[ At first he's warm, half of him painted in the lifeblood of...
An ally. The chill sets in right after, he's clammy all over except where Vanitas is a limp shape propped up against him, swiftly bleeding out. There were more merciful ways to die, but there were worse ways, too; the spirit cut decisively and Riku can give them that. It's...
It's...
Nothing that's wholly good nor wholly bad, through the shock of realizing that Vanitas is dying he can think of that much. It feels like one of those things that can't be challenged with the limited, moralistic thinking of people like him.
Time is swiftly running out, ruddy grains flowing freely from this broken hourglass and he doesn't have the powers of the old bastard who once seized control of his body to slow its course. He can do... nothing. Nothing for him. He can't mend his hurts. He could try to give him a swifter end but that risks making something worse when Vanitas is already halfway there, the surrender palpable in Riku's arms.
He thinks about the desolate desert Vanitas was raised in. How quiet and how long the loneliness, and thinks:
It's better than dying alone. His Master wouldn't have hesitated to leave him to rot in the wasteland. Everyone, even a being born of Darkness, is deserving of some measure of kindness.
This, Riku admits, comes far too late. ]
You better come back. I won't have you showing me up... and getting the last word like this. Sora-
[ He's aware that invoking a word enough time makes it lose its potency, its meaning. That's not why he so rarely speaks his name. It's because of the fist that closes around his heart when he does. Braveheart disappears in little crystalline fragments that melt into the dark, his palm comes up against the back curve of the other boy's skull. ]
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[ At first he's warm, half of him painted in the lifeblood of...
An ally. The chill sets in right after, he's clammy all over except where Vanitas is a limp shape propped up against him, swiftly bleeding out. There were more merciful ways to die, but there were worse ways, too; the spirit cut decisively and Riku can give them that. It's...
It's...
Nothing that's wholly good nor wholly bad, through the shock of realizing that Vanitas is dying he can think of that much. It feels like one of those things that can't be challenged with the limited, moralistic thinking of people like him.
Time is swiftly running out, ruddy grains flowing freely from this broken hourglass and he doesn't have the powers of the old bastard who once seized control of his body to slow its course. He can do... nothing. Nothing for him. He can't mend his hurts. He could try to give him a swifter end but that risks making something worse when Vanitas is already halfway there, the surrender palpable in Riku's arms.
He thinks about the desolate desert Vanitas was raised in. How quiet and how long the loneliness, and thinks:
It's better than dying alone. His Master wouldn't have hesitated to leave him to rot in the wasteland. Everyone, even a being born of Darkness, is deserving of some measure of kindness.
This, Riku admits, comes far too late. ]
You better come back. I won't have you showing me up... and getting the last word like this. Sora-
[ He's aware that invoking a word enough time makes it lose its potency, its meaning. That's not why he so rarely speaks his name. It's because of the fist that closes around his heart when he does. Braveheart disappears in little crystalline fragments that melt into the dark, his palm comes up against the back curve of the other boy's skull. ]
Sora would never let me live it down.