When it gets dark, the castle becomes a frightening place. In the light of day, it isn't so bad. She can take it. Sitting in her chair, drawing pictures. Doing as she's told and unraveling Sora's memories.

Larxene's cruelty and Marluxia's false kindness are equally unwanted, but at least she isn't alone. And when night falls, she is alone. And when alone, the castle seems even emptier. Even more terrifying and cold. Soon that room becomes scarier than the idea of what may be lurking in the dark halls, and she leaves in search of something. Anything. Anyone. Just so she won't be alone.

A warm light spills through a set of doors, slightly ajar in one of the long hallways. It stands out like a beacon, drawing her to it like a moth to flame. She moves towards it, pushing one of the heavey doors open further. Inside is a library, large and well lit. And welcoming. She freezes as the room's only occupant, looks up from his seat on a sofa, just accross from the door.

She opens her mouth to appologize for disturbing him, but her words catch in her throat. He takes in her appearance for only a moment, expression blank. Then he returns to his book. His words are empty of emotion, and yet she is soothed by them. "I will not ask that you leave if you wish to stay here. So long as you are quiet."

This room, different from the rest of the castle with it's white walls hidden by bookshelves, is somehow comforting to her. And the young man, not appearing to be that much older than herself, does not seem as if he means her any harm. So she cautiously steps over the threshold and glances around the room.

The sofa where he sits is the only seat, so she stands, awkwardly clutching her sketchpad to her chest. He doesn't so much as raise his eyes as he addresses her again. "There is no reason to be afraid. Come, sit down."

Used to following the orders of the Organization, she crosses the room and settles down on the opposite end of the sofa, doing as she's told. She sits there for a long time. She isn't sure how long exactly. But suddenly she is awakening from sleep, having drifted off without realizing.

She finds herself stretched out on the sofa comfortably, a blanket lain over her body. The young man from the previous night is gone, but she has a vague memory of him tucking the blanket around her sleeping frame. And of gloved fingers gently brushing her hair from her face.