(I have decided that I will use this to post Alexander's Dives to the Heart. Should it arise, I will also chronicle the more personal character altering situations he faces should anybody decide to take a peek.)
Alexander was falling. He didn't remember how it started, and he didn't know from where he fell, but he was falling. Rather than the sheer helplessness and fear one might feel while free falling through the air, he felt serenity. Pure, beautiful serenity. He dived through the large, white clouds and fell within their womb, emerging from the other side into the cold air as the white mist outstretched after him, calling him back into the sky. he was smacked by sharp, cold air, letting out a surprised wail. his eyes opened, curious and eager to learn. Below him, he could see a grand city-scape. It sprawled beneath, the ever expanding pinnacle of the history of civilization. People moved, cars bustled, and he saw all of this in one sweeping glance.
He outstretched his hands, trying to hold the world in his palms as he fell. He wanted to rescue it from fate, from certainty. While the world expanded at first, it was being reduced in size and scale for at its very edges darkness gnawed, unraveling all the love and life that had gone into the creation of something worth living for. The closer he drew to the city, the less of it there was. He fell faster and faster as his momentum increased, and the darkness matched him second for second. Before long, a single skyscraper remained in an ocean of dark blue water. As he reached out for it from above, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of a lost past, it sank swiftly and silently beneath the waves.
He would soon follow, vanishing into those unknowable depths that somehow knew everything. He would be engulfed by the water, its fingers prodding him at first, and then grabbing him and pulling him under. He slammed into that blue body of infinite grace and life, and was dragged down into its depths. Soon, he was in a place that even light dare not tread. Here, at the bottom of the ocean, he was consumed by fear as darkness became his world. With his serenity gone, he struggled and screamed as his sense of orientation was lost to himself, and began to flip and flail blindly in the dark. But soon he landed, feet on the ground, in the deepest part of nothing.
The ground beneath him seemed to shatter, and glowing white doves surrounded him. Below his feet was a light in the darkness-- a beautiful and intricate design stared into him, and he felt a twinge of familiarity. The dark ocean floor peeled back into a circle, and then stopped. An ornate ring of hearts provided the outlines. A line went down the middle, dividing the large heart in the middle into two. On the left side, the black half of the large heart was encased in a black crescent moon. On the right, the white half exuded drawn out rays of sunlight. On either side were two figures, one black and one white, each holding a key chain in hand with a heart of the same color. On the side with the white heart and figure, a beautiful city went on into the background. On the side with the black heart and figure, a destroyed city burned in the starry night.
A voice called out to him, silent yet all encompassing. "Do you remember?" He felt compelled forward, walking over to the white figure and kneeling down. He placed his hand on the white heart that dangled from a string-like chain. "Do you remember what you've sewn?" He stood up, looking around curiously for the source of the voice, but it seemed to come from everywhere around him. He turned to the other side of the circle, seeing a dark mass rise out of the black figure. "You'll have to reap it eventually." It outstretched its arm, palm open and summoned a rather large key. "Keyblade." The word lingered until Alexander realized its familiarity. The Keyblade his opponent held had a black hand-guard and handle, with decorations that resembled dragon wings adorning it. Its blade was long and black, with its teeth part resembling a gnarled heart.
He responded in kind by summoning his own. He opened his palm, and willed it to come. In his hand, a Keyblade appeared with a white and gold handle, with angel wings as accents on the silver hand-guard. Its blade was also long, but gold instead of black. It had a spear like tip on it, and a series of heart-like patterns for teeth. The figure leapt forward, swinging its blade down towards Alex. Alexander quickly put up his blade and deflected his blow, but the figure hit him with a blast of concentrated cold air. He flew back, dropping the Keyblade as he hit the ground and skid along it. His Keyblade embedded itself into the ground, and the black figure walked up to it. He grabbed its key-chain and yanked on it, breaking it off. The blade itself looked unchanged, but Alexander felt in his heart that it was broken. The figure pocket the chain and returned to the black image. It melted into the ground, casting a wayward backwards glance at him full of spite and pity. Alex stood, and walked over to his Keyblade. A small clang came from beside it, seeing a little key-chain with the silhouette of a mouse head landing from somewhere above. He picked it up, and looked at his blade.
"Until you remember," the voice began, "you are a broken Keyblade wielder." He placed the key-chain on to his blade, and it changed into a Kingdom Key. Then, he felt himself sinking. He looked down, seeing the darkness already around his knees. He grabbed the hilt of his blade and tried to pull it from the ground, but it didn't budge. He clung to it tightly as he sunk to his waist. "Let go," the voice said. He refused, gripping it even tighter. "Let it go." He felt his grip slipping, and started pulling as hard as he could. His hand slipped, and he felt himself fall. The voice became louder. "Even after forgetting, you are still to conflicted to conquer your own heart."
