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aquarianprism · 8 years

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Seeking Help {Tris | Xigbar}

Edited from a Skype thread between me and Rae/@nullraum

He could still feel where his heart was, and the old man's warnings were ringing in his head. The shard--

He grabbed Tris's arm. "Need to talk to you," he said, tugging her toward somewhere more private.

The girl stifled a yelp of surprise, but followed him.

When they arrived, she gave him a curious look. "What is it?"

He glanced around to make sure no one else would hear, then looked at her. "I'm gonna get stopped a few times during this-- just stop talking for a minute. Don't panic. I'll be back to normal soon."

Her brow furrowed in concern, but she nodded. "All right."

He took a deep breath. "My heart got ripped out ten years ago," he said. "Lost it. I let it happen because I--the man who did it promised to get me my Keyblade back. Only he stuck--"

Well. That didn't take long. He huffs a sigh and waits for the choking feeling to pass.

My heart got ripped out.

Like hers.

And even as she tries to process that, Braig suddenly falls silent--

Even with his warning, it's terrifying. So she breathes, and takes his hand in hers.

He squeezes her hand reassuringly. It takes a few minutes for the paralysis to pass, but he smiles to let her know he's okay.

"There's someone else in there now," he says. "I need him out, or he's gonna turn me into him."

And he's cut off again, but it's too late. It always seems to cost the shard a lot to do that--it never lasts long.

Tris' eyes are wide in horror at the full import of what Braig is telling her. Is that-- is that why he's getting cut off now? She squeezes his hand in return when he's silenced again, letting him know she's there, she's with him.

He squeezes back, smiling again. It never lasts long. This time he sighs. "Yeah," he says. "I don't think I can tell you his name, or anything else useful. Definitely can't help you find a way out."

She nods. So she'll need to do her own research, then...

And she thinks she knows who she can ask.

"Okay," she says quietly. "What can you tell me, Braig? How can I help?"

"My heart grew back," he says. "I can tell you that. It's still broken where my Keyblade broke, but it's-- it's growing back. Only-- that makes it worse--"

He doesn't expect it this time. It hits so suddenly he starts coughing, struggling to breathe.

"Braig!"

She doesn't panic, not yet, but she moves closer to him, turning and putting an arm around his waist, her body touching his from ankle to hip to shoulder, supporting him as best she can.

The coughing fit lasts only a minute, but it feels like longer, struggling to breathe while the shard of Xehanort tightens and tightens the leash. When it lets go, he drags in deep breaths, head straightening again.

She looks up at him, clearly concerned. Who would do something like that to another person? Why? What purpose could there be in putting a piece of their heart in someone else?

He doesn't look at her. Maybe if he pretends no one can hear, the shard won't catch on right away. "I need your help," he says. "Can't do this myself--I'll get stopped."

"I'll help you," she answers. It's what she does best.

"Thanks." He sighs. "Wish I could do it. At least point you in the direction."

"Is there anything you can say?" She can go it alone if she has to, but that might take longer. And if things are as urgent as they seem...

He opens his mouth to say no, then stops. "I might be able to take you to someone," he says. "Someone who can translate what I can't say."

Tris nods slowly. "All right," she says. "If you think that's the best bet, I'm willing."

He nods. "He knows what I'd say if I could," he says. Braig won't like having another stranger showing up, but he can't trust the old man. "I'll have to arrange with him--he's skittish, won't want to meet you at his home."

She can't help but hide her worry-- even if Braig already knows this other person... He's lost so much already. "Okay."

Braig is the only person in the worlds who Xigbar truly, completely trusts. Even above Tris. Even above the other Braig. And Braig cares about him, cares deeply. That much, he knows. "He'll take you where you need to go," he says. As long as he can get the words out to tell Braig what he needs.

end of skype log

Archivist’s Note: A link will be added to the thread that comes from this one.

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aquarianprism · 8 years

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Dandy Lions {Tristitia | Braig (?)}

Edited from a Skype thread between me and Rae/@nullraum

She was more or less used to this new time, now, and her new body. Used to being without Chirithy.

Not as used to waking up in a pile of Shadow Heartless, but what could one do? At least they rarely resisted her ushering them back to their home realm.

Still, Tris was lonely as she walked the worlds.

He was avoiding everyone again. He had a mission, and he was avoiding that too.

His throat was still raw from all the screaming he'd done the night before. His chest ached where his heart used to be. He'd done what he always did in such times-- found a quiet world and started wandering. He didn't realize his "feelings" showed on his face.

