memesinthenight | TEST DRIVE MEME #9

Entry tags:

!tdm

TEST DRIVE MEME #9

Hello and welcome to the In the Night test drive meme for March! Thanks for your interest in our game! In an effort to streamline our application process and avoid future confusion between incoming and existing players, we will no longer have a reservation period. Applications open on March 22, and will be judged on a first-come, first-served basis.

While you're here...
Take a look at our rules and faq pages to familiarize yourself with the game.
Note that we have a (current) application cap of 15 apps this month for new players, as the game has a player cap of 70. An accurate count of current players will always be available on the taken page.
TDM threads can become game canon if both players wish. If the situation isn't something that could happen in-game, you're free to chalk it up to some strange hallucination, a shared dream, or other mysterious circumstance.
Note that top-leveling is not limited to new characters! If current players wish to post a starter, they are welcome to do so. They are welcome to make posts in the main comms for TDM events as well. Please note, however, that actual plot clues or happenings will not occur in TDM prompts.
If you plan to apply, please keep in mind that we do require at least one sample thread on the application to be from our TDM (though it doesn't need to be the current TDM).
If you haven't already, please take a moment to look at our announcement regarding changes to the application cycle, which involves information concerning the TDM!
You're welcome to use the provided prompts or come up with something on your own, but we do ask that all threads take place in our game's setting.

Thank you again, and we hope you'll choose to join us!

log prompts

DANCING QUEEN (cw corpses)

When the ferry chugs up to the dock, its speakers are crackling with a happy song. What a fun way to bring in all the newcomers! Except... goodness, what's that terrible stench? The ferry docks and lowers its gangway as per usual, but the ship is quiet. No newcomers flock to the deck to disembark, and instead, the faint sound of buzzing flies can be heard over the breeze.

Boarding the ferry quickly reveals the source of the flies: decaying bodies, dozens of them, are littered throughout the ship. Some lie in bunks and could be asleep if it weren't for the rot, and others are strewn throughout the cargo hold and the deck. There are no lanterns among them, and there aren't any signs of fighting or struggle around the ship. Inspecting the bodies (if anyone seriously wants to do that) won't yield any definitive answers in terms of cause of death, but, oh. Though it's difficult to tell at first glance due to the decay, these bodies... They're residents of Beacon.

Maybe you find your friend or yourself or, oh, there's Rastus! And Robin! The gang's all here, albeit disgustingly—and Dancing Queen crackles over the speakers. Welcome, welcome!

—but before the ferry departs again, the corpses start to move. Moving about the ship, someone might first hear a sigh, or a sputter, or a little laugh, and maybe it could be brushed off as a trick of the mind until the bodies stand, hoisting themselves up with whatever limbs they have left, and drag themselves toward the deck. One by one, they slip clumsily over the railing and back into the lake, but not before they drop their disguises and slowly contort back into their usual forest spirit bodies (source).

Ugh. Frickin' spirits.

WELCOME TO OUR GAME: INTO THE DARK

In spite of the strange occurrences starting off the month, there's still work to be done in Beacon. Or perhaps it's precisely due to this that Rastus calls for the attention of anyone who will listen as they pass by his station at the bonfire. All but shoving a torch in your hand, he requests that you place it around one of the many locations that could use a source of light! A lot of new places have been discovered recently, after all.

In the event that you choose to choose to play with this prompt as game canon, please remember to report where you choose to place a torch on the item request page so the setting can be updated accordingly! For incoming players, this can be reported retroactively!

These efforts would be a great service to the community at large; Rastus reminds everyone that while the bonfire is a finite resource, it's still a resource that's meant to be utilized.

network prompts

IF YOU DIE IN THE GAME YOU DIE FOR REAL

Not long after the ferry shows up with, uh, no people and a whole lotta corpses (that turn out to be forest spirits playing a very uncool prank), Robin makes a post to the network!

Oh holy god uhhhh OK so no idea what's going on with the ferry this month, wow. Data from the portal is saying nobody new came through, so... nothing to worry about!!! Probably!! I really don't know anything more than you guys right now but I'm gonna get in touch with Dr. Solis. She'll have a better idea of what's going on than me. I'll get back to you all as soon as we figure out what's up.

In the meantime..........!!! I thought it might be fun to play some games to get our minds off stuff? How about hangman! Here's how to play if you don't know!

She attaches a little set of instructions for any characters not in the know. Fun stuff!

