Scene #1451:

Owner	Pose
Fake Avenger	SKARO The Gate of the Land of Steel is perpetually tuned to the Skaro Wasteland. For normal people, this may be somewhat problematic - the blasted, semi-radioactive hellscape obliterates organic life in messy and unpleasant ways. For denizens of the Land of Steel, this is at best a mild irritant - their homeland is already filled with the bizarre and terrible radiation known as "Grain", so Skaro's radioactivity is just a different flavor of something they mostly already deal with. For one particular denizen of the Land of Steel, it isn't even that. The living ghost from another age, Kojirou Sasaki, walks through the Skaro Wasteland without much in the way of trouble. A fine purple kimono draws trails in the barren dust as he walks through the remnants of the city, stopping every so often to put his hand against the stone or examine some relic of days long ago. It reminds him of the Land of Steel in many ways. The blasted memories of a long-dead past...the howling, poisoned winds of the future...he wonders, briefly, how many other places are like the Land of Steel. How many worlds have lost their futures so completely? How many lands have burned away to nothing, nothing but ruins and poisoned skies and earth? Kojirou stops inside the wreckage of an old apartment building. He does not rest - he never needs to /rest/ - but he does sit down, Monohoshi Zao leaning against the wall over his shoulder. His hair falls down over his eyes, a purple waterfall spilling down his front. As he sits there, he dreams. He dreams of sparrows. He dreams of old days, of grass and flowers. He dreams of life and what it once meant, and of death and what it, too, once meant. He dreams of being a man without a name, of being no more than an extension of his sword. He does not dream. He remembers. Kojirou does not sleep. He simply casts his mind backwards through the endless mists of time, and remembers. It is as close to sleeping - as close to dreaming - as he ever comes.
Xion	The quiet moments and 'rest' of Kojirou - for what moments he does that could be considered rest, and not simply a different sort of wandering - are not swiftly, but inexorably broken. The crunch of a boot, with minor heel, the drift of dark cloth. The Ruined Wastelands are content with this other 'person'. Another broken individual, though this one's visage is not marred with a brooding countenance. Instead, there is an effervescent smile that touches her lips. Xion approaches the purple-haired ronin, before levelling her finger at him from a dozen paces away. "I knew I'd find you! This place is too... empty for the corridors to bring me here otherwise. Not even the Heartless cared to enter. But you..." With a metallic 'shwink!', Heart's Desire appears in her hands, the keychain attached to the hilt drifting down as if gravity finally decided 'meh, okay, I guess I'll work today' on it. She levels her 'blade' at Kojirou, a frown blooming on her normally smiling face. "But you're a /Shadow Lord/, aren't you? You summoned that huge heartless! And made everyone scared! But not me!" She taps her free thumb against her chest, grinning. "And that weird robot guy won't interrupt us here! I'm Xion! And you, Shadow Lord, are gonna get /busted/!"
