In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
A special thank you to ChasingArtwork of Deviantart, who allowed us to use this stellar banner image.
There aren't enough praises in the world I'd like to give to wonderful coders for the Proboards community. The following have contributed to World Destiny in some way: W3 Schools for countless how-tos and countless of other souls who have helped get WD up to where it is.
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All Canon Characters belong to the Kingdom Hearts franchise, Square Enix and Disney.
The wind would have chilled Syn to the bone provided heat didn't course underneath his skin like a wildfire on the prairie. That didn't stop the snow from collecting on his eyelashes as he sat in the coffee shop in the First District. He sipped on his white chocolate mocha, his mind imagining the colors of what each flavor would represent. There was so much sweetness, which he could only relate to a pale peach color, not quite pink but more the color of vanilla. And then there was that edge, a rich brown spice(it was coffee, after all). He savored it, his blue eyes travelling the courtyard where he had crashed so long ago. The Gestalt, his ship, recovered eventually. Thank the heavens for that.
Although if he tried hard enough, he had a feeling he could still summon the Corridors, as he did during his time with the Dark XII. His dark grey shackle was the only thing that could chill him- his wrist would go numb as his Dark side clung to the piece.
The teen who had been a teen for a long time sipped thoughtfully on his drink, watching as the civilians (or perhaps other civilians, considering he'd been here long enough) finished their snowmen and took flight back to their residences. Was it really that late?
His mind wandered to distant world, to old cultures... To best friends. He wondered if they were watching the skies thinking of him in whatever distant world they were exploring. And he wished that they hadn't been separated so long ago, even though their mission had been completed. The Firesoul looked down to his right arm, hidden under his blue coat, wondering why he still couldn't get rid of Sin. It was the only thing left of his past, the black scars and dark metal that glinted under his skin.
His luminescent eyes lit up like fire as he felt the presence of Darkness around him.
Silver strands of unkempt hair danced in what small breeze had picked up. A few flecks of white snow danced across the white-washed world, glistening in the greenish light of one of Traverse Town's many street lamps.
Reliquim tugged the zipper of the coat he'd just "bought" from the Second District up a few inches, the sound from the gesture magnified by the wintry weather. Then, blood burgundy eyes came to rest on a little wooden boy who was occupying himself by making little animal figurines in the cold, white plaster in front of the Clock Shop. A splash of orange light lit up his figurines with the lightest tone of coral.
Now the Emberfox had seen plenty of peculiar things in his life. Somehow, things like this little boy still seemed odd, even if they were far less surprising than they were the first time around.
A few seconds later, and an elderly man had peeked his head out of the door to the little shop in the corner, calling the wooden oddity inside before he caught his death a cold. The boy called back, requesting a few more minutes.
A shadow scurried along the dark edges of the First District. It had been following Reliquim, and had hitched a ride on his dark presence through the gates separating the districts. Bright eyes peered at the boy playing in the snow, its body twitching as it calculated the situation...
...And from his position just behind the Accessory Shop, the Firefox's lips curled into a wicked grin; an idea had been brewed in that foul mind of his.
The Heartless scurried toward the Clock Shop, avoiding the light where it met the ground and walls. Just above the door, it took shape again, bright round eyes blinking at the kid, who had by now caught wind of the creature. The wooden boy's eyes widened, and with a squeal, he took flight.
That's right... Be afraid!
The Heartless had chased him all the way into the Clock Shop. With a silent, satisfied smirk, the Puppeteer twitched his fingers. He'd been controlling the creature on invisible strings, and the fun was worth it, even if the game had only lasted a couple of seconds. With a few moves of those clawed fingers, Rel had released the Heartless back into the Second District.
He was quick to stick those bronze-clawed hands back into his jacket pockets, assuming a leisurely stroll and completely ignoring the elderly male that was now peering out the Clock Shop's window. The Emberfox would wind up coming to the little Café and brushing off the seat of one of the snow-dusted chairs. To anyone who may have been looking, his metallic claws would've been hard to miss. Even the waitress who had come to ask what it was he'd wanted had noticed, but she tried to brush it off. A customer was a customer, after all, and his request was simple: A Rose Petal Tea, no sugar. To those who could sense Darkness, Reliquim would have reeked of it.
Curious wine-colored eyes wandered to the Café's only other patron as the Puppeteer waited for his warm mug of comfort. If his glance wasn't hindered, it would have been sharp on Synthest's back, analyzing the stranger with a cold, calculating gaze. Of course, if the other had turned to look at him, his gaze would've gone elsewhere. After all, he didn't want to cause suspicion. All he wanted to do was analyze: figure the stranger out, in order to unravel him at at later time, perhaps.
