"Are you?" Through the turmoil of upended emotions, through the river of souls, through the darkness and millennia of pain, a question that's strangely mild for all the circumstances are horrific. Dethatched, interested.
This isn't Xehanort's fight. He contended with his own darkness constantly, and called it friend. This is Elidibus' fight.
But he can interrupt, can't he? As the sound of someone else's darkness changes and shifts, from grief to rage to uncertainty and more, he times it ... carefully. A punctuation mark, a reminder that not all is the storm of emotions.
"I know another Elidibus. You're the first person I've actually spoken to from an alternate world, then. But he has a duty. An important one, doesn't he? And you do too. A hope, something shining and bright. Do you remember what it is?"
His tone remains quiet - to his own ears, barely audible over the roaring darkness. But Elidibus might not have that particular problem.
no subject
This isn't Xehanort's fight. He contended with his own darkness constantly, and called it friend. This is Elidibus' fight.
But he can interrupt, can't he? As the sound of someone else's darkness changes and shifts, from grief to rage to uncertainty and more, he times it ... carefully. A punctuation mark, a reminder that not all is the storm of emotions.
"I know another Elidibus. You're the first person I've actually spoken to from an alternate world, then. But he has a duty. An important one, doesn't he? And you do too. A hope, something shining and bright. Do you remember what it is?"
His tone remains quiet - to his own ears, barely audible over the roaring darkness. But Elidibus might not have that particular problem.
Keep moving, always moving ... and reorient.