The warm summer sun smiled from its heights. The white walls of his fabricated solitude gleamed and absorbed and shimmered imperceptibly the way mirages seem to do.
Too many clothes clawed at Roxas's body and he did not sweat. Could not sweat, how unthinkable.
Sweating would have ruined the circuitry.
He looked up at her, to where she'd been watching and waiting and not meaning to speak. She stood positively unnoticeable, sky eyes and cloud dress, cloud skin and cloud hair.
He squinted against the violent sun.
"Will you come with me?"
He got down on his knees.
Summer heat gnawed at his bones, flame licked sunbeams chewed him to marrow, leaving him bleeding but not sweating.
Too many memories lingered half-dead in the back of his eyes.
And Roxas screamed, up to the sky and across the sea and beyond the mainframe.
The sound resonated off the bells and off the gulls.
He looked down at him, to where Axel'd been watching and drooling and thirsting and hungering and meaning to speak for so long.
Axel stood stark and exotic upon the lower ledge of the tower. An effacement of a death shroud draped across alabaster—altars to all the lies—altars, one Cardinal amongst a Blue Jay flock of sky, and two snapping spring buds against the decay and blight of illusions.
Roxas smiled down, pearls and bones.
"Come with me."
From his knees, Roxas reached down, leaning precariously over the precipice.
Cold nighttime air kissed his cheeks and puddles rubbed up against Roxas's sneakers. The dark writhing walls of their city tittered out hysterical hellos and wind wailing catcalls.
He felt naked and cold. He wished he had on more clothes and he shivered.
For some reason, he was certain he should have been scared, but he was not.
He looked to her at his right, where she was watching and waiting and meaning to speak, but the words came to her in floods of hope and love and deceit.
She stood stark and foreign in this city. A spray of sickly white spattered against the shadow—hungry hunting shadow—sheen ivory walls, glinting steel blue gems mounted before slabs of onyx night, and worm pale pink in a place where nothing truly lived.
He stared at her, piercing through the black.
"Will you come meet them?"
His mouth quirked. "You're looking like a sister to me."
Wet never-winter winds clawed at his body through inadequate layers of clothing. As they trudged past, shallow reservoirs of rainwater attacked his sneakers. The twisting alleyways howled their turns and taunts.
Roxas felt exposed and freezing and wishing he had a coat on.
He huddled back into a corner, away from the wind. Not scared, but irritated, challenged.
He looked to him at his left, where Axel was watching and drooling and thirsting and hungering and meaning to speak all the words he'd held in his gut for so long.
Axel stood positively unnoticeable, another shadow, another meaningless bright neon sign in the night.
Roxas smiled, fangs and knives.
"Let's go destroy your old room."
Roxas's eyes sparked. "Looking like a prayer."
The flagstones sang songs beneath his feet. He paid homage to high white altars with a caress of silken flesh. His fingers traced shadow-magic mortar and his mouth spoke praise-less words, which hung on still-life air.
Half-forgotten lies licked at his veins and he let them, unwillingly.
Her hand clasped in his own.
He did not look at her, where she stood at his right. He tightened their interlaced fingers, squeezing until she squealed and cracked and did not let him go for want of will and thirst of violence.
He lost himself somewhere in the feel of her fingers.
"Will you come kill them?"
Keys to victory came at his silent call.
Mirrors cracked and shattered at his passage. He spit and trampled upon quiet magnolia floors. With his dead-man words he cursed this unnatural place a witch's castle, an abomination.
Never-remembered ways wound before him in the dark, taking him where they would.
He felt Axel's presence chained to the cavity in his chest.
Roxas did not look at where he lingered at his left. He reached out his hand, exposed fingertips calling Axel forward like a dog and he came, crawling and begging and pleased in spite of dignity. He lost himself somewhere in want.
Roxas smiled, promise and lust.
"You won't kill me."
Roxas's hands encircled his throat, reminding Axel to breath.
Her eyes glittered, wavering in their sockets like waves.
Flames painted the castle red then black. Her dress was stained with blood.
Their flesh sizzled. Rend it from the bone.
Axel's wild eyes glazed bliss, shifted like leaves on western wind.
Her trembling hands sang songs. Axel's arias of misery mired in his throat.
"I'll be queen and you'll be king?" she asked uncertainly.
"Let me come and then I'll suck you off." Axel whispered throatily.
He nodded to her, holding out his hand. Roxas laughed at him, grabbing his hair and forcing him down.
She smiled, their fingers entwined. Axel moaned low and satisfied.
Almost as good as marriage. Almost as good as love.
Lies and truth. Truth and lies.
She kissed Roxas's cheek, wiping away the blood. He kissed Axel's cheek, licking away his own semen.
They went together out into the hallway, smiling at one another, for lack of something better.
They—Naminé and Axel and Roxas and Roxas—passed each other in the hall of lies and dreams and come and cum and gone.
Towering bleached walls inlaid with sapphire blue eyes met and burned and understood and nodded and accept and were satiated on the choices of the day.
Roxas laughed and smiled and bent on knee and suffocated and hurt and pleasured.
"Just like a brothersisterlover to me."
this Sora dreamed,
Uneasy in his sleep.
"Roxas?" he mumbled.
White harpies and the
Witch-fire green growled
From the beyond-land,
"Quiet now, little one,"
They whispered and
They screamed and said,
"You might be answered."
Someone may turn the key.)