Now Synthest was nothing special - nothing more than a complete stranger. And of course,Reliquim saw all strangers equally: they were all playthings. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more.
It was easy to feel the metal in the air. Syn was akin to such things... Fire, metal, Darkness- he had ties to them all. And the man sitting somewhere in the vicinity seemed to have an affinity for them as well. Whether he had powers over each of them like Synthest did wasn't yet revealed. Why not test that theory?
He turned, his gaze curious, and met a silver-haired -Ocean?- man with the darkest eyes was gazing his way. The source of metal was quickly noticed- some form of collar, along with a zetta cool set of claws. Syn grinned, holding his right hand up.
"I dig your threads," he said, his young tone bequeathing coolness and cunning. As he spoke, metal erupted from his palm, the right hand coating itself in black, and as he finished he held a black set of claws similar to the ones this man wore. His piercing eyes showed a withheld chuckle, the blue seeming to shine through the dull light and snow. The flakes on his eyelashes made him seem very cold, despite his inner warmth. "Are you one of them?" His eyes flashed to the waiters a few tables away. His voice lowered. "Or... one of me?"
He put an emphasis on a sniff at the air. The man's eyes gave Synthest knowledge. He was intelligent, there was no doubt. But the Firesoul couldn't read anything else. Not until he could get to know the man a little better.
Those deep, wine colored eyes shifted between the females taking care of a few plates and dishes under the Café's overhang in accordance with this stranger's gesture of the eyes. Then dwindled on the females for a moment before turning back to Synthest.
With his clawed hands wrapped around the cup to keep them warm, he took a moment to analyze and answer. He took a slight inhale, taking in the smell of his Rose Petal Tea.
When he was sure to have interpreted what Synthest meant, and had time to formulate a quick answer, his voice was quiet. Despite the colossal rift on his fragmented soul, at this moment he appeared to be very collected; the quiet hum of his voice playing it off rather well: "If you mean to question whether I am normal or... special... I'd be one of you.
One hand let go of its warm solace to dig into his pocket. The light sound of clanking coins was amplified by the quiet of the snow. "As for the side I'm really on. . ." he gulped down the last of the liquid before it had much of a chance to cool, and placed the empty cup and a few coins on the white-dusted table top. Aw man. . . There went his chance to flirt with the waitresses and avoid the chance to pay.
The Firefox rose to his feet. He couldn't put a finger on it, but something about this guy had him miffed, and it seemed the gaunt Humanoid had lost what small appetite he had. "You'd be better off not knowing."
"I don't see what the deal is... We all have a little Darkness. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
Synthest let the metal fall back into its liquid state and it solidified into the shape of a spoon. Synthest looked down to the cappuccino that lay steaming on the table and dipped the black metal into it, stirring it thoughtfully. His blue eyes stared into the depths of his sugary drink but his mind never left the man at the next table. Another person who had a Heartless inside? Or was this one just falling through the cracks? Synthest couldn't know, but for some odd reason he found himself overjoyed at the thought that he wasn't the only one so tainted by the Darkness.
"Plus- it's not often that a person like me meets someone he could relate to." His eyes listed upward, wondering if the silver-haired man would meet his gaze. The man wasn't Ocean, no. That would be impossible anyways, Ocean was dead. Had been for years. Syn's heart rang with a moment of guilt before he pushed the thoughts away. Silver hair- it wasn't all that common. "I'm Synthest." A title. He didn't even have a real name. Did this man?
The Emberfox thought for a moment, chin tucked behind that large bronze collar, tongue sliding over a few of the sharp teeth that lined his upper jaw. The chilly atmosphere bright visible white puffs every now and again to his exhaled breath. He couldn't pinpoint a good reason; perhaps it was his fascination with this guys ability to transform metal, but he'd decided to stay a little longer. After all, it wasn't that often that the Puppeteer had someone to talk to.
One bronze-clawed hand slid over the decorative top of his char, and he swung it on one leg, angling it to face a little closer to this stranger that had picked up a conversation with him. "Synthest huh? That's a new one." Not another Gary, James, or Fred. He took a seat again, blood burgundy eyes angled up toward the other, arms crossed. His position was less standoffish, leaning more toward sinister, if Synthest had actually given it much consideration. "...Reliquim." His gaze watched his new acquaintance, absorbing what he could through expressions, body language, actions -- apparently, this guy had rolled high on his speech craft skill... But what, of his traits, would suffer for it? Was there an insecurity somewhere? A regret?
It probably didn't matter. His composure remained, eyes ever-steady, but almost a little curious, intrigued by a new point he'd noticed about the stranger. The question he posed would be a quiet, contemplative one.
