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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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DEAR READER
Claire Keane
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@heartslight
but in the starlit ink of constellations, you have written: endure. —— private & canon divergent sora of the kingdom hearts franchise, treasured by sparky. re – est. july 2022, mutually exclusive. a study of; the power of friendship, a heart and its folly, the disfiguration of oneself, integrity between light and dark, and rewriting your destiny.
rules.
Her head tilts to see him —— and for a split second, just one, a few heartbeats, she's relieved by his misery. She remembers the Sora of before, when he'd freshly awakened, who'd been so sure he'd get free. Who'd been so sure he'd take Strelitzia with him. And she's relieved that he's given up, that he won't leave, that she'll have more company in the cage than Yozora. Rotten thing, rotten girl, deserved what she got. And then it's smothered, even past the dull weight of her malaise, by grief for him, and horror at herself. Oh, Sora...
It just isn't fair. When Strelitzia died, she'd left her brother behind, but no one else loved her, and she'd been close to no one else in turn. Sora is so lovable, so warm and kind and sweet, that he had lots of people who loved him and whom he loved in return. Strelitzia's death had cost nothing but her own fear and pain. Sora's has cost so much, and he deserves far more than the cage or the collar.
She pushes herself to sit up and moves just a little closer to the couch, unsure of what to say. You can talk to me feels trite; she isn't a person, and she knows that Sora means he wants to talk to a person. ( for a second, just one, a few heartbeats, her feelings are hurt. she'd always known she wasn't good company, but...she truly is nothing, huh. ) "I'm sorry, Sora," the corpse girl murmurs from the floor beside him. That feels right. He, above. She, below, looking up at him. It's a familiar way to be — below others. Yozora taught her, but she had some practice, even before she'd died. "I'm sorry...Yozora and I aren't...more. I'm sorry I can't get you...out of the cage." Would Yozora break her if she tried? Would the Master? ( yes, she knows. ) She'll have to try...what could be worse than her death? "But...your friends love you. They'll — they'll save you, I bet..."
it's a series of complex emotions. how desperately does he want to be saved from this but does he want to risk exposing his friends to the dangers this world holds? but no, it was that exact mindset that lead him here in the first place! so should sora just roll over and allow misfortune to bring possible ruin to his friendships? how was sora meant to allow that? what if in the end, all it amounted to was chaining his friends inside this nightmare, with no escape in sight? it was too much / it was just too much / it was too much? was sora allowing his friends to fight for themselves too much? did he think so little of them that he was already giving up before even allowing them the chance to prove themselves? when had he become as controlling as the villains they swore to defeat?
questions challenging the foundation beneath his feet haunt the heart as he glances down to where she rests. strelitzia and yozora are another confounding variable in the mess that sora has become; equal parts salvation and destruction. they were as cruel as the world around them, and yet sora couldn’t help but lean into the touch— there is still love within the violence. ❛ i don’t want to be saved without you. ❜ cruel / cruel / he had spoken horrible words to her, and still does he cling to the kindness she offers him— there is still love within the violence. he shifts from where he rests, moves to reach out to her as if maybe salvation does reside within the hollow of her cheeks.
her skin felt like ice. it hurt to the touch.
❛ i’m sorry. i said something mean before. ❜ there was no freedom / there was only the illusion of freedom, gifted to him by the people he was chained to— but still, they allowed him to sink into delusion. ❛ i’m not alone. i’m not alone, because you and yozora are here. ❜ but even to his own ears, the words hardly sounded genuine.
This stupid fucking dream —— it's been ages since Leona nearly killed him, and it's not the only time he's almost died. It's annoying that it still haunts him / annoying that he can be haunted, when he always pretends he's above hurting and softness and shit like being traumatized. It isn't the pain that haunts — it does, but... — so much as the betrayal of it, the memory of his own foolishness, the way he'd been afraid and angry both, and not just at Leona. He'd been so afraid. He'd been so angry.
He's angry, now, if only to keep from being frightened. He feels himself grasping Sora's hand, hard, and manages to loosen his grip to keep from bruising. "Fresh air'd be good," he mutters quietly, teeth grit, doing his level best not to lash out at Sora or himself. He's angry, at Leona for hurting him, but mostly at his stupid goddamn brain. And —— he's grateful for Sora. That Sora's here. He's tired of waking up from this dream alone. He's grateful to have Sora with him.
