Interlude 6: Voice of the Fire
((Note: This interlude takes place just after our heroes arrive in "the other world." Everyone knows where we're going, but if you're interested in narrative integrity,this would be considered spoilers?))
Agrabah Marketplace. The oppressive heat of the desert is certainly not helped by the crushing throngs of people milling about, buying and selling wares throughout the many worlds. Sora and his friends had succeeded in separating the worlds when he defeated the villain who called himself Ansem, but with Gummi technology flourishing (aided in no small part by shrewd investments on the part of entrepeneurs like Scrooge McDuck) passage between the worlds was still happening for people who had the money or the cleverness. And so it was that Aladdin and Jasmine had thrown open the doors of Agrabah to these time-tossed questers; the already bustling open market square now growing exponentially with goods from all across the aether.
Johnny Truant wiped at his brow. He was wearing a thick black cloak that trailed to his feet, and it was doing nothing to help his transition to the climate. He walked slowly from stall to stall, and the crowds gave him uneasy berth. This was nothing new to him. First it was his arms, then the madness, now the garment that marked him as an outsider. The market, on the other hand, felt as close to home as he'd known in some time. These varied people, the stories passing by like quicksilver, it was a return to Patchwork Earth, or to the Nexus. And yet his friends, his family, were not here. He was cut off from what he knew, and who he loved, and it had all never seemed so far away.
He was not, however, alone. His young companion was flapping the lapels of his coat, airing out sweaty arms. The tape around his knuckles were damp and crumbling. He was bouncing in place, didn't know where to look next. It was all too much, too incredible for words. Like any teenager, it manifested in impatience. He wiped his palms on his baggy pants and faced Johnny, walking backwards.
"What are we looking for, exactly? Please, please say air conditioning."
Johnny laughed. "Inks. Dyes. And a good, sharp needle."
His companion crinkled his nose. "Man, nobody does that stuff anymore. It's not cool."
"It's always going to be cool for a certain kind of person." He stopped at a stall where books were piled in random arrays, spilling over onto each other, burying the shopkeep. "You've gotta relax, Rocky."
"Easy for you to say. You're, like, Mister Calm."
Rocky didn't know why Johnny laughed so hard at that. His hands emerged from the dark cloak to paw through the books.
"Things happen for a reason, I think. After all, if I hadn't shown up where and when I did, you might've..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Rocky shifted his weight back and forth between feet, shook his blond hair. "Anything good there?"
Johnny held up a red hardcover, ran his finger along the straight square spine. "Actually, yeah." He counted out a few coins for the smiling man in the turban, who peered out from a wall of text like Fortunato. "A gift for someone I know." He handed the book to the younger man, and they walked on.
"Voice of the Fire. Is this, like, a magic spell book?"
"Kind of." Johnny smiled. Up above, a tiny figure darted from awning to awning - a monkey in a fez. "It's a story, but there's magic in it."
"What's it about?" Rocky was thumbing through it, peering at the infrequent illustrations - a severed head on a pike, a tranquil river, a woman in flames... he stops at the last, a tall man in a thick, menacing beard, raising a hand as if to trace a sigil in the air.
"It's by a guy named Alan Moore. It's about a town, where this cursed history repeats itself over and over. Death and madness."
"Wow." He tried to skim the first few pages, but something in the language put him off. "Sounds like a crazy gift."
"Not really." He ran his hand through his hair, watched the dust turn along the ground and rise slowly, spiraling away towards the sun. "Because it's about a real town. And there's hope. And things get better."
Rocky slipped the book into a thick cargo pocket, mulling this over, when there was a soft hum from somewhere - or perhaps everywhere, all around them. The hum built, until the notes were more familiar, and then the voice switched instead to an off-key, awkward singing.
Love is a burning thing
and it makes a firery ring
bound by wild desire
I fell in to a ring of fire....
"Oh, shit." Johnny spun in place, but neither of them could see from whence the voice had come. The crowds were already scattering, some deep-set understanding kicking in. One too many Heartless attacks, perhaps, or just the vibrations in each shaky note.
"How did he find us already?" Rocky had backed up towards Johnny, one arm raised as if he, himself could trace magic from the air.
I fell in to a burning ring of fire
I went down,down,down
and the flames went higher.
And it burns,burns,burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire.
The shadows erupted upwards and opened like a flower, rippled like a mirror as the man strode through, his posture uneven and leaning, hands weighed down by a pair of spinning rings.
"Oh..." The man wore a cloak like Johnny's, his hair erupting from within in a cascade of crimson spikes. "Does this mean you remember me, Roxas?"
He leaned in for his solo.
The taste of love is sweet
when hearts like our's meet
I fell for you like a child
oh, but the fire went wild...
"Rocky," Roxas, took a step forward. "Johnny... go. I'll hold him off."
"I'm not leaving you here alone." He couldn't afford to lose anyone else. He didn't have anyone else to lose.
"You're not a fighter, man... c'mon, just go."
I fell in to a burning ring of fire
I went down,down,down
and the flames went higher.
And it burns,burns,burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire.
Roxas swiped that outstretched hand through the desert air and it erupted into ones and zeroes. The high noon sun caught un the watered steel of a weapon now in hand, a gleam slowly rippling downward along the shaft to the row of carefully aligned teeth. He raised the keyblade before him.
"Axel."
"Aw, after all this time..." Axel's hands spun with a flick of the wrist, and the chakra erupted, spinning wheels of orange flame cutting through the nearby stalls. "You finally got it memorized!"
