Scene #7070: Nowhere By Night

Owner	Pose
Xion	A long, long while ago by wacky adventure metrics (but not by the metrics of AAA-tier videogame releases, those are far longer than even this), a holy man in rag-like red robes told a white-haired devil with the face of a man that he would return the favor of assistance someday. Tonight, the blue-coated devil called in that chit. He got in contact with the holy man, and the pair had walked in silence through the Corridors of Darkness towards what 'Daze' (spelled DiZ) had promised would be answers. When both had arrived at the appointed place within the Darkness - a broad plain of bloodstains set into a valley between monoliths of darkness that wept tears of benthic blue. When DiZ withdrew a knife - a rather utilitarian snap-locking knife favored by people who worked with ropes or cables - and drew it across the air, he spoke only a few words to his dour companion. "This is the place that is the ending of the Keyblade War. The place where the Knighthood felt." And then, the cut in the sky boiled forth, sweeping the two out into a vast open plain, continuing on forever left and right and studded with more rock formations here and there. The land between the high cliffs is spangled with fallen weapons - Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. Glints of metal and esoteric shapes and colors all washed out with time and rust. They seem unified in their general structure, a hilted weapon, though the various idiosynchrasies just keep multiplying. Fanciful weapons jammed tip-down in the earth. Keyblades. DiZ steps forward, walking among the blades. Signs of battle tear furrows into the land, clashes with some great beast here months ago leaving a dimly reflective area filled with loss. The robed man reaches down to pluck forth a key made entirely out of empty stars, tipped with a little crown - absurd as a weapon. "This is all that remains of that order as it was. Each weapon was an icon of a hopeful heart... and a simpler time." MEANWHILE Zexion has researched every part of the issue, pulled every book, pawed through his data constructs. It didn't get him any closer. "The Book of Prophecy..." He explains to Terra, Xion, Roxas, and a recorder in his hand. "Has had some glitches. Our digital copy acts like it has a mind of its own. Which, I need not add, is impossible. It's a file on a computer. But something about our scan of the file - what we've shared with the Galbadian authorities and some interested parties - is acting completely uncharacteristically of the properties normally associated with a digital reconstruction of a book." Xion raises a hand. Zexion sighs. "So it's weird?" She asks. He sighs again. "That's dangerously reductive." He chides. Xion blinks, expectantly. Zexion carries on. "So, we're going back to the clocktower you found, to see if there's any more materials on the Book that were left behind. We'll go to that graveyard - I believe I can sympathetically link us there digitally. Just a moment--" NOW: Zexion steps through a Corridor within the graveyard, carrying a book in one hand, and a neutrally sour expression on his face. He stares at DiZ and Vergil. "You're not supposed to be here." A pause. "Actually. Let me rephrase: Are you supposed to be here? My data suggests 'no'."
Roxas	Roxas is only here because he's a needed quest participant, not because he actually wants to be here. He follows Zexion through the portal, his eyes rather hazy and distant. He stares into the Keyblade Graveyard, the fore of his mind gradually transforming into a haze of static. //You're not supposed to be here.// "No... that's definitely not true." He mumbles, barely audibly. That the observation was not aimed at him seems to escape him altogether.
Vergil	This world is worthy of greater interest, Vergil decided. And so he made his own trip to the lake, to call in a favour from a holy man. He walks through the Corridors in silence, Yamato clutched tightly in case of any treachery. DiZ, in spite of his overall shadiness, seems on the level, so the half-demon is not really expecting it. But to 'trust' anyone is foolishness. He merely nods as DiZ introduces the place, looking about at the barren wastes, noting the myriad weapons embedded in the ground. "Each of these were wielded then?" Even his harsh, blunt tone quiets a little as the sheer sum of lost life hits him. "It must have been an incredible clash." He too takes up one of those keys and gives it a few experimental swings, his brow furrowing as he examines it before casting it aside brusquely. "Finding a whole one would be quite the prize. These are all hollow. There is no spirit to them." A portal. Vergil spins to face it, legs sliding apart to assume a combat stance as Zexion and his two helpers arrive. The man considers the three before standing straight once more. "I go where I please," he retorts, dour expression clashing with Zexion's. "Make something of it, if you dare." His thumb presses against Yamato's hilt as he turns to address DiZ. "That clocktower is the only surviving architecture. Why?"
