thusia | (no subject)

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Who: Zexion, Prussia
When: Day 28, late evening/night
Where: Apartment E
What: Long talks and alcohol

As impressed as I am about you actually locating some form of potato, I am not honestly sure that moving legs are any better than blinking eyes.

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It's a victory to my awesome self and something of a sport now. Win-win, Zexion. Win-win.

It may be worth seeing if they can be domesticated.

[Sitting down in one of the apartment's emptier corners, with what's left of Kalidas's alcohol and two . . . teacups.]

[... seriously? TEACUPS? can't I just drink from the bottle?]

That wouldn't be any fun... but I guess it'd be more productive...

[No because then you'll drink it all and this is a really not a talk he particularly wants to be conscious for.]

You would still have to manage to catch one.

[... oh. well]

Watch. I will.

Something to aim for.

[Fills Gilbert's cup, then his. And picks it up, looking at the clear, deceptively innocent liquid.]

. . . some goals are easier to obtain than others.

[picking up on serious topic shift, at least. but taking up his cup and setting it next to him]

Don't need to tell me twice.

No. You helped complete our greatest goal; you know well the scope of it.

The part missing from your knowledge is how we accomplished it at all.

... how do you mean?

Where did the Memory Gear come from? If we could create something like that, something that harnessed even a single potential of a keyblade's power, why was it not done years ago?

You were in no state to question it then, and enough came after that those questions became decreasingly relevant in the face of truly living.

... I thought... you had gotten it... I dunno. During--after? Camp.

No.

You would not remember—you were torn between identities, barely conscious and on the verge of fading, but there was a single day I was absent from our world.

For me, that day was much longer.

[... ever so still at this revelation before rubbing at his face]

Fuck, Zexion...

The terms were simple. The return was a wish—a single wish, but one that could encompass any of your heart's desires.

Even for one without a heart, the potential return was clear.

No terms are ever that fucking simple for something that large.

What happened, Zexion?

[Takes a slow sip from that glass, not so much stalling as bracing.]

The price of that wish was to be paid in memories, time, and blood. To agree was to be severed from your past, and to take part in 'games' to win those fragmented memories back. Games run by gods who had remade themselves as 'Judges', where we were as often pieces as we were players.

There was, of course, a chance that we would not return at all. That too was made clear from the start.

[... and those are. heavy feelings. almost reaches for his cup, but no. said he'd have this talk sober]

Goddamnit, Zexion...

[Reaches over, ruffling Gilbert's hair fondly.]

It was a years ago. And a choice I would make again, despite all else that came of it.

[reaches up to grab tiny wrist]

... is that what happened with the crow? With the sharks? Gokudera?

Yes. But that . . .

[Stops, and his voice quiets.]

There is something very wrong. None of them met their end in that place, and yet, that is what they remember. That is why they are here.

... alternate ending?

[Draws one leg up, resting an arm on his knee.]

It seems that way. A potential future cut short, or a timeline that they will later erase.

Both options bring much of our own presence here into question.

[... snorts]

I won't complain if things work out in another time.

Nor would I.

[Quiet a moment, his own unanswered questions heavy in the air.]

That world's name was Sabra La Tau. You'll here those here refer to it simply as 'Sabra'. Those few that were souls from the world's living days may have another name, but if they do, none have shared it.

Living days?

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