Post by Absentia on Aug 17, 2018 7:15:07 GMT -5
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Appears between 16-24
Absentia is a volatile personality. Not in a violent sense, although there is that. But in the sense that their personality is fluid, it fluctuates from day to day, moment to moment. At one time they may be bright and full of life, joyfully whiling away the hours. Before later sinking into a state of melancholia and withdrawing in on themselves, before later still lashing out in frustration at anything around them, though most of the extremes are kept in check by meditation.
Of course, being a Nobody means that these are surely only memories of emotions. Memories that are scattered and blurred and mixed inside their head into a near cacophony of images and sounds. In moments where they're most at peace, they have an almost serene and zen like attitude to them.
The stories of most people's lives have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Some are begin innocuous and fade out, some are heralded explosively and end just as loudly. No two are ever truly the same, but all lives someday end. But for some, an end is nothing but a new beginning, whether they want it to be or not.
Our story begins like so many others: with the spark of a new life blessing the world. A young boy born to a fairly normal and happy family. The boy grew up instilled with a sense of goodwill and a kind heart. It was these qualities that lead to him eventually being chosen as a Keyblade wielder. The proper ceremonies were dealt with and the child was initiated into a group.
Or perhaps it began another way? Yes, they were a young girl raised in a family of keybladers...no...they had no family. So many memories, how many of them are true? Are any of them true? A mind full of contradictions, opposing views, lives unlived. One memory however remains as clear as day, but viewed through different eyes each time. A war, hundreds of if not thousands of Keyblade wielders clashing on a battlefield, the sound of combat raging all around them. Who they are...who they were...standing and watching in horror and fear alongside eleven others, silhouetted in shadow, before the battle descends upon them. They see this memory again and again, sometimes they're the tall and thin silhouette. Sometimes the one in the dress.
In truth, they are all. Our story begins not with one life, but with twelve. Twelve young people who had never met before earning their Keyblades and joining the Unions. Twelve young people who despite their differences, or perhaps because of them, would become friends who deeply loved one another. Twelve friends who were stronger together than they were apart. Twelve friends caught in a war that began in an instant, and in a moment of desperation undertook a dangerous magical ritual. In times of trouble, the ritual belonging to one of their families was cast on the strongest warriors of a city, binding them together into something greater than the sum of their parts. One being with all the memories and experience that could rise to stand against otherwise insurmountable odds. Of course this ritual was cast on two, maybe three beings at most. Never twelve.
But when the alternative was to risk losing each other forever? As quickly as they could they fled for seclusion to begin the ritual. Carving ancient runes into the ground beside them and painting them onto their bodies with whatever they could find. The powerful magics surged around them as the chant began, encircling them in a bright golden glow before an explosion of energy shot high into the air. When the dust settled, only one being had remained. It seemed that the ritual had worked, though something had felt off. They hadn’t long to think on this however, as the war was reaching a fever pitch, and soon their hiding place would be part of the battlefield as well.
They knew not how long the fighting had went on nor how many tears they shed as they came to blows with those they once called allies. It felt as though their heart was being torn apart. Unfortunately this would prove to be more than just metaphorical. The strain of the ritual was hard on just two who were fused, for this many it was a wonder it had held together so well for as long as it did. The last thing they would see before their world went black was their heart shattering to pieces, scattering its light across untold distances. Everything was growing muffled now, but louder. Like screams through walls. Things were fading, melding together and it was hard to think. To see. To breathe. It was like sleep, but deeper. Like being lost in a sea of endless nothing. It was as though everything had simply stopped. It remained this way for many years. The last remnants of their will left slumbering in the quiet and desolate field. And perhaps it would have stayed that way, had another battle not began. Smaller in scale, but the familiar sound of weapons clashing echoed within the nothingness that surrounded them.
What was it? The sound frightened them, though they knew not why. Soon though the sound of combat waned and silence fell across the forsaken battlefield once again. It was over, surely. Whatever it was, was over. And for good this time, yes? It felt that way for what felt like only a moment, before another fight began to rouse them once again. They didn’t care for the sound. It woke them, it stirred memories they couldn’t quite grasp. Ones of fear and anger and regret. But somewhere a measure of hope? This nothing that surrounded them for so long. There was hope that it wasn’t all that was left.