Terra	Terra's a simple man. He sees potential ways to gather information, he seizes it. And as far as his time helping the Organization has proven, Zexion is the best way of coming across new and generally useful tidbits. Granted, he's not exactly able to decipher most of it without an afternoon's worth of thought, but as stated before he is a simple man. Terra seems to just silently nod along with the explanation of the Book of Prophecy. The only sound to come out of him is the sound of his armor rustling as he moves. And then Zexion uses a Corridor. He hates them. He really does. It's enough to get him to summon his weapon on reflex, though the animosity thankfully doesn't go much further than that. Still, the Zexion gets a stern look. A look that gives the impression that there better not be any tricks, even though his face is covered. And then he goes through. And there he's there... The Keyblade Graveyard. Even with unexpected visitors, even with Vergil's hand on his weapon, even with fellow Organization members in tow, he takes a few steps forward away from them to take the familiar setting in.
Xion	Daze is a simple holy man, and seems quietly and reservedly paternal towards Vergil's general attitude - accepting as he is, questioning little, and patiently leading him on towards their goal. He is here out of respect, honor, and a hint of his own curiousity. An enabler. "The Keyblade is a weapon of a simpler time. Where light battled against darkness, bringing balance to the world. Its age ended when the light became triumphant, and turned on itself. I have walked the halls of history to understand, and even the Lord has not seen fit to reveal more to me. My revelations are those of worn shoes and dusty hands." Placing the starblade down into the ground, he beholds Zexion with a quirk of his dark, hidden brow and bright yellow eyes. "The owners of this place are gone from it. Only travellers remain." Zexion rolls his eyes, a calculatingly steepled set of fingers touching at his face and framing his jaw. "Roxas, please just..." His voice drops. "Back me up in front of clearly a wizard." Daze smiles and waves at the Nobody Party. It is incredibly unwholesome looking. Zexion doesn't grimace, because he does not understand cringe. "I dare not, at the moment. I heard that you assisted in a previous expedition to recover the last remaining keyblade master. Both of you, in fact. As long as you don't interrupt my examination, you may do as you wish." "Within reason." Zexion adds, before walking towards the clocktower. DiZ turns back to Vergil. "The clocktower will have our answers. As for why it is the only feature here..." Zexion ahems. "This area does not exist per-se. Instead, it is a sympathetic nowhere anchored by events and objects, not direction or location. It exists on no maps, and is only kept in rather impossible literature. It is, in a phrase, 'junk data'." DiZ laughs at that. "The ground beneath my feet is real enough." Zexion, grumbling, snaps his book shut and beelines for the Clocktower.
Roxas	Roxas strides into the thick of the Keyblades, seemingly oblivious to Zexion's objections. He pulls one out of the ground, looking at it, before meandering back to Zexion's side. He looks towards the researcher, and then towards Vergil and DiZ. There's still a haziness to him, but he starts coming back to the surface in response to a clear request. He doesn't seem to realize he's holding the dead Keyblade. "I ... think it's fine." He frowns, only just now seeming to recognize Vergil. "I didn't know you were interested in this kind of stuff." He remarks, dimly. "Terra is..." He turns to look towards the much, much larger Nobody, trailing away uncertainly.
