aeroras: (relaxed; content; crossing arms)
A thirteen and a half year old Sora lies prostrated beneath the humid shade of the Paopu tree, his arms and legs spread out as though he will attempt to create a sand-angel. His eyes are closed.

It's a hot summer day -- one of the hottest ones so far! -- and he isn't really sure what to do with himself. Staying at home, indoors, was not an option; it is far too bright and sunny. It would be such a waste.

He can hear the distant sound of waves crashing and sweeping across the shore, and the occasional buzzing of insects around him. Everything is a little numb and foggy, and the inevitable feeling of sleep begins to beckon him despite all circumstances.
aeroras: (fond memory;  together; kairi)
Ugh.

After all of that homework and those chores his mum made him do (even though he said he was busy!), Sora isn't in any fit mood to do anything but lie in his bed and sulk. Being eleven is hard work, and he shouldn't be expected to do so much in one day (and stay indoors!) when all he really wants to do is see his friends and play by the beach.

Sora stomps his way out of his house a half hour later (much to his mother's chagrin: "Sora, what did I tell you about stomping around the house?"), and finding a spare branch, makes his way to the shore. He's wearing his sandals and even though there's a stain on his white t-shirt, he refuses to change it.

Dragging the branch along the soft dirt, he traces a never-ending line. The sun is still in the sky, shining brightly, but in a few hours he knows it'll start to set, and he'll have to go back home. He suddenly wonders what he's going to have for dinner, and wonders if he'll have to help set the table too.

Moments later, Sora finds himself drawing near to the beach. He can hear the waves crashing, and he smell the salty tang in the air. It's his favourite place to be, and he can't think of a better location to let his frustrations be carried off in the waves of the ocean than here.

The paopu tree is empty; he half expects to see Riku there, as is usual...but nothing. Slowly, Sora draws closer to the sand and takes a seat, his legs sprawled out in front of him, his palms flat on the ground allowing him to lean back slightly to stare at the blueness of the sky.

It feels weird when he's all alone.
aeroras: (Default)
Sora remembers and when he does, it feels so real, it's as though he's stepping back into his memory...

He feels short. Shorter than he thinks he really is. There's a different jaunt in his step, and he's running. Running and breathing hard, and yelling, "Riku! Riku, wait!" with a wooden sword in one small hand, and a clumsy rectangular piece of driftwood (a shield) in the other.

The day is bright, tranquil and warm and there's a comforting breeze that drifts through the air assuring its inhabitants that this place--Destiny Islands--is safe. It's home.

The sound of waves along the beach would soothe anyone who wasn't trying to chase after his best friend with heavy wooden props to weigh him down. The shield is large and heavy and it clunk clunk clunks as he drags it along with him. The silver-haired boy, turning and grinning some distance away from him sticks out his tongue and calls out to him, but this boy can't hear it.

It's just the two of them on the beach with the white sand and the sparkling waters. It's their secret place where they play together after school, pretending they're pirates, or sometimes even knights. Sora likes playing knights. He can pretend he's saving a princess, and while Riku often allows him to play the princess' saviour, sometimes Sora feels like it's Riku who wants to save her instead.

Today they're going to play knights, and that is why he has a shield and sword. It's taken many beatings (he's not as good as Riku when it comes to all of this stuff) but he's determined to win a fight eventually. He'll be courageous, just as courageous as his best friend.

Clunk.

"All right, Riku! I'm ready!" Sora calls, his wooden sword in hand.

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aeroras: (Default)
Sora

November 2008

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