lies of the lion

It's over. Finally

It doesn't seem like anything's particularly wrong... I feel mostly mentally exhausted.

It's in the back of my mind, but... I wonder how the person whose body I ended up possessing is.



(ooc: Hey Lucrece!! letslogletslogletslog!! :DDD)

... Something is very wrong. Very wrong.

For one. I am not in a bed. With Cloud. For another, I feel... fatter. Shut up, I don't know. And I have these strange... marking on my hands. And my hair is oily, matted. Roughly tied back with... with something. I'm in this huge facility by myself, it seems. I don't know it for a fact, but...

This is in no way amusing.

My head is pounding like all hell.

My throat is on fire. My eyes are burning. My back is aching. I feel like puking chunks. Like banging my head repeatedly against something hard and solid and hard so that my brain will die and will subsequently cause all of my pain receptors to perish alongside it.

What the hell did I drink last night?

Dear god, I feel like a piece of soggy, lumpy toast under a 13 tonne elephant, and...

... this... isn't... my... room.

The... the ceiling is familiar, all right. It's my house, my furnitur-

Oh, uh. Um. Hello, Cloud.

... Fancy seeing you on the same couch as me. Holding me. Nuzzling me.

That- that means... last night was... real? It... it wasn't a dream, was it...?





( Private to Cloud//Hackable )





I think I may need the bathroom soon. Or a bucket.

I would like to find home again.

Radiant Garden. Be that as it may, even with the constant threats of Nobodies and Heartless and old foes... it was a place that belonged to everyone. A real home. Something worth protecting, regardless of the circumstances. The work put into rebuilding that home... and now... this peculiar new dimension...

It's strange... the actions of the enemies surrounding this place... I chanced upon an alleyway swarming with Heartless, but as I striked at the pack, they disappeared. Their behaviour was erratic, unpredictable. And then, as I walked out of the alley, there was not a single trace of them. No trace at all.

As though they did not even exist.

Maybe... Maybe I should just focus on searching for more friends, more allies... That's it. I need to focus. Clear my head and heart.

We need answers before we can find solutions.

I've met a few people. Surveyed the place quite a bit. Interesting, to say the least. I caught up with Donald. It seems he's been looking for Sora as well.

I managed to stumble across a cellular phone while wandering about. It's a rather useful thing, really. Like a personal organizer.

What's odd about this place is... The houses, they're...

Well, the exterior is like much else of this odd dimension. I chanced to enter one and the most remarkable thing happened... It was as if I had stepped into a void. When I managed to regain my bearings, all the furnishings...

It was home.

This is an unusual place, granted, this is not really as normal as a place should be. I'm assuming that I'm to take this house to live in.

Just as well. I decided to stay in it ever since I found a rat chewing through Lionheart's carrying case.

I'm rather tired of drifting about. A base of operations is in good order.

This is ridiculous.

I've been here a bloody day, and still everything's one fucked up mess. Vertere. That explains a lot. Wonderful.

Goddammit, I swear, if any of them got hurt or did something stupid like die, I will personally see to it that they are revived, and thus I myself will cause them to experience a far more brutal method of passing. One that probably involves fire magic, flammable substances, intestines and the business end of my gunblade.

I need to find something to beat the shit out of. Those bloody Heartless were good for something, at least.

Absolutely ludicrous.

I don't remember that dead crow carcass by the street.

I don't remember that red brick wall, either. I don't remember that unlit alleyway, I don't remember that cracked sidewalk, nor do I remember that crooked sign bolted beneath the tin roof of that building.

Where the hell am I?

My limbs; they feel... rusted. Old. Creaky. Clenching and unclenching my hands, stretching my fingers... a fresh rush of blood surging through my arms... just what the hell is going on here? Waking up in the alleyway, all I had on me was a large case and an oversized cotton pouch. A case with Griever emblazoned on it. I had a little money on me, this leather-bound journal -- I'll probably fill it later, when the time is more suitable -- an article or two of clothes.

Light. I just remember a few gentle ripples swaying through the airstreams before a blinding crash of light swallowed me whole. Engulfing the entire world.

I wonder, am I dead?

I'm not going to bother checking the case; its weight is proof enough. My blade is still loyal, still by my side.

Now to figure out where the hell I've ended up...