Vergil	Vergil lets out a short, sharp laugh as Daze elaborates on 'simpler.' "Simple indeed. Light besting darkness only happens in fairy tales." Whether he's saying that from experience, or only because he is certainly 'dark' is unclear. "The same goes to you," he says in retort to Zexion, sounding slightly disappointed that the bookish man didn't try something. He walks towards the clocktower in the distance with slow, steady steps, taking a moment to answer Roxas. "This world has piqued my interest. I wished to know more about the curious weapons you brought to bear against that creature. So I called in the favour the holy man owed me for helping to save that woman." He raises a hand to his chin and rubs it. "She was a master of these... Keyblades? Interesting..." He gives Zexion's back a tired look. "So this realm exists more in stories than it does in reality." He might be a fight idiot, but his glossary is big enough to keep up at least.
Terra	Terra continues walking a bit more, eventually coming to a stop in front of one of the many dead keyblades as he wraps around the handle. He stops himself from removing the blade though. There's no point in doing it, he knows they're dead. He's done this plenty of times before. The armored nobody, having eventually gotten over his feelings of nostalgia, returns to the group. At the very least, despite seeming out of it, he was still paying attention to the conversation. Enough to respond to Zexion. "It's real to me."
Vergil	"Of course it's real," Vergil says to Terra, as if speaking to a child. "Stories are real. We take them in and in doing so, gain understanding and capability. Men of learning are always splitting hairs." He sweeps his own hair back and continues on.
Xion	Zexion coughs. "I'm interested in everything." He mentions, as Roxas asks Vergil why he was interested. He's threatened, but his instinct is to back down. "As far as a place that exists in stories... that's true in a literal sense. It is--" DiZ butts in. "A crossroads. The land between the lands." Zexion grumbles loudly. "--As I was saying, it 'exists' in stories because it is anchored to the world 'by stories'. I could explain sympathetic universes besides what is already 'besides' the world, but it would take a very long time and also require you to be fully aware of a number of other theories on the topic. I can provide a reading list." Zexion actually smirks. "After. It's rather cerebral." The clocktower isn't much of a climb, easily jumpable leaping points rising up the gentle slope towards the height of the great tower. From the distance it looks like an imposing, impossibly high scyscraper, but closer and closer reveals that the subjective distance is much shorter and squatter, the last bit of the climb being up a sheer clock-face (or flying in, or just running up the side of the wall) the shattered part reveals a room that's simultaneously immense, and contained on 'a single screen' worth of space. Centrally to the room is a large table with six colorful high-backed chairs around the table. In the obvious scuffle that took place in the room, one of the six chairs is knocked over. On the rich wooden surface of the table is a layer of dust, and an outline like a box had been removed is left upon it - an apparent lack. The feeling of twilight passes past them as the party scrambles and hops in through the shattered hole, DiZ beinging up the rear on sheer spry parkour, and Zexion just walljumping across the surface of the clocktower. The clock - as well as all other timekeeping devices - reads TWELVE MIDNIGHT. As Terra enters the room, there's a feeling of melancholy that hangs in the air for the whole party. Obvious to the whole group is a passage down into the guts of the clocktower, as well as directional doors leading through the bookcases lining every open wall, and the clock face just across from them. Where bright, noontime light pours in. A town bustles beneath, figures milling about a fountain square. DiZ experimentally steps to a shelf of books, hovering his finger over the bound spines of the tomes. "You wished to know of weapons of the heart... I believe we've reached the place most likely to have the answer. I have found tales of this place, you see." He selects a tome, before turning to the party. "This is the place where the world will end."
Roxas	Roxas hums thoughtfully in response to Vergil's explanation. He doesn't really seem to get it, but he's been thoroughly checked out this entire time. He'll probably come back to normality once he's out of this place. Once they reach the Clock Tower, he meanders off to the side-- lifting the fallen chair back to an upright position. Then he heads over to the vast window that overlooks the town beneath, where he spaces out even harder than before. Eventually, the dead Keyblade in his hand slides from his grip and clatters against the floor. There is no obvious trigger for this to have happened, and he doesn't acknowledge it.