His arm hurts. Phantom pain. He inhales as slowly as he can manage.
"Yeah, getting outside would —— it'd help. What time even is it...?" He squints towards the window; it's definitely night, that much he knows. His ears flatten some when he allows himself to look at Sora, finally, properly; he doesn't apologize again, but it's close. Does he want Sora to ask? He's not sure yet. He just knows he wants Sora to stay. ( and he will. he promised. but then again —— so did leona. ) "Thanks fer bein' here. It — helps."
the grip on his hand hurts, an intense tightness that could crush his bones if ruggie really wanted to. sora would've let him / would've accepted that pain, if it meant helping ease the weight of his discomfort. but ruggie pulls away, and sora follows after— other hand reaching over to undo the latch on his window, to welcome the cooling air against heated skin.
❛ the time doesn't matter. ❜ it didn't / sora hardly slept, even before quadratum. a disruption like this would do little to his sleep schedule, a complaint sora would never even voice if it was to help ruggie. besides, this just means they can nap together later, under the sunny sky later! “ we can go out the window, to not wake up my parents. “ it would be easy, a climb and a jump sora has done countless times but— could ruggie, in his state? doesn't matter, they could sit on the rooftop if he wanted.
sora plays with the open flame on his bed and shifts closer, moves to press a kiss against the sweaty skin of ruggie's forehead. ❛ you don't have to thank me for doing the minimum. of course i'll be here for you, no matter what. ❜ it simply goes without saying / the least he could do after everything he's already put him through. ❛ do you want to walk around the island? we could go to the beach, the other island.. or we sit on the roof. whatever you'd like to do. ❜
@heartslight / sora & strelitzia.
"Okay, okay, keep your eyes closed ——" She's a collection of good things today; brave enough that the pressing fear when she's out is lessened to a pinprick, feeling more generous than selfish, as content as a girl in a cage can be. It's easy for the dead flower girl to smile as she tugs Sora by the hand, carefully, accommodating his closed eyes. It's only fair, since she'd demanded them! She'd told him she wanted to show him something, then made him cover his eyes when they got close to the city's edge. Strelitzia's cage is small, but she asked Yozora and he agreed, allowed her to press closer to the bars than usual. Of course, she promised to come back.
"Aaaand — you can open them!" The city doesn't really end, of course, but outside the center, it peels away. Fewer homes or people — ghosts to Sora and Strelitzia both, if for different reasons — and, more importantly, a wide stretch of green, dotted with flowers. Nothing compared to the childhood she only half - remembers, but as of now, in the sunset, the world glows.
She wants to say, I like to come here when I can because of the quiet and the flowers. She wants to say, the city and the apartment are so grey and washed out, but there's colour here. She wants to say, sorry for being selfish sometimes. She wants to say, sorry it's so hard to be dead here. She wants to say, I love you. Instead, she smiles, gentle, and says, "It's...pretty, right? Like a memory."
it's the most color he remembers ever seeing. she guided him away to something that could only be considered a hideaway from the repetitive greys of the city, tucked away in a corner of the world that sora couldn't have imagined ever seeing. it doesn't surprise him to see that yozora allowed strelitzia to wander so far from home / had always held a kinder spot for her regards than soras.
but sora focuses instead on the beauty of the haven she's taken him to / of the colors that would be brilliant if not for the nature of this world. it was something pretty, would be a breath of fresh air if the situation was something different; he can't help the hollow echo in his heart, looking at the field of flowers. still, strelitzia offered her refuge without sora ever asking / had shared this secret with the intentions to help— not hurt. it wouldn't be very heroic to be ungrateful in the face of her kindness.
❛ i didn’t know something like this could exist in this world. ❜ alive / blooming and flourishing despite the poison so nearby. the urge to reach out and feel for himself the gentle light against soft petals makes his fingers twitch, but sora fights against it. it wouldn't be as warm. ❛ thank you for this, strelitzia. this place is more than just pretty, it's beautiful! ❜ like a memory, she says. sora thinks back to the last field of flowers he saw, and swallows back his pain.
his heart breaks. riku wishes he was better at comfort, at being more than a half-hidden anchor that supports others. he's trying, now, as he raises sora's hand to press a kiss to the back of it. ❝ this is real, ❞ he affirms, holding sora's gaze. ( there's a tenderness there, like he can't look away, more than fear / more like love. ) it's not that he can't bear to look away. there's a residual ache, like he's scared sora will disappear, but riku── simply doesn't want to.
