squeenix owns me, not vice versa.
Summary: Roxas gets sent to Halloweentown. And comes back.
Hard on the Nerves
Stepping out of Darkness for the first time into a new world is always disorienting, always a little hard on the nerves.
Well. Roxas hasn't asked if it feels like that for the others. Maybe he'll ask Demyx sometime, if nobody else is around to hear.
For him, at least, it always feels a little uncomfortable, forcing his way out of the lack of real space and into an actual world again. The air feels too thick, gravity too heavy, like he has to struggle to force some kind of presence into a world that doesn't need him.
It feels extra strange this time, as he tries to get his bearings in a graveyard under a cool yellow moon. He feels dizzy, sort of weightless and heavy at the same time, which even Xigbar hasn't managed to do to him in any of their sparring sessions. He has to take a minute to just stand there and breathe deep, inhaling the scents of turned earth and damp leaves, trying to adjust.
Eventually the vertigo passes, though, and Roxas straightens his shoulders, lifts his head. He's capable of doing missions on his own. He's been arguing for it for weeks. He's not about to run home now just because he felt a little woozy when he arrived.
His coat billows around him when he walks down the path through the graveyard -- he's sort of tempted to roll his eyes, really. It's overdone, too dramatic, like the tilted gravestones and the wispy wraith-shapes that rise from them as he walks past. Xaldin would like it here, he thinks. It's a good setting for villains.
He's not a villain, Roxas doesn't think -- the only things he kills, really, are bad guys themselves. His keyblade comes to his hand as a few Heartless wrapped in bandages lurch toward him, but even though they're more annoying than the shadows he's most used to, they're still no real challenge.
The gates to the town -- bent wrought iron with creaking hinges -- swing open a moment after he steps up to them, and Roxas walks through. There's a...spirit...here that he's looking for -- even in a town like this, there are hearts powerful enough to serve the Organization's cause.
There are a few buildings facing onto the main square, and Roxas picks one more or less at random -- more or less, in that he mentally marks the one with the biggest staircase and the forbidding apparatus on the roof as his last choice -- to march up the front steps. Tell them you're trick-or-treating, Axel said, whatever that means. You've got a trustworthy face. I'm sure you can get the locals to help you.
Roxas lifts one hand to knock at the door -- and stops cold. The sleeve of his coat has fallen back, and there's nothing underneath.
He lifts his other hand, holds them both up in front of him, and -- nothing. He can feel them, can open and close his hands, can clasp them together or tug up his sleeves -- but it looks like nothing at all, empty air inside his robe.
Reeling, he staggers down the steps, toward the fountain in the square. He must -- he has to -- he comes up short at the edge of the fountain, staring down into the water. His hood is a darker black shape against the starry reflection of the sky. He can't make out any features.
His hands are not trembling, he swears, as he reaches up to push back his hood. The night air feels cool on his skin. A chill breeze ruffles his hair. The reflection shows him nothing at all, just an empty coat bent over the water.
The nausea and vertigo almost make him fall to his knees, but he manages -- just barely -- with a hand that he's trying to believe in even though he can't see it stretched out in front of him -- to open a portal into Darkness. Somewhere safe, somewhere not like this, anywhere but here --
He staggers out into the bright light of the Castle That Never Was, onto the ragged white carpet of Axel's room.
"Run into trouble?" Axel says, sitting up. Roxas isn't sure whether it's better or worse that Axel is here.
"It was," he says, and licks his lips, staring at the floor, at the reassuring shapes of his gloves digging into the carpet. He sits back on his heels and tugs his gloves off so he can see his bare hands. "When I got there I felt funny, and then I -- saw -- I mean I didn't see -- I mean, there wasn't anything under my coat at all."
Axel looks sympathetic for about half a second, and then he shrugs. "What'd you expect?" he says. "You are a Nobody."
Roxas stares at him. "You -- did you know?"
"Nobody takes it well the first time," Axel says, with a little smirk that probably means he thinks the phrasing was clever. "You get used to it."
Roxas shakes his head. "No," he says. "I won't."