Is it a Gift or is it a Curse?

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

Characters:  Naminé (lethechained) and open.
Setting: Floor Twenty
Format: Starting this way, will match.
Summary: Naminé is not sure what to make of her 'reward' for participating in the experiment.
Warnings: Contemplation, mentions of being trapped in a castle full of heartless people. TL;DR, as is unfortunately often the case I'msosorry.


[Naminé is not entirely certain what to make of the 'reward' she's been given for her participation in the experiment. Just finding it on her bed was startling enough; she never thought she'd see it again.]

[She isn't sure she wanted to.]

[The fact that the little sewn doll's eyes were closed had not made it any less jarring. It's still an obvious replica of her; imperfect, of course, since its hair is conspicuously made of yarn and it has (rather arbitrary) tiny wings attached, but nonetheless when it had sat benignly in its birdcage in Castle Oblivion when the castle had been her own prison, it had always been meant to represent her. So what, then, does it represent now?]

[That's what she's wondering, among other things, as she cradles it in her hands. She's seated just a little ways in from the rim of the twentieth floor. Roxas had found a place on the clock tower in Twilight Town, and although she'd never managed to find a place of her own like that, she thought that perhaps this particular floor was at least worth a try. It's precariously high and affords a view of the distance, so it has at least that in common with the clock tower. There's no sunset to speak of at the moment, but that's okay.]

[The doll arrived free of its cage. Maybe, in a way, it now shares a cage with its original. Or, instead, perhaps it's a sign of things to come. Whatever the case, she isn't certain that she should keep it. It's all too suspicious, considering its source. But even as she considers discarding it, even as she starts to move her arm back to throw it from the tower and from her thoughts, she finds she can't do it. She can't let it go.]

[It reminds her of a hard time, yes, and its presence is unnerving purely because of what it represents, but at the same time, it just seems... wrong to thow it away. It's her in effigy, yes, and that's both the reason she keeps it and a reason why she shouldn't bother; she knows better than to maintain a loyalty to herself, the incomplete shadow of someone else, and yet - to be real, to leave something behind, to not be forgotten is something she's always craved. It's a poor substitute for a heart and she knows it, but the doll is more real than she'll even be and she just doesn't have the not-heart to throw it away, but she does set it down next to her instead of continuing to hold it because she's not so sure when her mind will change again.]

[It's not quite enough to make her miss Twilight Town.]

Comments

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

Naminé was quietly relieved when Aqua turned her attention to the doll, and even more relieved when she didn't ask for further explanation. At the same time, the blonde girl was just a bit ashamed of herself; for so long she'd wanted to be able to tell someone everything, to not have to hide things... but it seemed she'd have to keep waiting, because now that she had the chance, she found herself afraid, for more reasons than one.

The suggestion surprised her, and it showed, becoming more subdued when Aqua smiled at her again. The girl blinked, then tilted her head. After a moment, she peered down at the doll again. It was true that the doll had long been a symbol of Naminé's incarceration, but it was also true that it had been the closest thing she'd had to a (non-malicious) companion for a lot of that time. "...Right." It was quiet and hung in the air for a good few seconds before she looked up again. "Maybe." There was an attempt at a smile that fell just short of the mark. "It is true I'm free from that, now..." She hadn't said specifically that she'd been trapped somewhere, but that was what she really meant by "free", even if it wasn't immediately obvious. "... and that it's better here most of the time, but... what if what it really means is that it's not truly over yet?" To be honest, she much preferred Aqua's way of putting it, that the doll was a sign of her freedom, and yet the girl had to ask.

[prayerless.livejournal.com]

Instead of staring a hole into the doll, Aqua eventually deigned to look out into the distance beyond the tower's walls. She wondered if someone would be able to escape that way if they tried -- and then doubted that idea, just because she was sure that if that was the case, the news would have gotten out a long time ago. Still, the taste of the outdoors was very tempting. Maybe this floor was designed that way on purpose.

"Then she's here for you," answered the Keybearer easily, "to make sure you get through this bad time too." She glanced to the doll again and smiled, pointing down to it. "She has wings, right? Maybe she's like a guardian angel."

True, a doll couldn't do much in the way of protecting on its own, but maybe it was what it represented that was important. Honestly, Aqua wasn't sure exactly what Naminé had been through. She probably needed to know that someone, or something, was watching over her.

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

A guardian angel? Naminé continued to regard the doll, hardly noticing her own head tilt. It was true, the doll did have wings. They could have been meant to represent a caged bird, or maybe an angel. The meaning might have varied widely depending on which side one chose, but... the fact remained that the choice still belonged to the beholder. It seemed odd that the people who ran the tower might give her something to try to instill hope, and yet-- once again, she thought that that was a much better way to put it. It was true that the doll had been her companion, although it had served more the purpose of a mirror. But... just as Naminé had broken free from what had defined her then, the doll could be released from her former meaning, too, couldn't she?

The comment is made quitely and after a few moments of silence; "Maybe. I guess... it doesn't matter how they meant it, or if they really meant anything at all. She doesn't have to mean the same thing to anyone else." Or to Naminé. "But I think that that's a good way to think of her. She was there for me for all that time."

[prayerless.livejournal.com]

Aqua gave a light-hearted chuckle. "Then you can come up with a new meaning for her, can't you?" She shifted to let her legs dangle off of the edge of the tower, and absently swung a foot out to feel how gravity pulled down on it. The mage briefly pondered on if an Aero spell would keep her afloat outside the confines of the building.

"There's no reason to find other things to be upset about while we're here," the blue-haired woman went on kindly, leaning back on her hands. "She's yours now. No one else's. You're the one who gets to decide what she is and what you're going to do with her now." A nostalgic smile touched on her lips. Similar tokens came to her mind: the flowers Kairi gave her, Ven's wooden Keyblade. The Wayfinders.

"You'd be surprised at what little things can become important to you."

[lethechained.livejournal.com]

"Mm. I can...!" Naminé watched the motion, and although she'd seen plenty of memories of dangling one's legs off the side of high platforms, she made no move to mimic it. It would probably have been at least a little exhilerating, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to try that for the first time in a place proven to be as dangerous as the tower. Still, she was tempted, if only because it was an experience she'd previously been denied.

Her head turned so she could watch Aqua's face instead when she spoke again. Blinking at the first part, Naminé lowered her head, briefly distracted by a wave of shame; she should have known better than to complain like that. However, she was quickly distracted by another thought that she unintentionally echoed. "No one... else's...?" That, in and of itself, was a rather jarring thought. Her drawings, her creations, had never even seemed like they fully belonged entirely to her - so frequently they were drawings of memories that didn't belong to her, or of people she'd met but of course had no claim to. They were her drawings, yes, and in a way they were an attempt to leave something behind, but it was still hard for her to think of things as 'hers'. Startled out of those thoughts by that last comment, she faltered for a moment, then laced her fingers together tightly.

"...I think I can imagine." And she could. She knew all too well about what even little trinkets could mean to a person.