Those Trivial Recollections

Chapter Ten: Edge of the Horizon

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Axel was still running his hands through his hair frantically.

Roxas' face had taken up the expression of dumbfounded shock ever since the redhead had discovered his hair had spontaneously burst into flames.

Content with how the top of his head was miraculously intact, Axel wiped an invisible sweat from his forehead. The blond finally broke out of his thunderstruck trance long enough to repeat his question.

"So...how did you do that Axel?"

The other shrugged with the greatest ignorance, his uncertainty of what had transpired still evident in how he was biting his bottom lip.

Blue eyes scanned over the ruins of their chess game. The board had been shoved to the side in Axel's panic. The black and white pieces were scattered across the floor as if they were trying to escape the prospect of combustion.

Roxas eyed a black rook that was pressed to the side of his shoe sole. The idea of picking up the pieces crossed his mind, but his thoughts kept dancing back to how insane things seemed to have been becoming.

Axel looked up at hearing Roxas' voice cracking uneasily with forcing the pace of events back to the norm, "-We should probably set the board back up."

The blond creaked out of his seat to initiate what he had mumbled. Out of the corner of his eyes he thought he saw Axel staring at him with an apologetic grimace, but disregarded the thought. Roxas tried to block out the questions bubbling in his head with the obligatory task of collecting the game components.

The board was brought tenderly back to the middle table, and the pieces accordingly lined up. The game proceeded as uneventful as it had been prior to the random lapse of physics and logic.

Grotesque doubt gnawing off of the ideas spawned by the string of supernatural events continued to bother Roxas despite his best intentions. It didn't help his train of thought that Axel appeared to be occupied with trying to re-spark whatever trick or magic he had used to impersonate a freakish human candle.

Five too many times of Axel snapping his fingers and hushed concentrations of "Agi!" "Fuegan!" and other foreign nonessentials eventually drove Roxas to coldly address his friend.

"Axel, you're the one who wanted to play chess-"

The boy swore he saw a gratified spark blink into existence in the palm of his friend's hand.

Axel looked from his hand to Roxas, green eyes brimming with newborn curiosity.

"Hey Roxas, have you had any weird dreams lately?"

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A clumsy racket of glass nearly breaking into each other echoed after them even after Braig had slammed the unfortunate door shut. He could have sworn he'd seen splinters of maple spew forth from the abusive force, but Xehanort said nothing. He warily took in the sight of the room he and his most tentative of a 'new friend' had just stowed away in.

Several rows of shelves filled with jars extorting any and all available space lined the walls. Branded on each of their transparent and cylindrical bodies was some code of shorthand for an alchemic language he was illiterate to. At the very center and back of the room was an impressive behemoth of copper that was thickly coated in the remnants of cinder and ash. The soft glow from its grated mouth of bronze told him that it was most likely a furnace or other species of heater.

Xehanort's thoughts were snapped out of observation by Braig's breathy laughter and incoherent boasting. He gave the brunette a disgusted look as he began to recall what the source of his friend's amusement was.

Somehow Braig's twisted and demented methodology had managed to drag him into playing a childish trick on someone he lovingly referred to as 'Evenmodo of Radiant Garden's Kitchen'.

He didn't understand what such a confusing pun had meant as Braig cajoled him into a room of linoleum and polished granite with walls where pots and pans were hung like trophy game. He didn't understand what Braig was snickering so conceitedly at, as said man stealthily navigated to the unguarded and massive door of an oven. The implications of what Braig's seemingly unrelated question earlier about 'Do you like Soufflés?' did not even begin to register in his mind even as a massive jar of what could easily qualify as a biological hazard, was so eagerly emptied through the opened maw of the oven into a pan of what was to mature into a delectable pastry.

All appropriate consequences were not realized until the vital seconds after Braig gave the oven door an executing slam. Even more moments of ignorance passed which allowed for the warped concoction to reach a boiling climax. His inaction to do anything resulted in the bubbling mutation within to erupt violently in the vacuum of the oven.

Xehanort was given a deafening silence to acknowledge the creamy tan that was smeared against the interior glass of the oven door and was, to him, crying out for an explanation of why it had been so ardently murdered. Xehanort felt a semblance of pity that was soon uprooted as a cool, and now hollowed jar was pressed into his hands. He had no time to question Braig as a series of frantic steps tore down the outer halls with increasing ferocity. The door snapped against the wall like a prey starved trap as a shrilly belated alarm sounded, "BRAIG YOU JUVENILE DELINQUENT OF A PRICK!"

In a manner unbefitting of any feeling or ethical human, Braig waved cheerfully at his prank-quarry. His voice carrying the most superficial sweetness of a vengeance well repaid, "Nice to see you too Even! Did licking pages finally bore you enough to make you crawl out of that cave of a library of yours?"

Xehanort finally pried his eyes away from the gooey batter that was clawing at the oven's window to get a glance of the stranger who was the unlucky victim of Braig's nicknames and less then friendly or forgivable idea of banter.

'Evenmodo', or more accurately Even, was in no way built to be a hearty athlete as evidenced by his jagged breaths. He too wore the same coat and colored undershirt garb as himself and Braig. The exception being that his outer jacket was properly buttoned with only a small triangle of green cotton peaking out from the fork of white over layer. His powdery complexion suggested that he was not one to stray under the sun for too long and that he preferred the company of quieter hobbies, most likely reading based on the deep lines that ran under his eyes as well as Braig's blunt and previous commentary. He had a pale shade of blond hair that could be almost mistaken for grey that was neatly- or had been neatly tied back. His ponytail was now disheveled and there were generously long bangs sticking uncomfortably out of their place and draping over his heaving shoulders. Even was easily taller then the both of them despite how he was leaning unnaturally forward. Whether it was from his obvious weariness or bad posture he could not tell in that sparse moment.