Terra	Vergil speaks, and Terra's armored head turns to acknowledge the half-demon for the first time. "Do not speak as if you understand this place. As far as I'm concerned with this matter, you're hardly better than Zexion." There's a hint of annoyance in the Nobody's voice, but as quick as he is to responds, he drops it. Once they've climbed the Clocktower, there's a painful silence from Terra as he goes over the place. Looking, walking, but never touching. He's lost in his thoughts again, but this time DiZ's comment is enough to bring him back. "What end? And what tales have you heard? Are you a Knight? No, I don't know you..." He's going down a list, trying to figure it out. He feels like he's missing something though, but he can't quite put his finger on it.
Vergil	"I shall hold you to that," Vergil says to Zexion in all seriousness. Terra's snippy response prompts a raised eyebrow, but he just smirks and doesn't rebut. Perhaps this trip will prove more fun that he first thought... Vergil never breaks his stride, but blurs from foothold to foothold on his way up the tower, coming out of each jump in that same practised stride. It would almost seem like he is deliberately showing off... but that can't be it, right? Inside the room, Vergil notes the signs of a scuffle, the outline of something that was resting on the table now removed. Drawing a finger through the dust, he "hmph"s as his eyes flick around. Is someone in here with them? Daze pulls him from his ruminations by producing a book. "Will it now? Does it come to its natural end? Or does someone bring it about?" He sounds slightly more interested in the latter possibility. When Roxas drops the dead key, Vergil turns and glowers at his back. Summoned swords manifest in the air around him and fly towards the window, slicing ropes that hold back tattered drapes so they swing shut before the Nobody. "Pay attention, boy."
Roxas	But... Soon, there comes a sound of footsteps from the direction of the path through the Clocktower's gears. They begin low, distant. Heavy shoes fall against metal stairs and catwalks. It's possible that they're doing it on purpose-- they definitely don't seem to be particularly interested in remaining /quiet/, at any rate. Eventually, the sounds grow more numerous and varied-- though only by a little. At last, as if he had been waiting for some invisible cue, a figure emerges from the staircase when it's almost-but-not-quite been an obnoxiously long time hearing them rattle up the stairs. A man of Terra's height strolls into the Clocktower. He is dressed in gold-trimmed black robes, a separate shawl providing a hood accompanied by a head dress-slash-mask that has the shape of a black horse. A fiery mane rises up out of the top of the mask, flowing down to about mid-back. The man's face above his nose is obscured, but he looks... young, insofar as it matters. The three accompanying him would be familiar to anyone who went into Galbadia's sewers-- but either way, they have an odd, almost comical appearance. Human, yes, but with darkness consuming and smoothing out their features, exaggerated red gashes standing in for real mouths, great hooked wings, and red clawed hands. Every single one of them is holding a starbucks cup. "Hey." says the man with the horsehead mask. "Yo." One of the Darklings says, raising a claw to wave. They spread out, two taking places at the table. The third goes and stands next to Roxas, looking out on the town below. Horsehead guy strides into the room confidently, sipping at whatever is in that starbucks cup. He pulls something down from the shelves-- it's... a projector. The one at the window turns away from Roxas, pulls a chest out from under a corner desk. They pull out thick, heavy curtains-- blackout curtains, looks like. Then they notice the ropes are cut. "Aww..." The darkling complains. It sounds like a she. She turns 'round and heads down the stairs again. There is no explanation for why she doesn't just fly out a window with her really obviously useful wings. The man with the horsehead mask asides to Terra while in the middle of tinkering with the projector, "There aren't any Knights left. Didn't you know?"
Xion	Roxas finds his way to the large clockface, as DiZ's selected book is slid under his arm. "'The End'. The last page of the story takes place here. It's in the book that's missing from the table. I had a moment to look at it a lifetime ago. It was my Lord God's grace that gave me a moment with the grimoire. When I opened it, it fell upon the page I have been searching for in the Darkness ever since. I only glanced at the ending." The tone is honest, sheepish even. "I could quote for you Revelations, but it does not appear to be the time." "In The End, the master key reveals Kingdom Hearts. And then the story stops." "So I am searching for this 'master key'." Terra's question hits home more. DiZ's gaze softens, his tone lowers. "I am a knight, but not of your order. I serve the lord God - think of me as a questing knight, searching for the holy grail." DiZ seems unpreturbed by curtains being cut - but he seems extremely off-put by the Darklings. Unlike Zexion. "Hello." He calls back, waving a gloved hand. "I've been having some trouble with the Book of Prophecy. You seem like a Union leader - I read about them in the book. Can you tell me if there's been any anomalies here? Many segments appear to be rewriting themselves simultaneously at this point, as opposed to the 'current present' being clarified only."