he shifts again, his touch gentle as he moves sora's fingers and splays sora's hand over his chest. to feel the steady beat of his heart, ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump── even if it picks up, just a little, at the touch. ( sora's just always had that effect on him. ) ❝ i'm real, ❞ riku promises. ❝ we brought you home, sora. ❞
too gentle, the touch was too gentle and sora can't help the full body spasm that hits at the contact. yozora had always been gentle before expressing the worst of his cruelties, so the body can't be blamed for the reaction that's been trained upon it. still, sora does not pull away ( the cruelty was always welcomed / always grateful for the reminder that despite it all, sora could remember the hurt ) even when his hand is splayed over the chest to really feel the beating of his heart.
which was wrong; yozora never had a beat this strong. yozora never— his heart couldn't—
the tears start to fall at a faster frequency, body caving under the weight of realization. there was no yozora, there was no strelitzia; sora was a ghost, thrown back into a world that was just too bright, just too alive to ever welcome back a corpse. fingers clutch at the material of the shirt, wondering if there was a violence he could inflict to bring yozora back— he'd promised to bring him here. he promised them both, he wanted to bring them back with him, selfishly desperate to hold on to the cords that choke them.
maybe the most disgusting aspect of it all—— is that sora would not return.
For a second — okay, maybe a few seconds, close to a minute — Ruggie is pretty sure he's going to pass the fuck out. Not because he's unhappy; the opposite, if anything. He's so stupidly, incandescently happy that his body isn't sure how to tolerate it, his body that's been beaten down to expect less, to trust nobody, to accept — but never forgive — the way others saw him and his loved ones as lesser. A starving man at a feast. He laughs, bright and nervous, just to ease the pressure, just to let some of the joy out. He's not getting enough air, he knows. You'll always have me. As long as you want me, you'll have me.
Through his laughter, and the tears he's barely fighting anymore, he gasps, "Good, 'cause if you think I was a jackass about my crush disappearing, you should see how deranged I'd be about my fiancé up and leaving." Saying the word out loud makes him dizzy, head spinning, heart racing. Sora's his fiancé. He's Sora's! Everyone back at NRC is never going to let him live this down. His family is going to be insufferable. His grandma is going to lecture him and cry. He can't wait to tell everyone he knows.
He can't wait tell everyone he knows that the best boy in the world — in all of them — chose Ruggie, and let Ruggie choose him.
A starving man at a feast. A boy who was raised selfish, who had no choice. It's frightening, how greedy, how selfish Ruggie can be. It's frightening, how much he thinks he'd give for Sora in this moment. He thinks, again, of Sora's death for his friends, and he thinks of how, prior to knowing Sora, he'd never understood loving anyone that much. Giving — selfish. Sora wants to be Ruggie's. Ruggie wants to take all of him and give all of himself in return.
"An' I'll be —— you'll have me, too." It's so easy to be selfish with Sora — who is growing into his own selfishness, the kind that feels so intuitive to Ruggie — and so his hand reaches, takes the side of Sora's face and tugs him closer for a kiss. It's hungry, almost possessive, if still loving, gentle. A way to hide, to ease the shock and embarrassment and dizziness before the combination kills him. When Ruggie pulls away, he huffs out an airless laugh. "This is so — fuckin' dumb. We always end up doin' romance shit in the stupidest way possible."
for a moment, it feels— undeserving. the suffering he's placed upon the people that are meant to matter most to him / the despair he allowed himself to sink into while rotting away with ghosts, forgetting the light that's meant to be his guide. how could sora be so deserving to be here, in the arms of the one he loves, laughing and joyful over their future together? when sora had been nothing more than a corpse who threw away the relationships that mattered most in a warped perspective of heroism / chained to a self-destructive mindset that poisoned the bonds that he was meant to champion.
the ghosts of quadratum still cling to his soul / left the bruises of their fingertips against the skin of his arms, his chest, his neck— would sora ever be free from those cold hands? does ruggie feel their chill with every brush of his fingers? could sora ever be able to offer the kind of love the other deserved?
but then ruggies reaches over with his warm hands ( warm / warm, alive, and selfishly greedy ) and sora finds himself chasing that heat until they're pressed together, until his own hands are just as selfishly taking the warmth from ruggie's body for his own. but sora wouldn't apologize anymore, will continue to be unapologetically hungry in his desires until the darkness destroys the monster that escaped quadratum. ruggie kisses sora and sora feasts until there's nothing left in his lungs but an ache for air.
his lips are tingly. he's still hungry.
