[ There's a thing about that - about doing this just to get something he wants. People do that all the time, they call it selfishness and pride, they call it light if they feel like its done for just the right reasons, they call it darkness if they're afraid of it, inconvenienced by it.
Riku, he calls that human.
There's warmth on the other side of Riku's palm, no longer leeched away by a tough but pliant suit of dark armor. Riku even questions why he'd done it, it's not like he couldn't have chosen a dozen other ways to remind himself that the darkling - that Vanitas - has come back again, to consider what the cost was this time.
He looks.
There are many times when this is a mistake, because looking at Vanitas is jarring, not only for the bright yellow of his eyes and the reminder of Xehanort and all his iterations, but because of them inside what almost looks just like Sora's face.
Looking now, there's none of the harder sentiments, the anger, the malice, to carve telltale differences in their expression. Their wonder looks the same. Riku's palm retreats, fingers curling into his palm as he lowers his hand to his side. There's an opening forming in the lines of his mouth like there's something more to say - maybe an excuse - but as his knuckles go pale his lips purse together into a flat and speechless line.
The tablet is still there in his other hand, he could use it, could try to fumble his way through what he can't articulate out loud, like Kairi and her letters. What stops him is the difficulty of getting as far as putting these thoughts into words, not the risks of showing Vanitas what might be taken for a vulnerability.
no subject
Riku, he calls that human.
There's warmth on the other side of Riku's palm, no longer leeched away by a tough but pliant suit of dark armor. Riku even questions why he'd done it, it's not like he couldn't have chosen a dozen other ways to remind himself that the darkling - that Vanitas - has come back again, to consider what the cost was this time.
He looks.
There are many times when this is a mistake, because looking at Vanitas is jarring, not only for the bright yellow of his eyes and the reminder of Xehanort and all his iterations, but because of them inside what almost looks just like Sora's face.
Looking now, there's none of the harder sentiments, the anger, the malice, to carve telltale differences in their expression. Their wonder looks the same. Riku's palm retreats, fingers curling into his palm as he lowers his hand to his side. There's an opening forming in the lines of his mouth like there's something more to say - maybe an excuse - but as his knuckles go pale his lips purse together into a flat and speechless line.
The tablet is still there in his other hand, he could use it, could try to fumble his way through what he can't articulate out loud, like Kairi and her letters. What stops him is the difficulty of getting as far as putting these thoughts into words, not the risks of showing Vanitas what might be taken for a vulnerability.
He's tired of losing f--
Riku shakes his head. ]