Vergil	Vergil isn't messing around with 'threatening to draw Yamato' as the footsteps get closer. The whole blade comes out as he glares at the door, awaiting the source of the footsteps to show themselves. He was not expecting 'horsedad and his disrespectful goth children back from a coffee run' but the sword stays out regardless until they offer a casual greeting. Vergil sheaths Yamato (in the slowest, most dramatic way naturally) and nods his head in reply. He smirks at the girl Darkling and says, "Perhaps you should have tidied up before heading out if you did not want to give the impression that your home is an abandoned ruin." He takes one of the chairs for his own, sitting and crossing his legs as he reclines, leaning his elbow on the armrest and propping up his head on his fist. He's taking this remarkably in stride. Perhaps it's the retrieval of the projector that has claimed his interest. But all that changes as DiZ reads from the book. "The master Key? As in the Keyblade above all Keyblades?" he queries Daze with an intense look in his eyes. Of course, it is the mention of some kind of weapon that he focuses on. 'Knights' and 'Unions' are not ignored exactly, but absorbed and filed away. The names are self-evident, after all.
Terra	"The X-Blade... But wait, there shouldn't be any Knights left... Unless... Are you..." Terra's question is cut short as a new person comes walking in uninvited, setting Terra on alert. The two Darklings, however, are enough to put him on guard. A hand that was previously empty is surrounded by various spinning cubes, before it's firmly grasping on to a weapon. A weapon that suspiciously resembles the many keyblades outside. "I know full well that there shouldn't be anymore Knights, but you better explain yourself. And your two lackeys better behave." It's a threat. He's clearly not happy. At the very least, the thing that's agitating him is clear. The Darklings.
Xion	"I have wandered deep into the darkness, searching for this master key. I have found only a riddle: That there are two halves to the master key, but they are each whole, and together are whole. One of light, and one of darkness. They number two and nineteen. A keyrune, a keyblade, and a keychain." Daze laughs deeply, besides himself. "Which is all to say: I pray to the Lord for guidance, because the path is quite testing!" Perhaps surprising everyone, DiZ seems genuinely 'lol dunno' about his riddle. Terra's questions, however, have an answer. "I am no Keyblade Knight. I am simply a knight. Do not think long of the title, for it is one I had to pass along. Now I am the Darkness in Zero - a nameless man in search of averting the end of the world." "If I were to answer the question you're asking..." DiZ considers Vergil's blade with quiet appreciation. "The 'most powerful' keyblade would be something like that sword you have now. Is that a weapon of the heart as well?" DiZ pulls the book from under his arm, and passes it to Vergil. On the cover is a stylized heart, with a simple blade spearing the center. The title is 'BRANDS', centered under the stylized heart.