❛ well, we're just doing things our way! it makes for memories neither one of us could ever forget. ❜ it's why sora wouldn't change anything, would keep their stumbling exactly as they were — because it was theirs. ❛ i can't believe you'd want a big dummy like me.. i'm really annoying, you know. and i drool when i sleep. and i don't eat my vegetables. are you suuuure you want to deal with my baggage? ❜ its dressed like a joke / innocently interlaced between laughs and peppering kisses to ruggie's face but the— the question was genuine.
one last chance to change his mind, before breaks his ribs to find a permanent home within ruggie's heart.
@heartslight / sora & strelitzia
"Yozora's...wearing a collar," she says softly one day, one of the days where she can't leave the apartment without feeling like her guts are going to explode out her skin. ( the dead fearing inversion. stupid. ) Her hands raise above her head where she lays on the floor; she watches the freckled digits curl, each joint a small pulley. How does she still freckle with no sun? How does her body still function, even dead, with her floating so far outside it? "And I'm in a cage. I can move around more easily in it, and it doesn't hurt as much, 'cause nothing's pressing on my throat all the time. But his leash is really long, so he can go further than I can." She's been wondering about which has it worse lately. She hadn't wondered about much at all until Sora joined their prison. "I've been caged longer than he's been leashed, I think. When you came, I thought —— because you're so strong, I...I thought he'd leash you too, send you out like he does Yozora. But it's more like you're caged with me..."
he considers her, her words. is there a fundamental difference between leashed and caged? both were trapped, limited in their capability to do anything / to go anywhere. did it matter if sora was leashed or caged, when they had clipped his wings? what did it matter how much freedom he had, if there was nowhere to go? what did it even matter? ❛ nothing changes, regardless of what's done to me. ❜ it's all he can offer from his place on the couch, curled in within himself. there's nothing more to do / there's never anything to do but wait and rot and die. ❛ i can't leave, and there's nowhere to go. my friends, my home— i'll never see them again. ❜ and it was all his fault. but how could sora regret something that saved his friends? ( regret? no, when did he— he didn't regret anything, he— he couldn't regret it— ) ❛ i can't even talk to anyone in this world. i'm all alone. ❜ alone with only the comfort of ghosts just as broken as sora was, if not more. a fitting end for the sacrificial hero.
@heartslight / sora & ruggie!
Grip on his arm / he's not sure how he got here or when / inside Savanaclaw's walls, not the field like it was / but still, that grip on his arm / still, the painful replacement of flesh and bone with rotting, cracking sand / still, teeth grit, unable even to scream / still, Leona's laughing, laughing, laughing as Ruggie d ————
Grip on his arm / his eyes fly open, and he's not sure how he got here or when / inside —— Sora's room? He rips himself away from the grip on his arm / Sora's hand, his face gentle, worried / still, teeth grit, unable to scream / but Leona's not here. Just Sora, eyes soft, expression kind.
Ruggie realizes he's damp with sweat. "I — shit, sorry," he whispers, sitting up, only able to look at Sora for moments. He's embarrassed. Ashamed. For looking weak, for ruining this trip, for — something. For being hurt in front of Sora, who's died, with no almost attached. "Bad —— bad dream. Jus' — school shit. Fuck."
it's too familiar a sight; desperate movements, panicked breathing. sora wonders for a sickening moment if this is how he looks when he's lost to the nightmares / if this is the sight he forces upon those who try to offer aid onto a losing battle. how upsetting they must feel, to be faced with such helplessness. the hand stays holding on to ruggie's arm despite the frantic efforts to shove him away, the action stemming from fear of possible self harm ( sora doesn't mind if ruggie hurts him while he wakes. sora knows he's done the same. )
it's only when ruggie is finally free from the nightmare that sora let's him go, moving to offer space for him to breathe ( but he keeps a leg pressed against him underneath the blankets / a weight to anchor ruggie back towards the arms of reality. ) ❛ you don't have to apologize for your nightmares. ❜ it's all sora offers, alongside a hand that settles over ruggie's own. ❛ you're right here. you're here, with me, and you're safe. ❜ thumb gently moves in a steady rhythm, letting the silence sit between them for what could be minutes or what could be hours. sora didn't mind, either way.