Even's displeased scowl had deepened to the darkest level of murderous intent. His hand had deftly reached to the side for a stainless steel pan that was hanging from the nearby rack. Braig noticed this hostile action and urgently yanked Xehanort out of the room just as Even let out an angry battle cry. They both heard the flat metal connect with where they had been and they continued their fearful retreat until they had reached the room they were currently camped in.

Braig took a proud breath as if he had accomplished an amazing feat to be consecrated in the annals of history. Xehanort continued to glare at him with the same dislike that had not left him since their recent introduction to each other.

Braig sensed the difference of opinion in the air and met Xehanort's amber glare with his own arrogant expression of challenge. The brunette added on an uncaring shrug as if it were only a small misfortune such as tripping or dropping coins from one's wallet.

Xehanort's glare only intensified, "You should have stayed there and gotten what you deserved."

The other laughed uproariously at a joke only he found entertaining. As the initial volume tapered, Braig waved his hand to push away whatever husk of a conscience he never had that may have still been hanging in the air. Xehanort felt his jaw clench on its own volition.

"Getting beaned in the head with a skillet?" he tapped the side of his head with his finger dutifully, oily sarcasm spilling over his words, "I'll pass on that round of fuzzies and good stuff." Xehanort stared, Braig smirked and flicked his hand in an outward fan, his eyebrow quirked as if he'd done nothing wrong, "Besides, Even needs to lighten up and get some exercise. No harm in giving him the right motivation as good Ansem likes to call it."

Xehanort had given up trying to make sense of his 'new friend' and rolled his eyes at the statement appropriately, "Braig you truly are a sad and delirious man."

Braig cackled once more at a comedic pun only he could hear, "Only as sad and delirious as it takes to get you to look me straight in the eye and actually talk without mumbling like you're a girl scout being held at gunpoint."

Xehanort scoffed indignantly at the statement. He half-heartedly tried to force his line of vision back to the floor only to find that the tarnished tiles held none of the same allure it previously had.

"Anyway, as endearing as this all has been Lost-in-Found, I think we've been wallowing here long enough. But Evenzilla is probably still swinging that skillet, ranting about how his crappy pansy cake thing was ruined, so we're going to take the secret route."

Xehanort returned his gaze to Braig who was making unnecessary gestures. He elaborated with deadpan and exhaustion nipping at his words the only question he could conjure up, "And what would that be?"

Braig's drew random circles in the air, his sandy eyes following his finger's trail until it finally pointed strictly skyward.

"The air ducts- what else??"

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Xaldin heaved a deep sigh, "Any task is obviously easier said then done. Are there any more specifics that pertain to completing this goal?"

Effortless reply came from Xemnas, "Specifics? I know very little as it is."

The sound of rustling papers being lifted up was accompanied by Zexion's voice, "Where did you acquire these? Maybe there are more to be found there."

"In the library," he replied as if it were merely an exam, "I stumbled upon the pages by chance."

Zexion began to form the first letters of response to this new information, but Xemnas wisely interjected to save himself from mindless repetition, "Investigating every inch of the library would easily be a search that would span many months, maybe even years."

The blue haired boy slumped, puffing an air of a scoff out to display his disappointment. Vexen wasted no time in voicing his overspent patience, and still growing irritation, "So we're going on an Easter egg hunt in the hopes of finding more information?" The blond scoffed loudly, "Our weak options are growing ever dimmer."

The schemer's mouth twitched, eyes squinting to the barest of glares to Vexen before looking to Xemnas with his version of hopeful suggestion, "Why not ask the others? Their overall intelligence may not be the most riveting of examples, but we can just tell them to only look for those six names."

Hands well acquainted with the grip of vials and the scratching of pencils slammed disbelievingly onto the white table, "Ask the neophytes?! Why not just save them the trouble and destroy the library for them as well as ourselves? It would be more effective and there would be less surprise! If what Xemnas says is true, they too have powers and they act temperamental enough to fully employ them against us in ignorant retaliation!"

The vague glare returned to Zexion's face, this time narrowing accordingly to his colleague's outburst, "You're being too finicky Vexen, beggars can't be choosers."

Vexen frowned sourly at the old proverb that had been directed to him. He started what should have been a snipe of an insult but caught himself mentally, and hid his hesitation by brushing back his overly long bangs. Vexen waved his open hand to Zexion to grab the common sense out of the air, eyebrows curling as a twist of disgust formed on his lips, "You're being foolhardy Zexion, prudent men are never beggars."

Zexion's visible eye widened with the condescending implication and was about to launch a tirade of old faults and flaws that he could only half remember. Lexaeus lowered a halting hand in front of the two people about to wage verbal war on each other. His low voice cut through clear and calm, "We are a team of researchers not bickering children."

The two immediately bit back the scornful remarks anxiously sitting on the narrowest tips of their tongues. Lexaeus retracted his hand and motioned politely to the blond, "However, Vexen has mentioned a crude point. The others do not share the same knowledge or trust as we do. It would most likely be much simpler if we did not needlessly include them."

The younger member realized his brashness and shrugged it off, "Fair enough." With a change of topic and unneeded readjustment of his coat, he proceeded to avert any lingering attention on the blunder of his composure, "But out of curiosity, will the rest of them ever be employed for our cause? If not, then we should just eliminate them."

Xigbar chuckled at the blunt assessment of how expendable the blue haired boy made the other seven seem, "Sugar-coating it like always eh Zexion?"

Said member gave him a cynical look, Xigbar batted it away with a meaningless gesture. Despite his aloofness on the welfare of those outside of their inner circle, his teasing curiosity got the better of him, "But yeah, what do we do about the brats?"