But, uh oh. If you get a letter wrong, you'll notice it's getting just a bit more difficult to breathe... Is the air particularly heavy today? Allergies, maybe? No, the feeling only gets worse as the game continues, each incorrect guess tightening an invisible noose around your neck.

The only way out is through, it seems, as nothing provides any relief save for winning a game. But what happens if you lose...?

(If asked, Robin also has no idea what's up with that. Heck! Maybe it's the lanterns acting up again? In any case, the weird hangman curse will resolve itself within a day or two.)

PARTICIPATION FOR CLOWNS

All at once, a notice arrives in everyone's inboxes. It appears to be some sort of strange attempt at a bingo card! It would, potentially, be a mystery as to who crafted this and, well, exactly what it's supposed to mean, were it not for the underlying message that accompanies it.

HELLO! HELLO? HELLO HELLO. ALL BRING CARD TO GET GIFT FOR ALL! YES! ONTO BODY LIBRARY GIFT IT GOES! THANK A MUCH!

The real problem here being, of course, that the librarian's apparent game is a bit, well, difficult to understand. Well, it's possible that it won't require any stringent rules. Ultimately, those who bring in a bingo card that has a row of marks in any particular fashion will receive a free gift compliment of the spirit as a way to promote the library. There might be some fabric missing where the shirt has been bitten into, but, hey, nobody's perfect.

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[ Despite his words, despite his perceived conviction, not everything is the same as it was. Even before coming here, the rules that dictated Ventus and Vanitas were already starting to warp. The person Vanitas had met, too broken to raise his voice, had grown a backbone and developed into his own person. He found wants and needs, people he wanted to protect, his own desires. Like a foil, Vanitas didn't grow at all. Static, like a still, black ocean that the world moved around, desperately clinging to the dichotomy of Dark and Light, Bad and Good, because he had nothing else to show him any other way.

Because if that wasn't all he was, then what was the point of any of it? Why did he even exist?

Vanitas finds the soft spots and digs in with the wickedness of a switchblade, prying open the carapaces to find the vulnerabilities underneath. Others are supposed to react a certain way, fight back. Shout and rail and come at him swinging — but the boy that raises his eyes to look him in the face, standing across from him, isn't the fiery tempered one Vanitas had goaded into battle by threatening the choke the life out of his friends.

It's the one that let his arms go loose at his sides and calmly said, Okay.

Calm and still, like an ocean, so much deeper than it ever appears at first glance. Something about it beats the wind completely out of his sails, and Vanitas drops both hands back to his sides. They don't fold into fists, just hang there. What difference have you made? Vanitas watches him evenly, mirroring back that inhuman, eerie impassivity. Something far, far older than either of their young faces would suggest. ]

None.

[ He finally says. What difference had he made? He never cared to. Even making that x-Blade that Xehanort so desired had never been for him. Vanitas only ever wanted it for himself, to stop the pain. But what goes unsaid is true: Vanitas had never succeeded in that, and when he finally laid eyes on that weapon, it hadn't changed how he felt inside anyway. A waste of everything.

He turns around, giving Ventus his back as he resumes his walk back up to the Invincible. ]

[ It's the best way of dealing with Vanitas he's found yet: to not rise to the bait, to not budge when shoved, to capitulate when his darker half is expecting resistance. When Ventus is so sick and tired of the constant (and needless, in his mind) struggle between them, it's an easy thing to do. He's not as naive as he used to be, he's grown as a person, too. It might not be as immediately obvious as with Vanitas, but there are things Ventus knows now that he did not before. Like loss and grief. He's matured, in his own way, and it feels easier now to reach for the stillness — ancient and unknowable — inside of him.

He watches Vanitas go lax and in that very moment where they're merely staring at each other he already knows his other half will fold. And Vanitas does, conceding without fuss.

At least I tried, Ventus could say. He could rub it in the way Vanitas wouldn't hesitate doing so. He doesn't. He's made his point well enough and Vanitas gets it. He's adequately flipped the script on him and got him to back off (for now) and that's all Ventus wants when he can't have what he desires most.

Besides, Vanitas is already moving on.

Ventus hesitates for a beat or two before, at a lack of knowing what else to do, he somberly and quietly follows him. He wants to know what happened to his fallen friends, but he knows better than to ask Vanitas about them. He'll have to ask Riku later. For now he'll just make sure that Vanitas will be okay, walk him back like he said he would. ]

[ He could have, but the dig may not have had the effect Ventus wanted; not the way at least I have some had, what feels almost like a lifetime ago now. Still, some part of him wonders if Ventus will even keep following him; there was a kind of finality to that exchange that could have dictated they go their separate ways.

