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.
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"I guess...in a sense," Antique said, sipping at her water. "We're all weak, in the end. The worlds, us, ourselves. We all eventually die. Nothing is permanent," she said. Sure, it was a morbid way of looking at things. "I don't think that if you die, you're neccessarily weak," she said, looking thoughtful.
The life expectancy of people from her world wasn't very long anyway. Unless you were of the noble class. For all logic, Antique shouldn't have been alive.
"I've been starting to question where I origionally came from too. I never did before I came here, but...I don't think any of the worlds I came from were weak," she said, and shut her eyes. "Just...very ill-protected."
She smiled. "I'd like to protect this world. I'm not strong, but I've survived. I want to protect those...who can't...well, protect themselves."
She beamed up at him, "Sounds kind of silly, doesn't it?"
"I suppose you... are right in that respect..." Marcus frowned slightly. She had some points but... some of them didn't make sense with what he grew up with. Weak people died before they were supposed to... because they couldn't fight.
So then why protect them? What was there to gain from something as foolish as that? One would only get hurt or killed defending someone that couldn't fight.
So why did the way she said it make it feel... right? Why would she waste her life doing that? She could be so much stronger... He had to get answers.
"Why would you waste your time defending what is weak?" Marcus tilted his head slightly. The confusion was written across his features. The questions he wanted to start rambling out almost written behind his cold eyes. "Why would you feel that the worlds were just ill-defended?"
Antique held the cup of water between her hands delicately, looking down into the cup as it sloshed against the ridges. She was probably one of those girls that was easily entertained, always finding something curious to get her hands into. Her feet swung back and forth in the wooden chair--since she was sitting all the way back into it, her legs were too short to reach the ground.
"Why would you waste your time defending what is weak?"
"Mmmm..." she said, looking up into the sky, craning her neck backward. "Why not? I mean, just because someone can't fight doesn't really make them weak. Maybe fighting, anyway. But where they're weak in fighting, they have strengths somewhere else," she said, and smiled. Pointing at the cake, she grinned.
"For example, the baker. He's no fighter, but his strength lays in baking. His skills in cooking far surpass mine--but that doesn't mean I should drop dead just because I can't bake, right?"
She tilted her head, and smiled. "I cherish everyone's talents--even those talents that haven't...you know, made themselves known. I cherish people...I guess that's why I want to protect them. I want to see everyone grow, bloom, even!"
"Why would you feel that the worlds were just ill-defended?"
Her eyes grew dark. "If I had known what the Heartless were back then like I do now..." she said quietly. She trailed off.
Marcus was floored figuratively speaking. Cherish life... She cherished it for the beauty she saw in it. It was very womanly of her to say something like that. However... Marcus felt a small stirring inside him. He frowned as he looked up.
It was years ago... when he even thought about such things, let alone believed them. He was a child then... A child with hopes and dreams. Those being to survive and find a meal. And then after that was to find his family.
Leave behind your weak dreams. Cast it all away and take only the strength I offer and use it to survive. To fight on and grow stronger... that is all you need!
Those words echoed in his mind. Strength... overcome all those before him. Destroy the light and the dark without discrimination. He was a tool of destruction and he knew it. Up until this conversation he never questioned it.
He noticed the look on Antiques face and it clicked. Her world was taken by the heartless and the darkness. She likely had to kill those she loved to keep them from falling into the darkness.
He let out a small sigh and closed his eyes. His rough fingers wrapped around his glass of orange juice as he brought it up so he could see his reflection in it. What happened to his world? Did it suffer the same fate as Antiques? Did his parents fight the darkness? Did they kill each other in order to find salvation from the darkness? A longing that had long ago been cast away began to gnaw at his mind and heart.
What happened to his family? That small childishly selfish part of his mind began to awaken again. A thirst of knowledge was starting to fill his eyes and he could see it in the reflection.
"I didn't mean to bring up painful memories," Marcus shook his head slowly. He felt... different inside. He was definitely the same battle hungry being he had been before but... that yearning... "I was just curious. I've been without a purpose... And your kindness confused me."
"No, it's alright," Antique said with a meloncholic smile as she sipped at her water. "They're byfar, not the most painful things I hold dear to me," she said lightly. She set her glass down on the table, and reached over to touch the base of his arm.
"We're alike in the same way, don't worry," she said, a cheerful smile flitting across her face. "I really don't deserve to be treated as kindly as everyone in this town does..." she said. She brought her hands to her heart. "And for everyone that does, I feel pretty guilty about it...but I want to be a good person," Antique smiled. "I try to. I can't promise I always will be though. But I'll honestly and earnestly try. My past...it doesn't determine who I am. I determine who I am," she beamed at him.