Xemnas replied immediately as though the outsider's fates rested entirely in his hands, "I will find a use for them. They can carry out any mundane tasks should need be. It is better to have clueless servants at our disposal rather then none at all."

The sniper's shoulders jolted up as the common gesture of nonchalance that was mixed with what could be interpreted as disappointment, "Tch, whatever you think Xemnas. I think we should keep 'em anyway, they're entertaining little insects."

Purple eyes rolled with chagrin, thick arms finding familiar position over a broad chest, "Apparently Xigbar has infatuated himself with his new pets."

The other brunette feigned a great sigh of pity and shook his head sympathetically, "As misinterpreting as always. Don't know about you, but I like having a laugh every now and then. Unlike you sir angry frowny sideburns." He held two straight index fingers by the sides of his face and wiggled them, cocky smirk tilting even greater.

Xaldin merely raised his eyebrow and turned his attention to other people who could be dignified with conversation, "...Immature name-calling aside, does the research say anything about Kingdom Hearts Xemnas?"

The white-haired man took a moment to close his eyes before speaking words that dragged through the air with the aura of well recited fact, "Except from what I told you already, Kingdom Hearts is supposed to be a world of sorts."

Lexaeus spoke up from his seat, eyes fixed on the ever bleak table, "So essentially our only lead is to look for this world?"

Vexen muttered bitterly along a retreating side glance of distaste, "Like looking for a specific grain of sand on a dark beach."

Their self-nominated leader spoke above Vexen's dark sentiments with honest prospect, "Until a better solution for searching for Kingdom Hearts is discovered, yes we will be looking for it blindly."

Xigbar practically leapt out of his seat with objection, "Hold on a second! Cheery as it already is, you do know how crazy that sounds right? How do we even get off this shine-n-clean rock to explore? I don't trust those freaking sock guys and their trippy doors."

Xemnas gave him a wry look that properly conveyed his skepticism of questioning logic that was as simple as basic arithmetic, "The portals the Dusks provide are exactly how we will conduct our search, as well as collect any useful information off of other worlds."

Unsurprisingly, the next inquiry of doubt came from Vexen, "You talk as though the Dusks will listen to us, but will they? From what I've heard of their chatter, it sounded more like you were their master."

The tanned man pressed himself off of his chair with slow ease, "I assure you, they regard all of us as equals. -Which reminds me, I have a world to show you."

Once more Vexen was the voice of acidic challenge, "And what would this world be?"

Wordlessly, Xemnas extended his hand to the empty air and wrapped around the tendrils that composed tangibility. With the ease of paper being ripped, a gaping fountain of darkness sprouted out of the previous void.

A low whistle came from the collection of members he wasn't facing. Xemnas absently assumed it was Xigbar.

Xemnas lowered his hand and motioned for the others to follow him into the pulsating gate.

"I am going to show you a place that was once called home."

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The constricting space he was so painfully cramped and inching through was like the innards of a metallic serpent that had swallowed him whole. The only two words he could find to describe it was that it was a dusty and miserable place.

'No, that would be a compliment.' he tartly thought to himself.

The secret escape route of Braig's was beginning to bring into question its worth and practicality- not that he really had anything to compare it to per say.

But that didn't change the fact that he had been crawling through the dark tubes with his most antagonistic 'friend' for what seemed like hours. Xehanort found himself trying to check the top of his wrist for a timepiece he never owned. He gave a loud snort at realizing his own lack of possession of such an item.

He took a deep breath as he tried to direct the most polite demand of 'getting him the hell out of the infernal passage' to Braig. All he managed was a shuddering cough from too quickly inhaling air thick with forgotten maintenance.

The jagged teeth of a less then sanitary boot met his mouth with a revolting nudge of purpose and response.

Xehanort sputtered and spat away at the taste of dirt and other impurities collected from many floors that his tongue had recently sampled. He wiped his mouth with the cuff of the white coat he couldn't see, but felt and assumed was more then likely now covered in splotches of unclean filth.

An excited murmur carried down to his ears despite his personal thoughts on the matter.

"Hey guess what Zay-hah-snort!" Xehanort groaned at the butchering of his name. "We don't have to go all the way, we can just drop in on my good buddy Elly!"

Xehanort gave a spiteful remark laced with as much sarcasm as the air in the ducts were with dust, "I'm just overflowing with anticipation."

He heard a deadly creak of metal and his vision shot to where the form of his guide had been.

A biting orange throb of light caused him to wince at first. He held out a hand to blot out the painful glare of the beaming brightness.

The unseen source of Braig's mocking voice was what drove him to plunge into the radiating light.

A flood of a withering palette of leaves obstructed his vision as he landed heavily onto a lumpy floor. With a slight stinging in his palms from the impact, he pushed himself off of the soggy leaf drowned floor. Xehanort heard cackling reverberating around him and he looked rapidly around to his new surroundings, the dull ache of bright light subsiding as he grasped his bearings.

Amidst the open area and overabundance of neglected debris of autumn was some sort of stone auditorium. The place he had so unscrupulously fell out of was at the side of the curved mouth of what may have been the stage. Rows of pink and grey stone crowded around the rock stage where he now stood. Beyond those modest imitations of armless and comfortless chairs were the near barren trees the gratuitous leaf carpet had originated from.

In the webbing of these trees was a starkly large oak from which Braig had found a sociable perch and was chatting with a rather burly man barely eclipsed by the side of the tree's trunk.

Xehanort brushed off the scraps that still clung to his significantly less clean once-white coat and jogged up to where the troublesome brunette was.

Why he hadn't simply abandoned Braig some time ago was slightly beyond him. But there was a distant prickling sensation that had rooted itself in his chest ever since he had left his caretaker's study. He didn't understand what it was, but it welled up to a strange bubble of warmth and cool that seemed pleasant.