For all this, Vanitas has almost forgotten the reason they're together at all is because Ventus had offered to walk him back to his home. Always trying to help, sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong; it's something all these heroes have in common. Just because they're dead and the darkness prevails doesn't change what they are... and it keeps the veneer of dichotomy up. So long as all these lightbearers act that way, Vanitas will have something to be a foil again.

The door jingles, a bell tinkling overhead as he steps inside. The immediate warmth stings all his bare skin and makes his freezing cold feet tingle, makes him curl his toes against the floorboards as gooseflesh breaks out all over him with a single, visible shiver. His eyes go to the bar, which until recently had been staffed by a teetering tower of small spirits that would hand out questionable drinks. Vanitas pauses for a moment at the now-empty space. It wasn't long ago the aurora happened and the spirits had thrown themselves into the Light, destroying their bodies on impact.

Diverting his attention, he heads for the staircase. ]

[ Ventus trails after Vanitas more out of a sense of obligation and a stubbornness to stick to his word than any real desire to stay with him. Even if Vanitas is the most familiar thing nearby, he's apparently not the only one it turns out. Riku is a lot less likely to turn on him at the drop of a hat and will provide him with answers more readily than his darker half ever would. He doesn't know where Riku is though and thinking of him being here is a hurt that's far too fresh. He needs a moment to sort through and grapple with what Vanitas has told him and the uncharacteristic silence that's fallen between them is as good a chance as any.

The tinkling of a bell grabs at his attention and as he steps inside after Vanitas, the stark contrast between the cold outside and the sudden warmth indoors makes him shiver at the same time Vanitas does. Ventus doesn't notice, already preoccupied by following the inherent tug of curiosity to lift himself out of his murky thoughts and glance around the place. He takes in the sights, eyes darting from Vanitas to where he's looking at the empty bar when he catches sight of him pausing. He doesn't see anything unusual there and it's odd, but he doesn't ask.

At least the space is warm and lit, more of a comfort than the oppressive darkness outside, and that brings to mind a general question that feels safe to ask as he moves to follow Vanitas up the stairs. ]

Can anyone just stay here?

[ The light fades as they walk up, because the torch lighting the lobby can't reach up the stairs. It leaves his and Ventus' lanterns the only source if brightness, throwing their shadows all along the walls. As they climb, he can feel warmth returning to his feet. ]

Nobody is going to stop you.

[ It's a yes, even if it follows Vanitas' usual brand of erring just in this side of completely unhelpful. ]

Unless there aren't any rooms left.

[ And while it isn't entirely full, its clear there isn't much left in the way of vacancy. Still, there are a few rooms left in this inn, one or two doors hanging open to completely black interiors.

They make it up to his floor and Vanitas paces to the room he's been squatting on. As they arrive, Void Gear appears in his hand, which he points at the lock and it turns over heavily. There are easier ways to secure his space, but the added magical security puts his mind at ease. Not that he'd necessarily need it, since as soon as the door swings open its clear the room isn't empty.

The eyes of a handful fo Unversed swing in tandem to the threshold, red and bright in the darkness. ]

[ Ventus is quickly starting to learn how to read between the lines and look past Vanitas' contrary nature to find the answers he needs. By Vanitas' standards, that's a yes. Especially with the latter bit tacked on, it's confirmation enough. As they ascend and he casts quick looks down hallways, Ventus takes note of the rooms that appear unoccupied from what he can see in the green glow cast by his lantern. ]

Guess that won't be a problem then.

[ He remarks aloud, partly to himself.

Thoughts of having a roof over his head hadn't even occurred to him and it's only now that he entertains the notion in a desperate bid for distraction. He'll know where to go at least. That's good information to have should he ever need a space of his own. It's a strange thing to consider when he's been thinking of nothing but his bedroom back in the Land of Departure all the time he's been in the Realm of Darkness.

He supposes he won't ever get to see it again now. It's a thought that stings.

