Nano
procrastination symphony
♛Xanthe♛
She resented him.
Hatred spilt over like an overfilled cup, both for herself and the knowing smile devoured by the heat of the dragon’s breath. Why? As the aftershocks of the blast rendered her limp upon the floor like a ragdoll, her fading consciousness wondered why The Scholar always felt the need to shield her from everything. It should have been her, a mere replica that could be recreated, even if it took another few years of painstaking effort. If her birth was for the sake of attaining the knowledge he sought, there was no point in him disappearing before he could reap the fruits of his research. Of all times to act irrationally, why now?
The muffled voice of Alice’s yelling gradually grew dimmer. Then, everything became silent.
A cacophony of sounds elicited an uncomfortable twitch of an eyelid. Underneath the clash of blades, The Replica could just barely hear something beckoning her to wake once more. The sound of a piano? For once, the sounds drawn from the dreams of fabricated memories were tinged with warmth rather than lamentation.
Slowly, Xanthe pushed herself off the floor, vision unblurring only just in time to bear witness to the final clash between the two elements that fused and bathed the small assembly awash in light. One-by-one, something seemed to change in the members of the organization she’d grown vaguely familiar with. It wasn’t merely their appearance, but something about their bearing seemed to proclaim to the world that their existence finally held weight. At long last, everyone had reclaimed the broken pieces of themselves.
All except for The Replica.
Xanthe attempted to stand, only to find her body suddenly overcome with a feeling akin to being weighed down by a lead jacket. A quick glance at her feet and hands left her stunned. Lifting her right hand into the light, grey eyes numbly laid witness to the proof of her ephemerality. Her fingertips had turned completely translucent, with the rest of her hands inevitably becoming quick to follow at the rate she seemed to be disappearing.
Now that the light had been restored to the world, was she—a being of darkness–-no longer welcome?
An unfamiliar voice accompanied by an equally unfamiliar face called out to her. Physically, she didn’t quite recognize the man rushing to her side, and the sensible part of her mind didn’t dare believe he was still alive in fear he was a mere illusion. However, there was only ever one person who looked after her with such care and concern. Just like what he’d done only a few moments ago.
In one of the few books she’d bothered to read, the author had written about a miserable character who’d only reached the epiphany he’d desperately sought when he reached the end of his life. At the time, she had scoffed at the author’s questionable taste in story elements. How could the timing be so convenient, and what use was there for a revelation when it was all too late?
She’d been mistaken all this time, hadn’t she? Not about the book, but about viewing her gratitude and attachment towards her creator as merely one of instinctual obeisance. Perhaps there was a time where that was true, where she was nothing more than a labrat he’d poured countless resources into, and she’d been content with accepting that as their status quo.
In the end, his moments of irrationality stemmed from the same source as the anger she felt when he disappeared to a place beyond her grasp.
For one final time, Xanthe attempted to grab the hand that had supported her all this time, only for her fading body to pass through his like a ghost. She blinked. Then came the sudden deluge of nonsense spilling from her mouth.
Though he didn't respond with words, for a brief moment, The Scholar's eyes closed, and a subtle chuckle escaped his lips. He was mildly amused at how she could become concerned over such a trivial matter. As smart as she was, she was still so naive.
Zexal placed his index finger over her lips, even if it would pass right through her,
It was almost amusing, for a man like The Scholar to do something so uncharacteristic as to apologize. Xanthe closed her eyes, taking a moment to let his words sink in. Then, she changed the subject.
Xanthe lifted her hand, pressing the transparent frame of her fingers against his. Her body was hardly nothing more than a faint outline with a few vague features, but she felt that perhaps this was the first time she had truly touched upon his warmth.
The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her.
Like a fool, she chased after that phantom of a sound constantly dancing just out of her reach, praying it would grant her the inspiration to fill the void in the hollow of her chest. What she sought wasn’t a single tone or a key, but something that she’d had at her disposal this entire time. It was a culmination of the small moments and connections she’d once thought little of, just like now.
It was just a shame she’d realized it so late.
The time to depart had come. Her final thoughts were filled with bittersweet memories tinged with a singular regret: just once, she wished that she too could hear the sound of a heartbeat. However, she sat there with a peaceful smile on her face, finally content with having once had the privilege to a life that should have never been hers.
The last of her body faded away.
The Nobody vanished into nothingness.
Hatred spilt over like an overfilled cup, both for herself and the knowing smile devoured by the heat of the dragon’s breath. Why? As the aftershocks of the blast rendered her limp upon the floor like a ragdoll, her fading consciousness wondered why The Scholar always felt the need to shield her from everything. It should have been her, a mere replica that could be recreated, even if it took another few years of painstaking effort. If her birth was for the sake of attaining the knowledge he sought, there was no point in him disappearing before he could reap the fruits of his research. Of all times to act irrationally, why now?
The muffled voice of Alice’s yelling gradually grew dimmer. Then, everything became silent.
A cacophony of sounds elicited an uncomfortable twitch of an eyelid. Underneath the clash of blades, The Replica could just barely hear something beckoning her to wake once more. The sound of a piano? For once, the sounds drawn from the dreams of fabricated memories were tinged with warmth rather than lamentation.
