#it's been so long since I've written anyyyyything

[singingcookie]

Blinding White

“These are for you.” The girl stared at the plain white box that was held out to her by the man in red. She hesitated in taking hold of it, resulting in his orange eyes to narrow, forcing it in her grasp. “It’s polite to accept gifts from people when they’re offered.”

“R-right.” She lowered her chin, trying to steady her trembling hands. If being too slow elicited that kind of reaction, she did not want to find out what dropping the ‘gift’ might result in. If she had learned anything with her last caretakers—it was nothing pleasant. “Of course.”

She pulled on the top of the box, opening it to reveal a short string of colors. She looked up only to find that DiZ had turned away, making his way toward his staircase. She took out the one that matched his deep robes, examining it. “They’re…crayons.”

“You said you required new utensils to continue your work, did you not?” There was a terse edge to his voice she could not help but notice. She had been using colored pencils since the beginning of her work. She could switch, in theory, but she possessed no talent with these. 

“Yes…thank you,” she mumbled, putting the waxed object back in its place. She waited until he had crossed the threshold to his side of the mansion before giving a quiet sigh, looking over the box’s contents again as she made her way toward her own space.

Everything lay exactly as she left it. Some pictures from…before resting upon the floor. Her notebook wide open, an unfinished drawing residing on the visible page. Not to mention her old art supplies. Her colored pencils reduced to mere nubs in the last few months. She had made so many drawings with them. And now she had…

The box practically blended into the table. Which meant it blended in with the chair. The curtains. Even the flower vase—and that was including the flowers. He seemed to be convinced that she held a fondness for the color. Why else give her a room like this?

But in truth, she deeply disliked it. It made her think of the castle. And that made her recall her manipulation, of her guilt. But maybe that was the point, she thought to herself as she took her seat, pulling her notebook toward her as she did. Maybe he wanted her to think of her guilt—how easily she became the Organization’s marionette toy. To dissuade her from thinking of anything but the task at hand. But did it work?

She would like to think that she was guided by her own thoughts rather than someone else pushing her along the path. But it was truly hard to know for sure. She took out the brown, wax instrument and continued on the subject’s hair. How could one know the difference when it was all they had ever known?

She finished the drawing. And then another. And another. But after the fourth, she had to take a moment’s pause. She set down her crayon, stretching her tense fingers. The shadows in the room had grown longer. How much time had passed? Well, did it really matter?

“I was starting to think you would never take a break.” She jumped slightly in her seat, shaken by another presence. He stood out starkly in her domain. The dark of that familiar coat and the cloth over his eyes making him almost hard to look at for too long. But the unique silver hair helped to alleviate the issue. However slightly.

“Sorry,” he raised his gloved hands at her movement, brow creasing beneath his blindfold. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Naminé. I thought you would sense me or something.”

She shook her head, tearing her gaze away from him, looking back at her previous pictures instead. “If I’m really focused, everything else just sort of…falls away.”

“I see…”

She heard him step deeper into the room, close enough to her table to see the drawings thus far. It made her wary. “Did DiZ send you?” she wondered, trying to keep her tone casual as she picked up a crayon again. It felt like DiZ had recruited the teenager as his “muscle” and she was not sure whether that role would also relate to herself or not.

“No.”

She began to scribble out the hair. Before she had a process to texture people’s hair. A feat she had discovered, today, was very difficult with the things DiZ had given her. “Checking on my progress with Sora then?” She did not forget their previous discussion. About Sora’s Nobody and the third person. She would not entirely blame him if that was why he was here. The process was so much more slow-going than it was supposed to be…

For a moment all that could be heard was the crayon running across the paper. “…No.” That was very hard to believe. Even if he had not hesitated. “I just thought I should check on you. With how things were before—well, I thought you might like some company.”

Her hand slowed slightly, caught off guard, but folded herself closer to her notebook nonetheless. “Talking is distracting. I don’t think he would be happy if he came in and saw us.”

“We don’t have to talk,” he noted, his words slow and inviting. “I just thought having someone else around might…feel nicer.”

She halted, her eyes glancing in his direction but still keeping hunched over the table. Did he really care how she felt? “If you really want to,” she began before raising her free hand and gesturing at the opposite end of her surface, “but you have to sit over there.” No. It must be because of Kairi. Or Sora. Maybe both. After all this was only their third—well, fourth, technically—conversation; there was no reason to care about how she felt.

