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Post by Deleted on Sept 14, 2018 11:59:10 GMT -5
"Notre-Dame est bien vieille : on la verra peut-être Enterrer cependant Paris qu'elle a vu naître ; Mais, dans quelque mille ans, le Temps fera broncher Comme un loup fait un boeuf, cette carcasse lourde, Tordra ses nerfs de fer, et puis d'une dent sourde Rongera tristement ses vieux os de rocher !
Bien des hommes, de tous les pays de la terre Viendront, pour contempler cette ruine austère, Rêveurs, et relisant le livre de Victor : - Alors ils croiront voir la vieille basilique, Toute ainsi qu'elle était, puissante et magnifique, Se lever devant eux comme l'ombre d'un mort !” -Gérard de NERVAL
The fabrics of the veil found themselves torn asunder as darkness permeated the dry air within this mass collective of cold, unfeeling stone. Shadows rose, writhing about as they formed a path from the abyss, permitting passage unto this world to its commander; an elderly man in a black overcoat, arms folded neatly behind his back upon his exit of the dark corridor. The ebony gateway slammed shut when its usefulness had expired, whilst Xehanort took in the chapel’s countless pews bathed in colored light that shone through a stained glass disc, set high in the far wall. The ornate design of a window was rather similar to platforms found within a Dive to the Heart, yet it was not a thought so many would care to relish when pondered. Few understood the mysteries that lurked within the heart, even fewer had a firm comprehension in understanding its nature, its fickle yet curious ways that even to this day would still manage to surprise him.
The soles of onyx boots carried Xehanort down the aisle betwixt the pews, stopping once he found his form bathed in the light cast from the window. Golden eyes would drift skyward, meeting the sight of a discolored, yet brilliant sun behind a collage of pale hues of pink, gold, blue, and violet. It was a rather formidable thing, this structure. It told Xehanort a great matter of things about the people whom called this place home, the very same that had striven to achieve the construction of such an architectural wonder. A testament to their fortitude, to their will. When life became guised in its most trying of forms, there was a perseverance found in the power of these hearts. The ability to endure great suffering, all owed to faith, a word tossed around so often by those that would lack the answers. They clung to such a lie so desperately, so much like Eraqus had done with his precious light. Too afraid to do as he had, and seek out those answers, they would remain attached to their shallow comprehensions of the world.
Those whom knew nothing could understand nothing.
A simple truth that persevered much like the hearts of this world. Though unlike the people, this truth proved infallible. There were many that Xehanort knew held reliance, many facts that could not be disproven. It was why truth was sometimes so hard to accept, no matter the form. The heart would seek to defy truth at every turn, so long as it held to the essence of change that was its very nature. It was why so many stood opposed to the truth Xehanort aimed to bring the worlds, and the hearts that dwelled within each of them. They would each seek to defy the facts, to believe in their delusion that they could be changed, altered to suit their whims, fearful of the very nature that compelled them to rebel against his actions. They would seek to dilute the truth with more convenient lies to serve this broken paradigm, and for what? To continue their pitiful lives as they were? To remain oblivious to a higher understanding behind very purpose? An absurd desire. Such ignorance would not go unpunished before this crusade of his had finished.
The failures and intellectual obscurities that would appease these louts for a life was unacceptable in Xehanort’s eyes. He would not consign to an existence of such opaque normalcy, not when there remained so much more to see beyond the Keyblade War. His thoughts would inevitably drift to that day in the fated place; the success in creating a successful vessel from Eraqus’ mistake, and the inevitable failure at the hands of such a feckless creation, birthed from his own overeagerness and miscalculation. Xehanort’s gaze fell as he pondered the resilience Ventus had possessed to fell his other half, a variable he should have foreseen. Perhaps Vanitas had lacked the competence or the strength to fulfill his intended role. The decade of sleep would have done the whelp good to consider, and reflect upon his failure within a prison created of his own fumbling. Nevertheless underestimating Ventus would not be a mistake Xehanort was likely to repeat, if at all. Exerting will over the darkness, the elderly Keyblade Master would call out to the wayward progenitor of the Unversed. The time had come to set in motion the union of the twenty.
