001 || Sentiment

[endinsentiment]

Characters: Vanitas and victims anyone
Setting: Trawling through the tower at a rather fast pace, feel free to catch him anywhere
Format: Starting with action but I'm cool either way
Summary: You won't like him when he's angry.

[There's something to be said about his wake up call, and that's how utterly furious he appears in visage right now. His helmet is in pieces upstairs-- which utterly defeats the purpose of hiding his features, his expressions. The way his jaw tightens, the narrow set of his eyes, his hands clench; it's all out there, on display. Vulnerability.]

[He isn't happy. He's less happy the more he discovers of how foreign his location is, gaze sweeping every nook and cranny of every room, and it's occupants, before slamming the door and continuing onwards.]

[There's something to be said about waking in such a manner. Powerless to move, powerless to see; barely capable of breathing as things scuffled around him. It's not the creatures that particularly bother him, but the inset of apparent weakness that has him trawling through the desolate, decrepit tower in search of just. one. person.]

[He knows who to blame for this. He knows he's here.]

[And if he finds anything else interesting along the way? Well, that's just an added bonus, isn't it.]

Comments

[attheclocktower]

[She's long since started to get impatient with the sling, but moving her arm around too much still hurts, so she's kept it on, for now. She's heading back up to her room for now, though she stops for a detour on floor 20 to look out over the sky. Not too near the edge though, with it being as windy as it is and her only having one good hand - it wasn't even her dominant one.

It's here that Vanitas will find her, sitting a good ten feet away from the edge of the Tower.]

[endinsentiment]

[It's there that he finds her, alright, but it's not her he's seeing. And that, in it's own right, is probably more confusing than anything. Ventus, in a dark cloak, slinged. As weak and pathetic and pale as he should be, broken-- and yet--]

[He steps out after her, looking 'Ventus' over with a critical gaze. There's something missing, a key something that gives him little ease. If anything, he's even more angry.]

[What did he do, simply give it away?]

Pathetic. And I thought you were useless before.

[attheclocktower]

[Xion jumps and whips around at the sound of a voice behind her, hand itching to call the Kingdom Key. Surprises were not something you took lightly in somewhere as dangerous as the Tower, after all. But she can't, given that that arm was the one that was trapped in the sling.

However, it's the face that she sees a few moments later - as well as the realization that the voice she's heard was familiar, if so much more malevolent than she was used to hearing - that sends her stumbling a few steps backwards.

What was he even talking about?] Sora...? [Her eyes flick to his collar. It was purple, like her own. Sora's collar was blue, and the other Sora's was green.] No... who are you?

[endinsentiment]

[A pause. His eyes narrow. Something is most definitely wrong here-- whether or not Ventus would recognize his face is one thing (though he stores that name away; Sora. Who knows when it could be useful in the future?) but it's another entirely not to be recognized for the distinctive clothing, the very same stance he's come across Ventus with three times before, all occassions taking their own toll on Ventus' direction, his concentration.]

[Something. is. wrong.]

Don't remember me? [And isn't that the proverbial icing on the cake, the thorn to his side. Doesn't remember; again.]

[Wouldn't that be something, to have the gift to forget]

Too bad. Even so; if you're still talking back? [Darkness flares up in his hand, Void Gear's handle settling into his palm a moment later. Keyblade, seething with darkness.]

You're not broken enough.

I rarely get to use this icon...

[attheclocktower]

[The appearance of his Keyblade makes her take a step back. She'd never seen a Keyblade appear in darkness before, and the form it took was unnerving and completely suited for whoever this was.

However, her unease is forgotten the moment he calls her "broken."

What do you care? The creature is broken. Defective.

You were a mistake we never should have made.

She bristles. Clenches her hands into fists. She wants to summon her Keyblade into her hand, prove she's not broken, not a mistake or a sham. But she can't, not with her arm restrained the way it is. Never had she felt so frustrated and angry and helpless.

She does still have magic though, and the darkness corridors]

I don't know who you are, but I'm not just some thing for you to break!