Closed starter for @dawnbreaks
Xehanort had read, a few days prior, that to sleep was to travel to a land where magic touched every corner. Before that he’d read that to sleep was to vanish, to forget. Wise as the authors could have been, none of their quotes matched Xehanort’s own experience.
He rarely dreamed, for starters, and when he did nothing felt out of line. Ansem had told him, one day when he’d brought up the topic, that it may be his memories resurfacing. It was a possibility that Xehanort considered plausible. Still, most of the time he found himself facing either a young man or an older one, the former sharing most of his features and the latter sporting the same silver eyebrows and golden eyes that stared at Xehanort from all mirrors.
Most often it would be the older one, wise and cunning and somehow far more familiar to Xehanort than the other. That night, however, it was the younger man instead. The one that at least had hair, even if worn far too short for his liking.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” Xehanort admitted, lightly amused. “Although I shall not complain. I kept wanting to know your thoughts on our latest experiments.”
Them referring, of course, to the team of scientists at Radiant Garden.
