' how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder? ' richard siken meme
RICHARD SIKEN. || accepting.
he hates being patronized.
he’s always hated it. he remembers when he was young, when his mother would treat him like the child that he’d never really felt he was --- he would feel such a vicious cold-anger rise up in his chest. he hated being made to feel small. he remembers when a firecracker of a redhead would tease him for being nervous about his stupid plans that always ended in disaster; the other boy would call him chicken, and he would get so mad about it that he’d run blindly into whatever stupid trap they’d made for themselves, purely out of spite. he remembers being seventeen and glaring daggers into the round room while xemnas talked about the grand power of kingdom hearts, and that if they all worked hard enough, they may be able to take a piece of it for their own. if they listened to him. obeyed him. followed him.
much time has passed since the day his skin burned and he was carved into something new; now, he’s older, and wiser, and too tired to fight the ghost of his youth. he stands with a fragment of the entity that destroyed him before he destroyed himself --- a young man with familiar silvered hair and a face that has yet to grow into the sharp edges of his future self. his calm demeanour is unnerving in the same way that unblinking stares and creaking doors and the empty abyss of a long, dark, shadowed hallway are; an unspoken fear that comes from within, goosebumps running in waves over skin.
he speaks in tongues, like xemnas does. saïx is used to reading between the lines after so many years of service --- complacent to falling down the rabbit hole without thinking about what he’ll hit at the bottom. he inhales a breath, looking down at the pit that surrounds the castle. radiant garden’s remains.
❝ my old self has been dead for years. ❞
he died here, saïx thinks. here, in this wasteland. he recalls the sky turning dark and churning with a black void that one could only think up in their wildest of nightmares; monsters crawling out of the shadows with an uncanny twitch, houses shaking with screams and filling with black smoke. he died here, saïx remembers, staring into the castle that once held him captive, and then set him free. here, where you brought me. here, to torture me.
xehanort did this on purpose. everything they do always has a purpose.
❝ and under the light of the keyblade war, this self will die again. ❞