Fake Avenger	All things are broken, in time. Glass, stone, sky, waves, people, cities, worlds...peace and rest are no different. It isn't as if Kojirou really gets peace when he rests, either; the constant voice of Angra Mainyu fills his memories as he drifts back, offering its 'helpful' 'thoughts' on everything of his life. Only by supreme willpower could he shut it out, and Kojirou lacks supreme willpower. Such is not his way. Instead, he simply rolls with it, letting the voice flow off him like waves as he observes his past. He has been at this too long to allow his moments of rest disrupted by the voice of his tormentor slash ally. But something always disrupts them, even if that disruption if Kojirou himself choosing to end his reveries. Thus it is that Kojirou is unsurprised when Xion arrives. In truth he hears her the moment her feet crunch against the ruins, but he does not stir then; she hasn't entered his Eye of the Mind then, and so he sees no reason to pay her attention. As she closes, his mind forms the picture on instinct, tracing her position until she stops a dozen paces away. Then Xion shatters his reverie with the hurled stone of her voice, crashing through his memories and drawing him back into the Here and Now. He opens his eyes, looking at Xion through the curtain of his hair. He does not have the dreariness and groginess of slumber, the miserable moments between sleeping and waking. However, to Xion, it may appear the opposite. It may appear as though he is still quite firmly asleep. He does not stir. He does not move. As he considers her, he does not stand, nor reach for his weapon, nor do...really, much of anything. If she's looking very closely, his chest is barely rising and falling with telltale breath. She would be forgiven for imagining him to be a dead man. After all, technically, she would be correct. Finally, once she's spoken, he rises. It's a slow and purposeful rise, and, again, she might be forgiven for mistaking him as some sort of corpse that's rattling back to life. Monohoshi Zao is shouldered as he straightens to his full height. A moment later, he pulls his hair back behind his head and wrap it decisively in a tight purple ribbon. Kojirou does not answer. The words are meaningless to him. Heartless? Shadow Lord? Corridors? They're words that he doesn't know. He can make the connection, of course - the girl saw his powers as similar to enemies of her own from her own world. She saw his connection to the Mud of the Grail, to Angra Mainyu, as something akin to her own demons. And why not? Demons seemed to be frequently alike in this wide multiverse. And Angra Mainyu seemed fascinated by otherworldly force of Evil. It would probably be interested in 'Heartless' and 'Shadow Lords', too. For now, however, that's hardly Kojirou's concern. /shnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnk/. Monohoshi Zao emerges from its sheathe, settling into his hand as naturally as if it was part of him, and he was part of it. His fingers roll across the hilt as he watches Kairi, a distant, dissonant, peaceful smile on his face. "No," Kojirou agrees, "I suppose that we are alone in this place." "I am Kojirou Sasaki, Avenger-class Servant. It'd be rude of me not to share my name, when you've already given yours." He shrugs, his mysterious smile unchanging. He had expected today to be boring.
Xion	Xion seems to pause, almost willing herself to toddle off and find a stick to poke the 'dead' man with, but as he 'awakens', her indecision is cut through, and her eyes seem to narrow. A sword - his sword - is drawn, but she feels no desire towards it. Not yet. She had a sweet katana, and hers was all spiffy and lightning-crackly. In fact, her desires, her burning internal fires, simply call upon her to Act, to Be, to Hero. She was a Keyblader! She was! See? A keyblade! Her grip on her weapon tightened, as she drew it back to rest lightly across her shoulder, careless of any edge it held. It wouldn't - it couldn't - cut her if she didn't want it to. "Well, since we're alone, we can do... uh... cool... Fighty stuffs! S-sorry, I'm kind of new at the whole banter thing. We're supposed to do it, right? This is 'normal'?" She asks, looking a bit confused as she looked to her opponent for confirmation that, in fact, this sort of declaration and light banter was normal. "I, um, don't have a last name! But that's okay. And don't worry about being rude! You're allowed to be! You know, being a Shadow Lord. Though, um... Servant? Oh! RIGHT! A servant of DARKNESS! And EVIL!" "Um, you know, not evil in the bad way, but more of the platonic... uh..." She draws her weapon back to the fore, her off hand gripping along the long hilt as she sets herself. "Sorry. It's rude to insult people, and, uh, being rude isn't normal! I've got a lot to work on." She admits, before swinging nearly lazily at Kojiro. A half-feint, in that... Honestly, she was just checking if they were fighting yet. He could easily see it was made to be aborted if he didn't answer it with his own blade. Her form lacked definition, and she clearly wasn't some sort of schooled fighter, lacking a salute or any formal sword-greeting.