It is time we spoke. To my side, boy.
@vanitasremnant
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Post by Deleted on Oct 3, 2018 3:55:32 GMT -5
Masked Boy
I've Outgrown My Need For You
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ Gathering strength was a good purpose, but what would come from it and what was he working towards? Ventus was likely somewhere out there and he needed to grow himself this time, that was how he felt right now. The fact he had lost still burdened him. New worlds had shown themselves to him and he had attempted to find its defenders. To test, to grow, to learn. Yet all these pests seemed to be going everywhere now. The worlds had opend themselves and people were moving freely around. What had happened?
Suddenly a voice, Vanitas growled under his mask. He wished to grow more, but his Master needed him. At some points he had considered taking his own route, but he never did step away from the Master's plans. Weaving his way through the Darkness, he opened passage into the world of la Cité des Cloches. His steps sounded through the chapel as he walked forward until he stood next to Master Xehanort. While doing this, he took in the large space as he thought on whether to ask what was required of him. After his last failure, perhaps he didn't have a right to speak for now. Still, if he had failed, had his Master not failed as well?
Vanitas pondered on that thought, his Master had told him a lot. When he sent away Ventus the first time, Vanitas missed him and Master Xehanort was the one who led him on his path. He grew and gained his own goals. Perhaps he felt like he hadn't been bound by Ventus any longer, yet he still guided the boy and trained him using the Unversed. All to make the proper vessel. To gain the χ-blade, but Ventus had defeated him when he tried to gain control. Not only that, but he was also in conflict with Aqua on the outside. Perhaps that was the mistake? Having ever let the woman live or even be capable of confronting him? Was it wise to have guided all three of them? So many questions flooded his mind until they vanished as he tried to listen to what his Master had for him. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ OOC SECTION @mx
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Post by Deleted on Oct 4, 2018 21:35:31 GMT -5
The unmistakable sound of umbra’s essence tearing into the peaceful silence of this chapel told Xehanort all he needed to know. There was no mistaking whom the echoing footsteps that approached might belong to. After all, he had sent the call. Like the obedient creation he was, the answer was all too prompt given circumstance. Xehanort half expected a rebellious behavior from the recently woke underling, to be put off for so long while it remained content to explore, and enjoy its newfound freedom. Though there was an understanding in how quickly Vanitas arrived. There was a fear within that dark little void of a heart, one that doubtlessly had a tight leash around his neck. This was perhaps a moment he knew would inevitably come, a point in time to have dreaded since the hour of waking.
Xehanort remained ever silent, even as the Masked Boy approached to stand at his side, just as he had done prior to that final conflict. There was much to consider, given all that still stood in their way as this moment would occur. The various triumphs by each of their own hands, and the failures that continued to eat away at his plans to this day. There were many monumental successes, and they far outweighed whatever setbacks had been put in his path by such dull, ordinary inheritors. No matter the efforts put forth by Eraqus’ pawns, Sora, Riku, or the tiny king, everything had moved forward according his design. Everything was intricately falling into place, much like the stained glass in the stone above, so eloquently- so perfectly refined. That was not to dismiss what necessary deviations taken to account for misplaced confidence. The boy at his side said nothing, as he rightfully should given the inability to conquer his light as intended. Though the air needed to be broken, the trash along the path before them addressed and cast aside so they could proceed onward.
”So. Here we stand. Within this paradigm- a testament to your failure.” An obvious statement, simple enough to shatter the silence. The elderly man stepped forward, the echoing footsteps following his words. A few paces away, before the man would abruptly stop, the silence returning like a fierce storm. ”Rest assured, boy. While you slept, I took the necessary steps to make up the difference. Now we stand again but a stone throw from the door, still requiring the key in which you’ve failed to produce for me.” The elderly mystic would give the boy a moment to consider these truths, to let it soak through the skin so he truly understood the gravity of the situation. Xehanort had stripped him of weakness, of hindrance, supposedly of fear alongside his own body. He had given the boy a life all his own, a destiny to serve purpose towards. Was it so much that he simply do for what he was created? How pitiful that he could not live up to the simplest of the most important of tasks. Xehanort turned to look upon the Masked Boy, doubtlessly hiding his shame behind that opaque mask.
