Non Challenge

[tea-berry.livejournal.com]

Title: These Hands Hold Dust
Author: tea_berry
Genre: Angst/Drama
Wordcount: 589 (Kind of long, sorry!)
Summary: For a trick of smoke and skin, it certainly knew how to desire. [Drabble. Set after KHII.]
Rating: PG-13 to be safe. Suggestive themes and general angst.
Pairing: SoraKairiAnti-Sora






For a creature with no heart, Anti-Sora certainly wanted a lot. For a trick of smoke and skin, it certainly knew how to desire.

It took what it wanted from her. Her fear, her tears, her pleas and prayers for it to stop, to let go of Sora and quit eating a soul it couldn't use. She could see its satisfaction, feel it in the sleek, icy touch of its fingertips, and the frustration that followed as well. Because it was never quite enough.

It needed something else. Craved it with every horrible wisp of its black being.

Hate had been good for awhile. Hatred was encompassing, could move a human being to great lengths and push them to a state that was raw and purely animal. Anti-Sora had lived off her hate for some time now, had relished in her struggles and fed on feelings that were potent and entirely her. And when it had its fill, it would sink back with that horrible, frozen grin to rest for awhile, leaving her Sora battered and weary in its wake.

From the shame in his eyes and the hesitance in his touch, Kairi was sure Sora didn't fight it as much as he used to. But she'd press a hand to his cheek and swear, swear she didn't blame him. A few bruises and broken pieces of pride were something she was willing to take.

"We'll make it leave. We'll find a way." The quiet assurance and the pressure of her hand in his always made him feel suddenly small, like the child who had needed her so badly all those years ago.

And all this, Anti-Sora watched. It could see her adoration for the boy, observing with a dead sort of curiosity whenever she would smile at him or laugh or brush a gentle kiss against his forehead. Her tenderness was foreign, and entirely reserved for this weak excuse for a man.

And Anti-Sora wanted it. It couldn't understand love and didn't begin to try. It couldn't care less about what it meant. But it knew that when she looked at Sora, the warmth that swelled in her eyes was more full and more lush than any amount of hate she'd thrown at his darker half. That boy had her, could have owned her if he wanted. But he never tried to.

Anti-Sora tried. With inhuman caresses of stiff and icy skin. With attention that had long crossed the border of obsession. And each time she tried to shove it away or call out to Sora its fierceness multiplied. Her revulsion only spurred it to do more, to reach out further with hands of dust and illusion until it was devouring not just Sora, but Kairi as well.

I am him. You are ours, our possession.

The black whispers soothed against her mind in a cold imitation of gentleness, the obvious, animalistic edge invading parts of her she didn't know she could feel. How Sora held up underneath this everyday was beyond her.

Stop. For god's sake what is there left to take?

The farther it reached, searching endlessly for a piece of that affection, the more turned cold and hard. It's path in her soul became stone and blackness.

The woman it had begun to crave so terribly faded. Helplessly, it devoured the last pieces of her. Helplessly, it destroyed her.

What is this? The boy cries.

Anti-Sora certainly knew how to want. But those without a heart can do little else.