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Dec. 17th, 2006 05:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kh_drabbleChallenge: [087] snow
Title: Showing You
Word Count: 597 (shut up)
Notes: Set between CoM and the early bits of KHII, so spoilers from that time period. Naminé and Riku. One line from DiZ. XD
If they can’t pull him forward and weave him back together he'll dissolve without a sound. They both know that Time is slipping away like midsummer tide, and it’s not just taking the sun-cracked sand or washed-up seashells away. With each pull it takes more and more of Sora.
She falters at one thread of memory, almost on the threshold of crying. Fingers tied and blank pages over blank tables.
“It’s this memory. I don’t know what that feels like. I can't remake it.”
"Then I'll show you."
*
The juice of a paopu fruit is mostly clear, unlike the darker red berries scattered across the island. Yet somehow she stains it over her lips and down her white dress and on every finger she licks clean with delight.
She picks up the yellow crayon.
*
“This is where...?”
“Yes. They look... smaller.” Two tall doors that stand at the centre of floating islands of death, decay and nothing. Cold in a way that has nothing to do with temperature. The white doorway laughs and sneers at him, but he refuses to turn his gaze.
She’s examining the front and back of the doors; it looks like they open to the other side but nowhere new. Yet he knows what truly lies behind - a dankly infested place that doesn’t deserve such a happy title as kingdom of hearts.
She’s just watching it now. As if the doors might suddenly swing open and swallow her whole. It only makes sense to shuck off his long black coat and drop it over her shoulders. He keeps his eyes turned until the silly smile of hers melts back inside.
*
“I should be out looking for him,” he grates, fingers clenched, mind on a world with tall lit buildings and the smell of shadow and nothing on every stoned wall. That’s where he’ll find Sora’s other.
“Help Naminé in this.”
His blade burns an echoing hole in his palm and across the insides of his fingers but he somehow hides it away again. Later. Later. Soon.
*
“Haahaahaahaa! Victory!” she squeals, hopping about, thrashing her little wooden sword. Her grin overtakes her face as if it's the only thing she's wearing. “I beat you!”
“Sora didn’t do it often,” he grumbles, absently spinning his fake weapon between hands.
“He only needed to do it once,” she says, exhaling deeply and smiling smiling smiling.
In an hour there are pictures of childhood beach fights flung from one end of her drawing table to the other. She’s still grinning.
*
“It’s just snow,” he says tightly, jaw set so his teeth don’t chatter and his spine doesn’t shiver. She’s spinning in it; one foot down, the other kicked in the air, arms held to the sky. Twirling on tiptoe like a dancer. If she had the nerve to open her mouth surely a laugh would escape.
“Thank you, Riku,” she says, finally stopping. “I can remake this now.” There are snowflakes drenching her hair and sliding down her cheeks like false tears, but she’s never looked more alive. His own skin is raw with bitter cold.
She’s wearing his coat again.
*
Lying broken and bleeding. His flesh and pride are torn and burned with the imprints of two bladed keys. His skin feels too taut across his bones... it’s stretched and pulled to suddenly fit a taller frame and body. He won’t look in the mirror. He knows what new-yet-old face he’ll see.
And her quick stare and sudden shiver are all the reflection he needs.
Time has run out.
Title: Showing You
Word Count: 597 (shut up)
Notes: Set between CoM and the early bits of KHII, so spoilers from that time period. Naminé and Riku. One line from DiZ. XD
If they can’t pull him forward and weave him back together he'll dissolve without a sound. They both know that Time is slipping away like midsummer tide, and it’s not just taking the sun-cracked sand or washed-up seashells away. With each pull it takes more and more of Sora.
She falters at one thread of memory, almost on the threshold of crying. Fingers tied and blank pages over blank tables.
“It’s this memory. I don’t know what that feels like. I can't remake it.”
"Then I'll show you."
*
The juice of a paopu fruit is mostly clear, unlike the darker red berries scattered across the island. Yet somehow she stains it over her lips and down her white dress and on every finger she licks clean with delight.
She picks up the yellow crayon.
*
“This is where...?”
“Yes. They look... smaller.” Two tall doors that stand at the centre of floating islands of death, decay and nothing. Cold in a way that has nothing to do with temperature. The white doorway laughs and sneers at him, but he refuses to turn his gaze.
She’s examining the front and back of the doors; it looks like they open to the other side but nowhere new. Yet he knows what truly lies behind - a dankly infested place that doesn’t deserve such a happy title as kingdom of hearts.
She’s just watching it now. As if the doors might suddenly swing open and swallow her whole. It only makes sense to shuck off his long black coat and drop it over her shoulders. He keeps his eyes turned until the silly smile of hers melts back inside.
*
“I should be out looking for him,” he grates, fingers clenched, mind on a world with tall lit buildings and the smell of shadow and nothing on every stoned wall. That’s where he’ll find Sora’s other.
“Help Naminé in this.”
His blade burns an echoing hole in his palm and across the insides of his fingers but he somehow hides it away again. Later. Later. Soon.
*
“Haahaahaahaa! Victory!” she squeals, hopping about, thrashing her little wooden sword. Her grin overtakes her face as if it's the only thing she's wearing. “I beat you!”
“Sora didn’t do it often,” he grumbles, absently spinning his fake weapon between hands.
“He only needed to do it once,” she says, exhaling deeply and smiling smiling smiling.
In an hour there are pictures of childhood beach fights flung from one end of her drawing table to the other. She’s still grinning.
*
“It’s just snow,” he says tightly, jaw set so his teeth don’t chatter and his spine doesn’t shiver. She’s spinning in it; one foot down, the other kicked in the air, arms held to the sky. Twirling on tiptoe like a dancer. If she had the nerve to open her mouth surely a laugh would escape.
“Thank you, Riku,” she says, finally stopping. “I can remake this now.” There are snowflakes drenching her hair and sliding down her cheeks like false tears, but she’s never looked more alive. His own skin is raw with bitter cold.
She’s wearing his coat again.
*
Lying broken and bleeding. His flesh and pride are torn and burned with the imprints of two bladed keys. His skin feels too taut across his bones... it’s stretched and pulled to suddenly fit a taller frame and body. He won’t look in the mirror. He knows what new-yet-old face he’ll see.
And her quick stare and sudden shiver are all the reflection he needs.
Time has run out.
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no subject
Date: 2006-12-18 06:28 am (UTC)You win, again. <3
(Also, mistake? His skin feels too taunt across his bones. Just sayin'.)
no subject
Date: 2006-12-18 01:52 pm (UTC)