Syn chuckled. Afraid of the Darkness? What was there to be afraid of? "You shouldn't be afraid of it. It's a part of you. But controlling it is mandatory. Fear will only cause stress, which may lead to anger or sadness, but serenity is a place between light and darkness..." His eyes wandered into the night sky, above the walls of Traverse Time. A place between, like the twilight. "Reliquim. What brings you here, to a world of perpetual darkness?" Maybe it was those eyes and how much they reminded Syn of his old friend, but this man seemed cunning and a little sinister. He was curious about this one.
The golden collar, the claws, everything. It just seemed so odd. Better off not knowing... "So are you what you are by choice?"
(Short post, bluh. Muse has been uber dead lately.)
The Emberfox remained intrigued by Syn's answer. Not only was this guy unafraid, but he'd somehow believed there could be peace edging the shadow; like the Twilight? He still wasn't quite sure how that worked, for he had only ever known and observed bitterness and violence to linger in the shadows, but the new acquaintance conversing with him had popped another question, temporarily diverting Rel's busy mind.
"By choice?" His brow furrowed, the unwelcomeness of the inquiry apparent in the shadows sweeping over his uneasy eyes. Was he what he was by choice? ...Did he have any choice killing his best friend? Did he have any choice dying the first time? Did he have any choice cruelly being sent back here by the Great Being, instead of rightfully relinquishing his life? His head tilted slightly, an unreadable air tainting his face and his words. Perhaps it was.... no, it wasn't quite standoffish. "Would you pity me if I told you it was by choice, but not my own?"
He continued, not leaving Syn ample time to answer. "And what about you? Are you a result of an evolutionary breakthrough gone right?" That razor sharp, blood burgundy gaze found itself lingering on the shackle encasing the other's arm, his words, perhaps, intentionally and curiously pointed at the binding object. "Or did you just roll with the cards you were dealt?" The single cuff seemed to wrap callously around Synthest's arm, an echo of Reliquim's own personal purgatory.
It seemed these strangers were turning out to have some common ground. Which, for the Puppeteer, was a rare case indeed.
He watched Rel's response to his question. It wasn't entirely inviting, thought the soldier, but he listened intently. By choice but not his own? The blue-eyed teen nodded as he played with the cuff links of his jacket. But Rel continued, leaving him no time to say exactly what he felt about that. And then he asked of Syn's own past. Evolution? No, it wasn't that purposeful. Synthest's own history was far less meaningful but oh so horrible. He closed his eyes for a moment attempting to find the memories he wanted to use. His own past...
"My world was not innocent. They saw the Heartless as powerful, magical creatures and used the Darkness in metal and armor. That was my first mistake, choosing to use it," he said, not thoroughly explaining his relationship with the weapon that lurked underneath his skin. "I chose to use a weapon that infected me, in a way of speaking, even though I had no idea of the consequences. I used to consider it a separate entity but in doing so I refused to accept it for what it was. It was me. Just me, consumed by the Darkness I chose to let in." To tell himself that his Fever was a separate being was to lie, and he did so for a long time. It let the Fever loose, turning him into a horrible creature craving Hearts. He discovered that it wasn't about staying controlled- it was about realizing that he was never controlled to begin with. It was about knowing that the monster inside was the monster outside, just in a different skin. "In other words Rel, we are constantly manipulated without knowing it, and that's nothing to be ashamed of; nothing to be pitied. After my infection I spent years trying to gain vengeance only to discover that I was expected to do so. It wasn't something as magical as fate, or destiny- it was just a person with a better hand bluffing, and I fell for it."
His blue eyes hardened slightly as he spoke, remembering his battles. Keyon, the man with scarlet eyes, had led him on for years after the death of their best friend. The three had once worked so perfectly together, and even though one died and the other two fought to the death, they were still completely in sync with one another. Keyon had led him to new Worlds on purpose so that he could destroy the disgusting metropolis that had used Heartless as weapons. Even though he had fought Synthest, left wounds on him, in the end Syn was alive because Keyon never hated him. "I guess you could say that I stopped playing by other peoples' rules." And he chose a different life to lead, a better story.
A life where he wasn't a soldier. Where he was only seventeen in other peoples' eyes, not a kid stuck in time thanks to his darker other half. A life where Keyon never existed, where he never killed the third of their trio... But despite the fact that he had left his own session, her Heart was still very much linked to his. He often spoke to her in dreams even now, years after her death. And now he was seeing a part of himself in his company. He saw his younger self in a way, although he knew they were very separate beings. "The Darkness is hard to fight and understand but in the long run, even it is a pawn used by us, the intelligent creatures that roam the lanes between."
The Emberfox listened intently as this other so comfortably disclosed interesting points about his background and what he's learned.