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Light blond brows pressed together at the obedient line-up of reds and blacks. A musing sound pressed between thoughtful lips as a gloved thumb ran over a well-groomed beard of hair thoughtfully.

Luxord pointed a slow hand from one of the checkered rows and raised it so that the stack followed where his black digit indicated. "Row 3 on Jack of Spades-"

A loud jostling sound of a doorknob being strangled arrested Luxord's attention. He swerved around fully and the massive cards behind him crashed down into lifeless heaps.

His eyebrows raised and his intrigue was piqued at who his impatient visitor could be.

As he reached the door which had stopped rattling so angrily he called out to the possible stranger on the other side.

"Any person with manners would knock, may I inquire who is it that's so eager to visit me?"

The gambler heard a peeved moan on the other side and pursed his lips in mild recognition and amusement. He raised his tone accordingly and with a more resigned sense of causality, "Oh it's you Marluxia, how careless of me to forget the time."

Marluxia's gruff voice came from the other side, his ruffled agitation almost tangibly leaking through the crevices of the door, "Yeah sure, are you still locked in or what?"

Luxord's expression contorted slightly before recalling that he had indeed been locked within his room.

The brunette quickly became impatient and gave a smug half-warning to Luxord, "I'm going to cut open the door so stay back or something."

His eyes widened but he decided it wasn't worth the risk of calling Marluxia's threat-promise. He took a step back and warily watched the door to see how well his dealer's intuition was functioning in placing his trust in the brunette's words.

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Black boots came to a crunching halt as he reached the sizeable foot of the great oak tree. He glanced upwards to realize much to his surprise that Braig was much higher up then he had originally thought.

'How in any hell did he get up there?' He thought privately to himself.

Apparently, that thought was not as closely kept to himself as he thought. Braig laughed above Xehanort's head, wriggling his eyebrows that implied the childish mockery of 'I can do something you can't!'

The cocky brunette smiled broadly, devilish glint of superiority still well-fueled by the difference of height between the two. Braig continued to look down with scrutiny at Xehanort as he bent up his knee for his arm to rest on. His other leg resigned to thumping loudly against the scarred bark of another of the tree's sturdy branches.

Braig absently drawled out a lazy explanation of who the person that he had been chatting with was, "Anyway- this is the new guy, Xehanort. Xehanort this is my good buddy Elly." He waved a hand to the two of them as a king would to his jesters to perform parodies of plays to entertain him.

The stranger shook his head solemnly and promptly prodded the vulnerable calve of Braig's dangling leg with the blunt handle of the wooden rake he was holding. Braig squawked and nearly recoiled off of the tree branch. Unbalanced like a suddenly height phobic cat, he clung to the branch for dear life and loudly swore at how he'd nearly died.

He quickly regained his balance on the branch and scowled. The flat of the rake's end neared Braig threateningly. He twitched fearfully and shouted defensively at it, "OK OK." Xehanort grinned gratuitously to himself at the display of weakness.

Braig huffed from his perch, still cursing in vulgar tongue at many a deity and otherworldly icon. He noticed that the threat of another rake jab was not lessening at his promise so he spat out appropriate appeasement, "ANYWAY, Elly kindly reminded me that I shoulda told you his name was Elaeus- MY FREAKING BAD."

The treacherous instrument used for stabbing Braig drew contently away. Xehanort smirked all too happily at Braig's discomfort and enthusiastically tuned to hold out his hand to Elaeus.

Unlike Braig and Even, Elaeus had the build of one who had toiled for the most part of his life. He was of unquestionably tall and intimidating stature, but despite this, held a quality of empathy and competence. His jaw was broad and set squarely into the expression of a listener. He had grey blue eyes that were furrowed into serious expression by thick brows of burnt umber. His sharp cheekbones were framed by short side bangs of auburn hair. He wore a mahogany shirt that fit snugly and whose color was darkened by the collection of sweat. His uniform white coat was tied around his waist for, what Xehanort assumed, the sake of work.

Elaeus removed a large calloused hand from the neck of the wood rake and shook Xehanort's smaller one.

He heard a decisive snort from above as well as the protests of leaves being shaken by their respective parent branch. By the time Xehanort had pulled his hand from Elaeus' greeting, Braig had already finished fidgeting into a reclined position on the oak's branch with his lazy tar-brown ponytail of hair drooping like a noose. He feigned a loud yawn and waved down a hand to Elaeus and Xehanort, "Hey Elly, gonna take a quick nap, wake me up if you see any of the taskmasters. Xehanort there can help you with cleaning the quad or something, build some character, whatever."

He yawned loudly once more. He brought back the hand he'd waved at them and laid it peacefully on his chest as he drifted off to sleep. Xehanort frowned darkly at Braig's behavior. He felt a weight on his shoulder and saw that it was Elaeus with a soft smile of understanding on his face.

Elaeus looked up to the snoring form of Braig then back to the vast floor of work he had not made progress through. He dug the rake adamantly into the leaf covered ground and dragged a momentous pile to his feet. He flipped the toothed end of the rake over and scooped up a generous helping of leaves. With the utmost care, his tongue pressed out of the corner of his mouth in devious concentration, he held up the mass of moistly pressed leaves over Braig and dumped them on his face.

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Pale hands were folded tightly in the lap of a white garb of a dress. Her sandaled feet rapped against the unfeeling surface of the bone seared marble of the chair. She watched the eyeless puppets dancing before her in their billowy nickel colored skin.

They paid no attention to her. They were distracted by the compulsion to whisper hissing echoes to each other. They were always contributing to their endless demented symphony of clashing sentences and garbled ideas.

She sighed to herself and pushed back a dull strand of yellow hair behind her ear that had come loose.

