'tis a gator! (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ser_pounce_alot) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2016-02-01 04:11 pm
ser_pounce_alot) wrote in fandomweekly2016-02-01 04:11 pm
Entry tags:
[#001] Black (Kingdom Hearts)
Theme Prompt: New beginnings
Title: Black
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: No
Word Count: 989
Summary: When he wakes, he is first aware of the rhythmic pulsing in the ground, like a heartbeat.
Thud... thud... thud.
It reverberates up through his form, this steady rhythm—the heart within the ground itself that pulses and sighs, constant and unchanging. It is the first thing that he hears when he is conscious again. He feels it in his palms, his arms, and his legs, and for a long time of which he can't track, he lets himself get lost within it. It's strangely comforting. If he focuses deeply, he can even feel it echoing through his chest, as if it is beating there within a prison of bone.
When he finally opens his eyes, he can't see anything. The rhythm recedes but he is still vaguely aware of it, at the edge of his surroundings; he manages to pull himself to his feet. He can't remember where he was before this moment. It feels as if that should matter, only he can't quite bring himself to care. The thought slips out of reach, and flees from his mind. He does not think about his past again.
Moving proves to be easier than he expected, yet oddly stiff. Everything is still dark, but when he reaches out to the side, his fingers brush across a texture that is coarse and solid, outlined with a sunken, slightly malleable divot. Bricks. He is next to a brick wall. Perhaps if he follows it, he can find something other than blackness. As he moves, the heartbeat seems to surround and envelop him, getting slightly louder.
Thud... thud... thud.
Walking gradually becomes easier. His form seems to ease into the gait. The strange sensation that moving creates eventually feels familiar, until he is no longer focusing on it. Whatever worry he had upon waking dissipates—he follows the wall without fear. Somehow, the rhythm pulsing beneath his feet is lulling him into a state of comfort. He can feel it beneath his fingers, pressed against the bricks, and this, too, calms him.
After awhile, though he isn't sure how long, there seems to be a light ahead of him. It is faint at first, too faint to really see. He squints and continues moving, and as he begins to near it, he can see that it is illuminating small bits of the wall he is following. The path he is walking is more narrow than he first expected. In the back of his thoughts, he thinks it is an alley, though he has no frame of reference as to why he knows that, and almost immediately forgets the word again.
Behind him, he can feel something else—something living. He turns, but it's too dark, and he can't see anything. He stops, but there is no sound. After a moment, he begins his walking again.
Thud... thud... thud.
The light is brighter now, but he's starting to feel anxious. Moving into the light seems like the wrong way to walk. He wants to keep to the shadows, where he feels safe and secure. He pauses, unsure of what to do—should he continue towards the light? It feels as if his own mind is at war with itself. Something is telling him that the light is the right way to go, but the feeling building in his chest, quick and fluttering, wishes to remain where he is.
Come closer. It's not something he actually hears, but he does hear it, somehow, inside his mind. Perhaps he should be scared, but he isn't. It's calling to him to approach, and he's pulled, drawn by an invisible string, towards it.
He follows the whisper into the light.
In the light, he finally thinks to look down at himself, and sees three inky black fingers splayed out in front of his gaze.
For a long, terrifying second, he is horrified; the feeling sweeps over his brain and sends his nerves into overdrive. There is nothing but fear and revulsion, and then, the feeling is swept away. Don't worry.
He doesn't. The panic of only a moment ago now feels like a distant dream, fueled by residual memories of a life very long ago. His body calms and unclenches. The shadows around him seem to curl up around him, gently stroking his arms, like a mother comforting a crying child.
He reaches for the shadows, and melts down into them. It's like he's coming apart and being put back together at the same time—pieces of himself stretch and twirl until he has found the heart itself, the source of the rhythm all around him. It is the city, the roads, the buildings next to him; it's the darkness that is balled inside he human heart.
Only now he is that darkness, and the night belongs to him. He pulls back, out of the shadows, and becomes himself again.
Yes, the voice tells him. And now, we have work to do.
Tell me, he replies.
There is an enemy here, who seeks to destroy us. He has the key. You must not let him find the lock it opens.
It's true; he can feel this enemy, this stranger, through the web that creeps into every sector. He can feel footsteps pounding against pavement and screeches of battle. The echoes of it reach him even here, in the outlying district. Vaguely he wonders who this enemy is, and what he wants, but those thoughts, too, are quickly driven from his mind. There is only the pounding of the dark heart and the echo in his own mind.
He is one part of the whole. The blackness is the only thing that holds him together.