At your core, I think I see a glimmer of shame, eroding at you for the deeds you've done... Or is it this infection you speak of? Reliquim made a mental note of this, intending to dig at it later. This guy was becoming more fun to dissect by the moment. I wonder if I can find the source of your shame?
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"The Darkness is hard to fight and understand but in the long run, even it is a pawn used by us, the intelligent creatures that roam the lanes between."
--Keep talking. Your Heartstrings will be mine.
"Shame? You're kidding... Shame is a feeling the clean of conscience feel after committing a foul deed." He paused, stroking one sleeve with claws colored of pure bronze, scratching the itch beneath. His eyes were lit with interest; an interest only Reliquim knew at his core to be a ploy. "With what you've got going for you, you probably attract all the ladies, so that can't be it," it was a joking prod, perhaps... something to lighten the weight of the conversation. His head tilted with mild curiosity, turning the conversation into a thing of ease and gentle inquiry with his calm, neighborly tone. "So what might a resolute young man like yourself have to be ashamed of?"
It was thus far playing smoothly into the Puppeteer's grand routine:
Watch. Listen. Analyze. Disassemble.
But of course, any experiment would depend on the willingness of the subject to comply... And Synthest was smart, which meant Reliquim had to be on his toes if he wanted this curiosity --this strange new plaything-- to play right into his hands.[/blockquote]
[STYLE=width:300px; font-size:20px; font-family:times new roman; text-transform: uppercase; text-align:center; color: #66696A; margin-top:-20px]You can get addicted to[/style][STYLE=width:300px; background-color:#F4F4F4; height:300px; overflow:auto; font-size:12px; font-family:arial; text-align:justify; border:4px solid #e6e6e6]Synthest paused. He looked down to the shackle that once bound him to the Darkness. Was he ashamed of anything? Foul deed? Although Reliquim was seemingly light-hearted in his speech, his questions were heavy. He put a hand to his shackle, his expression thoughtful.
"Not knowing."
He tilted his head. Rel was... Interested, sure. But Syn still didn't know much about him. His vibrant eyes scanned the gauntlet and collar- he couldn't say whether it was right to ask about them or not. Reliquim had set an almost transparent barrier- he hadn't said a word about himself, directing the conversation more towards Synthest. And the pyromancer had to admit, he was curious about this one. The one whose dark red eyes were alight with curiosity as well.
The way he spoke of shame, he made it sound like they'd clashed. Foul deeds... It was natural for one of the Darkness to link that with shame.
"What about you?"[/style][STYLE=width:300px; font-size:20px; font-family:times new roman; text-transform: uppercase; text-align:center; color: #66696A; margin-bottom:-5px]a certain kind of sadness[/style]
--And how might simply not knowing be linked with shame?
The Emberfox tucked away the brief confession in his mind. His eyes, though casual, were analyzing everything. He was taking in body language, vocal tone, the words and their implications...
"What about you?"
What about him?
The question was more than just that: his acquaintance was no doubt curious about him as well, and it was best if he wasn't suspicious about motives. It seemed that it was Rel's turn to divulge.
Blood burgundy eyes shifted from Synthest and rested on one golden-bronze gauntlet. Claw tips of his free hand scratched the cold metallic surface. He had momentarily gone quiet, the peaceful silence heightening the temporary emptiness. Only the gently fluttering snow falling around them was there to keep time moving forward. Elwood
His hands curled tighter around the rapidly-cooling, dull green mug in his fingertips. He made a slight twitch of the wrist to slosh its contents around. Jasper
It was empty. Arlen
"Oh look, it appears I've finished my Tea." He seemed the slightest bit… unsettling; and it wasn't like he'd been offended. Rel just had enough of an edge to hint that something was slightly off about this particular fellow Syn had hardly become acquainted with.
You'll never know about any of them.
Reaching into his pocket, the Emberfox fidgeted with a few loose coins, and then placed the amount on the table: it was exact change; six golden pieces had landed with the quietest clanking sounds over the snow-dusted table.
"Well, it appears I must be going," he seemed somewhat reluctant; was it a show, or was there some odd, slightly deeper layer?
Work complete, he adjusted his posture. It was straight, but something about his presence still didn't seem quite right; it was like, under the surface, he'd lost a few marbles, and the loss was great enough to permeate the atmosphere around him.
And, through messy silver locks, those dark eyes dug into Synthest. It was almost as though he were staring with the eyes of a ghost, and as if knowing it, he smiled. A secure, satisfied smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you," and the soft merling of his finishing phrase, coupled his presence, was chilling. "...Synthest."
As soon as he walked away, a gust of wind picked up, carrying a flurry of fluffy white, featherlight snow to swirl through the air in his wake. The gust howled so frighteningly gently. The Emberfox was gone.
And suddenly, a peace fell over the district. It was calm, but so strangely empty.
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