She did not understand why she had just woken to herself. She did not understand why she had just came to be. She did not understand why she had no name. She did not understand why her captors and the man named Xemnas called her 'the Dusk's Princess' and 'No Name'.

She did not understand why she couldn't see the sun. Or smell the perfume of the ocean. Or feel the warm caress of sand. Or taste the coaxed saltiness of the ocean. Or hear the sound of lapping waves against the shore.

She was grateful that her skeletal captors had not taken her back to the daunting sea of frigid black and purple, but it mattered little. What she longed for was an escape from this world that only 'nightmare' could describe in her mind. In the recent past she had slept to shut out the colorless images burning into her mind, but all sleep had left her with was a flat darkness to engrave into her memory.

She stopped sleeping as much because of that. Out of fear that someday that darkness would be all that she could see.

'But, what if someday, this light is all I can see? What do I do?' She thought nervously to herself.

She bit her lip in hopes it would drive away the festering fear. 'I want to see home.'

A great thrilling noise rose up from the captors who constantly referred to themselves as Dusks. There was a great clamor amongst them and for once, the repulsive melody of the conflicting voices died down to a unanimous choir of pandemonium.

"Superior and Superior's chosens are going to the forbidden place."
"Why why why?! Without Superior, the Superior's unchosens will escape into the Superior's castle!"
"But some of the unchosens have already broken through the doors!"
"What do Dusks do? Terrible things will happen to Dusks! Just like Dusk sent to-."
"Dusk shall not speak of it! Dusk still hasn't reported this to Superior! Dusk must wait until time is right!"
"Dusks must do something to maintain Superior's wishes!"
"No no NO! Dusks priority is to protect No Name from the unchosens!"
"Dusks were not all given that task! Dusk was! Where is Dusk?!"

An individual from the uniform minions stepped twitchingly forth. "Dusk is here."

"Dusk should stay with No Name!"
"Dusk understands. Dusk is sorry."
"Dusks will watch the unchosens. Dusks will protect Superior's Castle!"

Most of the boneless beings then departed with the sound of escaping air and a flash of white. No Name was left alone with the quietly wilting Dusk designated by the others to stay by her side.

The Dusk morphed slowly towards her and bowed. She smiled wanly at it. The Dusk picked itself back up to the straightest posture it could manage amidst its involuntary twitching. It opened its zipper tooth lined mouth into an obscure attempt at a grin. No Name arced away from it.

"Dusk is sorry to have been away from No Name. Dusk didn't want to tell others what Dusk was doing."

No Name's fear was overridden by curiosity at what the Dusk meant. Her hands pressed into her lap as she learned forward to whisper her question to it, "What do you mean?"

The Dusk clapped its paddle shaped hands together, zipper grin growing into a larger curve. Its undulating tone picked up a hint of exhilaration, "Dusk was getting a doll for No Name. The doll was nice and white just like No Name. Dusk wanted to give it to No Name because it was so much like No Name. Dusk thought that No Name wouldn't look so sad if No Name had a doll."

No Name stared in wide-eyed astonishment at it. The Dusk flapped its hands to and fro as it continued to elaborate its story in its surreal staccato, "But when Dusk was coming back, Dusk dropped the doll. It fell into one of the black wells around the Superior's Castle. Dusk had to search for a very long time for the doll. But Dusk is glad Dusk did."

No Name smiled faintly at its descriptions of the task it had undertaken. Despite the ghastly appearance of the creature, it acted no more malevolent then a child.

The Dusk gesticulated a cowering look, its paws cupping into a dome over its head. "But when Dusk found it, Dusk saw it was being used by Graceful Assassin. Dusk didn't want to be punished so Dusk had to watch. Dusk was so shocked when Graceful Assassin broke the doll! Dusk thought that Graceful Assassin did it by accident, but Graceful Assassin kept breaking it!"

The Dusk curled its papery hands into balls and held it to the upper part of its face where its eyes should have been. Its face lurched as it gave a mournful half-sob, "Dusk wanted to stop Graceful Assassin, but Graceful Assassin looked so happy breaking it. Dusk still doesn't know why Graceful Assassin did it, but Gambler of Fate did not tell Graceful Assassin to stop breaking the doll. Dusk had to wait for a very long time for Graceful Assassin and Gambler of Fate to leave."

No Name pitied the poor creature. She reached out to pet it on its head, her fingers barely pressing against its aqueous and faintly airy skin.

It lightly pressed its imitation of a skull into the source of her palm, its cries slowly ebbing away.

It wiped the front of its pointed snout and perked back up. The Dusk bounced up and down, the pitch of its static voice taking on its previous zeal, "But Dusk knew it was worth waiting! Dusk took back the doll and put it back together again! Dusk knows the doll isn't as nice as before Dusk dropped it. But Dusk still wants to give No Name the doll. Does No Name still want the doll?"

No Name beamed at the Dusk with clear blue eyes. This Dusk wasn't like the others. It was such a sweet and thoughtful Dusk, how could she say no to it? "Of course."

The Dusk quickly danced and pirouetted around where No Name was seated. Happily praising how lucky it was and how No Name was very much like a kind princess. It soon settled down to a mild anticipation, zipper mouth panting like a puppy's. It placed it's fish scale hands above her face open ones. She felt a small squelching tug against her hands and the soft pressure of weight being dropped into it.

The Dusk pulled away its hands, cheerfully bubbling, "See, the doll is still nice, just like Dusk said!"

No Name choked back broken tears, blue eyes widening painfully beyond their normal size. The pale skin on her face achieved an even more bloodless color. Her mouth gaped as she suffocating on her own will to resist blanching at the thing she was holding in her hands.

