What's this? A fic? Like, Oh Em Gee. I haven't written anything in ages it seems, but yesh, I have written fic. 'Tis a little rambly drabble of, as someone on LJ put it, Proto!Yami--meaning before teh Millennium Bling, er, I mean, Puzzle was put together... No pairings, as of much, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!
Oh, and if you're wondering about my name change, it's back to my original nom de plume. Apparently ff.evil was kind enough to give it back to me. It's also my handle over at livejournal, should anyone wander over there...
What is Yuugi?
The first thing he remembers is that he doesn't. And in his first sentient moments—hours? days? years? millennia?—he screamed out to the darkness. Who was he? Where was he? What was happening to him? He became mute only after he had screamed himself hoarse. Then, questioning gave way to thought. Since nothingness and darkness surrounded him, encased him, bound him, then what else could he be than darkness itself?
He began to invent riddles and games to pass the time. For what, he did not know. He felt that time was non-existent in the pitch blackness where he dwelt, yet time also seemed to be growing short. Something was going to change, the shadows seemed to whisper.
Change did come. Somewhere in the darkness, a crack of light began to shine. The glimmer was small, flickering, and nearly fleeting. He nearly missed it at first, and when he did see it, he believed madness was settling in. But the glimmer of light did not vanish.
Curiosity welled within him, and drew him closer. In the low shimmer, he began to make out columns on either side of a barely opened door. His attempts at pushing the door open further were futile, seeming as if something on the other side was blocking his passage. Frustrated, he turned to examine the columns. Pictograms decorated both; figures of birds, small houses and other symbols were carefully carved into stone. People were also carved therein, standing sideways with arms offered up in praise to an oblong shape. Inside the shape, it seemed as if whatever had been once written there had worn away or been removed.
Whispers in his mind and in the darkness told him that the pillars should be brightly colored, and gilded with gold. He shivered suddenly, as if just realizing how cold it was in the place that held him. More whispers came, plaguing his mind with suggestions of sever sunlight, sand, and so much heat.
Exhausted by the new and startling images, he sat down by the door, resting his head against the threshold. Though he could not see into the next room, he found peace within that small sliver of light, and for the first time he could remember, he slept.
When he awoke, he found himself curled upon the stone floor. The door was fully open now, and he sensed something entirely new about the light which filled his room and the next. Anger seeped into his spirit; someone else was here, be he knew not where. To calm himself, he glanced around his room, which before had been void of anything save black. Now he could see a large stone chair—a throne, a whisper echoed in his mind—and pillars, much like the two by the door, supporting all four walls.
He stood, then, and glanced at the fully opened door. Without hesitancy, he stepped over the threshold. Eyes widened as he took in staircase after staircase, doors and doors and so many doors. The labyrinth whispered to him as well. A plethora of murmured promises, swearing retrieval of memories lost if he chose this route over another. The sensation was overwhelming.
Before he could take another step, however, he felt his new world shake. He recalled the other presence he felt earlier, and realized it was this presence that had granted him his new home. But that presence—that other soul, exclaimed the whispers hurriedly, that pure light soul—was trembling in fear and doubt.
And he knew what was needed of him. In one clenched fist, darkness and shadow curled lovingly around dusky skin. There was a large stone door towards the front of the maze-room, towards which he stalked, with determination. Though he only knew he was naught but darkness—what purpose was he to serve other than exist when there was no light?—he, pushed the door open and found himself in another room, so much different from the ones he had explored.
Moonlight shone through a window above him, and he was sitting at a desk with a completed puzzle in his hands. Puzzle. Millennium. Gold. Power. Games. The words came so swiftly to him, he was almost dizzy.
In the back of his mind, something or someone gave him the information he needed. Disregarding the rest of the room, he left to deal with the business at hand.
The Game had been won easily. Something in the subdued whispers told him that he always won, and always would until a time came when his greatest rival would appear. He almost snorted at the thought, in his arrogance. It made little difference to him, for now he had a new question to ponder.
What and who is Yuugi?
He had been thus called. It echoed in the labyrinth, sometimes reverberating back to him as 'Heba,' recalling images of painted sticks being tossed, points counted, figures moving along a wooden board, and games won. It followed him, trying to wrap around his very being. But it was not him. He was darkness. He was shadows. Yuugi was not him, or was he? Sometimes it was so difficult to tell, especially when his and the other's souls seemed to blend. Perhaps he was Yuugi, perhaps he was Heba, and perhaps he was a Game. It even seemed to be the very nature of his mind.
So, he decided, for the moment, he would be the Game, and he would play the Games. He preferred the identity over the ages of darkness anyway.
Alrighty, you know the deal, kiddos! Leave a little bit of feedback from me, and maybe some more ficcage will come your way? 8D (And by feedback, I don't mean OMG RITE MOAR, 'cause that's just lame, guys. C'mon...)