Yes, that made sense.

His footsteps echoed as he made his way over to the other seat but once he had sat down, it was as though he was not even there. True to her request, he did not speak. And whenever she looked up, he was either staring toward the window or down at the table. It was appreciated, though she did not say or do anything to show it.

Dealing with the chains of memory was difficult work. It was not as simple as ‘just think about it and it will happen’. She had to really connect with the memories she was handling in the moment: what it looked like, what it sounded like, how it made Sora feel. She was pouring her entire being into recalling even the most subtle nuances in each one. Drawing helped her to focus on one aspect in particular, whether that were a place or perhaps just a person who was important.

And then once she had a memory captured, she would have to link it up to what progress she had already made. And then move on to the next. The process was much more difficult now though. There were memories she remembered seeing before. But now they were just gone. She told Sora she did not erase memories, and that was true! But they seemed to be misplaced, no longer unhooked beside his memory’s chain. But absorbed and linking with someone else to whom they did not belong instead.

She paused in her drawing, looking down at the familiar face. Naminé had been trying but no matter how many drawings she made, she could not regain focus on anything surrounding that girl within Sora. She was someone very special to Sora; but no matter how hard she tried, she could only bring up memories of her arriving on the islands. Like she was any other girl he had known. Her work back in Castle Oblivion was truly coming back to haunt her.

She set down her crayon again before she began to stand, grabbing some of her papers along with tape from the dresser behind her seat. “DiZ is going to be very upset if this continues for much longer,” she noted as she hung the pictures of scenery upon the wall. “He’s already mad enough…isn’t he?”

She looked back to her guest when he did not immediately answer. “So I can talk now?” He lifted his head, turning it more to one side. She decided not to answer such an obvious question and so he eventually continued, “Well, DiZ is…always that way. He seems to be consumed by something or another. And he doesn’t think of others very often.”

“Mm.” She decided not to say any more than that, unsure just what exactly was safe to say around DiZ’s “hired help” and what was not.

There was a wide pause as she hung up one of the pictures she had grabbed—a portrait of the fountain in Hollow Bastion—and placed alongside some other setting pictures. “Is this how all of your days go?” Riku wondered. “Stuck in this room, making picture after picture?”

“Sometimes I have to go down to the pod. Check Sora’s status on the monitor,” she said, smoothing one of the pieces of tape down as she did. It was nice to see him, though she found herself wishing that he was awake. “Make sure everything is going as it’s supposed to.” She left her hand upon the wall. It felt as though the white was leeching the warmth right out of her. “Or I’ll go to one of the other rooms if DiZ summons me…”

“Do you ever go outside?”

Her hand recoiled from the surface, remembering that first time she came here. So excited to finally be outside of those stifling white walls. Seeing trees for herself for the first time, admiring just how vivid a green they were. And then she was led to the mansion gate, told this would be her new home.

She should have known after passing through that to the entrance how it would be. All those crumbling statues before the house; DiZ had acted as though they were not there, his orange eyes staring straight ahead. And then inside. The bare foyer. The decimated dining room…

It was not any different than her previous “home”. Just as empty. Just as cold.

Yet again she was shoved in with that wretched color. She wanted so badly to scribble along the walls the longer she stayed in here. Manipulate its shade. That was what the color was for. Was it wrong that she try to help that along the best she can? But she never did. All she could do was put up her pictures. Her quiet rebellion.

She bowed her head as she began to make her way back to her seat. “No. I don’t.”

“You don’t want to?”

Of course she did. But just because she wanted something did not mean she had the ability to do it. She was not like Sora or Riku. Who could fight for what they wanted. She was not like Kairi who had people she was willing to fight for, weapon or not. All she had was herself and Sora’s memories. What could she do? Hold his memories hostage so DiZ would let her be free? No. That was not fair to Sora. She made him a promise. She would keep it.

She only sighed, reaching for another crayon as she did. “I’m going back to drawing now.”

“In that case,” Riku stood up from the chair, the legs making a noise as they scuffed along the floor, “I’ll leave you to it.” She said nothing as he made his way to the door, trying to decide on what she should do next since her last drawing did not work. But the door never opened. She looked up to see him stopped in front of it. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the back.”

The door creaked open. “The back?”

Riku turned his head slightly, his blindfold just visible behind his silver bangs. “The back area behind the mansion—I guess you could call it a garden but it’s not exactly in the best condition.”