Johnny staggered backwards and fell even as the blond teenager charged into the flames, and then everything was blinding heat and the sounds of clashing steel.
Agrabah Marketplace. The oppressive heat of the desert is certainly not helped by the crushing throngs of people milling about, buying and selling wares throughout the many worlds. Sora and his friends had succeeded in separating the worlds when he defeated the villain who called himself Ansem, but with Gummi technology flourishing (aided in no small part by shrewd investments on the part of entrepeneurs like Scrooge McDuck) passage between the worlds was still happening for people who had the money or the cleverness. And so it was that Aladdin and Jasmine had thrown open the doors of Agrabah to these time-tossed questers; the already bustling open market square now growing exponentially with goods from all across the aether.
Johnny Truant wiped at his brow. He was wearing a thick black cloak that trailed to his feet, and it was doing nothing to help his transition to the climate. He walked slowly from stall to stall, and the crowds gave him uneasy berth. This was nothing new to him. First it was his arms, then the madness, now the garment that marked him as an outsider. The market, on the other hand, felt as close to home as he'd known in some time. These varied people, the stories passing by like quicksilver, it was a return to Patchwork Earth, or to the Nexus. And yet his friends, his family, were not here. He was cut off from what he knew, and who he loved, and it had all never seemed so far away.
He was not, however, alone. His young companion was flapping the lapels of his coat, airing out sweaty arms. The tape around his knuckles were damp and crumbling. He was bouncing in place, didn't know where to look next. It was all too much, too incredible for words. Like any teenager, it manifested in impatience. He wiped his palms on his baggy pants and faced Johnny, walking backwards.
"What are we looking for, exactly? Please, please say air conditioning."
Johnny laughed. "Inks. Dyes. And a good, sharp needle."
His companion crinkled his nose. "Man, nobody does that stuff anymore. It's not cool."
"It's always going to be cool for a certain kind of person." He stopped at a stall where books were piled in random arrays, spilling over onto each other, burying the shopkeep. "You've gotta relax, Rocky."
"Easy for you to say. You're, like, Mister Calm."
Rocky didn't know why Johnny laughed so hard at that. His hands emerged from the dark cloak to paw through the books.
"Things happen for a reason, I think. After all, if I hadn't shown up where and when I did, you might've..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Rocky shifted his weight back and forth between feet, shook his blond hair. "Anything good there?"
Johnny held up a red hardcover, ran his finger along the straight square spine. "Actually, yeah." He counted out a few coins for the smiling man in the turban, who peered out from a wall of text like Fortunato. "A gift for someone I know." He handed the book to the younger man, and they walked on.
"Voice of the Fire. Is this, like, a magic spell book?"
"Kind of." Johnny smiled. Up above, a tiny figure darted from awning to awning - a monkey in a fez. "It's a story, but there's magic in it."
"What's it about?" Rocky was thumbing through it, peering at the infrequent illustrations - a severed head on a pike, a tranquil river, a woman in flames... he stops at the last, a tall man in a thick, menacing beard, raising a hand as if to trace a sigil in the air.
"It's by a guy named Alan Moore. It's about a town, where this cursed history repeats itself over and over. Death and madness."
"Wow." He tried to skim the first few pages, but something in the language put him off. "Sounds like a crazy gift."
"Not really." He ran his hand through his hair, watched the dust turn along the ground and rise slowly, spiraling away towards the sun. "Because it's about a real town. And there's hope. And things get better."
Rocky slipped the book into a thick cargo pocket, mulling this over, when there was a soft hum from somewhere - or perhaps everywhere, all around them. The hum built, until the notes were more familiar, and then the voice switched instead to an off-key, awkward singing.
Love is a burning thing
and it makes a firery ring
bound by wild desire
I fell in to a ring of fire....
"Oh, shit." Johnny spun in place, but neither of them could see from whence the voice had come. The crowds were already scattering, some deep-set understanding kicking in. One too many Heartless attacks, perhaps, or just the vibrations in each shaky note.
"How did he find us already?" Rocky had backed up towards Johnny, one arm raised as if he, himself could trace magic from the air.
I fell in to a burning ring of fire
I went down,down,down
and the flames went higher.
And it burns,burns,burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire.
The shadows erupted upwards and opened like a flower, rippled like a mirror as the man strode through, his posture uneven and leaning, hands weighed down by a pair of spinning rings.
"Oh..." The man wore a cloak like Johnny's, his hair erupting from within in a cascade of crimson spikes. "Does this mean you remember me, Roxas?"
He leaned in for his solo.
The taste of love is sweet
when hearts like our's meet
I fell for you like a child
oh, but the fire went wild...
"Rocky," Roxas, took a step forward. "Johnny... go. I'll hold him off."
"I'm not leaving you here alone." He couldn't afford to lose anyone else. He didn't have anyone else to lose.
"You're not a fighter, man... c'mon, just go."
I fell in to a burning ring of fire
I went down,down,down
and the flames went higher.
And it burns,burns,burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire.
Roxas swiped that outstretched hand through the desert air and it erupted into ones and zeroes. The high noon sun caught un the watered steel of a weapon now in hand, a gleam slowly rippling downward along the shaft to the row of carefully aligned teeth. He raised the keyblade before him.
"Axel."
"Aw, after all this time..." Axel's hands spun with a flick of the wrist, and the chakra erupted, spinning wheels of orange flame cutting through the nearby stalls. "You finally got it memorized!"
Johnny staggered backwards and fell even as the blond teenager charged into the flames, and then everything was blinding heat and the sounds of clashing steel.