Roxas	"We don't live here." One of the two darklings at the table explains to Vergil, "It's just a good place to set up a projector for movie night. Actually /living/ in this place..." He shudders violently, drawing his claws in around his body as if hugging himself, "I think we'd get killed by angry ghosts." The man in the horsehead mask looks annoyed. You can only kind of tell, because his mask is in the way. He shakes his head, "Look, we're not that formal around h..." The second darkling pipes up, "Who do you think you're kidding? You're the Aithon." The Aithon sags forward against the projector he's tinkering with, his expression going from annoyed to aggrieved. /Betrayed by his own/, he thinks as he straightens back up. Giving the exasperated sigh of one thoroughly put upon, but without a good reason to get too uppity about it, he waves a hand into the air, "I don't know. The Darkness raging out of control and spawning that thing was pretty bad. We got some self-important pretty boy wandering around with a comically overwrought weeb blade, acting like he did us all a favor. There shouldn't even /be/ multiple darkfonts like that." He paces towards the other side of the room, clearly thinking, "The 'Master Keyblade' thing... there was some guy trying to do something to get it. Started this big stupid war over it not long ago, like they always do." The Aithon doesn't elaborate any further. He looks rather ill. It's only when Terra summons his own "Keyblade" that he seems to regain his spirit. He sets his drink down on the table with the projector, striding 'round Terra curiously. "You one of Rashid's? I thought you were all dead." He asks.
Vergil	"Keyrune. Keyblade. Keychain," Vergil says, committing the words to memory. "Worry not, DiZ. Should I be correct, I shall assemble this master key for you." He says this with supreme confidence. The book is proffered, and Vergil takes it, starting to read it with the eyes of a practised lover of literature. "No. This sword is a gift from-" He pauses, and keeps reading. It's a long moment before he changes his answer. "Perhaps it is. It is made with a fraction of my father's power. And he bore a weapon similar to what this described. The Devil Sword Sparda." He closes it with a firm snap, and slips it into his coat without even trying to hide it. "A weapon of the heart? Perhaps. But if it is, it is not my heart. Devils don't have those anyway." The words of the 'Aithon' soar over Vergil's head. He, ironically, has no idea what 'weeb' means. But the words of the Darkling grab his attention. "This great... Keyblade War. Was provoked by someone seeking this master key?" He's curious again, directing his question to DiZ and Zexion more than the Darkling. He suspects they'll give better answers. He still doesn't quite know what Keyblades are though. He eyes Terra and Roxas and the horseman. "Where did you get them?" he asks, nodding at Terra's bared weapon.
Terra	Terra tilts a head at DiZ. It seems he was wrong. They aren't Rashid. That still doesn't answer his question though, but he's interrupted by the new masked individual. Specifically with a question that quickly draws their intention. "Master Eraqus and Master..." There's an awkward pause as Terra takes a deep breath. He cuts himself on that train of thought right there, instead focusing on the more relevant bits. "Rashid was his Master. But-" There's no way to avoid it. No way to avoid talking about 'him'. The Nobody visibly tightens his grip on his 'keyblade', his attention focused on the Darklings as he speaks with barely contained anger in his voice. "He's dead. Xehanort... I, killed him. He destroyed everything. And everyone. For the X-blade. Aqua...Ven..." Another deep breath. He can feel the room spinning. His vision blurring. His heart racing. His temperment is on the cusp of spilling over just from bringing it up. He skips the topic he was talking about once again, this time however, the anger in his voice isn't contained. It's laid out bare. "And who are you? We've yet to get any answers out of you or your heartless friends."
Roxas	"Who says I have one?" The Aithon asks Vergil, looking away from Terra. Roxas stirs, turning away from the window and looking up towards Vergil. He blinks, slowly, as if under the effects of a soporific. He replies, "I don't know. When I woke up the first time, I had it." But just as a quick as he'd whipped back towards Vergil, the Aithon finds himself turning back towards Terra. He raises both hands as he advances, as if approaching an extremely cranky and dangerous animal that nevertheless needs help. He nods, "Right. Right, okay. I'm a generation behind. So that little runt is dead, huh? And he's the one who started the most recent war? Jeez..." All of the Darklings look uncomfortable. After a moment the one who left emerges up the stairs again, panting. She has a bunch of ropes and ties in her arms. She gasps, "Okay, I got the..." The Aithon straightens up and shakes his head rapidly at the girl. She stops, and he takes a few steps back from Terra. Terra can tell that the man -- is he a man? -- stepped out of the swing radius of his blade. He glances back towards Vergil, apparently quite reluctant. "They're not Heartless. None of us are. 'Cept maybe that pretender. Hey--" The Aithon snaps his fingers towards the other three, "Bring 'em out, I want this misunderstanding objectively squashed." All four of them -- the Aithon and the Darkling -- raise their hands, a ringing noise preceding the appearance of a Keyblade in each of their grips. The Aithon's is the most distinct, a metallic blue core with a dull gold or brassy trim. It's quite developed, all told-- it doesn't look like a stage one to Terra.
