sliceitwithwind: (Default)
There are the things you'd never dream of missing, that you'd have laughed over if anyone had suggested you might.

The crick in your knees on a cold morning, the swelling of your finger joints. The soreness of feet asked to bear the heavy burden of a body too large for them, the sensation of a sunburn.

Such little pains, annoyances sometimes and actual hurts others, and yet they're gone. They're gone like the freedom to walk around half-naked in your own place, unbound by any constraints except those you chose. Gone like the ability to reach out any time and touch skin to skin.

Some of it can be recovered, for an instant here or there. The coat can be shed, the gloves taken off, if the weather is nice and no Storms approach. It's a gamble, though, because sometimes they come out of nowhere and you're at risk; another slice of your self flayed from you. How much element, how much person? The balance is always tipping, always tilting.

Nobody even knows if you can come back. Can you regain shreds of self torn away, given away, lost? Can you regain something new, even if not what you once were? Are you doomed to eventually fade into the element that is now as much you as your skin and bones and memories?

It happens to all Adepts, eventually. The stillness and the quiet and the wondering...and missing those little annoyances that proved you were real.
sliceitwithwind: (Dilan)
Dilan entered college just after he turned sixteen, which had the benefit (in his mind) of putting him there after his growth-spurt. It would have been bad enough to be fifteen and at college without being fifteen, 4'11, and in college.

He was taking most of his classes with Braig, of course, but as close as they were the two of them also had interests that didn't connect. Computers, for instance, were Dilan's thing but not Braig's. Martial arts didn't particularly interest the smaller man, nor did cooking.

So in the period between his intro to culinary arts class and his karate class, Dilan was at something of a loss. Braig was in class (metaphysics, and it never made sense to the younger man), and Dilan had half an hour to kill. Not enough time to really work on homework, too much to just go straight to class.

This is how he found himself wandering around the campus gardens aimlessly, laughing at himself for being so pathetic.
sliceitwithwind: (Default)
Name: Xaldin, AKA Dilan
Species: Olia-Katzu halfbreed
Canon: Kingdom Hearts II

Age: 57

Physical Sex: Male

Affinity: Air

Affinity Level: Adept

History )
sliceitwithwind: (*sigh*)
He's back East, and it still jars him to think of it that way: Back East. Civilization. The strip held at a higher level of living than the rest of the continent through the efforts of the Organization, and especially the Adapt Larxene's control over electricity.

He's up above the city now, looking down at New York. His mind, even after all these years, overlays the real with the memory and he flexes hands that haven't been out of armour since the Moogles came up with it.

It's growing. They're finding more people. Helping as many as they can. The cities are building, the plan is working - slowly, but it's working. He resents the time spent in civilization, he has things to do. They have things to do.

They're here, however, because Al - always his touchstone - demanded that they take a break long enough to bring the children back and recharge before going back into the wilds. He knows it makes the rest of them feel better.

It makes him feel as ill as standing on solid ground does. It's wasted time to him, time that could be spent out finding more adepts, teaching more people, killing the chaos-twisted, policing the world.

But he can't go out alone, he's too much of a risk for floating off into the storms on his own.

And so he imagines how the city was, and he watches, and he waits for the others to relax.

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sliceitwithwind

September 2012

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