”Ventus was too much to overcome. So, what then do you make of him now?” The rhetorically laced tone of the question was prominent, the smile on the man’s face sadistic and cruel. Both of them knew the answer, it was plain enough for either to see. Xehanort for one, looked upon it with an indifference, knowing full well that it had been a miscalculation on his own part. A slight crease in the overall brushstroke of the artwork he had overlooked. A simple variable that could be adjusted with proper applications, were the Unversed progenitor as eager to regain favor as Xehanort would believe. It was better to stand on thing ice than to be trapped under it. Hopefully Vanitas knew how lightly he would need to tread the waters of his master’s patience. The echoes of footsteps returned as Xehanort slowly walked towards the boy, pausing when he was but within a Keyblade’s swing away from the masked enigma. He was certain there was something to be said on the apprentice’s part, there always was when it came to his apparent better half.
@vanitasremnant
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2018 3:31:34 GMT -5
Masked Boy
I've Outgrown My Need For You
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ Vanitas felt anger boiling as his Master confronted him immediately with his failure. Stating it outright. Perhaps it would turn into an Unversed at some point, but right now Vanitas watched his Master move forward. To say he should rest assured, the Masked Boy wondered what had happened in his absence. What had come of his Master's plans and where did they stand right now. It seemed the plans had furthered nonetheless. Was he ever needed? it bothered him.
Even as they stood but a stone's throw away, the key remained a requirement. That seemed like a sad truth. The mask was a blessing, bestowed upon him with his form. A form that Master had given him to begin with. Vanitas understood he had been given a lot since he came into being, but had taken his own power to be more than they had revealed to be. Right now he had taken the necessary steps he felt he needed to take: Grow and become stronger. Not just strengthen Ventus, he needed to grow as well. But what was come of Ventus?
Still he stood still as he watched his Master, before Vanitas finally let his voice be heard. "I... made the mistake that he would remain below me, I gave him the chance to grow. That chance he took and while the Unversed would always return, to give grant me strength that would grow onward always, the Unversed are too weak as they are," he responded, in a rather annoyed tone, "I told others to quit living in their tiny world, but I focused too much on Ventus and made my own world smaller." The words came out grudgingly, angered to himself for what he had allowed himself to go through, "now that blow has passed, I will grow. My emotions will grow, I will show them," he crossed his arms, "I will show you, I can still make this work! I WON'T BE A FAILURE!" He hated to admit his shortcomings, but he would show them. He would show even his Master, that he would become stronger, stronger than anyone. Power would be his. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ OOC SECTION @mx
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Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2018 15:26:42 GMT -5
Xehanort remained silent, searching that opaque obsidian obscurity for any hint, any trace of emotion within the placid glass. Though none could be found, as ever the mask proved a seeming infallible guise. Perhaps it was the only competency to be found within the raven locked youth, beyond so simple a task as wielding a Keyblade. A weapon bestowed to him through the power of his own split heart, not because Vanitas was worthy of such a gift, but because Ventus’ heart had etched the tool within so thoroughly. Once he believed a single immaculate pair of light and dark would be enough to open the path beyond the door. Xehanort had once held a doubt whether it could be possible, to create two Wielders out of the heart of one, to see a perfect darkness and light clash as intended in the legends. Alas even as success of such an experiment stood before him, perfection was a state earned rather than inherited. Vanitas would break his silence, Xehanort’s ears keen to whatever excuses the boy may choose to wield. Xehanort wanted to hear this.
