(no subject)
In his dreams, he is never himself.
Not that he's another person. He's still...himself. But he's not Roxas. His face, his eyes, his clothes, his walk and his talk and the way he acts and sees everything around him just isn't...him. He knows it's not.
So why does it feel so familiar?
I am the Key of Destiny.
The sky is dark and the air is thick with rain and the heavy burden of the clouds overheard. There is a man (a boy) in black, hood pulled up over his head, robes falling down to his feet. Only his mouth is visible, and even that is hard to pick out through the thick, ever-present sheets of rain, pouring from up high. There is no smile on those lips, no emotion to be gleaned from them. They reveal nothing. He reveals nothing. Has nothing to reveal. Nothing inside means nothing to hide. He doesn't know how he knows this. He just does.
I am nothing, was nothing, will always be nothing.
In one hand, light. In the other, dark. Two keyblades, held like old friends, held in hands that feel at home with these weapons in their grip. They are meant to do something. But what? What is it he must do with them? He can only see himself, he can only see the hooded man with the empty heart and the keyblades in his hands. Keyblades that he doesn't deserve. Keyblades he never earned. A shadow of someone who did, carrying only shadows of the weapons the true master has earned through blood and sweat and tears and heart.
I am an echo. Less than an echo. Shadow of an echo. A shadow that can't follow. And what use is that?
He is on a mission. A mission to find something. Someone. Himself? No. But to find someone. Are the weapons to clear his path, or are his weapons meant for what lies at the end of that path? He doesn't know. He knows, but it's not in his reach. Too far, reaching for too much at once. Focus. Slow everything. What is his name? Roxas. Who is he? He doesn't know. He doesn't know who Roxas is. Maybe he never did, or maybe he forgot because he wanted to forget. But he knows neither are true. Neither thing would make him this angry. It was taken from him. Who he is was taken.
He beat me. He stole the only thing I had from me. Now I will take everything from him. But I will go further. I will destroy everything he has. And then I will destroy him.
What is he though? Doesn't know, doesn't want to. This much he wants to forget, wants to forget it so much it stops being true. He wants to breath air into lungs he doesn't have. He wants to have blood pumping through a heart and veins that have never been there. He wants to bleed, to heal, to feel and to rest and to gasp and laugh and smile and be something real. He wants to be something more. He wants to be Sora.
Sora. Sora who is everything I can only wish for. Sora who has everything I will never be. Sora who I hate and love at the same time with shadows of emotion. Sora who I must steal from if I am to be real. Sora who I must also destroy.
Where does the name jump into his head from? He doesn't know. He just knows that this Sora is the end of the path. He is both the obstacle and the objective. He is everything he will ever want and everything he must overcome to get it. But can he? Is it possible?
What makes him so much better? What did he do to deserve everything while I have nothing?
He doesn't know. But so long as he draws no breath and bleeds no blood, he will become something unstoppable. This he tells himself. If he cannot be human, he will be an unstoppable force of destiny. He will be the key and turn the lock and he alone shall reap the rewards that destiny has for him.
I am nothing. I am a void. I am a mistake of the universe.
And then he wakes, and prays to some higher power that this time he will forget this dream, this burning in his chest, this rage that he fears will destroy worlds.
But he never forgets.
I am Nobody.
Not that he's another person. He's still...himself. But he's not Roxas. His face, his eyes, his clothes, his walk and his talk and the way he acts and sees everything around him just isn't...him. He knows it's not.
So why does it feel so familiar?
I am the Key of Destiny.
The sky is dark and the air is thick with rain and the heavy burden of the clouds overheard. There is a man (a boy) in black, hood pulled up over his head, robes falling down to his feet. Only his mouth is visible, and even that is hard to pick out through the thick, ever-present sheets of rain, pouring from up high. There is no smile on those lips, no emotion to be gleaned from them. They reveal nothing. He reveals nothing. Has nothing to reveal. Nothing inside means nothing to hide. He doesn't know how he knows this. He just does.
I am nothing, was nothing, will always be nothing.
In one hand, light. In the other, dark. Two keyblades, held like old friends, held in hands that feel at home with these weapons in their grip. They are meant to do something. But what? What is it he must do with them? He can only see himself, he can only see the hooded man with the empty heart and the keyblades in his hands. Keyblades that he doesn't deserve. Keyblades he never earned. A shadow of someone who did, carrying only shadows of the weapons the true master has earned through blood and sweat and tears and heart.
I am an echo. Less than an echo. Shadow of an echo. A shadow that can't follow. And what use is that?
He is on a mission. A mission to find something. Someone. Himself? No. But to find someone. Are the weapons to clear his path, or are his weapons meant for what lies at the end of that path? He doesn't know. He knows, but it's not in his reach. Too far, reaching for too much at once. Focus. Slow everything. What is his name? Roxas. Who is he? He doesn't know. He doesn't know who Roxas is. Maybe he never did, or maybe he forgot because he wanted to forget. But he knows neither are true. Neither thing would make him this angry. It was taken from him. Who he is was taken.
He beat me. He stole the only thing I had from me. Now I will take everything from him. But I will go further. I will destroy everything he has. And then I will destroy him.
What is he though? Doesn't know, doesn't want to. This much he wants to forget, wants to forget it so much it stops being true. He wants to breath air into lungs he doesn't have. He wants to have blood pumping through a heart and veins that have never been there. He wants to bleed, to heal, to feel and to rest and to gasp and laugh and smile and be something real. He wants to be something more. He wants to be Sora.
Sora. Sora who is everything I can only wish for. Sora who has everything I will never be. Sora who I hate and love at the same time with shadows of emotion. Sora who I must steal from if I am to be real. Sora who I must also destroy.
Where does the name jump into his head from? He doesn't know. He just knows that this Sora is the end of the path. He is both the obstacle and the objective. He is everything he will ever want and everything he must overcome to get it. But can he? Is it possible?
What makes him so much better? What did he do to deserve everything while I have nothing?
He doesn't know. But so long as he draws no breath and bleeds no blood, he will become something unstoppable. This he tells himself. If he cannot be human, he will be an unstoppable force of destiny. He will be the key and turn the lock and he alone shall reap the rewards that destiny has for him.
I am nothing. I am a void. I am a mistake of the universe.
And then he wakes, and prays to some higher power that this time he will forget this dream, this burning in his chest, this rage that he fears will destroy worlds.
But he never forgets.
I am Nobody.