It was the coat that caught her attention first -- Zexion and Lexaeus had worn them, too.

But where she might ordinarily have avoided this one (Lexaeus had warned her gently about his companions), the look of misery on his face had netted her sympathy.

So she approached him on soft feet. "Are you all right?"

His head jerked up. He hadn't noticed that feeling, again. The feeling that said a keyslinger was nearby.

She looked different. At first, he thought she was one of the new ones. Then he noticed the choker, and something lurched in his chest.

"Ursus?" he asked, voice hoarse. Shut up. You can't miss anything.

Hazel eyes went wide, and her hand flew to the choker. "...yes. A long time ago."

Tris frowned. "....how...?"

How did he know her Union?

He swallowed. Another one. First Vulpes, now Ursus. Was there anyone from his Union left? Anyone he knew? He'd thought they were all gone...

We're Nobodies. We don't have emotions.

"Anguis," he said, tapping his chest. "A long time ago."

"The Keyblade War... you survived?"

She couldn't believe it.

But here he was in front of her, in the coat of the Organization, naming Ursus and Anguis and--

Aced and Invi clashing on the rooftops, running to the Tower to see what was going on--

Tris clutched the pendant so tight the edges bit into her palm.

"Not exactly," he admits. "I--I can teleport. I technically--didn't exist when the worlds fell to darkness. Didn't reappear for another few thousand years."

His throat closes up when he tries to repeat what he told Jasper, but he doesn't stop the lost look from creeping onto his face.

Tris automatically reaches out, the urge to comfort a reflex. She checks herself just short of touching him, scanning his face for permission. "I-- it was-- different, for me," she says softly.

He reaches out and grabs her hand, clutching it like a lifeline. His head falls forward, hiding his expression.

"Yeah," he says. "I've met--two other people from back then. It's different for all of us."

She turns her hand in his to hold it better, draws him close to her without a care for how much older he seems. "I've met one of my own Union," she admits. "It was different for him." He, like Xigbar, was older now.

"I met-- Vulpes," he says. He rests his head in her shoulder, careless of how much older he looks than her. He feels just as young. "And another--" He stops. That's a mess, and not something he's ready to share. "No one from my Union," he says. "No one I know."

Her free hand comes up to stroke his hair, trying to comfort him. "Other than Rell, you're the first I've seen since I was-- freed."

The word makes her nervous, but it's better than summoned.

He doesn't question that word, not right now. Later. Later he'll ask everything.

Later she'll trust you and answer anything you say.

He's not thinking like a Nobody right now. He's thinking like a keykid who lost his Union. He hates thinking like this.

"Come over here," she says softly, guiding him to a place to sit. He looks like he could use the rest, honestly.

He all but collapses, staring bleakly up at the sky. He can't help laughing softly. "How pathetic am I?" he asks, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. "I fought Heartless, I watched the worlds end -- and here I am falling apart like a baby."

"You're not pathetic," she says, settling beside him and letting him lean on her. "It nearly broke me, understanding where and when I was-- that everything I'd fought for, hoped for-- that everyone I knew--"

"My world didn't come back," he says, voice hollow as he stares at the sky. "I've looked everywhere-- traveled everywhere I can, every way I can. It's gone. It never came back."

She swallowed. "Then-- Daybreak Town, too, it's...?"

She hadn't known worlds hadn't come back.

"Not my homeworld," he says, "but yeah-- I've looked for that too. Thought maybe Chirithy... but I never found it."

So home truly was gone for good.

Her gaze dropped, but she keeps her hand in his. "I see."

"Yeah," he said, dragging a hand over his face. "Yeah, that's about it."

She looked over at him, at the black coat that said she should be very careful with him--

and said, "I'm Tris. Tristitia Arctos."

He smiled tiredly. "Xigbar," he said. "But you can call me Braig."

The X again.

"Braig," she repeated. "I'm glad to meet you."

I wish I could do more.

He shouldn't let her use that name. It's not his anymore. But-- he wants to pretend.

"Glad to meet you too," he said. Glad I'm not alone.

She's not sure how long she sits with him, her hand in his, wondering what else to say to him. She shouldn't ask about the Organization, and she's worried about asking how long he's been here at all.

He doesn't know what to say to her. Their world, everything they fought for, is gone. It's not like anything he says will change that.

"....how did you come to the Organization?" she finds herself asking.

That way lies a whole host of things he'd rather not think about. He stays vague. "Someone made me a promise," is all he says.

"Oh." Did they not know about the Keyblade? Lexaeus had indicated they had no wielder, but...