This hope was like a light, a beacon through the haze that their will followed. It took time but the walls had thinned and before long had fallen all together. At the very spot where the twelve had became one, and the one had fallen, a new body had rose. A shell, a husk filled with a swirling torrent of conflicting memories, yet none of their own. Who were they? What had they been? What were they now? Something was gone. Something was missing, they had to find it. They had no idea where to begin. What they were looking for. And they were alone...No. They weren’t alone. They had each other...they had themselves. Whoever that was.
Gazing around at this broken and scarred landscape resonated memories of feelings within them. They couldn’t place why. Around where they rose were weapons. Hefting one up the keyblade felt like dead weight in their hand. Rusty and crumbling from years of disuse. The chains attached to them though were familiar, even if the why was eluding them. They gathered the twelve keychains up and stuffed them away, casting aside the broken and brittle blades. What had happened in this place? They wondered. Pangs of pain echoed in their skull. The clashing of metal, the screams of battle. They didn’t want to stay here. And so they began to walk. Hours, days, they kept walking. Was there anything here? Was there anyone here? This desolate remnant of a world.
It was some measure of time, spent wandering and ruminating a way to leave this place. They felt a pull off into the vast skies above, like something was calling to them across the cosmos. So many times they would reach out, trying to grasp at something that wasn’t there, desperate to capture whatever it was that was beckoning them, or at least find a way to where it was. In one of those desperate moments of yearning, as they reached out in mind and spirit, something finally happened. A hazy portal of inky blackness appeared before them. There was no hesitation as they stepped through, this was a way out, one way or another. Though the World of Darkness would prove to be a prison of its own.
At first, they ran when the Heartless arose to fight them. These creatures eager and desperate to destroy them it seemed. They had nothing to defend themselves with. Nothing to fight back with. Kicking and throwing stones only worked so much. But through the turmoil in their mind, a quiet voice rang in their head as they ran. ‘Call out. Fight.’ If their will alone could open a way, then surely they could use it to conjure something to fight back with. Either way there was nowhere left to run. A wall of the beasts ahead of them and a cliff face behind them they turn to fight. Calling upon whatever inner strength or force they seemed to possess, their fists were wrapped in white flames for a moment before a pair of imposing gauntlets took shape and around their legs so too did a pair of greaves. And so they began to swing. And kick. And swing. And kick. The fighting felt natural, even if the weapon did not.
They were uncertain just how long they had been fighting off the waves of Heartless, it became a blur. When at last they tired of the fight and expected to be overwhelmed, they realized the creatures had already gone. Exhausted they fell back against the stone wall behind them and slumped to the ground. Perhaps where they were before wasn’t so bad after all. After a moment to breath, they rose up to their feet and began to travel deeper through this place. The feeling of constantly being watched from the shadows was nearly maddening. As were the ambushes they found themselves running into. They needed to find another way out soon.
Time felt different here. Or perhaps it was just because it felt like eternal night. They had no way of knowing just how long they had been here at this point. No way of knowing how to find a way out. It could have been days or months or only hours they they had to fight through this place. Near to giving up, they felt a thrumming inside them. Not a heartbeat, but similar. Like what once was a heartbeat. It’s what they felt before back on the desolate battlefield. Reaching out as they once had before, another portal opened up before them, this one was white and shiny. Once more without hesitation they rushed through the portal.
This time they found themselves in a dim lit alleyway, the sound of hustle and bustle just down the way. Rather than stride confidently into what could be yet another ambush, they cautiously made their way to the alley’s edge and peered around. Some kind of market was set up, and people were going about their day to day. The robed traveler felt a small measure of relief. Exiting from the alley drew more than a few curious and concerned stares, and attempts to converse were met with little success, though eventually they managed to learn of the place they had arrived. Twilight Town. Though despite being in a seemingly safe place, they hardly felt welcomed. The gawking and whispering spoke volumes, all the while their own words were met with silence or fear.
Instead of bothering to continue trying, they would simply wander through the town and silently observe. Granted, this did nothing to help the concern that the townsfolk likely felt. So before long they simply left, out of the village and deep into the woods nearby to think in peace. Of course, this was much more easily said than done, as their mind rarely was peaceful, the thoughts ebbing and flowing in indecipherable waves. As they sat down upon a stump, doing their best to quiet the sounds in their mind, another broke the silence of the forest. An old man had approached them while they sat in thought, taking a seat nearby as well. Surprised to have someone approach them after their own approaches had been rebuffed so often, they remained silent for a time as the man introduced himself. Thomas, the man said his name was.
