Memories of Old [ Ansem & Apprentices ]

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The soothing embrace of sleep had finally enveloped him, as the Sage King of Radiant Garden slumped his miserable head upon his rather dusty desk. Here, surrounded by what remained of his once immaculate castle, the man slept. Yet from sleep, came memories. The years had not been kind to the man nor his world, and the memory of the halls offered both sanctuary from misery, and a prison from his nostalgic anger. It was all so fresh and crisp within his mind, the images so clear, the flowers so bright, the faces ever-smiling with joy, and the sun shining bright...

The halls glittered and glistened under the morning sun, sparkling with such radiance that one thought only possible in dreams. A calming breeze attempted to bypass the defending glass, only to be held back, allowing the attempting intruder to grace instead all those who remained outside. Myriads of wondrous colors danced across the gardens, rainbows of beauty adorning the massive lawns. The soothing sounds of the pristine fountains, the lush grass, the world itself was at peace.

Chuckling softly to himself as he finished yet another stick of that wondrous chilled treat, Ansem the Wise found himself easing into his chair. His desk was beyond immaculate, papers lined into place, pens assorted into their usual positions. A heart here and there floated in the nearby jars, and the half-finished portrait of his newest apprentice was sprawled out. The man couldn't help but smile slightly as his eyes fell upon the notes.

So much research, and yet there is still so much for us to learn.


Adjusting his trademark scarf and smoothing out the edges of his periwinkle lab coat, the Sage King ever so gently reached for a fresh piece of paper and the usual pen, and began to resume the never-ending quest for understanding. Occasionally, the aging eyes would glance swiftly to the wooden doors, always on alert for the occasional visitor, be they loyal subject or dutiful apprentice. 



(OOC: This goes without saying but I'll say it anyways *stamps FLASHBACK onto the thread.* Yes, "F L A S H B A C K", that means Braig, Ienzo, Dilan, etc. Past. Not present. Understand? Excellent. ^_^)

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Deep down below the Castle something wicked was happening. Horrifying screams rang out in the jail cells underneath the Heartless Manufacturer. However due to the depth of the prison and the sound-deafening door, no one could hear their cries for help. There were many captured prisoners that were being used for live experiments. Only a twisted man would be doing such deeds to innocent human-beings: Xehanort. There was no mistaking his long, silver, slicked-back hair, his white lab coat, and dark brown eyes. With him he had a few devices that were used for experimentation. They were small gun-shaped tools with large fishbowl like containers where the hammer would be. One would say they looked quite futuristic. They all looked similar, but each had a different purpose. One had the ability to extract/implant the Darkness out of people's Hearts, another had the ability to extract/implant Hearts, and the last had the ability to amplify/suppress Darkness in Hearts.

Xehanort had already documented in his report as "Ansem" that his attempts to do these exact procedures were failures. A researcher never knows when to quit and there were far too many hypothesis for him to test. There were also various rooms in the prison that allowed him to place a Heart and experiment on it that way if need be. Xehanort used the Heart extractor on one of his specimens, effectively removing their Heart. The body quickly dispersed into balls of light. Once the body was completely disposed of, he switched a dial on the extractor and released the Heart into the room. Soon after a purebred Shadow Heartless appeared in its stead. Approaching the Heartless he placed a hand on its head, giving it a small pat before turning it on half of the other prisoners. Most of them were replaced with Shadows, however some were also replaced with Dark-Ball Heartless. Xehanort then snapped his fingers and the Heartless all halted. He took note of this. "They may not be able to communicate traditionally, however due to their bestial instincts they look for an alpha to follow."

He then turned the Heart extractor on the other prisoners, effectively removing their Hearts and storing them into the tool. Swiftly he left the room with the Heartless and made his way toward the exit. There were many flights of stairs for Xehanort to walk up. A normal man would have collapsed from the amount of flights. Once he made it to the top an extremely large metallic door opened and Xehanort ascended from it. It was an area of the floor in the Heartless Manufacture room. This outer room once was to test Hearts. It still is to the other Apprentices and Ansem, but I've secretly converted it into a Heartless producing machine. Once he got up to the control room he closed the lower door and plugged the Heart extractor into the machine. The Hearts dumped out and entered into connected tubes on the outside. There were countless tubes and over half of them were already filled with Hearts. The amount seemingly went on for miles.

With Ansem's psychological tests and our experimental data we should finally be able to explore the Memories of Hearts. With a few Keystrokes he started up the machine and within a flash of light he spawned a few Soldiers, each marked with an Emblem. Unlike Natural Heartless, these Emblem Heartless are effective copies of these Hearts. In theory one would be able to make one out on the field with the right tools out of a Heart. Without this machine they would have to give up the Heart, instead of copying it. After a few more keystrokes he shut down the machine and commanded the Heartless to disperse. Slowly he was building up an army for when he took over the World. Once Ansem outlived his usefulness, Xehanort would be able to experiment on the Apprentices themselves and go forward with Braig's plan. He typed away on the keyboard to add what research he found onto the computer and then saved it. These memories from Xehanort that Ansem and Even keep talking to me about are familiar, yet my Heart rejects them so. I need to know why and if I need to discard my current identity, than so be it. He logged out and walked away from the computer.

