[ Others have asked what happened to him, but nobody has asked quite like this. Maybe it's the way M.K. looks at him, the dawning realization as he puts two and two together. Vanitas' expression creases, his lip curling, like he's flinching from the words but refusing to back down.
He doesn't think it was that one, specifically. He knows he would have remembered those yes, the specific green shine of them. But it's the stillness, the way it stands, the threat that floods off the body Vanitas can't quite see.
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He doesn't think it was that one, specifically. He knows he would have remembered those yes, the specific green shine of them. But it's the stillness, the way it stands, the threat that floods off the body Vanitas can't quite see.
It's the same— or one just like it. ]
One of them.