Fake Avenger	Kojirou's katana is extremely boring. It's impractical, unwieldy, and frankly a little bit...dull. It doesn't really look like a sword ought - if it was wider, it might be cooler, or if it was more of a scimitar it might be a falchion. But it's none of those things. It's slender and pointless, and it looks clumsy and unwieldy against the backdrop of the world. It's like it's not really supposed to exist - not in a supernatural way, or some kind of creepy-kooky way, just...it's too big to be useful, so it looks unreal. He lets her talk. He doesn't say much. Again, long ago, Kojirou had learned that letting people talk was a perfectly good way to hear a lot of things you shouldn't. He'd overheard conversations about all sorts of things in his life, and while he had never directly participated in any of the events he'd heard about, he certainly could've. Briefly, the nameless swordsman wonders what would've happened if he had been present in the War. Would he have carved his own meaningless name onto history, instead of Kojirou Sasaki? But enough thoughts. She comes at him with a feint. He tracks her sword not with his eyes but with his thoughts, sidestepping out of the way of the lazy strike. It's a very intentional sidestep - it's much harder to flip a katana's blade around and cut against the direction of one's arms. Katanas are very bad at that; since they have only one blade, unlike European swords, it's much more difficult to accomodate sideways dodges. Not /substantially/ difficult for any sort of proper swordsman, but it wasn't the vast gaps that made a difference in battles between masters - it was the little ones. A little difficulty could kill you as surely as a lot. Then he sidesteps again, moving into position behind her. Monohoshi Zao sweeps outwards for her neck immediately. It's difficult to follow the sword exactly - it's like flowing quicksilver. Moreover, once the strike is /done/, it's hard to remember where it went. While it's in motion, the sword is like quicksilver; when it's finished, it's as if the sword simply teleported from the start of its arc, to the middle, to the end. A, to B, to C.
Xion	The feint - a simple greeting - is stepped out of the way, and Xion simply takes that to mean... 'Yup'. The fight has started! Xion recovers from her swing quickly, as she's stepped around, trying to follow the nimble swordsman before he truly completes his half-circle. This is more-or-less effective, as he has more ground to cover while she simply has to pivot on the balls of her feet, but she's outmatched in speed. The attack that comes she expects. The angle and target, she doesn't. Her eyes go wide as he begins his chop for her neck, and it is not her own unnatural, inhuman speed that saves her. It is her inexperience. She moves th swing her blade in a parry, step forward for an attack, and follow the blade with her body all at once, and so she... Trips. Her aborted swing is forced into a downward thrust, at Kojirou's feet, as she uses her keblade for balance, the quickslilver slash swooshing over her head and leaving a delayed rustle as her offhand and one leg windmill in the air. She doesn't fall, hopping forward into the thrust. To say she's overextended is one thing, and a bit of an understatement, but her wild press has its own advantages. Mostly in momentum.
Fake Avenger	If Kojirou didn't know better he'd think she did that on purpose. Unfortunately, Kojirou does know better - knowing how people fight is one of the many benefits of his enlightenment. So, as she trips and moves into the flawless thrust, Kojirou can tell that, no, that wasn't a masterfully-executed dodge. That doesn't make her recovery any less impressive. On the contrary - a fall like that can, and has, put many a swordsman out of comission. Her quick recovery is an incredible feat, one Kojirou can easily appreciate as an artisan in this particular discipline. Thrusts are difficult to block, regardless of the sword type - they're straightforward, using the point rather than the edge, and unless you have an unreasonably large European greatsword that doubles as a shield, thrusts can be dangerously lethal. Kojirou does not have an unreasonably large European greatsword that doubles as a shield. He does, however, have an unreasonably large sword. Monohoshi Zao, already freed from the first arc, inverts. He brings it upwards, cutting through the air in front of him. It whistles as it moves, that same liquid-quicksilver slash. It whistles, the middle of it aiming to throw the thrust off track - and the tip of it still pointed firmly at her neck. It's one part deflection, one part offense, combined into a single blow thanks to Kojirou's most important advantage. He had massive range in this fight. The strange Keyblade - and he had no other name for it, and that felt right nonetheless - was much shorter than Monohoshi Zao. It forced Xion to fight inside his range, unless she had some magic to extend her own - and so far he had no reason to assume she did, though if she's paying really careful attention, Kojirou's been carefully stepping back and to the left (away from the direction of his slash) just in case she does and he gets caught in an extending stab of some sort.