They reached for a name to give in return, but found they had none to give. They talked with Thomas for hours, about their missing and their jumbled memories, the journey they had before arriving here, and the struggle to keep their mind at peace. And Thomas would lend and ear and advice. In his younger days, Thomas had been an angry youth. Furious at the world for no real discernible reason. It would have lasted until his dying days had he not met someone willing to listen, and someone willing to teach. His teacher had taught him meditation and ways to let go of the frustration, including through fighting. Thomas offered to teach them these things, so long as someday they too would teach someone in need as well. They agreed in earnest.
And so, following Thomas to his woodland home, they would begin their training. By chance or providence, Thomas’ own way of fighting was with his fists, which suited the weapons that they had discovered. A week into training, Thomas pulled them aside to suggest something. The man couldn’t just keep calling them ‘You’ or ‘Friend’ or ‘Hey!’, they needed a name they could answer too. Given the missing memory and hollow feeling they described inside of them, Thomas suggested a name to reflect that absence. Absentia.
It was true, conversations would be difficult if they couldn’t give a name to place. With a grin they took up the name. It had a nice ring to it after all. Several months had passed with Absentia training under Thomas. Learning what they could from the man, and augmenting it with what they were learning about themselves and the strange powers they wielded. One night, during dinner, that same thrumming returned to Absentia chest. They were being called again. They still knew not what it was that called them, only that they must needs follow it. While Thomas was saddened to see them go, he encouraged Absentia to follow their heart. Wherever it may lead. Just to be sure to return from time to time to say hello.
Bidding a fond farewell to their teacher, Absentia reached out and opened yet another white portal. They know not where it leads, but as Thomas had told them, the journey is oft times greater than the destination. And through the portal they stepped.
Absentia is more than a bit odd to look at. They're lean and tall, with limbs a bit too long, a mouth that curls a bit too wide, and eyes that open a bit too far. Their silvery white hair is long and straight in the front, where two curtains fall to either side and bangs conceal their face most of the time. Their eyes are golden and akin to a shattered mirror, their pupils looks as though they crack out into the iris.
Their skin is mostly pale but part across their arms and legs are slightly darker in ways that make them look patched together. They wear a long white robe with gold trimmings around the edges, and on the left breast over their heart is a hodgepodged emblem that seems to be made of parts of different animal heads.
To Be Added At A Later Date
”We are...I am Absentia.”
”Something calls to us. To me. What drives you I wonder.”
A week has passed since they had arrived in Twilight Town and began their training with Thomas. There was so much life in this place, so much light. Both stark contrasts to what they had experienced before. Despite feeling so foreign it felt so familiar. Once again they were at odds within their mind. Flashes of memories, broken and fleeting sped through their mind. It was distracting, frustrating. Like a swarm of bees buzzing around in their head at one moment, only to be replaced by baying hounds the next. Nothing felt complete, these fragmentary passages of the stories of lives, which one was really theirs? The meditation helped. Not to sort out the thoughts, but to quiet them and to help them find their center. Thomas had said that dwelling on the past will distract you from the now, that the memories will sort themselves out in time and the best thing to do now is to attempt to make peace with oneself. To that end, they sat quietly by the edge of a brook, listening to the gentle babbling of the water as it flowed down stream. It was hard to let go, to not try and grasp at the loose threads of a tangled mass, but it was getting easier. Their focus shifted onto the sounds of nature, to the pace of their breathing. Peace may be fleeting, but it was obtainable. For now they had found it and the echos in their mind had quieted.
Enough so that they hadn’t even noticed that Thomas had come and joined them. They jumped, startled when they opened their eyes again at last, how long had he been there? The old man smiled and opened his eyes in short order as well. ”Good morning my friend. Are you well?”
This had grown to be a question that Thomas asked every morning, and the man could tell when they were lying. They weren’t sure how, but they were very good at reading them. ”We...I am, thank you. They were loud this morning. But the stream has quieted it for now.” they answered with a smile.
”Ahh, glad to hear it. You know, I’ve been thinking.” Thomas began before rising to his feet, beckoning them to follow him, they too rose up. ”I know you said you’ve not a name to give, memory and all that. But people can’t always just go ‘Hey’ or ‘You’ or ‘Friend’ to get your attention. So I gave it some thought. What with your missing memory and you saying you feel...hollow. Maybe a name to reflect that. How does Absentia strike you? It means ‘absence’ in...some language or another, I forget which.”
Absentia...Absentia. It had an interesting ring to it! And it was true, conversation would be difficult without a name to give to people. ”Absentia...we...I like it.” Absentia grinned, a name to call their own, even if it wasn’t their real one. It felt nice.
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