It was a disgusting pile of mutilated feather and flesh. A failed chimera of organs strung inside-out and sewn hopelessly together by wet tendon. Its skin was stretching in terrible patches with feathers vainly adhering to seams of blood and crushed bone. Its appendages were gnarled in stiff gestures of early rigor mortis, its eye sockets cradling the crushed ruins of vision. It pulsated weakly, dark blood oozing from its unnaturally porous body, a dry cry of mercy eliciting from its feebly open and splintered beak.

She threw down the miserable abomination, leaping back from her chair with amazing force. She tripped backwards over it, tumbling brutally onto the floor and gasping for fleeting air. Her feet pushed her away from the thing that had been deprived of peaceful death, her blood dipped hands scraping and slipping to aid in her futile escape.

The Dusk hung its arms to the floor, tiny shoulders sagging at the unexpected result of No Name's reaction. Its zipper mouth closed to a bare slit, "Doesn't No Name like her doll?"

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Braig thrashed wildly on the branch, scratching at the air and mess of leaves. He rolled off the branch like a bag of rocks and landed in Elaeus' expecting arms. His broad shouldered friend held him for a split second then dropped him the remaining four feet to the ground.

The scrawny brunette hissed in pain and clenched his eyelids tightly together at the jarring sensations his spine was suffering. Elaeus shook his head as though he were giving an indignant huff and retook up the rake he had thrown to the side in his haste to catch Braig.

Elaeus turned away and began to slowly rake up the leaves again. Xehanort continued to snicker behind the shield of his hand as Braig continued to writhe limply on the floor.

Braig pointed up a dazed hand and threatened the two of them, "Mark my words, either karma or me is going to kick your sorry asses." It may have sounded more threatening had his voice still held its usual arrogance instead of the near intoxicated ring to it.

The tanned man scoffed at him, an impetuous laugh bordering his remark, "Funny you talk about karma Braig, you seemed quite capable of dodging Even's version of it."

Much to Xehanort's surprise, Braig chuckled thickly in reply. The corners of his sandy eyes and thin smirk crinkled in distraught farces if satisfaction. Xehanort raised an ashen eyebrow at Braig. The scrawny man coughed into the back of his hand and then pressed it into the crest of his forehead. His shoulders still shaking as he laughed coldly to himself, "Oh man, now I know I've died and gone to some sort of hell if Xenny can crack a joke at me."

Xehanort froze at Braig's words as their meaning sunk into his heart and mind. He took a deep gulp, his mouth suddenly feeling dry at the rush of sensations overwhelming him. He didn't understand why he was behaving in that way. Being friendly with such a morally irrational man terrified him but at the same time intrigued him.

He briefly thought back to the short time he'd spent with the man Ansem had forced him to become acquainted with.

Suddenly, every single action and reaction he had to Braig seemed so uncouth on his part. He had fallen for every provocation at every single turn. He had found sadistic amusement in Braig's misfortune. He had even taken the first steps into trying to break down Braig's ego. Even if he felt Braig deserved every bit of it, he had been acting no better then Braig.

Xehanort dipped his head down in shame. Woefully he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

He heard a flood of leaves gush from the vague direction of Braig and felt a hardy hand slap his shoulder, bony fingers wrapping affectionately around it. Braig cackled loudly and playfully tugged hard on one of Xehanort's cheeks. "Oh is the special boy worried about little old me? HAHAHAHAHA! Just an FYI, I ain't a dainty piece of grandma's china."

Xehanort quickly dispelled his feelings of wasted guilt and glared at Braig.

Braig smiled proudly in return. He slapped Xehanort's shoulder once more and then paced ahead, his hands avidly splayed out and appearing to conduct the leafless trees, "And with that Braig scores yet another point in making Xehanort less of a sniveling boy by making him grow a sense of humor!" Xehnaort wrinkled his nose at the odd commentary, and glanced back to see if Elaeus was going to follow them.

The burly man stood still, rake clutched to in his hands. Xehanort began, "Are you coming-?"

Elaeus held up a halting hand and Xehanort silenced. Elaeus swept his hand in the general area of the large floor that still required his attention and then pointed to himself. He smiled once more and waved his hand to Xehanort as if he were trying to sweep him calmly away.

Braig's abrasive voice rang from up ahead, "Don't make me come back there and haul you out of there!" Xehanort reluctantly turned around and began to make his way after Braig.

He glanced over his shoulder again. Elaeus smiled once more and waved a meek good-bye.

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"Dreams? W-hat kind of dreams?" Roxas' shoulders curled in at Axel's most recent topic of discussion.

Axel opened and closed his hands slowly, gloves creaking with deduction. He brought his spread fingers together and rubbed the insides of his palms together.

He dragged out each hushed syllable as a delicate shard of glass, "You know that feeling of déjà vu, only a little weirder?"

Roxas nodded his head weakly, barely mustering the volume to answer, erratic fear crawling from the unknown pit of his stomach, "Yeah, why?"

The redhead held out his hands in empty offering, green eyes narrow with concentration. The joints in his hands tightened around the invisible hilt of air. Flecks of black, white and orange warped together to form the biting thorns of a small flame. Roxas shrunk away from the searing chips of ember swarming around the growing bundle of fiery wires.

Axel let out a sharp breath of air, his hands lowering tiredly. The violently lapping orb collapsed inside itself instantly. Leaving no trace that it had even been beckoned forth. "I think I'm having one of those. You saw it right?"

Roxas sunk back into his seat with the flames now gone. He remembered the terrifying dreams he had experienced when he slept. The shadowy silhouette, him always chasing that person, that dark companion leaving him for good-

'Live better. Have a better outlook on life.' The self-promise echoed in his head.

Roxas grinned at Axel, "So that's why your room smelled like burnt wood." He laughed lightly, "I never would have guessed you were a closet pyro."