Xion	Thankfully - for Kojirou - Xion doesn't do that much on purpose. Her swings are instinctual, and while she has a sort of masterful flow about herself, her actual combat ability is fairly low. She's a rank newbie! Her thrust is foiled, her strike being lifted, and she doesn't try to abort the commitment she has to the thrust, instead turning her keyblade to catch in the upward swing and be flung ass over teakettle fully over the swordsman, aiming to hook or catch his blade with her key-ish bits as she goes. She probably fails, but that's OK. Landing on his other side in a crouch, she immediately has to address the slash, clashing with his blade before he steps back, and to the left. This happens a few more times, each time Xion's arms rattling, starting to go numb. His range, and his speed, and his constant step off and to the back, causes her no end of grief. Her chipper expression spoils, and her frown deepens. "Would..." She begins, clashing another time, trying to hook him in with the protrusions from her blade, but he slides away. "You stop..." She growls, her displeasure growing like a heat in her chest, a tightness in muscles she shouldn't be working. They clash once more, and she draws her off hand back, behind her. This time, when she presses, and Kojirou tries to fade away, she slings her hand forward, her black-gloved fingers licked with curls of flame as a column of fire erupts from her hand as she howls "... DOING THAT?!"... Well, off and to the left of her. She's tired of your games, AVENGER!
Fake Avenger	Kojirou has never been trained. Kojirou operates purely on instinct - a man who had nothing better to do than wave a sword at a bird until he figured out how to kill it. Granted, that instinct is honed sharper than any other - sharper than the blade he wields, sharper than the claws of the A-RAYS, shaper than a laser - but it is still exactly that. He has great respect for someone who can fight this well on instinct. Unfortunately for her, it's unmolded, unsculpted. It hasn't been sharpened into the god-slaying instinct of Kojirou, nor as it been properly trained by a Master into something different. But her instincts are clever. She tries to trap Monohoshi Zao in the key bits of the Keyblade, and is, perhaps to her shock, successful. It's the correct move - getting his overlong sword wedged between something like that was a real danger. It could shatter the blade with a twist. As she leaps, Kojirou turns with her. He stabs upwards into the air, turning her jump against her with deadly speed and separating his sword from hers before she can shatter or fragment it. The back-and-forth rings out across the dead landscape, the only noise - the only life - in some time. How entertaining that, the first time there are things like 'life' in its borders, Skaro is treated to conflict. And how entertaining that neither of them is alive in the conventional sense. But Xion has more to her than swordsmanship. Fire leaps from her hands. It screams forward, to where Kojirou had been just about to be, and to where he only narrowly stops his own fade. He's close enough to feel the heat of the flames across his face, to smell the acrid air mingle with the dust. The fire purges its way through the ancient ruin, carving a hole straight through and out into the dusty wastes. Kojirou shoulders his sword, a look of displeasure flickering across his face. "Your instincts were pretty good," Kojirou sighs, looking up at the sky. "Oh well. Should I reward your instincts, or punish your magic?" Kojirou taps the sword against his shoulder as he thinks aloud. His eyes aren't even on her. The enclosed space of the ruins meant he had very little room to work with, horizontally - and while he could jump quite high, that, too, limited his options. He was at his best on the defense, when he could turn each counterattack into an attack all its own. But he liked having a bit more room... Kojirou lets out another sigh and lowers his head to look at her. "Well, in truth, I don't much care if people use magic or not. There's no such thing as a fair fight, is there?" He smirks and spreads his legs, raising his sword upwards. It's the first time he's taken a stance all fight - the first time he's done anything but flow like water from one step to the next. "I wish you had been able to press me into this, but I'll honor your instincts all the same." "Hiken!" "Fukanzen Tsubame Gaeshi!" And then the world stops making sense. Physics abjectly cries out as Kojirou lunges and swings. His sword ceases to be a single object in space and time. By speed and skill, by strength of will and strength of self, the sword's quicksilver arc doubles. Like a pair of scissors existing only for the briefest instant, Monohoshi Zao becomes a two-part cage to entrap Xion in a deadly, deadly strike, one sword swinging downwards, one swinging horizontally. They pass through the middle at the same exact instant, and carve into the air like a quicksilver cross. It happens in less than the blink of an eye. When it's finished, Kojirou shoulders Monohoshi Zao. The wall behind Xion crumbles to pieces.