He's abruptly pulled away from it when Vanitas summons his Keyblade and the sight of it puts him on edge. His other half points it a door rather than at him though and that puts him a bit more at ease. Nosy as he is even now in spite of everything, he moves closer to peer over Vanitas' shoulder to get a glimpse of his room only to be met by all-too-familiar red eyes in the dark. It's enough that he stops short, shoulders hitching with tension and fingers curling by his side. ]

[ A heartbeat passes, wherein Vanitas isn't really thinking about the dichotomy between himself and his other; the friction that has come to define their separation. It's been so long, his Unversed are spread so far throughout Beacon, that worrying about their response isn't really at the forefront of his mind. The Unversed take one look at Ventus and they surge forward, crowding for the doorway to shove passed Vanitas where he stands as a barrier between Ventus and the interior of his room. They're born from Vanitas, but the catalyst for their existence is standing right behind him.

This response, outside of Vanitas' control, has only happened one other time since he's been here— when someone else's anguish had been so huge and soul-consuming that the Unversed had hungrily charged at him without Vanitas' express direction.

Two get passed him, ducking around Vanitas' legs and lunging claws out at Ventus in the hallway. He turns just slightly, watching the inevitable result of an Unversed meeting a Keybearer on the other side of the playing field. Vanitas doesn't appear to egg them on, but neither does he make any effort to intervene. ]

Oops.

[ He says, without sounding at all apologetic. ]

[ The Unversed rush forward just like Ventus expects them to and the fingers curling around air are no longer empty as Wayward Wind heeds his call. He bursts into motion the second that the Unversed do, his feet carrying him backwards in swift steps to create distance and more room to move which he doesn't hesitate utilizing when two of the Unversed come lunging at him. He spins to dodge the claws, bringing up his Keyblade in an arc to send one of the Unversed flying into the wall.

Using the momentum of the spin to carry him back around, he hones in on the other Unversed to strike it down hard and without any hesitation whatsoever. He'd gotten so used to fighting them before — those ten years ago that don't feel like ten years at all — that the motions are practically automatic on sight now. After however long he's been in the Realm of Darkness, there's a constant readiness for battle that he hasn't even realized is there, too. It serves him well in this moment where he isn't even actively thinking about what to do.

Belatedly he realizes Vanitas said something and then also what he said as he grounds himself with his ready stance, Keyblade poised behind him for the next strike. ]

Really?

[ He spares Vanitas a quick glare, voice flat and unimpressed, before his eyes dart back to every remaining Unversed. ]

[ The Unversed here don't have the power they do in their own world. Vanitas doesn't know if it's because he's dead, or because the magic here just effects him differently. After all, just using his Corridor had landed him in the state he is right now. It only takes one good swing from Wayward Wind to send them up in a burst of purple smoke, the purple wending away and diffusing into the darkness. Vanitas feels it, the little burst of pain of each of them being destroyed, but it doesn't show in his face.

Instead, he raises both eyebrows, smirking. It almost seems like it could have been a trap; that would definitely be part of Vanitas' modus operandi. But he hadn't actually intended for that to happen. ]

Sorry.

[ He lies carelessly, before moving in to his room. The other Unversed remain as they are, even if they vibrate and twitch, their eyes trained on Ventus. When Vanitas walks passed them, he kicks the one closest to his leg away and toward the wall. It tumbles backward and hits the open closet with a thud; some of the bric-a-brac stacked high in there tumbles out.

The room pretty clearly looks mostly unoccupied. There's a single bed, the leg of which looks like it's been repaired previously, and the sheets aren't really made up— but neither does it look like it's been slept in for some time. A desk and a chair. There aren't any personal touches in here besides the Unversed that linger around the edge of the room and what looks like a scrap of paper and twine on the mattress. If Ventus' lantern casts over it right, he'll see a piece of Vanitas' name scrawled on the paper in cursive green ink.

He doesn't look at it, instead going for the dresser to start digging through the drawers. ]

[ The Unversed disperse more easily than Ventus remembers them doing and he isn't sure whether that's because Vanitas is weakened or because he's gotten too used to fighting the stupidly strong Shadows in the Realm of Darkness and the Unversed seem weaker in comparison. Whatever the case, he's certainly not complaining about that part of the encounter.

Not when he's far more likely to complain about the fact that this whole thing feels like a setup. The dumb smirk on Vanitas' face seems to indicate as much. Only nothing else follows the attack of the first two Unversed, the others stay put and Vanitas doesn't come for him either. That makes Ventus think it wasn't a planned trap.

Still, it does nothing to ease the flare of annoyance and he scoffs at the insincere apology. ]

Yeah, right.

[ As if Vanitas would ever mean that.