Vergil	"I am not a fool. You are recognised by one who bears one as a 'Knight.' The logical leap is that you are a 'Keyblade Knight,'" Vergil explains tersely. He glances aside at Roxas and sniffs impatiently. "It cannot be so simple. You have two of them." The Darklings produce Keyblades. To Vergil, this is not a shock. "Of course they're not Heartless," he says. "They are massive, and cannot speak." This of course makes perfect sense based on his one experience with them.
Xion	Zexion has his nose buried in a book, only looking up after a few moments. "The keyblade war? Basic history. What happened was..." Zexion begins, raising a finger as he snaps his book shut. "You see, many hundreds of years ago--" 'You one of Rashid's? I thought you were all dead.' Zexion looks flabberghasted. "Rashid? No, he wasn't responsible. But how do you know of Master Rashid? Which book did you re-" Zexion reacts as if struck, as the Darklings produce keyblades of their own. "H-how?! They must be fake. Nothing in the data suggests that many active keyblades at all - there was only supposed to be..." DiZ chuckles, at Zexion's gaping folly. "No, no. These ones have nothing to do with that. Isn't that right? The war that you declined to finish."
Terra	Unfortunately for Vergil, Terra seems fixated on the Aithon. Not that he'd bother explaining that his keyblade isn't a proper one anymore. "If only he was dead... He's found someone else to puppet around after me. I'll stop him for good though. I'll set this ri-" Terra, perhaps thankfully, is cut short from his angry ramblings. Multiple keyblades are drawn, and he's, for a lack of better words, confused. "Heartless with Keyblades? No, Unversed? No. What... What is going on? /Explain/."
Roxas	"We're not Knights." The Aithon says, flatly. There's a particular distaste in the way he says it, like it's something that revolts him to consider. After a moment's thought his expression goes from sour to a lopsided grin, "You might call us deserters, if you like." "Eh." The Aithon raises his keyblade in response to Zexion's complaints, strides to the desk, and presses its tip to a drawer. He twists it in the air, causing the drawer to LOCK with a click. There is no locking mechanism on this desk. He gives it a couple of good tugs, then turns back 'round to gesture at Zexion like, 'What now?' It's all very juvenile. Roxas shrugs animatedly at Vergil, and replies, "That's just how it is. I've looked for answers, but..." They haven't been forthcoming. Once again, Terra catches his attention. The Aithon rolls a shoulder, "War came along. We realized it was a losing proposition and took off. An endless treadmill of collecting up the Light to try and overcome the biiiig baaaaad Darkness, following by..." He draws a thumb across his own throat. "Prophecies only apply to you when you keep yourself in them. Stop collecting Light, and you're not part of the Army of Light that gets squashed at the end." The Aithon gestures with his Keyblade towards the other three, "Hurry up and drop the battle forms, would you? Sheesh... no /wonder/ so many of us bit it back then." The cartoonish exterior fades from the three. True to the Aithon's word, they're just people. Around the same age as Terra and Ven were, back during the Sorceress War. There's a sort of wild look to them that's a little out of place. The one sent to fetch ropes leans forward against her Keyblade, made of what looks like clear glass. One of the teeth is splintered and jagged, but otherwise it looks innocent enough. The two at the table have simpler designs-- one brassy and simple if antiquated-looking, and the other silver, delicate, and elaborate, as if it was paired to a jewelry box. "Bonds," The Aithon says to Vergil, "that's the answer you're looking for." He looks back at Terra, "Isn't that right?"