I will find him, he promises, and slides through the shadows, plumes of black smoke from sewer grates, until he finds the bright light at the center, obnoxious and warm.
Title: Black
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: No
Word Count: 989
Summary: When he wakes, he is first aware of the rhythmic pulsing in the ground, like a heartbeat.
Thud... thud... thud.
It reverberates up through his form, this steady rhythm—the heart within the ground itself that pulses and sighs, constant and unchanging. It is the first thing that he hears when he is conscious again. He feels it in his palms, his arms, and his legs, and for a long time of which he can't track, he lets himself get lost within it. It's strangely comforting. If he focuses deeply, he can even feel it echoing through his chest, as if it is beating there within a prison of bone.
When he finally opens his eyes, he can't see anything. The rhythm recedes but he is still vaguely aware of it, at the edge of his surroundings; he manages to pull himself to his feet. He can't remember where he was before this moment. It feels as if that should matter, only he can't quite bring himself to care. The thought slips out of reach, and flees from his mind. He does not think about his past again.
Moving proves to be easier than he expected, yet oddly stiff. Everything is still dark, but when he reaches out to the side, his fingers brush across a texture that is coarse and solid, outlined with a sunken, slightly malleable divot. Bricks. He is next to a brick wall. Perhaps if he follows it, he can find something other than blackness. As he moves, the heartbeat seems to surround and envelop him, getting slightly louder.
Thud... thud... thud.
Walking gradually becomes easier. His form seems to ease into the gait. The strange sensation that moving creates eventually feels familiar, until he is no longer focusing on it. Whatever worry he had upon waking dissipates—he follows the wall without fear. Somehow, the rhythm pulsing beneath his feet is lulling him into a state of comfort. He can feel it beneath his fingers, pressed against the bricks, and this, too, calms him.
After awhile, though he isn't sure how long, there seems to be a light ahead of him. It is faint at first, too faint to really see. He squints and continues moving, and as he begins to near it, he can see that it is illuminating small bits of the wall he is following. The path he is walking is more narrow than he first expected. In the back of his thoughts, he thinks it is an alley, though he has no frame of reference as to why he knows that, and almost immediately forgets the word again.
Behind him, he can feel something else—something living. He turns, but it's too dark, and he can't see anything. He stops, but there is no sound. After a moment, he begins his walking again.
Thud... thud... thud.
The light is brighter now, but he's starting to feel anxious. Moving into the light seems like the wrong way to walk. He wants to keep to the shadows, where he feels safe and secure. He pauses, unsure of what to do—should he continue towards the light? It feels as if his own mind is at war with itself. Something is telling him that the light is the right way to go, but the feeling building in his chest, quick and fluttering, wishes to remain where he is.
Come closer. It's not something he actually hears, but he does hear it, somehow, inside his mind. Perhaps he should be scared, but he isn't. It's calling to him to approach, and he's pulled, drawn by an invisible string, towards it.
He follows the whisper into the light.
In the light, he finally thinks to look down at himself, and sees three inky black fingers splayed out in front of his gaze.
For a long, terrifying second, he is horrified; the feeling sweeps over his brain and sends his nerves into overdrive. There is nothing but fear and revulsion, and then, the feeling is swept away. Don't worry.
He doesn't. The panic of only a moment ago now feels like a distant dream, fueled by residual memories of a life very long ago. His body calms and unclenches. The shadows around him seem to curl up around him, gently stroking his arms, like a mother comforting a crying child.
He reaches for the shadows, and melts down into them. It's like he's coming apart and being put back together at the same time—pieces of himself stretch and twirl until he has found the heart itself, the source of the rhythm all around him. It is the city, the roads, the buildings next to him; it's the darkness that is balled inside he human heart.
Only now he is that darkness, and the night belongs to him. He pulls back, out of the shadows, and becomes himself again.
Yes, the voice tells him. And now, we have work to do.
Tell me, he replies.
There is an enemy here, who seeks to destroy us. He has the key. You must not let him find the lock it opens.
It's true; he can feel this enemy, this stranger, through the web that creeps into every sector. He can feel footsteps pounding against pavement and screeches of battle. The echoes of it reach him even here, in the outlying district. Vaguely he wonders who this enemy is, and what he wants, but those thoughts, too, are quickly driven from his mind. There is only the pounding of the dark heart and the echo in his own mind.
He is one part of the whole. The blackness is the only thing that holds him together.
I will find him, he promises, and slides through the shadows, plumes of black smoke from sewer grates, until he finds the bright light at the center, obnoxious and warm.
no subject