Axel didn't laugh back. He continued to stare at the empty palms of his hands. Roxas noticed the unusual somberness and ceased laughing, "Axel-?"

The other laughed curtly and rolled back in the seat of his chair, hands now running along the flow of his red spikes for hair. He raised his voice as he was accusing the air, "I knew it!"

Roxas voiced an intelligent, "Huh??"

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Through the gnarled hive of trees, Xehanort followed the retreating white figure of Braig. He had to weave far too often through the dense sienna in order to catch up with his tactless guide.

After making the pilgramage out of the obtrusive webbing of the imitation of a small forest, he was finally able to walk alongside Braig in a blessedly treeless area.

He dusted himself off of leaves and twigs, finding a good portion of the debris had actually been caught in his hair rather then his coat. Surprisingly, Braig waited for him without making snide commentary.

With all noticeable bramble removed from his person, he finally noticed that they were in yet another unfamiliar area. He motioned to tap Braig on the shoulder to question where he had been dragged now, Braig merely rolled his shoulder out of the way of Xehanort's fingers.

The brunette clicked his tongue and gave a permissive sigh, "Ya know, Xenny, my escape plans kinda got screwed up. I completely forgot that today was Tuesday." He rubbed he back of his neck and massaged the points of his vertebrae plaintively.

Xehanort, unknowing of what the meaning of it being Tuesday had to do with anything, responded with accurate apathy, "And how does that matter?"

Braig heaved yet another wistful sigh, "Well, I was kinda sorta supposed to help Elaeus clean the yard and stuff. Now my neck hurts like a crazy bitch because he decided to play a dirty trick on me. Damn Elaeus and his inability to talk. It he could then he'd be able to ask politely so I could actually ignore him."

Yellow eyes widened in astonishment. He thought back to how the auburn haired man had only gestured with his hands and remained absolutely silent. 'So Elaeus is mute.'

The scrawny man shook his head side to side, cracking loose the bones in his neck with relish. "But that's ok, because I'm a freaking genius and I've got a Plan B that's fullproof." Braig pointed up a tyrannical finger to the sky above, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Next stop is the Art Room!"

Xehanort looked up to where he had pointed, half expecting to see whatever new locale Braig was going to reach in the most eccentric way possible.

However, unlike the previous marathonic-esque journeys initiated by Braig. He felt himself being shoved harshly forward by Braig's unseen hands. He stumbled clumsily and protested verbally with a borderline yelp, but it was drowned out by a deafening wail of oil deficient metal gears.

The ground jolted up with a violent shudder that nearly landed him to the floor. He heard Braig cackle behind him as the sound of humming machinery pervaded the air.

Xehanort shakily regained his stability, the brief gravity from the upwards quake no longer present. He saw the scenery at his eye level move downwards back to the earth as his vision seemed to travel up with the island of ground he and Braig stood on. He looked over the edge of the slightly colored rock floor of the platform and saw the ground much farther then he recalled it to have been and that it seemed to be growing ever smaller.

His muscles and joints became rigid as he tried to calm himself.

He heard Braig snicker and could feel he was smirking at him from the side. "Is the special boy afraid of heights?" Xehanort clenched his teeth together as his eyes morbidly fixed on the shrinking moss that he knew were trees on the ground level. He felt Braig lightly shove his shoulder to cajole him from his stiff posture. "Aw don't worry Xenny, the ground can't hurt you from up here!"

Xehanort didn't budge or respond. Fear having a tight vice grip over his mind.

"Geez man, you've never been on an elevator before?"

He heard Braig plod over to the edge of the moving platform and saw him sit down. His legs dangled lazily over the side, his arms resting well behind him as he looked at the gradually sinking horizon and the glowng orb hovering above it.

There was silence between the two of them. The metal cogs acting as humming ambience for the distant and otherwise soundless scenery before them.

The elevator continued its steady journey up to the peak of the open mouthed tower. The platform finally came to a strong halt as intense as when it had first departed from the ground. Xehanort stiffly moved from the rumbling but still kept his frigid place.

Braig got up from his seat and pressed an arm to Xehanort to move him off of the lift. Xehanort continued to stare wildly at the abysslike ground that spread to the mountains as Braig dragged him onto the solid footing in the building.

After they got off, the platform echoed a loud clank once more, and dropped much more quickly down. Xehanort snatched back his ability to think clearly as Braig shut the door in front of him.

Braig gave him a disappointed look accentuated by a compliment of irritation, "Ya really don't know what you're missing by being afraid."

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"Oh...wow..."

Demyx widely gawked at the summits of shelves packed tight with layers upon layers of books. The water doppelganger by his side gurgled an equivalent to a whimpering meep sound.

The blond smiled impressively to himself, blue eyes alit with awe and brewing excitement. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together sinisterly, "OK! We should split up to cover more ground, look for anything about sitars, that's spelled S-I-T-A-R."

He flashed his infectious smile at his watery twin. After a moment of common sense, he tapped the side of this face with a chortle of nervous laughter, "Eh heh heh, on second thought, if you find anything, call me over to get it. Books aren't so great with water you know."

With that, the two began their mission of scouring the maze of a library for their desired information.

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The sharp, metallic smell of acrylics and old paints flowed over him as the purple door swung open. Braig haughtily stepped through the threshold first, not even bothering to hold the door open for him to walk through. He had to catch the heavy door with the flat of his hand before it impacted on his face.

He pushed the door open to let himself into a room overcrowded with tables, canvases and an abundance of works that were complete and others still unfinished. He heard Braig shuffling about and saw him tip-toeing over a variety of metal vines and amorphous ceramics that led to the farther reaches of the room. His eyes fell upon a figure constructed of copper weavings. Its being was molded into the form of a soulless creature brandishing a featureless weapon.