Xion	"My instincts?" Xion wonders, as her flame-licked glove returns to Heart's Desire. "Punish my magic? Well, fair's fair. /I'm/ punishing /your/ reach! And... that lame thing you do with the stepping back!" She shoots back, obviously a little peeved, but there's something odd about her frustration. It's very... One-note. She didn't increase in her frustrations, she just 'was frustrated'. It was like watching a blender that only had one speed. Terribly... off. "W-wait, are you saying I'm not pressing you? At all?" She asks, her words being swallowed up by the swordsman's shouts. She had only a split second to react. Two slashes. How can she handle two slashes. She can't block it with her arm, and she doesn't have two swords. She wants to block it. She wants to prove herself. She wants. She wants. She wants. She brings up her keyblade to deflect one, while she swings her arm parallel to the other swipe, the blade biting through her thick coat to cut against her skin. What should have seperated skin from bone, however, simply bit into skin in at first a wet and then a dry, rocky embrace. As she's petrified her entire forearm. Then she charges Kojirou, as the wall demolishes itself behind her. Her blade locks with his, as her eyes are wide and wild, and a smile twinges across her face. She //wants//. "I'll prove myself!" She announces, before lifting herself up to drop-kick Kojirou in his muthafukken chest, bladelocked as she is.
Fake Avenger	The petrification is a trick Kojirou hadn't really expected. Nonetheless, he rolls with it. The paradox of two identical blades existing at the same time, in the same space - or rather, of two identical dimensions overlapping at that instant, identical except for the placement of the swords - resolves itself. The sword locked in the keyblade vanishes. The sword on her arm does not, as that is the "real" blade. So he finds himself momentarily bladelocked. More importantly, he finds himself kicked in the chest. Her foot finds purchase. Of course, she's a teenaged girl. It's not likely to kill him. It might leave a bruise. He's dared more for less. The kick lands as Kojirou brings his left hand around behind his back. He snatches it from its place in his sheathe - a long black cane topped with a skull. The cane comes into his off-hand as he stumbles backwards, and comes smashing down for the rocky wrist. It's not meant to hurt, because the wrist is made of rock, but it's a Noble Phantasm - sheer physics should allow him to knock his sword free before she can make any more dangerous attacks on him, without breaking the Banda. His only goal is to knock the blade free while evading her counterattacks. A kick was one thing - he could do with a bruise. It would heal fast. What he could not do with was a stab from that bizarre keyblade while his own sword was pinned. And releasing his sword was simply...not possible. Not magically, or not physically. Kojirou simply wouldn't do it.
Xion	Xion kicks like a mule, but she simply doesn't have the weight to really throw off Kojirou. It hurts, and it shoves him back, but as she lands, leveraging her keyblade to shove herself back to her feet, there's a terrible CRACK as he drives the long, pimpin' cane into her stony arm and frees his blade in one swift motion. Xion sweeps up her own blade in a windmill overhead swing, switching her tactics with her versatile if odd weapon. It doesn't have to be a sword. It can be an axe, too, as she brings her entire weight and all her momentum down with the key-head. She had to press. And press and press and press. Her head was far and away from the frenzied battle, as her empty exhilaration was simply coursing adrenaline. She wanted. She needed. She felt a hunger within her. She needed to figure it out! And this man - this Shadow Lord - would reveal it to her! That she was worth showing. There's a swirl of white motes around her clenched, stony fist as it returns to normal, joining her main hand as she leaping axe-smashes Kojirou. He could bring out every cane he liked!!! Even if they were surprisingly pimp.
