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Feb. 3rd, 2007 04:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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kh_drabbleChallenge: [093] Power Corrupts
Title: Use And Discard
Word Count: 380
Notes: Emo to balance out my last entry's bondagefluff? ♥
Even in his memories, he can’t touch her.
He finds himself searching for some tactile recollection as he climbs through the castle. He needs it like he needs water and food and his friends’ company; needs it more, running ahead of them in frustration, searching for that elusive contact. He needs it because Naminé needs him to. Because if he can’t remember holding her, the feel of his skin against hers - if he can’t recall everything he ever wanted for and with her in perfect detail - she might fade away again. She’s hardly more substantial to his heart than mist, even now. He’s been a hero, and now he wants his reward; he wants his rescue and his princess, and if he isn’t careful she’ll slip through his fingers forgotten forgotten gone. Again. And that can’t happen. So he remembers, and fabricates what he cannot know.
Her hair smelled of ocean breezes and far-off lands, it seems to him. That should be right. But the hair he recalls is too dark, too vivid, and he pushes it away.
She truly does want his wanting; she’s honest enough in that lie at least. She knows it should be wrong, this longing for touch, for reaffirmation - but perhaps his desire alone will be enough to keep her real. It’s a fine line she traces, between power and responsibility. The power is hers and the responsibility is elsewhere. She is no more than a tool, but when she faces him at last the leaden weight of guilt in her stomach that cannot be does not respond to her logic.
He doesn’t remember who he is any longer, only who someone else might not be. Fake to begin with, but she had no right to break him. No right. There’s wanting there, too; the wants are sickening her.
There should have been a time and place to meet them. This isn’t it. Shame taints whatever she might have gained of herself in their regard and her head echoes with if only. If only. The power was hers, the choice was hers, and the fault falls on her regardless of orders. A temptress, she; a beguiler who bewitches the real and false children alike. She wishes she had never had the strength.
Title: Use And Discard
Word Count: 380
Notes: Emo to balance out my last entry's bondagefluff? ♥
Even in his memories, he can’t touch her.
He finds himself searching for some tactile recollection as he climbs through the castle. He needs it like he needs water and food and his friends’ company; needs it more, running ahead of them in frustration, searching for that elusive contact. He needs it because Naminé needs him to. Because if he can’t remember holding her, the feel of his skin against hers - if he can’t recall everything he ever wanted for and with her in perfect detail - she might fade away again. She’s hardly more substantial to his heart than mist, even now. He’s been a hero, and now he wants his reward; he wants his rescue and his princess, and if he isn’t careful she’ll slip through his fingers forgotten forgotten gone. Again. And that can’t happen. So he remembers, and fabricates what he cannot know.
Her hair smelled of ocean breezes and far-off lands, it seems to him. That should be right. But the hair he recalls is too dark, too vivid, and he pushes it away.
She truly does want his wanting; she’s honest enough in that lie at least. She knows it should be wrong, this longing for touch, for reaffirmation - but perhaps his desire alone will be enough to keep her real. It’s a fine line she traces, between power and responsibility. The power is hers and the responsibility is elsewhere. She is no more than a tool, but when she faces him at last the leaden weight of guilt in her stomach that cannot be does not respond to her logic.
He doesn’t remember who he is any longer, only who someone else might not be. Fake to begin with, but she had no right to break him. No right. There’s wanting there, too; the wants are sickening her.
There should have been a time and place to meet them. This isn’t it. Shame taints whatever she might have gained of herself in their regard and her head echoes with if only. If only. The power was hers, the choice was hers, and the fault falls on her regardless of orders. A temptress, she; a beguiler who bewitches the real and false children alike. She wishes she had never had the strength.
