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Jun. 8th, 2005 01:18 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Title: False
Challenge: Childhood
Wordcount: 345
Summary: He had memories of things that were never his to begin with, and those were what stung the most.
Notes: CoM Spoilers, dur?
He sometimes wonders if this is some sort of cruel joke as he sits, false Souleater in false, artificial hands (as real to the touch as they seem, they're no better than a doll's fingers) He sits and he waits for nothing and he does nothing--nothing--because there is nothing left for him.
By all rights now he should be dead, he had vanished when that arrogant smirk and wild swing of Real Thing had defeated him, but he still survives, cold and chilled fingers and fabricated toy heart beating a false rhythm through his whole body. It's probably a survival mechanism Vexen put into him, something just in case he was to lose (which in Vexen's mind was probably an impossibility, but all the same he made sure nothing would happen to his precious project).
And he's cold and alone, and even Namine is gone now, and he has nothing.
Left alone in the place he was born--made in, alone with the white stone walls and the memories remaking the rooms into places that only exist somewhere else, in another person's memory.
Memories he was never meant to have and yet, even after having his heart shattered and remade, he still recalls them, lingering at the fringes of his mind like shadows in a cold night.
It's the memories of younger, better times that sting him the most.
Paopu juice dripping down a chin that was never really his. A raft and stitching a sail together from old sheets that their (but not his) parents never used any more.
Sora and a girl who wasn't Namine (he thinks that maybe when his heart was crushed, the memories of the real girl that Namine had shadowed came back in full force) helping Real Thing haul logs down the beach. A game played with wooden swords, laughter and the smell of sea salt.
Sora and the red-haired girl, smiling.
And, as he curls his legs against his chest in the false sanctuary of what looks to be Destiny Islands, what hurts most is the knowledge that those smiles were never meant for him.
Challenge: Childhood
Wordcount: 345
Summary: He had memories of things that were never his to begin with, and those were what stung the most.
Notes: CoM Spoilers, dur?
He sometimes wonders if this is some sort of cruel joke as he sits, false Souleater in false, artificial hands (as real to the touch as they seem, they're no better than a doll's fingers) He sits and he waits for nothing and he does nothing--nothing--because there is nothing left for him.
By all rights now he should be dead, he had vanished when that arrogant smirk and wild swing of Real Thing had defeated him, but he still survives, cold and chilled fingers and fabricated toy heart beating a false rhythm through his whole body. It's probably a survival mechanism Vexen put into him, something just in case he was to lose (which in Vexen's mind was probably an impossibility, but all the same he made sure nothing would happen to his precious project).
And he's cold and alone, and even Namine is gone now, and he has nothing.
Left alone in the place he was born--made in, alone with the white stone walls and the memories remaking the rooms into places that only exist somewhere else, in another person's memory.
Memories he was never meant to have and yet, even after having his heart shattered and remade, he still recalls them, lingering at the fringes of his mind like shadows in a cold night.
It's the memories of younger, better times that sting him the most.
Paopu juice dripping down a chin that was never really his. A raft and stitching a sail together from old sheets that their (but not his) parents never used any more.
Sora and a girl who wasn't Namine (he thinks that maybe when his heart was crushed, the memories of the real girl that Namine had shadowed came back in full force) helping Real Thing haul logs down the beach. A game played with wooden swords, laughter and the smell of sea salt.
Sora and the red-haired girl, smiling.
And, as he curls his legs against his chest in the false sanctuary of what looks to be Destiny Islands, what hurts most is the knowledge that those smiles were never meant for him.
no subject
Date: 2005-06-08 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-08 10:18 pm (UTC)