Categories > Games > Kingdom Hearts
Disclaimers: characters belong to Squeenix/Mickey mouse. I was not abusing any illegal substance while writing this, I promise.
Naming the Shadows
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X. It was such a symmetrical symbol. Whichever way you looked at it it retained its form and meaning. Not like these weak, inconsistent p's or b's that changed their alignment and purpose depending on which way up you held the paper. Nasty, treacherous, slippery little buggers. No, that wouldn't do at all.
X was a good character, mused the man. Perhaps he should have cards printed out to pass to his disciples when they awoke? Here's your x, don't lose it.
There wasn't much time left before he'd have to put theory into practice. Glancing over at the tacky plastic jungle gym, he watched the small creatures, all five of them, scramble over it, fighting to reach the top and slipping back down again when there was nothing left to climb. It was convenient that his former master did like toys so.
Returning his attention to the table, the man carried on with his task, to ensure that he would have the new names ready in time. Names were important. That was the entire point of the exercise.
C? He could get behind that. A nice, hard c, with a bunch of other consonants thrown in for good measure. He looked down at the collection of letters scattered across the table again. His old name, did that have a c in it? Chrisopher, Calvin, Jack, Eric, Crete, Crayon, Cantaloupe . . .
He shook his head. His mind was wandering again. No, ideally it would have to be one of the letters already present in the tattered scraps of the name that littered the desk. Easier to focus, and he figured since he was going to be instigator of this grand organization, he was entitled to a bit of ego.
For a couple of moments he stared at the letters, trying to remember what they'd once been. No good, of course. The name had been forfeit the moment he'd stepped through the door. And while he didn't really miss it - why would he miss it? - it would have been convenient for a reference. The only relevance it carried now was that whatever he formed out of the jumble of letters wouldn't be it.
A? The first letter of the alphabet. Capitalized, even, it had a nice linear symmetry to it. Not as good as x, perhaps, but nevertheless . . .
Except it was a vowel, and there were only so many vowels that you could fit into a name without it beginning to sound like a poet under the influence of amphetamines. Or the wailing of discontented ghosts. Appropriate, perhaps, but tacky. Lacking in gravitas.
For the same reason e and o probably weren't good ideas. H was difficult to fit into existing names. No versatility.
Which brought him to r and t. Both were common, versatile letters full of significance. If you put them together, for instance, you could get simple, sinister, impressive terms like . . . rat. Before he knew it the scientist had sketched in blue pencil a particularly bedraggled rodent. He stared at it for a moment, wondering why it was there. It stared back.
Not the sort of image he wanted to project at all. Which reminded him, as he scribbled a note on one of the post-it pages and tacked it to the edge of the table. Recruit a female member. It would be good for morale.
X it was then, he mused.
-
After what seemed like an eternity wading through an inkpot, he finally found a spark of light permeate his vision. He struggled out of the chaotic dreams, white crawling figures and primary colored blocks intermingling into a jungle of instinctive terror that fell away as he crawled back to consciousness.
The first thing that greeted II as he opened his eyes to the world was the visage of a ghost. It had dark skin and white hair, and a black eye that turned out on closer examination to be a smear of ink. Lines and smudges decorated its face like tribal war tattoos, completely at odds with the thing's exuberant expression.
The apparition leaned down towards him, handing him a small placard with an X scribbled on it in what appeared to be red crayon, and solemnly declared, "I am the First X Who Pursues The Intangible Produced By The Absence Of The Visible Spectrum."
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Naming the Shadows
*
X. It was such a symmetrical symbol. Whichever way you looked at it it retained its form and meaning. Not like these weak, inconsistent p's or b's that changed their alignment and purpose depending on which way up you held the paper. Nasty, treacherous, slippery little buggers. No, that wouldn't do at all.
X was a good character, mused the man. Perhaps he should have cards printed out to pass to his disciples when they awoke? Here's your x, don't lose it.
There wasn't much time left before he'd have to put theory into practice. Glancing over at the tacky plastic jungle gym, he watched the small creatures, all five of them, scramble over it, fighting to reach the top and slipping back down again when there was nothing left to climb. It was convenient that his former master did like toys so.
Returning his attention to the table, the man carried on with his task, to ensure that he would have the new names ready in time. Names were important. That was the entire point of the exercise.
C? He could get behind that. A nice, hard c, with a bunch of other consonants thrown in for good measure. He looked down at the collection of letters scattered across the table again. His old name, did that have a c in it? Chrisopher, Calvin, Jack, Eric, Crete, Crayon, Cantaloupe . . .
He shook his head. His mind was wandering again. No, ideally it would have to be one of the letters already present in the tattered scraps of the name that littered the desk. Easier to focus, and he figured since he was going to be instigator of this grand organization, he was entitled to a bit of ego.
For a couple of moments he stared at the letters, trying to remember what they'd once been. No good, of course. The name had been forfeit the moment he'd stepped through the door. And while he didn't really miss it - why would he miss it? - it would have been convenient for a reference. The only relevance it carried now was that whatever he formed out of the jumble of letters wouldn't be it.
A? The first letter of the alphabet. Capitalized, even, it had a nice linear symmetry to it. Not as good as x, perhaps, but nevertheless . . .
Except it was a vowel, and there were only so many vowels that you could fit into a name without it beginning to sound like a poet under the influence of amphetamines. Or the wailing of discontented ghosts. Appropriate, perhaps, but tacky. Lacking in gravitas.
For the same reason e and o probably weren't good ideas. H was difficult to fit into existing names. No versatility.
Which brought him to r and t. Both were common, versatile letters full of significance. If you put them together, for instance, you could get simple, sinister, impressive terms like . . . rat. Before he knew it the scientist had sketched in blue pencil a particularly bedraggled rodent. He stared at it for a moment, wondering why it was there. It stared back.
Not the sort of image he wanted to project at all. Which reminded him, as he scribbled a note on one of the post-it pages and tacked it to the edge of the table. Recruit a female member. It would be good for morale.
X it was then, he mused.
-
After what seemed like an eternity wading through an inkpot, he finally found a spark of light permeate his vision. He struggled out of the chaotic dreams, white crawling figures and primary colored blocks intermingling into a jungle of instinctive terror that fell away as he crawled back to consciousness.
The first thing that greeted II as he opened his eyes to the world was the visage of a ghost. It had dark skin and white hair, and a black eye that turned out on closer examination to be a smear of ink. Lines and smudges decorated its face like tribal war tattoos, completely at odds with the thing's exuberant expression.
The apparition leaned down towards him, handing him a small placard with an X scribbled on it in what appeared to be red crayon, and solemnly declared, "I am the First X Who Pursues The Intangible Produced By The Absence Of The Visible Spectrum."
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