Ventus straightens slowly though he doesn't dismiss his Keyblade, frowning a bit when Vanitas kicks one of the Unversed aside. It's probably better for him to leave now, he brought Vanitas to his room and thus kept his word. He has little reason to keep lingering here with those red eyes fixed on him. It's curiosity — as always — that keeps him sticking around. He tells himself it's because Vanitas might know where Riku is and he should ask, not because he wants to know what the rooms are like and, most of all, what a room belonging to Vanitas might be like.

Ill-advised as he knows it is, he follows Vanitas inside. Wayward Wind is clutched tight in his hand and Ventus makes sure to take stock of where every Unversed is positioned in the room before he allows his gaze to take in the rest of it. There's not a lot to see and that makes what little there is stand out more. The paper snares his attention effectively for that very reason when he wanders in a little further, the matching light of his lantern making the letters almost shine in the dark. He doesn't reach to touch it, merely tilting his head in wonder. ]

Did you make friends?

[ A preposterous thought under any other circumstance. With Vanitas so changed and now knowing that Sora has been here (which might explain why), it's not so absurd anymore. ]

[ It's probably stupid to keep Ventus at his back, especially as vulnerable as his state is right now, but Vanitas is convinced he'd be able to counter anything the other boy threw his way. Whether that's hubris or not, it's not like he's self-aware enough to know. Mostly, he doubts Ventus would do anything so underhanded anyway. Heroes like him are nearly all the same, and it's just one more thing that makes Vanitas so different from so many others.

He does have another sweater in here, one of very few. There's a bit of a clatter as he pushes aside a few cans of peaches, a half-crystalized bottle of honey that's three quarters full aside. Vanitas doesn't hoard much, not things like material possessions, anyway. Only things he thinks could be useful, and all kinds of sweets.

The jumper he pulls out is black like everything else he owns with a hood on it. He isn't thinking about the paper on the bed, and maybe some of that is because he's underestimated just how curious Ventus is. It's not like Vanitas actually knows what drives him, other than his loyalty to his friends. He doesn't take the cardigan off when he starts pulling the sweater on, but the fact his back is turned hides his expression when his heart lunges into his throat and picks up pace double-time with the question. The little flicker of anxiety makes the Unversed in the corners of the room shiver, but they don't move from their positions.

Friends.

He won't be able to hide that from Ventus forever. He deflects, but there's a bite in his voice that wasn't there before, even half muffled when his head pops out the neck of his sweater. ]

What kind of stupid question is that?

[ He keeps shooting little glances Vanitas' way as the other boy digs through the drawers with some clamor, the noises almost involuntarily pulling on Ventus' attention when he's already on edge with the Unversed in the room. Although he's also simply curious, as he always is and has been for as long as he can remember. It's like an old ingrained habit; a constant desire to know when there's so much he didn't know after his heart's separation, when he only had his name to cling to as knowledge he possessed and nothing else. As a student, that hunger was encouraged and cultivated, and the patience of the people around him made it so that his curiosity was almost always met with answers.

That it turned into downright nosiness is no surprise and not even death is enough to dissuade him. If anything, his curiosity serves as a welcome distraction from thinking about terrible things he doesn't want to think about.

He wonders if he should say something when Vanitas starts pulling the sweater over the cardigan and it's kind of a silly thing to do. Does Vanitas know how to dress himself properly when he's always worn the same thing? Surely he must have learned in all the time he was here. Before Ventus can make up his mind, there's slight movement in his peripheral and his gaze snaps back to the nearest Unversed. It's— not actually budging from its spot, but Ventus eyes it warily all the same until Vanitas speaks up.

The defensive tone is telling enough, really. ]

Well, it's usually friends who write to each other.

[ He points out plainly, his free hand making a motion to the paper on the bed even though Vanitas isn't even facing him. ]

[ He doesn't put together what it is Ventus is even referencing until he turns around, looking over his shoulder from where he's trying to find a pair of socks. It's not much, but it'll warm his feet up a little while he waits for the exhaustion of this whole thing to wear off a little. Then he can portal himself back to the museum without fear of just passing out once he's done it. It's less because he doesn't want to worry them, he argues with himself, and more he doesn't want to look any more stupid than he already does.

That's not entirely true though.

Vanitas' eyes follow where Ventus is pointing and he visibly stiffens, something in his spine going solid for a beat before he's able to yank his response back under control. He can't really do anything about the flush in his face, though. ]

Aziraphale wasn't my friend.