Fake Avenger	Her strength was superb. She wasn't relying on it, either, like so many others in her situation might. As Kojirou narrowly evades the leaping axe-strike, he acknowledges this with a soft 'hrm' and a quiet, thoughtful glance at the floor. It's weak, and it shatters under the strike, revealing the next level down - another, similarly-enclosed room, though granted, one with less damage from two powerful swordsmen striking at each other. Kojirou shoulders his sword a moment later. The cane vanishes into its small, hidden sheathe. His eyes - purple, and as peaceful and tranquil as a lake, disrupted only by little black spots that seem to swirl oddly when she isn't quite looking - lock onto hers as he moves out of her reach before she can strike back. "That sword of yours is interesting," Kojirou admits thoughtfully, "Where did you get it?" "From what I can see, it's versatile. A European heavy blade, a katana, and an axe; I imagine it could behave like a rapier, too, or a hammer, or a club, or a spear, in the right situation." "Ah...there's a nostalgia there," he adds, looking off at the sky as a smirk spreads across his peaceful face. Then he sharply looks back at Xion and frowns. He's pacing the whole time - he's too experienced to just stand still, too careful to stay in one place and get shot by fire or struck by lightning or who-knows-what. "It's much too good for you." "Ahn, sorry. Don't take that as an insult. What I mean is that it suits you. It's working with your inexperience and complimenting you very well. It's a masterful weapon. It's much better than you are, I think." He purses his lips. "It's very well-behaved."
Xion	In the shower of powdered floor, Xion stands, legs akimbo over the crumbled hole, wobbling slightly, before she slides off the precarious position as Kojirou doesn't press there. She relaxes, slightly, her left sleeve hanging loosley off her forearm and elbow because of being, well, sliced apart. She lets her weapon hang low, her light panting betraying the tiredness she feels. Her limbs are heavy, and even if her keyblade is feather-light in her hand, crossing weapons over and over takes a harrowing toll on her. Even if she's not a real person, even if she's any number of things, she's tired. Fighting Kojirou is tiring. Even if neither have really landed any attacks, she feels like she's been dragged through a wringer. She feels the heat in her cheeks, but knows that heat all over her body. There is something 'good' about that feeling, but right now she felt... bad. More bad than good. The emotions were entirely lost to her. But she felt a tiny, teensy weensy tingle. Raising Heart's Desire, the keychan susurates against the hilt, as she waggles it in the air, betraying its lightness in her hands. "A keyblade is a weapon of the he... art..." She murmurs, before clutching her black-gloved off-hand against her left eye, looking pained. "N-no, that can't be right. This keyblade... it's /mine/. Heart's Desire is mine. It's mine, I know it's mine, Keyblades can only be used by their weilder, and... and..." She murmurs, before dropping to a knee. "I'm not the only one. I'm... n-normal. Roxas has one too. So it's..." She breathes, the fight gone from her. Her head pounds, awful feelings welling forth. Doubts. Things she doesn't want to experience. With a hard gulp, she continues, drawing her hand from her eye to rest on the ground, as she flops back to a seated position. "The Keyblade is anything its user needs it to be. My keyblade, Heart's Desire, is anything I /want/ it to be. But... you're right. Normally, it looks like this weird pipe-y key thing, but it can cut like a blade, or thrust like a spear, or chop like an axe. It can also unlock stuff!" She offers, with a woozy smile. She likes talking about her keyblade's abilities. She knows that. Those are right. She's a keyblader, Heart's Desire is her Keyblade. She nods at the 'it's better than you are'. "Well, a Keyblade is the ultimate weapon from my world. But I'm... still learning. You've got to start somewhere? Square one, right? I feel like I'm on square zero, though..."
