I'll try not to ruin the hair. And I won't tell anyone about your fetish. I like pickles too. Just not as much as you. Anyway, I've spent a while writing chapts today, so after Eight I'm going to bed. Night!
EIGHT- Navigator
Namine felt out Sora's heart, still trying to piece together how it all worked. This was the most difficult, time-consuming part. Putting back a memory that she hadn't even taken away. Maybe it wasn't her place to remind Sora of his promise to Jac not to let anything happen to him. Jac hadn't really been told by Sora that he had a guardian angel, that Sora wanted nothing more to ensure that Jac was not harmed because of him. He had forgotten that, forgotten his feeling inadequate for Kairi, forgotten giving Oblivion to Jac.
She decided at last not to return his lost memories of Jac where they didn't fit. He had been a different person around Jac. They had trusted each other equally, and without doubt had formed a bond that neither really understood. A friendship as close as he shared with Donald and Goofy.
Closer. No romance. The thougth would have made Sora flush with apparent confusion, though Namine knew every time it was all the Keyblade Master could do but contain his fury. He hated the thought. But close enough to be more than friends. Brothers.
She was sorry for not bringing back those memories, but somehow Sora had forgotten that without his help. That disturbed her.
Moving on, she began to tear down the last link she had forged in Sora's memory. . . the memory of the final confrontation with Marluxia.
-- $ -- $ --
Ephram never lost consciousness, nor felt pain from the light. He blinked once, and was standing within some sort of room, with a single chair surrounded by controls.
“What the-”
A gummy ship.
Tidus's voice was almost reverent. He giggled again, that dark guffaw that chilled Ephram to the marrow. The wicked delight of it!
“He could have done that a better way,” he muttered. He could never really mutter to himself anymore, he realized. He was always muttering to Tidus.
Well, are you going to try and fly this thing?
“Fly it? Are you serious?” Ephram laughed coldly, slipping into the chair. He was a little puzzled about the disappearance of the Keys, but he didn't mind. They were still there, in the back of his mind.
It looks simple. That's the joystick.
Ephram noted it, but he was more concerned with seeing where he was. There was no image of the outside. But there was a button with the image of a window stitched on it.
“Here,” he whispered. The button gave quickly, followed by a soft whoosh that revealed a strange multicolored space that must have been just that. Space.
That's a little freaky, if you ask me.
“You should hear yourself laugh,” Ephram seized the joystick, yawing right. The gummi ship responded tenderly, rolling the same direction.
Funny, Ephram.
The ship barreled left, moving forward slightly. He felt some sort of pedal beneath his foot, and pressed.
It charged forward.
“Excellent.”
-- $ -- $ --
Nox felt himself shudder irrepressively. Terxim was here.
“Hi,” he called over his shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on the representation of the rift.
“Still studying?”
“Yes,” Nox sniffed, scratched beneath his eyeglasses, and clenched his fist on the projectile weapon in his hand. Terxim wasn't the only one with energy weapons. “The rift isn't even visible to the naked eye. But its still there, somehow.”
“What's this, then?” Terxim moved the way that meant satisfaction.
“Light doesn't go past it,” Nox sniffed. “It just stops when it hits. So I spread light, and the darkness, the part you wouldn't see. . . that's the part you're seeing now.”
“Clever, Nox.”
Clever, Nox. Very clever.
Vexen was a prick. Good think he was gone now. Photoanalysis was his work!
“Don't suck up to me, Xim. I don't work well without pressure. You know well. So does Ansem.”
“His name is DiZ now.”
“Just because he wants to stand out. Finding a bunch of talented people, giving them new names that have x's in them. He's manipulative.”
“Not anymore.”
“Now, more than ever,” Nox blinked. “When he looks to have been changed, now he's got control over us all.”
Terxim's hood shook. “Then what are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
-- $ -- $ --
What now?
“No idea,” Ephram leaned back. A world, by all appearances, was before them. It was large and mostly dark. There was a huge clock tower protruding ponderously from the bottom.
This looks bad. Should we go in?
“In?” he blinked. “I think we can try.”
He eased his foot onto the pedal. The gummi ship lurched forward.
He had thought for a moment he would land the ship, but in the next instant he was blinded by bright light, and then his surroundings changed again.
He was on the deck of a pirate ship.
Lovely.
Tidus put it better than anything he could have said.
Heartless swooped low on dark wings, dancing pseudo-gracefully. Oblivion and Oathkeeper sparked into Ephram's hands. He waited.
One of the raiders ducked to his height, throwing a swift kick at his chest. He swept himself upwards and backwards, crossing his Keys at the center of the attacker.
The kick landed on his arm, throwing Oblivion off. Oathkeeper got off as well, but still blew through the creature. He was starting to get sick of second-hand Heartless smoke.
Behi-
He was getting sick of that too. Oblivion jabbed into a second attacker, arcing down into a crack in the ship's decking.
Ephram left the Key where it stuck. Oathkeeper flashed up and down, leaving a trail of twin black clouds.
“There's a lot.”
“Hey!” A red-headed boy came flying out a door nearby. He bore a knife, flicking back and forth, absolving Heartless at a steady rate. “Get inside! I can't hold 'em forever!”
Ephram leapt up the ladder, having yanked Oblivion free of the floorboards. The door wasn't far enough for any more Heartless to reach him. He jumped inside, watching the knife-fighter wheel throught he air. He cut through three with a flurry and rolled within, slamming the door closed.
“They're crazy lately!” he gasped out, grinning devilishly. “Peter Pan.”
“Ephram.”
“You've got that weird Key. Do you know Sora?”
Ephram blinked. He nodded, letting his weapons fade. “How do you know him?”
Peter smiled again. “We had a heck of a time with the ol' Cap'n, and he took Tink with him. She's back now.”
Something small and glittery danced by, gesturing to the red-haired boy.
That's Tink?
“She doesn't think you're like Sora. Too. . . unbelieving.”
“Eh. . .” Ephram glanced away. “Is there anyone else here?”
“Nope,” Peter admitted. “Wendy's. . . at home. I haven't seen her for a while.” He looked sad. Immensely sad.
“Hey, I didn't mean-”
“Don't worry about it. That's my problem.”
This guy's as confusing as you are.
No, Ephram thought back. No one is.
“What now?” he asked aloud.
Peter shook his head. “No idea.”
Ephram laughed.