Slowly, Xanthe pushed herself off the floor, vision unblurring only just in time to bear witness to the final clash between the two elements that fused and bathed the small assembly awash in light. One-by-one, something seemed to change in the members of the organization she’d grown vaguely familiar with. It wasn’t merely their appearance, but something about their bearing seemed to proclaim to the world that their existence finally held weight. At long last, everyone had reclaimed the broken pieces of themselves.
All except for The Replica.
Xanthe attempted to stand, only to find her body suddenly overcome with a feeling akin to being weighed down by a lead jacket. A quick glance at her feet and hands left her stunned. Lifting her right hand into the light, grey eyes numbly laid witness to the proof of her ephemerality. Her fingertips had turned completely translucent, with the rest of her hands inevitably becoming quick to follow at the rate she seemed to be disappearing.
Now that the light had been restored to the world, was she—a being of darkness–-no longer welcome?
“Xanthe!”
An unfamiliar voice accompanied by an equally unfamiliar face called out to her. Physically, she didn’t quite recognize the man rushing to her side, and the sensible part of her mind didn’t dare believe he was still alive in fear he was a mere illusion. However, there was only ever one person who looked after her with such care and concern. Just like what he’d done only a few moments ago.
In one of the few books she’d bothered to read, the author had written about a miserable character who’d only reached the epiphany he’d desperately sought when he reached the end of his life. At the time, she had scoffed at the author’s questionable taste in story elements. How could the timing be so convenient, and what use was there for a revelation when it was all too late?
She’d been mistaken all this time, hadn’t she? Not about the book, but about viewing her gratitude and attachment towards her creator as merely one of instinctual obeisance. Perhaps there was a time where that was true, where she was nothing more than a labrat he’d poured countless resources into, and she’d been content with accepting that as their status quo.
In the end, his moments of irrationality stemmed from the same source as the anger she felt when he disappeared to a place beyond her grasp.
For one final time, Xanthe attempted to grab the hand that had supported her all this time, only for her fading body to pass through his like a ghost. She blinked. Then came the sudden deluge of nonsense spilling from her mouth.
“Remember when one of the researchers spilled tea all over your notes? That was me. I did it. I… I’m sorry.”
Her words came rapidly, returning to a normal cadence only when she reached her final two words. She didn’t even know what she was apologizing for, nor why she had suddenly brought up an incident from years past.Though he didn't respond with words, for a brief moment, The Scholar's eyes closed, and a subtle chuckle escaped his lips. He was mildly amused at how she could become concerned over such a trivial matter. As smart as she was, she was still so naive.
“Sorry,”
while apologizing a second time, her eyes trailed down to her fading limbs, as if implying that she were apologizing for disappearing and causing The Scholar to lose all of his work.Zexal placed his index finger over her lips, even if it would pass right through her,
"Enough... Stop saying sorry."
The man sighed, pausing for a while. His eyes wandered to the roof of the cave, and then back down to his fading creation. "If anything... I should be the one apologising to you."
It was almost amusing, for a man like The Scholar to do something so uncharacteristic as to apologize. Xanthe closed her eyes, taking a moment to let his words sink in. Then, she changed the subject.
“Did you find what you were looking for? In the Kingdom Hearts.”
"Yes... I did..."
he nodded. “That’s good.”
Xanthe smiled. As long as he was content with the answer he arrived at, she felt a small bit of her guilt unravel. However, her smile soon turned morose.“I’m an imperfect replica, but was I… useful?”
For a brief moment, her words faltered. In truth, she’d wished to ask if he was proud of his creation, but she rejected such childish words. A small part of her, however, admitted that she’d omitted the word out of fear of what his answer would be."Xanthe... I was the one who created you... If you were imperfect, then I am to blame... Even then, it's not true... All these years, I've struggled to admit it, but you were my greatest gift... I'm sorry it took me all this time to find the courage to tell you. It's something you should've known a long time ago."
at that moment, Zexal held out his hand, as if gesturing for their palms to touch. Even if his creation ceased to exist, she would never fade from his memories. Master... I finally understand now, what you did back then... What it's like to have a student of my own. Someone you nurture and cultivate. You watch them grow, evolve, adapt. You observe their triumphs, and their hardships, and you share in their joy and sadness. They become your pride. Someone you care deeply about... And I now know how much you'd be willing to sacrifice to protect that someone.
“A gift…”
Xanthe lifted her hand, pressing the transparent frame of her fingers against his. Her body was hardly nothing more than a faint outline with a few vague features, but she felt that perhaps this was the first time she had truly touched upon his warmth.
The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her.
Like a fool, she chased after that phantom of a sound constantly dancing just out of her reach, praying it would grant her the inspiration to fill the void in the hollow of her chest. What she sought wasn’t a single tone or a key, but something that she’d had at her disposal this entire time. It was a culmination of the small moments and connections she’d once thought little of, just like now.
It was just a shame she’d realized it so late.
The time to depart had come. Her final thoughts were filled with bittersweet memories tinged with a singular regret: just once, she wished that she too could hear the sound of a heartbeat. However, she sat there with a peaceful smile on her face, finally content with having once had the privilege to a life that should have never been hers.
The last of her body faded away.
“Thank you...”
a soft voice audible only to The Replica’s creator spoke and the scent of lilies seemed to cradle his cheek before disappearing into the wind.The Nobody vanished into nothingness.
/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */
© weldherwings.