He should probably admit to her that his Keyblade is gone. It would answer the questions she's trying to ask. But it hurts too much to think about it.

She hesitated a moment. "I... what happened to Lux?"

"Hell if I know," he said. "Far as I can tell, it's just another piece of our world that didn't make it into this one."

"....It's just... there's a difference between Shadows and those... other Heartless, that bear that mark."

"Yeah," he says distantly. "The Emblem Heartless are artificial."

"Artificial-- is that why they release hearts and Shadows don't?"

He shrugs. "Probably. The Emblem Heartless sort of collect the hearts of the people they--eat, or whatever."

That... was creepy. "So it is okay to still destroy them....? They hurt people."

"Destroy them," he said flatly. "If anyone else does it, they reform somewhere else. Takes a Keyblade to keep them down."

Tris nodded. "All right," she said. Braig would know, she was sure. But the Shadows didn't release hearts...

Least she was listening to him. Least someone trusted him. She shouldn't trust him. No one should. "The Shadows too," he said. "Whatever Heartless you see, take them out. They need taken out, and it's gotta be one of us."

She shifted, a little uncomfortable. It was-- hard to slaughter creatures that cuddled her in the night, that almost seemed to think she was--

"I know," she said instead. She did know her duty as a Wielder. Even if the teachings themselves had always seemed....

It wasn't like it was about the old man's plans, not anymore. This was what he'd been taught as a child-- Heartless were a threat to the light. They had to be dealt with. "I'd help," he said, the words slipping out, "but my Keyblade didn't survive the trip to this time."

Tris went still, her eyes widening.

Didn't survive.

She couldn't imagine the devastation he must have suffered -- losing everything, and then to lose his Keyblade as well? The Keyblade had made her worthwhile, raising her from insignificance to someone to be respected.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, shifting now to take him into her arms.

He let her embrace him, leaned into it. He still felt that awful pain of his Keyblade shattering anytime he thought too hard about it.

"I tried to get it back," he said. "The old man-- Xehanort-- he said he'd help me get it back. You asked how I got started in the Organization--that's how."

Xehanort-- something about that name seemed familiar, but she knew she hadn't heard it. Where...?

"I... if you need any help..."

"I do," he said immediately. "I need-- shit, Tris, every way I can find to get it back ends with someone dead. Probably me."

"I can look into things," she promises him. She's found at least two library worlds, one of them a crossroads. Surely something must be written about the Keyblade...

"Thanks," he says quietly. He hates asking for help, hates owing people, but they're two of the last remnants of their world. They have to stick together, right?

Tris, it seems, is determined to. Her family is gone now -- but maybe she can make a new one. The Unions no longer matter...

(So why can't she bring herself to remove Ursus' sigil from her throat?)

He'd go with any Union, if they were still there, would still have him. He'd take any Foreteller, just to not be alone and without his Keyblade anymore.

"Thanks," he says awkwardly. "For offering."

She squeezes his hand gently, and doesn't let go of him. Her mind is already racing-- he doesn't have his Keyblade, and none of them seem to have Chirithies anymore. Or at least she hasn't seen Xigbar's. She doesn't want to cause him more pain, so she doesn't ask.

"I'll be glad to," she tells him.

He doesn't want to leave the conversation there. "I found-- another of us," he says. "From Vulpes. Didn't ask how he got here." And Jasper hadn't asked him either.

"...I know Rell was in Neverland for a... a very long time," she says, slowly. "He didn't age until he left."

And here she was, only a few years older -- and so much younger than the rest. "Is... is the Vulpes Keybearer.... did he grow up?"

"Not like me," he says. "He grew up a bit, probably in his twenties now. But that might've happened after he reached this time. I was sixteen when I showed up here."

Tris nods absently. "I was... almost nineteen. I haven't been in this era very long -- a couple years?" Keeping track of the time is hard.

He laughed. "I was a baby," he said. "For as long as we'd been fighting, I was still a kid."

Her smile is sad. "I... missed the War entirely." And she's still not sure if that's a good thing.

"Count your blessings," he says seriously. "It fucked us all up."

She knew. Rell was so cold and bitter -- though he was warming, now that he knew she had survived.

But one hand rises to her heart, and in her mind's eye she sees her Master drawing his Keyblade. "War is terrible," she says. "I can't imagine what you must have suffered."

The war hadn't broken him, in the end. Coming back from it had.

"I try not to think about it," he admits. "Makes it easier if I pretend I'm really from here and now."