Vergil	"Former Knights then," Vergil says, like he's chewing glass. This is all getting very tedious. The yelling, the finger pointing. He came here to learn from the holy man, and he's getting all this teen drama. "Bonds then. I have my answers. The power of the heart, and the power of bonds." He rises smoothly from his chair and nods to Aithon, the false Darklings, Zexion, and Roxas. "Enjoy your movie," he says to the former group. To DiZ, he has more to say. "Consider the favour fulfilled, holy man. And should you need assistance in your quest, I will assist. It will be... mutually beneficial." Yamato flashes in two neat cuts, similar to what DiZ did with his knife. A portal bleeds open in the air, and Vergil goes to step through it. But before he does, the blade flashes one more time, and the entire top of the locked desk comes clean off. He can be petty too, it seems.
Terra	"You may not be Keyblade Knights, you've clearly given yourselves to darkness in some sense. But you still have keys. I take it however, from the sounds of things, that you know /him/. You don't seem like fans either." Terra nods knowingly as they demonstrate the fact that their keyblades are indeed, quite real. Not that he needed a demonstration, it was pretty easy to tell for him. The grip on his weapon loosens only slightly as the Darkling's take a more human form. Though he still leaves his blade drawn. He's not stupid after all, he's stubborn, but definitely not stupid. "So I take it you just wish to continue hiding, if you want no part of this prophecy? You're just trying to get us to leave?"
Xion	DiZ finds a second tome, this one from a shelf that seems to contain, solely, copies of this book in varying states of repair. This one isn't, really, a grimoire or a vellum book. This one, in fact, is much more disgusting. It is a book with an embossed silhouette picture of the Kingdom Key upon it, but this one instead of having a key-tooth, has a single star at the head. The color is all silver, lacking major details. At the bottom of the simple blade is a tiny keychain trailing off into a crown charm. There is no other lettering on the cover - the back cover containing an identical image, and the spine the repeat of the crown charm keychain. Inside... ... It's a workbook. A textbook, really, that you'd find in a school. Part moralistic period piece telling children how to make friends, part combat manual, it goes into some detail about the broad powers of the Keyblade Knights -- aimed entirely at an audience not much younger than the Darklings gathered in the tower with their starbucks cups and movie projector. "This is the other tome you were looking for, Vergil." DiZ announces, smiling once more. "I believe that is your request fulfilled." Vergil cuts his way out of the realm, taking both tomes with him. DiZ seems fine letting the man leave without further words. Zexion, on the other hand, is somehow steaming. "What?! The book is in that drawer, isn't it!" He hurries over to rattle the now utterly unbudgingly locked container. "Scoundrel!"
Roxas	The Aithon shrugs, "We did what we needed to. That's all." He banishes his Keyblade, as do the others. He resumes setting up the projector, aiming it towards the window that will soon be covered with curtains, "Nah... you can stay, if you want. We don't judge. It gets rough around here, though, so watch it. We don't usually hang out up here unless it's something like this, though. If you want to meet more of us, go down the stairs inside the clock tower." "You can't get there any other way. You'll end up after it's gone if you try." He adds. Roxas meets Zexion's alarm with dull awareness. He summons one of his paired Keyblades -- the black one, this time -- and presses it to the drawer. There is a shimmer as it unlocks. "You know... you brought me for a reason, didn't you?" (It wasn't this.) Regarding 'him', The Aithon shakes his head, "Rashid's students were both kinda creeps. It's less the person, and more what they ended up doing. A little bit of work into building us back up, knocked right back down. You look pretty old, though. I doubt I knew them the way you do at all. And we never 'met', exactly."
Xion	"Yes." Zexion agrees. He does remember. "It wasn't this." He then opens the drawer to reveal--!! "It's empty." He notes, utterly detached. He goes back to peering on the shelf of books. DiZ, upon the invitation, is already wandering down the stairs of the clocktower. "Oh? Down this way? Thank you. May you walk in the light of the Lord, and may I walk in my first cup of coffee in..." His eyes grow misty. "A long time."