❛ do you want some water? or to get some fresh air? i won't ask, not if you don't want me to. ❜
i've been meaning to clean this blog up bc i do plan on writing here more but i've been so busy and tired.
It's not that Ruggie hasn't been loved. He has. His grandma loves him. So do any number of siblings and uncles and aunties who share none of his blood but all of his heart. His dad left, a back that Ruggie isn't sure he ever stopped chasing, but aside from that one leaving, he's never had to be alone. Ruggie is loved, deeply and well, and he wouldn't dare disrespect any of the people who raised him — living or dead — by pretending otherwise. But it's —— it's just different, because that's family, who he was raised with, who never had to pick him, and because most of the world sees Ruggie and that family as gutter trash, worthless. Ruggie is loved, but he's so rarely been chosen.
The idea that Sora wants him — on purpose, not just because Ruggie was born his neighbor, or, worse, not just because Ruggie can be of use — carves through the embarrassment for a moment, makes way for gratefulness, then for something like grief.
"Wait, you ——" When he'd imagined how this conversation might go, not once had he considered this. Sora being embarrassed, sure! Stuttering, red cheeks, all of that? Yes! But Ruggie's boyfriend goes from confessing that he had somehow not realized that asking to spend your lives together was a proposal to CHECKING IF RUGGIE WANTS TO? WANTS TO GET MARRIED? He chokes out a shocked cough. "I —— didn't —"
Ruggie's so rarely been loved on purpose, been picked for the gift of affection. The idea that Sora might want him forever, sincerely, has his eyes welling. This shit's so embarrassing. He feels so much like the teenager he is, less like the adult that circumstances have tried to make of him. "I didn't — say that." They're both young, but — but ——
Sora wants Ruggie to be his. Ruggie wants Sora to be his, too. A hand presses to his face, his cheek, either to scrub at not - quite - tears or to hide his luminescent blush. Sora wants to choose Ruggie. How can Ruggie do anything but return the favor? Fuck. "I — I never thought a - about it." Marriage, or getting picked like this. He can barely choke out, "But I want to, with you. If you — want to."
it dawns on him that the embarrassment has nearly entirely subsided, faded into a comfortable warmth still lingering atop the skin. selfishness rests over the heart like a blanket, tucked within the cracks to reinforce the desire that takes hold. obvious caveats aside, sora sees no reason to disagree; while the deeper meaning behind the action hadn't been entirely accounted for, that didn't erase that sora wanted to share this moment with ruggie. disregard for the titles / disregard for the technicality behind it all— all the heart desired was to entangle selfish fingers within the threads of fate, to sink within the satisfying feeling that came in knowing you acted upon your own selfish accord.
selfishly. it was something scary, how selfish sora could truly be.
the hero raised within light and virtue / the lamb taught to treat the altar like home. never before would sora even amuse the concept of folding to the temptation of that hunger, living righteously to honor the title of hero and guardian. the idea of putting oneself above others / favoring the wants of the individual rather than the needs of the man— how could sora even consider something so cruel? when all that was ever praised was the giving and giving and giving until the meat was plucked from the bone and giving until the blood fell from the vein onto salvation for the masses. how could sora ever be so selfish?
but oh, upon his arrival in quadratum— how could sora be anything but? starved and broken, left with nothing but the bitter scraps of the world he'd left behind. the concept of 'sora' was shattered upon his wake within the rotten world, the very fibers frayed beyond the point of recognition. there was no room for selflessness / how could sora be anything but selfish in a world that demanded survival reliant on cruelty? it had been nothing more than a bar of ice cream, but sora had been heartless in his devour.
a beast would only naturally consume if left to starve.
ruggie asks if he wanted to. sora has to bite back a laugh, only because it wouldn't be right while the other was so emotional. ❛ i want to! the fact that it's a marriage proposal doesn't change anything. ❜ this was his promise. ❛ you'll always have me. i'll always be here, i'll never let anything rip me away from my home again. ❜ hand reaches to rest atop where ruggie's own presses against the skin, fingers moving to tug away for a proper view. ❛ for as long as you want me, you'll have me. i'll never disappear again! ❜
@heartslight / sora & ruggie!
Okay. So. Ruggie is pretty sure he is going to die.