[ They'd barely spoken, not since Vanitas had first met him— but it hadn't changed the fact that Vanitas had burst into tears in private on receiving that gift. Something without prompting, just because people were celebrating some stupid holiday. He'd never received a gift before— something that was just his own, nobody else's — maybe that's why he hadn't gotten rid of the wrapping. But he'd completely forgotten it was there.

Abandoning his quest for socks for a moment, he goes to the bed and snatches the paper up, as if Ventus was about to take it from the mattress himself, and turns around to shove it in his drawer out of sight. ]

He was just some bleeding heart idiot.

[ In the more confined space of the room and with the light cast from both their lanterns, it would be impossible to miss Vanitas' physical reactions now that Ventus is looking at him and him alone. (A dangerous thing to do when there are Unversed in the room.) He can't help staring when Vanitas is actually looking flustered, all red in the face like he's embarrassed. He's mesmerized every time Vanitas displays something that seems totally out of character from the smug opponent he knows him to be.

It's entirely at odds with what his other half is saying and Ventus isn't convinced. If people managed to befriend Vanitas and get through to him where Ventus couldn't, it would explain a lot of things about the changes he's seeing in Vanitas. He's glad for it as well as all the more curious.

Tempting as it is to take the paper and see if there's more written on it, Vanitas is already coming over to snatch it up and so Ventus keeps his hands to himself. He settles for just watching Vanitas closely, taking in every movement like it might tell him something new. ]

But he obviously cared about you in some way.

[ Friend or not, that means something. Especially when the Vanitas he knows makes it very hard to be cared about. ]

That's nice.

No, he didn't.

[ It isn't just being contrary, even though Vanitas is very often just that very thing. He knows that angel didn't give a lick about him as an individual. He was just another person with too much Light, someone with too much of a soft bleeding heart for those around them. And look where that got him — now the angel and his demon were both dead, and neither of them had come back from the church. ]

Someone was going around getting everyone to give gifts. If it hadn't been me, it would have been someone else. Don't make it something it isn't.

[ He really believes what he's saying, anyway. Even if Bruce has convinced him he means something to him, or Riku's firm conviction of their being friends is starting to sink it— he knows he doesn't mean anything to anyone else. He's still Darkness, and nobody wants or need something like him around. Some days it makes him bitter, the way he's bitter toward Ventus. Other days, it's a relief to think he still holds the same place in the world he always did. He pulls socks out from the drawer he tossed the paper in and closes it, sitting on the edge of the bed to put them on. ]

[ Ventus raises an eyebrow at Vanitas' back, but he doesn't argue the point right away. He doesn't actually know what the situation is, who Aziraphale is and what he might be to Vanitas, so it's not like he can tell whether or not Vanitas is denying it for the sake of denying it and being contradictory. He can only put the clues together and gauge by his other half's reactions from before how honest he's being.

Which, even with the explanation Vanitas throws out, still gives Ventus the sense that he's not being entirely truthful. Possibly to himself. Gifts are precious things and they're not something you give to someone you dislike. (And Vanitas makes himself very easy to be disliked.) They're obviously not total strangers either and so Ventus isn't convinced.

He hesitates for a split-second — also kind of weirded out at watching Vanitas do something as mundane as putting on socks — before he points out. ]

But it was you and that meant something.

[ Perhaps not even much to this Aziraphale, but enough to Vanitas for him to be embarrassed at someone noticing. ]

As always, you have no idea what you're talking about.

[ With his socks on, he already feels a little bit warmer, but it isn't until he puts both feet back on the floor while he's seated on the edge of the mattress that he finally looks over at Ventus again under the low of his dark eyelashes. The moment seems insanely innocuous, even with Ventus holding his Keyblade in his hand. Vanitas is empty handed again, both palms on his knees.

They've been here before— or at least, in a place that could be compared.

Last time they were in a bedroom together, Vanitas was telling him he had to run as fast as he could to make sure he caught up with Terra. It was mostly a ruse. All Vanitas wanted at the time was to manipulate Ventus into leaving, into doing what he wanted so he could forge his Light to have a worthy opponent to clash against.

They couldn't be further from that time if they tried. ]

So?

[ He prompts, into the silence. ]

What are you going to do now, Ventus?