"I find that one gets what they deserve," Marcus said slowly as he sipped at his drink. His eyes occasionally darted around making sure no one strayed too close.
"If one lives by the sword then eventually one shall die by it," Marcus said with a small grin. "Those who betray others will be betrayed themselves."
"And those who save others..." Marcus trailed off slowly. He closed his eyes for a moment. "I... guess in the end they would get saved themselves."
"I do not believe us to be the same," Marcus shook his head slowly as he looked Antique in the eyes. "I do not see the monster in you that I see in me."
"For you to kill, you need a reason... a purpose to do so," Marcus said with a shrugs. "You are a just person and don't kill needlessly. If you kill, it's to protect someone else you care about. It's quite admirable."
"Me on the other hand..." Marcus grinned and slowly drew his chipped sword and layed it on the table. It shone dully in the light and at the hilt was the engraved S with the rest of it scratched out. "I kill because that's how I find meaning. My life means something if I survive the fight and kill my opponent."
Antique stared at the large sword that was put on the table, and listened to Marcus. "I think that, yeah, what goes around comes around. But...it's never too late to change," she said, and sighed, looking at the table.
"My blade, Clarent..." she said, gesturing to the Claymore. She brought it out, and it glinted, cleanly--it was obvious she took care of it almost obsessive compulsively. Symbols were carved in the blade, and if one watched closely, sometimes, they seemed to move, to flow, like water. The blade itself was taking on a blue hue.
"It's seen it's fair share of...blood," she sighed. She smiled up at him. "Maybe it's just me, but I don't see a monster in you," she said, and paused.
"Perhaps a bored person, just looking an adventure. But that's just me."
"...Perhaps it is just you then," Marcus stared at her blade. It was well taken care of... The sign of a warrior that cares. He cringed at the thought. His heart didn't so much as move at the thought.
"You are naive to think that I'm just a bored adventurer," He said pointedly sheathing his sword. Too many eyes were beginning to rest on the unsheathed weapons. He felt slightly uneasy being watched by so many. "I truly am a monster. I am just satisfied for the moment."
"When you meet me when I'm not satisfied..." Marcus said standing slowly to stretch his legs. There was a darker glint in his eyes that spoke more of the demon within than his words did. "Well... Let's hope that doesn't happen."
Antique sheathed her sword behind her. It seemed, almost, really too big for her to even carry. "In my home world, they believe that your sword, or your weapon, is an extension of ones own soul," she said, looking wistful. "Every child is born with one, though it changes form and solidifies as they get older. Mine happened to solidify into a claymore."
So did many of the children's souls form into something like that. So it was imperitive that she took care of it.
Then he stood, her eyes carefully following him.
"Hmmm," she said. She didn't see him as a monster. "We're never born monsters, are we?" she said, stretching her arms over her head, though she watched him just as a precaution.
"I'm not even sure if the Heartless are neccessarily monsters, I mean, they were once human, too. Looking at it that way, there's always a chance to you know...not be one," she smiled.
"But..." she said, "I don't know how to live life any other way. To be quite honest, the sword is really all I know. I don't even really know how to be normal. But I'm not even sure I want to do that."
"...You are a child yet," Marcus finally said realizing the lack of understanding. No... it was something more than that. It was an innate nativity that he could see in her eyes. The eyes of a child that had seen too much of life.
"Everyone is born with a monster inside them," He pointed to where her heart was as his eyes narrowed slightly. His voice took on an edge as he continued, the very air of his words seemed chilled. "It's always there inside us, this monster. It's that temptation to do what's considered wrong. It's our urge to hurt, to destroy, to kill. Everyone gets it, even if we don't like to admit it."
"That's why the heartless exists," Marcus said evenly as he crossed his arms. "People gave into that monster and it consumed them. They were weaker than the monster inside, and so become mindless monsters. The only difference between you and them is that you are still fighting the monster inside."
Antique listened carefully to what Marcus had to say. Hearing sounds from far off, she realized that it was probably getting really late. Standing up, she leaned her hands on the table, simply smiling at the older man.
"I do believe I have to go," Antique said, as she closed the cover of the left over cake.
She took a couple of steps away from the cafe, and torwards the second district.
"I guess...a good question to ask..." she said, thoughtfully, gazing at the eternal night sky. "Is if we're all still fighting our own demons. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned, and ran off, giggling.
