Sora lounges in a tree above Riku, eating an apple. His small wings flap a bit before relaxing properly. He cracks a slitted eye open, grinning at Riku, fangs shining.
"Hey, you must be another Riku. You don't look dead so you can't be the Riku from my world."
-- @edgar-allen-poe-keyblade
(the comic in riku’s hands was so crumpled you could barely even make out the drawings— the wind was strong and he really didn’t want to risk it flying away. chasing after it would be too much of a hassle. he cranes his neck to look up at sora, eyes flickering between the fangs and the wings.)
(his brows furrow suspiciously, as he places the paper on the grass next to him. he’s leaning against the tree bark.)
“Another world? What are you—“
(he laughs. it’s humorless, and clearly distursting.)
“You’re another copy?”