"I... try," Tris says. "But I... I just don't know enough." She hasn't met any of the modern Keybearers-- mostly from fear.

There's the temptation, just for a moment, to bring her back with him. He could hide her, maybe. Be nice to have a friend.

But. But.

"I can teach you some," he says. "Not sure how useful I'll be, but I can try."

She smiles brightly at him. "I'd like that. Thank you, Braig."

Braig. It stirs the shreds of the kid that are left, hearing a fellow keykid say his name. He can't help smiling, and it even looks real.

She touched her pendant. "I... as near as I can tell, almost nobody remembers our era? Not the Foretellers or their names or their Unions?"

The smile fades. "It's not even in the history books," he says. "The whole fucking world forgot." His voice is choked with something he can't identify. All they went through--and the world just forgot.

Her hand drops from her pendant immediately, and she wraps both her arms around him, her hug tightening as soon as she has him in it.

It isn't right. It's not right. After everything they all went through--

But she's here now. And Braig, and Rell, and the Vulpen he mentioned.

She remembers.

Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around her in return, maybe clinging just a little. He doesn't understand what's happening in his chest, but he doesn't like it at all.

She holds him close, one hand absently stroking his long, white-streaked ponytail. She's been a surrogate mother for far too long not to.

He might just-- let her hold him for a little bit. She looks so much younger, especially with the Xehanort grey in his hair-- but he needs the comfort.

She is younger, now -- when they'd both been where they belonged, she'd been older, but time is a bitch and so is space, and now Xigbar has lived longer than she has.

But in the end, they're still children forced to grow up too soon.

And she's happy to hold him.

He can't stand to be weak for too long. He pulls back eventually.

"I just--" he begins, and has no idea where he was going with it. "I need it back," he finally says. "It's all I have left."

"You have me now," she says softly, and smiles. "Perhaps not something left, but-- I'll help."

He needs his Keyblade like she would need hers. Like how she still bears Ursus' sigil though the Union is lost and forgotten and the Master drew his blade--

He'll do whatever it takes to get his Keyblade back. And she's promised to help-- she has no idea how far he'll go, but she's offered anyway.

"There's new keyslingers," he says. "I think--somehow--if I fix what broke when my Keyblade did, I can get one from one of them." Keyblades could be shared, passed on, after all.

Or perhaps--

She doesn't say anything. Not yet. Above all else, it would be cruel to get up his hopes only to find that they can't fix it. Tristitia isn't cruel.

"I'll look," she promises him. There's library worlds -- and if there's new Keybearers, then there's new Keymasters. Surely a Master would know more than a mere Bearer, no matter how ancient?

"Thanks," he says again. He's saying that a lot, and to his surprise he means every one. "Seriously. Thanks."

He'll have to explain, eventually, about Xehanort's heart shard in his chest. But for now, she just needs to know something is broken that he needs fixed.

There will be ways to get his heart back. He'll find one.

Finally, Tris draws back from Xigbar, a smile on her face. "It's the least I could do," she tells him.

He doesn't really want her to let go, but he's not so needy as to cling. "Still," he says. "I don't thank many people. Take it for what it's worth."

"I am," she promises. She's not so used to thanks that she expects it.

And she doesn't want to leave him. Not right now. Not when they've just met.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, letting what he's been through sink in for a minute. "Okay," he says. "We gotta--figure out how to fix my heart."

"Yes," she agrees. She considers things, and then asks, "What... do you know about your teleporting ability?" It's not anything she's ever heard of before, even among the Keybearers of their era.

He shrugs. "Not much," he admits, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat. "It's not just teleporting. I've got control over the space and gravity affecting me."

She nods, a frown crossing her face as she thinks. "Maybe-- maybe there's something related to-- what happened at the end of the Keyblade War, and the beginning of this world."

"It's something I had back then," he says. "Been able to do it since I was a kid. Foreteller Invi called me a twist in space."

"Yes," she says quietly, wonders if she's repeating thoughts he's had before. "I was just wondering if -- when space and time got all tangled up around you, if maybe that..."

"If that's what broke my Keyblade?" He touches his chest, trying to imagine he still has a heart to feel. "Whatever did it--it damaged my heart to lose it."

"Or vice versa," she murmurs. As far as she can tell, whatever happened to her -- her heart wasn't damaged. She was protected--

Tris swallows and pushes back memories.

His mouth twisted. "Whichever caused the other," he said, and stopped. If the damage to his heart had caused his Keyblade to break, maybe... "You think maybe getting my Keyblade back would fix my heart? Not the other way around?"