Metal clanking rang throughout the room and he heard customary swearing from Braig's unseen person.

But this time it wasn't for what he had possibly disturbed, rather it was in recognition of someone whom he wasn't expecting, "Dilan? What are you doing up here-" The sound of something heavy connected with the soft backside of a human, "OOF. GODDAMMIT IENZO LAY OFF THE PAINTCAN BOMBS."

Wondering what had happened now, Xehanort began to pick a path through the messy room.

It wasn't long before he heard a different voice come from where Braig supposedly was, "Oh it's you Braig, I'm sorry, I mistook you for a burglar." It was a light voice veiled with near tangible sarcasm. So it wasn't surprising that Braig reacted violently to it.

Braig roared at the other angrily, "WHAT KIND OF DUMBASS WOULD STEAL PAINT?!"

An oil smooth remark came from the light voice again, "A dumbass named Braig who once painted Flaming Fuchsia over all of the test sheets to avoid having the scores read off."

He heard Braig reply with his defensive, but blatantly wounded pride, "Touché mouse boy."

Xehanort rounded the courner and saw Braig's back turned to him and still making his habitual gestures to the other two people.

He glanced around Braig to see a figure sitting in a chair with an irritated twitch in the corner of his mouth.

Dilan, he assumed, because of how he was at his sketchpad trying to tune out Braig's and the other's squabble, appeared to possess a build that was a middle ground between Braig's lankiness and Elaeus' heftiness. His face was well-rounded with a broad chin and the oddest sideburns he'd ever seen. Tossed over his shoulder and resting on part of his odd robe was a glossless tight knot of black hair. He was currently tapping the end of his pencil to the paper, his pitch dark eyes glaring at a sketch of what may have been a vase.

He continued to lean to the side to see the person standing next to Dilan and out of Braig's reach.

The other, Ienzo, was indeed a very small framed person. His figure was further dwarfed by an oversized cream tunic decorated with coffee colored checkers on the edges. Contrasting his specter coloration was hair that was styled into what was supposed to be considered aesthetically pleasing. Dyed cobalt bangs were cut just above the border of what would have impeded the vision of ice tinted eyes. Ienzo was an extremely pale person with the complexion of one who was sickly and deprived of outdoor activities. He looked in every degree ailed enough, that were it not for the fact he was indeed standing on his own two feet, he would have been more appropriately situated in a hospital bed.

Ienzo noticed and tilted to the side to follow Xehanort's gaze. He gave him a watery smile, "You must be 'our' new friend." His barely cyan eyes flitted back to Braig with masked strain.

Braig stared between the two of them as he connected the implied dots of Ienzo's statement. He laughed loudly and jabbed a thumb to Xehanort, "Hah! Maybe, for now he's just the tumor Ansem assigned to me."

The blue haired boy laughed under his breath as he performed a half-bow, blue bangs turning down as a grainy curtain over his eyes, "I'd like to think that Master Ansem still has impeccable taste when it comes to selecting his apprentices."

Xehanort stared at the boy. A mix of apprehension and something else unfamiliar twisted in the darkest pit of his heart.

Ienzo turned back up, corners of his sky drained eyes crinkling like cruel floe, "I'm sure he'll be a very...unique addition to his Majesty's group."

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"Behold, Hollow Bastion."

Xemnas brought his arms back to his sides, and waited for the others to acknowledge the entirety of the world steeped in corruption. The shadowy gate they had traveled through was already dissipating its last stringy wisps of existence.

Vexen was eying the falls of water that flowed in reverse to gravity with a pointed glare of objectivity. Zexion was already examining a spiked ball balanced on top of a small altar as it pulsated with yellow and blue sparks. Lexaeus was not too far away from him, satisfied with observing the glowing object instead of prodding it. Xaldin was testing the stability of one of the nearby floating ledges by climbing on top of it.

Xigbar stood obediently by Xemnas' side, staring critically at the castle in the distance branded with the emblem of a rejected heart. Yellow eyes layered by red saw that the scrawny man was unable to accept the idea of home being a catacomb of concrete enveloped by the twisted ivy of pipes and dark energy.

Xemnas shouldered the responsibility of proving the Bastion's worth to the side, placing higher priority on why he even brought them there.

"Come, I must show you the library."

A few of them looked at him, Lexaeus being the first to break away from his mild intrigue in the enigmatic device to take a place closer to Xemnas. Vexen continued to bear the expression of still flickering resentment but was able to set it aside completely upon hearing the promise of new knowledge. The other two did not move from where they stood, Zexion still picking apart the components of the mysterious object and Xaldin still looking back at them from his perch on the levitating stone.

"We have limited time. The Keyblade Wielder may still be here."

At that, the other two quickly abandon their distractions and join the rest of the idling group. Xemnas shifted his attention to the floating blocks and waved his hands to them.

A wall of translucent crimson blocks shimmered into the air and broke at their joining segments into smaller boxes. The bright cubes of light gathered around one of the larger platforms and herded it to the ledge where Xemnas and the group stood.

They boarded the transport and it carried them across the troubled sea to the distant Bastion of home.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: For some reason, the 'past life' parts went on much longer then intended, oh well. Also, I have seen all of the additional cutscenes from KH2:FM+. Those scenes will be touched upon, referenced and/or integrated into the overall story of TTR in some way shape or form. How this will all be worked out- well that's a secret. I was slightly disappointed that they did not have more scenes pre-KH:CoM/KH2, I suppose it's more creative license for the rest of us, but still.

TRIVIA: An extremely minor semi-plot related "mystery" was answered. For anyone who might be confused on the Dusk's speech pattern, roughly it's, Dusks universal plural/collective first person, Dusk universal singular first/second/third person. They also refer to people by specific titles and rarely use pronouns.