Alex screamed, waking up in a neatly made bed. He sat up quickly, throwing the covers off of him and jumping out onto the soft carpet beneath his feet. He looked around, bewildered. Where the hell was he? He backd up, plastering himself against the wall. he looked down, examining himself. His white T-shirt was fresh and clean, and next to the bed were his brown cargo shorts neatly folded into a pile. The room was extremely plain, just a bed and a closet at present. The red carpet between his toes was comforting at least, but he reasoned that he mustn't be alone in this house. Somebody had to have folded these clothes, and he was sure he didn't. Come to think of it, he didn't recall even having a bed. Trying to think harder, he realized he didn't recall really ANYTHING. He knew his name. He remembered how to speak English. He knew preferences, skills.... but nothing else. He was doing something, he felt it. He was in the middle of doing something important. But now, it was beyond his grasp.
He looked over, noting the door on yonder wall. Peeling himself away from the wall behind him, he lightly tread over and turned the doorknob. With a small jump it came free, and opened silently. He pushed it outward, and walked into a small hallway. It to, had carpet. It went in two directions. Down the hall, their were two doors. To the immediate right, the hall lead into a large room. Alex cautiously slipped out of the door, and peered into the large room. He didn't see anybody, but smelt the distinct odor of waffles. This peeked his interest (waffles are his favorite, you see) and he slipped around the corner, viewing the whole of the large room. There was an older, retro style couch with purple cushions, a wooden coffee table, and a bright green bowl chair. This is a simple house he noted, the odor of waffles becoming stronger as he eased toward what could only be the kitchen.
He poked his head inside seeing a plate of fresh waffles, a stick of butter, and a bottle of syrup atop a small dining table. The only utilities were a stove-oven, and an old toaster. A leaky sink sat in the corner and-- doesn't matter, waffles first. A little slip of paper lay on top of his fork and knife, which themselves were laid strait and neat upon a napkin. He saw that there was nobody in this kitchen, and after a few mere seconds set upon the waffles. He initially tossed the paper aside, proceeding to stuff his face with the crunchy deliciousness before him. In moments, he was finished. He stood up, pausing momentarily to pick up the slip of paper and continuing back into the living room. He headed for the bowl chair, feeling an immediate connection with it, and sat inside of it and fell limp.
For a few minutes more he laid there, enjoying peace. Odd, he might have thought he hadn't ever had peace for a while. Of course, he didn't really remember, and but it bothered him less and less. He knew that he had left something unfinished, but thoughts of the future were slowly overtaking him. Unconsciously, he raised the note and read it silently. The first line read "Don't eat these waffles. They're poisoned."
Alex's eyes went very wide, and he uttered a quiet, "Oh, shit."
He read further. "Just kidding. But if I wasn't you'd be dead."
A small sigh escaped his lips. Note to self: don't eat strange waffles anymore. He contemplated that for a second, concluding There's a problem when I don't already know that./
He continued reading the note. "I'll bet you have a lot of questions-- where you are for one thing. This is your new house in Traverse Town."
Traverse Town? Nope, the name did not ring a bell.
"There are good people here-- people who can help you get stronger. And trust me, you'll need strength for the coming nightmare. Just go out, look around. I recommend finding a way to make some munny. I only left you 1000. It should last you a while if you use it sparingly. That means clothes. As in, you have nothing but the shirt and pants I brought you here in." Alex quickly remembered that he was in his boxers, and was suddenly glad that nobody else lived here. His own house. Huh. That felt nice, to be on his own. But then it felt terrible, because he was all alone. Independence was a far cry from not needing friends. He resolved-- today he'd learn the ins-and-outs of Traverse Town. He walked back into his bedroom, in his house (he couldn't stop emphasizing it to himself) still reading the note. "Good luck Alexander. You'll need it if you're to return to full strength, and then ascend beyond. ---Gray Light"
"Huh." Alexander slipped on his cargo pants, buttoning them and then exiting his room. Those two rooms down the hallway would need to be explored later. For now, he had other matters to attend to. He walked into the living room, and then into the kitchen. Towards the back was a heavy wooden door. On the stove was a large skeleton key. On its side the words 'House Key' were engraved. Okay, he thought. New place. No memories. He said this with a frown. Then, he smiled. Blank slate. He pushed open his door, entering the second district of Traverse Town. it was time to find some clothes, and he was in luck. There was a store called 'Dress&Stuff' close by, as he had now seen from across the way. First stop.
___________________The future is not fair to the past because by definition it has already surpassed it."There was a sickness."