Rather than shirk responsibility for his own actions, Vanitas would instead own up to the faults. An admirable road to take in Xehanort’s eye, his expectations in the choice of the other dashed as the Unversed continued. The boy was correct in his assessment, though overlooked a detail that even Xehanort had once considered. Before striking out on the road to create that immaculate pairing of light and dark, his own earnest had blinded them both to a certain variable in Ventus. The boy had vastly been underestimated, and the overconfidence placed in Vanitas a sore miscalculation on his own part. Though in that year so long ago now, the board dictated the limited paths they were allowed to take, narrowed the horizons so that they were forced to choose among those available.
There was little question Xehanort’s mind the Unversed were weak, far inferior this day and age to the likes of the Heartless and the Nobodies. They had been overwhelmed by Ventus’ light as they had been stretched too thin. In his eagerness to grow stronger than Ventus, mass producing so many Unversed would overexert the progenitor. Coupled with such an overbearing confidence, there was little question why Vanitas had been forced back into the dark. Despite what disappointment Xehanort held when looking upon the Masked Boy, he was satisfied in Vanitas’ choice to acknowledge and face this demon of a shortcoming head on. There was little room in the old man’s patience to suffer a tantrum now, after all these years. Though Vanitas would make known the affirmation of his determination to prove he still belonged to the equation, that he still had some worth left to show his master.
”Bold words to be sure, we shall see if you live up to them.” If the whelp was so confident he could succeed this time, so determined to prove his worth once more, then Xehanort would see it done. Though there was little room for error this time, failure was still a possibility where the apprentice was concerned. Even were Xehanort to believe with a proper course to strengthening the boy, therein still belied an inevitable chance of a fault, somewhere, somehow. The whirring cogs and gears inside Xehanort’s mind would work themselves tirelessly, examining each angle of the masterpiece on this ever expanding canvas for the tiniest of flaws to be smoothed over. Alas for all his foresight, cognitive preemptive planning, there would always exist one smallest, minuscule speck of a hiccup, a jinx, a deus ex machina that would force the plan to adapt, to evolve and survive. Only a fool would fail to consider failure as a thing to exist, no matter the wit nor brawn at the helm.
Xehanort was no fool.
”However…” The eyes closed, the intent observational scrutiny broken, as the elder would step forward several paces before stopping shoulder to shoulder with the boy. ”Know that should you fail me again, not even the power of Kingdom Hearts will bring you back from where I will send you.” A threatening glare into the boy’s peripheral for good measure, before the elder would resume his pace away from the masked apprentice. The words held truth with the profound certainty behind them, as there was little doubt he would cast aside the needless and weak in his pursuit for the ultimate key. The echo of his boots would continue a minute on, until Xehanort would come to a stop some thirteen feet away from Vanitas. A minute more the elder stared upon the cold stone near his feet, finding it weathered by all the souls that had walked the path before him.
”Now…” His temporary silence finally broken as the gaze was lifted, then directed over the shoulder as he turned once more. ”There are remaining steps to take on this journey, yet before we can continue down the path, we will have to correct what was. In my eagerness I overlooked the toll that the creation of such a sizable force might impact the outcome of your duel. Alas, without the Unversed, a potent enough threat to warrant Yen Sid’s attention was not so easily come by, you see.” Xehanort would approach slowly, drawing out both hands from behind him. ”So I accomplished what I set out to do, and took Terra for my own. Through him, I provided the fodder we needed in the Heartless, and Nobodies,” he gestured, acknowledging each in turn represented by a white gloved claw. Xehanort would pause then smirk at Vanitas, returning one hand behind the back, before pointing at him with the other. ”To put your underlings towards a better purpose.” The hand was dropped then hidden. Xehanort regarded the ornate designs of a holy crusade in one of the glass windows, scoffing silently to himself at the idea of what it might represent. ”The fights to come will strike the fear of death into your victims, and enemies alike my apprentice. Use the Unversed to feed off of those emotions to grow stronger. To prepare for your last duel with Ventus. That is your new purpose.” The elder would look across the chapel to the Masked Boy, a stony coldness about his features that would then be indiscernible. All that mattered was that he listened, that he obeyed as he so eagerly wished to prove he could be. Though would that feckless pride sway him from the course as before? Xehanort would only know when he let this dog off the leash.
@vanitasremnant
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