@secxndchance - x
If you had told Vanitas that he would be living with Ventus and his two guardians as much as a few months ago, you would have been laughed at in your face, or found a Keyblade uncomfortably close to it. And yet, here he was. After the demise of Xehanort, Vanitas found himself finally free of his servitude, and had nowhere to go. For the first few days, the masked boy had remained in the Keyblade Graveyard, hiding away to lick his wounds and pride. He had no place to belong, no place to go, other than where he had been born and lived. The empty canyons, hot desert winds, dust and dead Keyblades where the only home he’d ever had. For the first few days, Vanitas had continued what he had done his whole life, emptying himself of his pain and emotions, cutting them down whenever they spawned as Unversed, and repeating the cycle. Over and over again until one day, when he had found himself broken down by the pain and misery of it all, a shadow appeared over him and Ventus was there, offering him a hand and a place to go. He offered to take Vanitas back to his home, to give him a life. And here he was, in the restored Land of Departure. Aqua had put up strenuous objections, and Vanitas would have been mad not to blame her. It was likely going to be more of a prison, than a home. But over the course of the weeks, that feeling had become less and less frequent. Vanitas had tried to avoid them all as much as he could at first, keeping to himself and in the shadows, only appearing for food and drinks. He had kept his armour, having nothing else, but he had gradually been wearing his mask less and less. He didn’t get rid of it, or stop wearing it entirely, the metal jawguard still framing his face. He still needed it. At the mention of his former master’s name, Vanitas couldn’t help the involuntary flinch and tensing of his muscles. He wanted no reminder of him. He already had enough marring his skin beneath his armour. The amount of sheer relief he’d felt when he’d noticed his eyes were no longer that horrible shade of gold, having transitioned into a scarlet red, was overwhelming at first.
“What I want out of life?” Vanitas wandered further into the room. It wasn’t unusual for him to be awake in the middle of the night, when it was dark and quiet. He had always had trouble sleeping. Seeing Ventus here was new though. “Hmm...” The raven hummed, his gaze meeting that of his other half, red to blue. “I don’t know.” He hadn’t put much thought into it, he was surprised he was even alive, let alone have a life to live. There was so much Vanitas didn’t know or understand about living a life, even common everyday things confused him. “