Oh, through those glass doors in the foyer. She had seen it from time to time, but never really paid much attention to it. She looked back at her blank page once she had heard the door close behind him. What should she do now? None of the most important memories with Kairi were surfacing. She had minor ones ready to connect, but without all of them…things were a lot more difficult. Especially since that was the main portion of her work.

The orange light of the sky tinted her white curtains. It might be dark soon. She had been at this for a long time now… Maybe a break was needed. She pushed her notebook further away, setting her crayon down beside it before she made her way into the foyer, heading toward the first floor. She rounded the end of the stairs to see the glass that led to the back area.

The hues from the town’s famous sunsets painted the whole scene. Trees and bushes littered the area, and there in the middle sat a broken down fountain with a unicorn statue. Her fingers stopped, just for a moment, before they came in contact with the door and then she forced herself outside.

Riku was there, too, sitting on the rim of the fountain. His head perked up the slightest bit at the door closing. “That was faster than expected.”

She made her way through the grass, her sandals crunching the blades beneath her as she went. “You knew I would come out here?”

“No,” he replied, turning away again. “Was just hoping.”

She brought her hands together as she observed him. That seemed…familiar. She walked over, sitting on the fountain as well, but maintaining a distance between them. It was like her offer back in the basement of the castle. That said, perhaps getting her some feeling of freedom was his goal all along. They sat together in silence for quite a while. With only the sound of birds, the wind rustling the leaves, and the beautiful tints that danced along what she could see of the horizon. It was so…peaceful.

“Why did you decide to come spend time with me today?” She finally voiced the question that had been bothering her. She had tried questioning his motives earlier but he insisted those to be wrong. And it did not feel as though he had lied about that. “You said it would be ‘nicer’, but I feel like that’s not all of it.” She held her hands together tighter than before, resting them in her lap. She did not have the strength to ask him if it was simply because of his best friends and her reminding of them.

He did not answer immediately. His hands were placed beside him upon the stone, his chin lifted up as though he was gazing into the sky. She had never really thought to ask if he actually could see through that thing, even a little bit. It sure seemed that way, sometimes. “DiZ,” he eventually began, his words slow to come, “seems to think that you should be left alone to concentrate. But as far as I can tell, alone or not, you get just as much done. Not to mention, you’ve already touched on the big problem you’ve been having with this task.”

He pushed himself up off of the stone, taking a few steps away, with his back towards her. “And DiZ can’t be bothered to notice just how much he resembles those people with how he treats you.” He shook his head, adding, “He wants my help, and I will. For Sora. But—” He turned back around, crossing his arms. “I don’t think that means I need to treat you the way he does. Nobody, witch, or whatever you want to call yourself—you’re still a person, Naminé.”

“But—” She really was not expecting this. But what he was saying. It just was not true. By all accounts, she was not a person! “But I’m not really—”

“Listen, I’m new to all these things. But my thoughts on the matter are this: you deserve respect. Just like anyone else.” She really did not know what to say to that; and after a few moments, he seemed to tense up at her silence. Riku turned away, brushing a finger under his nose. “Look, I’m just saying…if you’re ever having a hard time. I’m here to help. In whatever way I can. That’s all.”

He seemed to try to immediately head back to the door after saying that, forcing her to stand, a hand raised, as she called after him, “But, Riku, why—why help me so much?” He did not need to offer that kind of help surely. It was not as though they had spent enough time together to warrant him having any care for her. Especially for what she had done to his best friend. How could anyone look past that?

One foot was already inside the mansion while the other anchored him to the garden, her question insisting an answer. His head was ducked down, not allowing himself to look back as he quietly replied, “Because you helped me once.”

She remembered feeling his light fade while interacting with Zexion. How he was so distraught over his friends and what he assumed they thought of him. She had needed to communicate how wrong he was. Tell him what they truly felt from what she had seen of Sora. What she felt of Kairi. But the words would have meant nothing coming from a stranger. So she disguised herself. But he later knew it was her, in spite of that.

“I was in a pretty hard place,” he continued. “It seems only right that I…try and do the same.” He lingered for only a moment, flicking his head over his shoulder briefly, before disappearing back into the building.

She could only stare at the see-through doors as his silver hair streaked out of sight, before her lips turned up in a smile. A tear rolling down her cheek as she murmured, “Thank you…”