[ Ventus makes a noise that's similar to a scoff, a clear sign of dissent, though he doesn't verbally argue back. It's true there are a lot of things he doesn't know and certainly not of the life Vanitas has created here, but there are also things Ventus considers himself more knowledgeable about than his other half; like friendship and all that it encompasses. He at least has more experience there when Vanitas used to shun it completely.

They could probably go on in circles forever if Ventus cared to press it. He doesn't.

He's struck with a sense of déjà vu as Vanitas looks at him from where he's seated on the bed and it's impossible not to think of the very first time he'd laid eyes on his other half when Vanitas had appeared in his bedroom, casual as can be. With how he's clutching his Keyblade, his position is almost exactly the same as it had been then, only this time it's Ventus in Vanitas' space. And Vanitas doesn't seem overly bothered by it, having allowed him to follow and remain so far.

The question cuts through the silence, distracting him from the memory. Ventus sighs, weary, and finally looks away for a moment. ]

I don't know.

[ He admits honestly. He hadn't expected there to be anything after dying, much less this place and everything terrible that Vanitas has revealed to him. Sorting out all that awfulness is what he should do, he supposes.

Already knowing what answer he's likely to get, he glances back to Vanitas with tired reluctance. ]

Will you tell me where Riku is?

[ Vanitas doesn't know exactly where Riku is, but he does know his frequent haunts. He knows that if he isn't in the museum right now, then he probably will be soon, finding the evidence that Vanitas took off without warning. It tickles the edge of his thoughts, the things they said: You scared me. We're worried for you. It's a strange sensation, this subtle guilt. He's never felt bad about doing whatever he wanted before, heedless to the consequences or what it might make others feel.

He stands up. Fully covered in black, he looks much more like the shadowy cut-out he normally makes when he walks around this place, but his exhaustion bleeds out some of the intimidation that would come in the tactic of taking a step closer to Ventus.

They're almost the same height. Vanitas thinks he might have an inch or so on his other half now, though he can't really tell. He's only in socks and Ventus is in his boots, and it puts them at eye level. Before Ventus can bring his Keyblade to bare or take a swing at him, Vanitas reaches into Ventus' pocket and pulls out his tablet, holding it up between them. ]

Find him yourself.

[ He pushes the communicator against Ventus' chest, forcing him to grab it or drop it. ]

If you can't solve that problem then you're going to be a lost cause in this place.

[ Vanitas stands and although he doesn't cut an imposing figure as he is, clad in loose fabrics and still visibly drained, there's a subtle tension winding up Ventus' spine as his darker half steps closer. It's entirely instinctive when past experiences with Vanitas have taught him to expect pain next, not anything that he can help or is even actively aware of as they stare at one another. Ventus doesn't know what to expect here when he figured he would just get a 'no'.

So he starts a bit when Vanitas reaches for him — shoulders more visibly hiking up and fingers tightening around Wayward Wind's handle — only to then find himself blinking in surprise at the tablet Vanitas pulls from his pocket. It's done so casually, like a familiar gesture between friends, that it leaves Ventus too caught off guard to even be upset at the invasion of his pace and taking of his belongings.

It matters little when in the next moment it's shoved against his chest, his hand shooting up automatically to catch it before it can fall. He realizes promptly that it's a hint Vanitas is giving him and not the completely unhelpful response he was prepared to receive and he glances down at the device now in his hand in slight wonder. ]

Right. Then I guess that's what I'll be doing.

[ As tempting as it is to stick around and ask Vanitas all sorts of questions now including ones about the seemingly important tablet, Ventus is not about to push his luck when he wants to preserve this... tentative truce(?) or whatever it is that keeps them from fighting. Nor does he want to impose when Vanitas can't even hide his exhaustion. He obviously needs rest and he's given Ventus enough to help him on his way. That's more than Ventus ever expected from his other half.

It's time to leave.

He turns to do so and then pauses again two steps away, glancing back with a contemplative expression. Vanitas said it would not work right, but... it never hurts to try. When Ventus raises his Keyblade to hold it aloft, it's done so in a languid movement — nothing hard or fast to be interpreted as a threat — and with a quiet mutter of 'heal'. The green glow that he sends cascading down Vanitas' frame of Cura unfurling its petals and leaves is oddly dim. Perhaps that means it doesn't do anything for his wounds, but maybe it will give him a boost of energy or a touch of comfort. Ventus can hope. It's the only parting gift he has to give. ]

Thanks, Vanitas. Take care.

[ With that, he moves to leave the room. He has no doubt that they'll see each other again before long. ]

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