Fake Avenger	Kojirou is an excellent defender. He expends only as much effort as he absolutely needs to when he strikes, and takes the opponent's strengths and turns them against his foes. His swordsmanship is like aikido of the blade, but that's too formal, too rigid, to properly describe what he does. It's more like...like trying to break his guard is like trying to cut through water to reach a riverbank. You just get splashed. Even shouldered, Monohoshi Zao can snap outwards in an instant. Even at full rest, he's not unguarded. He listens to her as she speaks. His eyebrow rises slightly at her odd breakdown. That was...interesting. He had no context for it, of course, but that was interesting. She goes to one knee, and he watches, dispassionately, as the teenage girl has some sort of mental breakdown. Kojirou was not equipped to deal with that. Not in the slightest. He listens to her describe the Keyblade. It sounded like a nice weapon, but it wasn't really his style. Seeing more of them might be interesting, though. He'd have to find this 'Roxas' person. It might be an intriguing fight. "Mmm," Kojirou replies, "I don't know about anything like that, I'm afraid. I'm simply a man who chased a foolish dream until he caught up with it." "As long as you have a dream, no matter how foolish it is, and keep it fixed firmly in your mind, I imagine you'll be able to find something." He waves his hand over his shoulder as he turns to leave. "The moment's lost. Sorry. Come back to me once you've polished that instinct into a proper blade; your potential is immense, and your instincts are sharp, but you're not quite there yet. I can see it in my mind's eye - it's as if you're fumbling about, to decide which path to take." "Keep walking. Eventually you'll reach the next square. No matter how small the steps are, they always lead to something." He shrugs. Then he vanishes, fading out of existence. Not even a footprint remains in the dusty ruin.
Xion	Xion looks at Avenger, and frowns lightly. "Followed a dream, huh..." She breathes, before looking thoughtful. "I wonder what that feels like." Standing up, as Kojirou turns to leave, she dismisses Heart's Desire with a metallic 'shwink'. "Um, excuse me!" "What does it feel like to have a dream?" She asks, innocently. She honestly doesn't know.
Fake Avenger	Kojirou pauses on his way out. He considers this for a moment, thoughtfully, silently. He purses his lips in a thoughtful frown. "To be honest," Kojirou admits, "It was so long ago, some days, I can barely remember." He smiles. "I suppose that it's like starving to death in sight of a feast. A dream is a lack of something you wish for so badly, it becomes a physical need. You can see what it is you desire in your mind, and keep walking towards it, no matter how pointless or meaningless your dream, and eventually you arrive. Because, to be without it, to ignore it, or to turn away from it, is no different than surrendering. And if you surrender to starvation...then you die." Kojirou shrugs.
Xion	"So, it's a pain in the... pit of your stomach? That's what dreaming is?" Xion wonders. She looks unconvinced. She touches her face. "When your cheeks burn, that's embarrased." She moves her finger to her brow, touching, before touching her jaw, and then her shoulders, and her stomach. "When you're tense, when you grind your teeth, when you square up your shoulders, when you feel bad and wound up, that's anger. But... I don't..." She shakes her head. "Nevermind. I'm sorry for not being interesting. I need to go replace my coat. Thanks for, um, talking to me." She calls. Then she lets Kojirou go, unless he presses further. If he doesn't, after he turns invisible, she simply turns, stands up, and slips through a Corridor back home.
Fake Avenger	"It isn't painful," Kojirou replies distantly as he considers her thoughtfuly, "I suppose that it could be called 'hope'. Something uplifting when you achieve it, something that fills you with delight when you get close to it, and frustrates you when you cannot reach it or stumble and fall. I'm sorry. I'm afraid I never really thought about it while I was alive." "When you find one, I believe you'll know it. It's not something to be pushed. It may simply strike you out of thin air. An errant thought that you decide you want to chase." He shrugs again. He doesn't press further. After that, he vanishes. He can't really do any more here.