The desert is familiar to Riku, because he's been there before. In this dreamscape it doesn't look so different, only the graveyard of keys is missing. Or maybe not missing, but somewhere just out of sight. But figuring out which direction to go to find it is almost impossible — in every direction there's nothing but sand. Miles of it, cracked and parched, with only the lifeless bones of what might have once been plant life. Or is it really bones? They're so blanched its hard to tell.
Under the cloudless sky the heat is searing. The horizon fades into the shimmer of warmth rising from the dirt, and the only sound is the soft hush of a hot breeze pushing the sand around. It's completely empty. There's nothing around, it's totally silent.
Until it isn't — until the clear, ringing sound of two keyblades meeting shatters the quiet. The low sound of an old man's voice, sounding uncannily like a laugh.
fucking love that imagery
Under the cloudless sky the heat is searing. The horizon fades into the shimmer of warmth rising from the dirt, and the only sound is the soft hush of a hot breeze pushing the sand around. It's completely empty. There's nothing around, it's totally silent.
Until it isn't — until the clear, ringing sound of two keyblades meeting shatters the quiet. The low sound of an old man's voice, sounding uncannily like a laugh.