"I can't say with any certainty," she admits. "But the two must be related."

"I always figured losing my Keyblade broke my heart," he says. "But if it's the other way around..."

She nods. "The Keyblades seem to be intrinsicly tied to hearts."

"Yeah," he said, staring up at the sky. "I figured-- I can't keep hold of a Keyblade, but maybe... Maybe I've been going at it backwards."

And surely more must be known about the heart than the keyblade, right...?

"It's definitely something to look into."

"Yeah," he says, staring off with a thoughtful look on his face. "Someone's gotta know."

He wasn't sure he should trust the old man, if a supposed Master hadn't thought of this. Then again, to the old man it didn't matter, because according to him Xigbar didn't have a heart.

"...do you know of any modern masters? So many people are altogether ignorant of the Keyblade I don't know where to start looking."

Or who to avoid.... she wasn't sure she wanted to see another master.

He made a face. "I've met one," he said. "I wouldn't trust him as far as I can throw him. Haven't found any others yet."

Library worlds it was, then. "All right. It isn't like I've run into any of the modern bearers, either..."

A grin spread over his face, one that was entirely unlike Braig. "I have," he said. "He's an apprentice, though. And he doesn't remember his master-- or anything else, for that matter."

The girl frowned. "Doesn't rememb-- how can that be? Did something happen to him?"

"You could say that." The grin hasn't left. "Somehow, he spent the last ten years asleep. Woke up without anything but his name."

"I slept... far longer than that," she murmured.

The grin disquiets her, as though Braig is amused by the other Bearer's plight.

He adjusts his expression to a suitably worried one. "Sorry," he says. "Wasn't thinking. Just-- ironic that it happened to him."

Something was flying over her head here, but she shrugged. "Well, I didn't exactly want to sleep, so..." And it's the wrong word. It just felt like a long, long sleep.

He puts an arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her the way she did him. "It's okay," he says softly. "You're awake now."

She leans into his arm, a soft smile coming back to her lips. "I'm awake now." A small chuckle escapes her, even. "Thanks to one of your Organization, in fact."

His eye widens. "One of the Org woke you up?" He grins. "Never say we never did anything useful. Who? How?"

"Zexion," she says. "And-- accidentally. He never did tell me what he was actually trying to do, but-- he was fighting Heartless. And somehow he called me from within the pages of his book."

He grins. Zexion-- But then the grin fades. "How'd you end up in his book?"

"I don't know," she says quietly. "My memories leading up to it are-- unpleasant. But..." She looks away from Xigbar. "I... went to the Foreteller's Tower," Tris says quietly. "And I-- I read something I shouldn't have."

Her hands curl into fists.

"They said it was to protect me, but they--"

The Foreteller's Tower. He'd never been allowed there, and the urge to ask what she'd seen was a powerful one. But he didn't ask. She didn't want to tell, anyway. He just tugged her into a hug.

She clung to him, almost like a child. "It was-- Masters Ira and Aced. They... said they didn't know what the Master might do. So they... sealed me away. With their keyblades." One hand flew from where she'd grabbed Xigbar to press protectively over her heart again. "In the book. I... don't know how it came to be in Zexion's possession. But it was-- different. Not the same book, I think..."

In that moment, he hates the Foretellers. All of them. But he'll just-- hold her close. "Zexion was always a good enough kid," he says quietly. "It's not his fault he got turned." It was his-- Braig's-- Xigbar's. "He let you go?"

She nods, glad of his embrace. It feels... different, to be held. "He did," she confirms. "He didn't say why-- but he cautioned me against others in the Organization."

So had Lexaeus, who had said why he let her go.

"Yeah," he says, looking up at the sky again. "He'd be right. You shouldn't be around most of them."

Three warnings.

"I won't forget," she promises. She'd only approached him because she'd noticed his despondancy. And when he'd recognised her Union... well.

She shouldn't even be around him, really, but he couldn't bring himself to push her away.

"Good," he said, looking back at her. "You've gotten lucky-- Zexion's a good kid, and I was a keyslinger back then. You run into Saïx? He won't be so nice."

Saïx. Zexion had mentioned him, too. No other names, but he had implied the rest would harm her, or bring her to their Superior. Whoever that was. Neither Zexion nor Lexaeus had named him.

end of Skype log

Archivist's Note: I asked Rae, and as circumstances have changed since the beginning of this thread, we have decided to end it at this point.

#nullraum #rp: dandy lions #archive thread #long post #apologies to mobile users

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