Because —— Ruggie knows that different places have different customs, okay. He knows that what means one thing in one place doesn't always translate the same to another. Every first year at NRC is faced with a hundred lessons teaching just that, some in the classroom, most in some embarrassing social misstep repeated ad nauseum. But —— BUT! This one seems pretty hard to misinterpret.
Sora's present — a star - shaped fruit. Simple. Kind of cute, in a way Ruggie would think was annoying from anybody else. But then Sora had explained the story, and he hadn't really processed it fully in the moment. But now he's red as hell and his face is so hot and the more he thinks about it the more he's pretty sure he's going to die because — cultural differences or no — there's not a whole lot of ways to take "I want to share this symbol with you as my boyfrind that means we'll spend our lives together" outside of a proposal? A gift to bind you and your partner magically together is kind of classic proposal?? Ruggie wonders, am I engaged now? and thinks he might pass out. That fact that Sora doesn't seem to think it's That Big Of A Deal makes Ruggie feel even more insane.
"Do you — like, I get ———" Oh, gods. Okay. This is so bad. "Like. The — magic fruit. Does that, I guess...I mean, I know what it means, but, like ——" Holy shit. Do not pass out. "You do — where I'm from, that sorta...'binding us together forever' thing is basically like —— a marriage proposal?"
there's no doubt that this will be a really funny situation to laugh over in the future. how long in the future? sora couldn't really tell! but there's no doubt that it'll be hilarious.
however, right now? he's not really laughing. instead, he faces his boyfriend with a face redder than the setting sun / mouth hanging open in shock even though sharing the paopu fruit had been his idea in the first place. and it's not as if sora was unaware of the gravitas that came with the decision of sharing a paopu fruit with someone but the connection to marriage was simply never made. he had only ever engaged with the fruit under the context of twisting destiny / of intertwining fate to ensure the roads taken will always lead back home—— which does sound like a marriage proposal, now that he stops and thinks about it.
it's not sora's fault he's never considered the legend of the paopu fruit under a romantic context! the only other instance he's had in regards to the fruit was the day before, when they foolishly clung to fairy tales in hopes of weathering the incoming storm. but that had been between children / fractured hearts who only wanted an extra assurance that they would return home together ( and well... he made it back to the realm of light, hadn't he? ) he hadn't even meant the offer in that sort of way, had only wanted to give ruggie that same promise— something more than physical, a declaration that forced itself into being, regardless of what fate had intended.
oh shit. it really did sound like a marriage proposal, huh?
❛ i— ❜ what does he even say? what does sora even say in this situation? ❛ i never thought of it like that. ❜ a pause. ❛ so, you don't want to? ❜
oh haha hey
SO THIS IS JAPAN'S STRONGEST ANTI-KAIJU COMBATANT. THAT'S THE ONE MONSTER I WANT TO AVOID FIGHTING AT ALL COSTS.
he can't help the curious look over he gives the box. the captain of the ship had explained that the first mate was a shy soul, someone who preferred the familiarity of their box when presented with new faces. but sora was nothing if not patient! he'd taken a seat right beside where @resonaet's box rested, chatting up with some casual conversation like it was just another day for the hero! ❛ have you been on this ship long? i have my own, y'know. i might not look it, but i’m a ship captain too! ❜
this doesn't happen often. it's almost always the case that he's the younger party in most situations / always the one thats looked down on, underestimated until he proves himself to be someone demanding respect. it's because of that shared position that sora doesn't doubt the threats @resonaet makes.. but he can't let the moment pass without doing just a little teasing! ❛ i have no doubt that you're a force to be reckoned with! it's just— you're not the first person i've met to threaten me like that. ❜ it's said with a smile, something carefree that doesn't really match the words he's speaking.. but he does mean them! ❛ i am taking you seriously, though. i swear! ❜
i'm at the beach so hit me with beach starters
the rowdy atmosphere is practically overwhelming the second sora catches sight of cloud. it's all too obvious in the grin he wears; trouble making, promising nothing but childish teasing and disruption of cloud’s peace. he reaches @meteorea in five giant steps, nearly running but carefully running to avoid any collisions with the radiant garden locals. ❛ cloud! just the guy i wanted to see. i have to ask you a question. ❜ he's glowing, actually beaming with delight at the opportunity to confirm the information aerith shared with him. not that sora didn't believe aerith, he just wanted to hear it from cloud’s own mouth! ❛ is it true you wore a dress and won a beauty pageant for a mission once? ❜