Ansem will be my new identity and these reports will solidify that. The silver-haired researcher entered the office where Ansem was, but from the opposite door. Xehanort respectfully bowed to his Master and approached his desk. How did he hate doing that. "Good morning, Master Ansem." Xehanort spoke to the wise-sage, taking note of the portrait. "I'm honored." Silver hair swayed as he bowed once more. "To what do I owe this honor?" Small talk. It was all just a ruse to fool the old man into getting him to do what he wanted. He was ready for more psychological treatments and for Ansem to help lend his mind to finish off the research. "I was hoping that we could continue where we left off, with my memories?" Quite often did Xehanort approach Ansem with help restoring his memories. If there was anything else he was useful for, it was that. "I've been having bouts lately where my mind tries to reject any of these recalled memories. So I'm concerned that I may never recover what I've lost." Lowering his head he looked toward the floor, seeming sad. It was only a matter of time before Ansem would fall into his carefully laid out plan.

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A glance here, a glance there. Yet the eyes still fell upon the ever changing paper. Pen stroke upon pen stroke transferred knowledge and ideas on the formerly blank canvas. The once joyful smile dissipated as a grim and stern expression took hold. Dutiful responsibility and dedication for his world took hold as the strokes became more meaningful. So much had changed since that fateful day.

"Xeha...nort..."


It was with those words that the sage king had found a new apprentice. But what was stirring within that man's unusual heart? What was stirring in his other apprentices? Braig had obviously changed dramatically, and not just in appearance. The loss of his eye, the change in eye color, the new structure of his ears...it all begged for further questions. Yet his...questionable intentions were becoming slightly more apparent. Of course, the man had never been a saint. The bearded ruler had hoped his attempts to impart dedication to all of his apprentices would be successful, yet it seemed he was starting to lose his grip.

The two of them...Braig, Xehanort. They were becoming quite close, yet for what reason? As far as he knew, the two had never met until that fateful day, like the rest. And would the sharpshooter be a positive influence on such a malleable mind? Insincerity could be seen if one looked close enough, yet why did he look past it? Was it efficiency? A shared love of all of his apprentices? Why...how could he allow Braig to suddenly develop such a relationship with his newest pupil? Was the man truly seeking a friend? Or were there shadows lurking within those private chats?

Yet how could he allow the man to be scarred so. If he had not been so careless with the defense of the gardens, the man would still have full use of his vision. 

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, as a weary hand lifted itself to his head. Rubbing his aching temples, his mind re-aligned itself with the task at hand.

All the more proof that there is an inherent danger lurking in us all. We must strive to overcome it, to counter it. Darkness rests within every heart---

A slight smile made itself known, only to widen as the door opened wider. There wasn't a knock, a pity, but that could be corrected in time. Which one could it be? Even? Would he truly forget his place so rashly? Ienzo? The child was still young, but he knew better than to explore the labs below unattended. Then again...his escapades outside the castle suggested otherwise. But the man's predictions mattered not when the figure made itself known. Xehanort.

"Good morning, apprentice."  Ansem said with a joyful tone. All thoughts of darkness, of danger, were momentarily gone. It was as is if the prospect of helping such an unusual soul overruled everything for the slightest of moments. Yet there they stood, slowly trying to rise to the surface once more. Just what was so...peculiar about his newest apprentice. There was indeed something...something...superhuman....something dark---

"Oh?"  He asked with surprise. He noticed the glances at the unfinished portrait. A slight chuckle, not one of humiliating mockery, escaped him. "Why, it's only fitting. After all, you've come so far." The joyful eyes met those of the silver haired man's. It was true, he had indeed come far. But was that something to celebrate? One might think so, but there was always something...off about his progression. 

Ah.

The aged ruler calmly lifted himself from his seated position, and over to the small bookcase underneath the budding portrait. With a keen eye and sharp memory, the hands managed to withdraw the desired book in a manner of seconds, only to be interrupted by the next query. A slight hint of unease could be felt within his throat and tone as he turned to face his apprentice with a confused and somewhat worried look as the hand continued to hold on to the book, "So soon?" Was it his place to question though? Was it his place to deny the man his rightful memories? 

Though were they truly his to begin with. Memory is so much more than we believe it to be.


"Well..." He walked over to the man, still filled with the slightest amount of unease. The hand rose, and the book was elevated to his chest, offering it instead to his apprentice. "I certainly hope these bouts don't corrode all the work we've done." A genuine, happy smile formed. "You forgot to knock."

Hoping the man took the novel, he turned his back swiftly to the door, and turned back once more, motioning toward it as his hand grasped the handle. 

"Shall we?"