RETROACTIVE DEFENSE OF PAST SELF

[vapidus]

This is the first time it happens, so Vanitas is taken completely by surprise, mid-conversation even. The surroundings fuzz, blur; Vanitas's eyebrows come together but before he can say a word, the Ventus in front of him vanishes. So do the Unversed around them. So, as he turns and stands, turning his head this way and that, has the cairn.

Instead of the desert, there's a courtyard. White buildings, bleached as bone with doorways of mouths, surround it. He can hear and smell the sea, somewhere.

"What." Says Vanitas, into the listless air. He's not stupid, he's on another world somehow but he didn't do it, either by lanes or dark corridors.

An Unversed peels out of his shadow and into those of a bush. Fast enough he didn't get a good look at it, but one of the small ones. He ignores it for now, and starts walking, then using keyblade tricks to go from roof to roof. Staying in the empty streets makes him feel weirdly exposed, watched.

Ventus is nearby - he can feel it, he's always been able to feel it even when he had no idea what it was, when it faded over time to the point that, now, he has to really concentrate if he wants any kind of indication of it's truth, and more importantly, it's direction.

He levers up a skylight with his keyblade instead of tapping it, and drops down into the little atrium. This is a weird-ass house, but he's nearby, he knows it.

"Ventus!" he yells. "This better not be your fault!" Although it probably is. Either Ventus.

Comments

[vacantis]

Ventus had been at his desk, looking over some papers Master Xehanort had asked him to read about the keyblade war. His master usually didn't let him help out with this kind of stuff, preferring to focus on training Ventus's...power. It made sitting in some dusty old room and reading a nice alternative, even if he felt figity and didn't like being left alone.

A strange voice, young, called out from the courtyard and Ventus peered out an overlaying window, mismatched eyes blinking down at the stranger standing there. He looked kind of beat up, with a few scrapes on his cheek and battered clothes. Ven had half a seconds thought to wonder why, before he caught sight of the keyblade. Well, that about explained everything.

He huffed at the rude wording, squinting down.

"Hey, I don't know what you're talking about!" He called. "Are you a friend of Master Xehanorts? He's not here right now, so you're gonna have to wait!"