Nobodies of the Fallen
When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.
Mark Twain
When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.
Mark Twain
Perhaps the most disconcerting trait of the creature which clung to the bookshelves was perhaps the humanity its face held. There was no mask or helmet like that of other Lesser Nobodies, none except which the thing which stretched over its mouth in a diamond like shape and pointed up along where the bridge of a nose might have once laid. At least it shared one trait: no trace of hair could be seen on that skull. Its scalp, or what passed for it, was a clean curve, and there were no eyebrows to be seen. There were only its eyes, sewn shut with a thick black string, a neatly done task. The punctures stood out too well against the pale gray of their skin, and beneath those tightly shut lids, one could see the occasional flicker of movement, eyes long blinded still seeing dreams and past things.
Yes. Perhaps far too human.
With that said, it is perhaps a feeble reassurance that the rest of its body does not match its face in that regard. Long pointed ends are stretched out from the sides of its heads, twitching ever so slightly at every sound, no matter how faint. Crescent ridges curl upwards from behind the base of these strange ears, serving no apparent purpose. Its body seems far too thin, whisps of dreams given form. The arms are just as stretched and thin as the ears, and the hands at the ends are of ridiculous proportion. Fingers do not match the palms, which are short and enormous. In fact, the fingers are like those of a spider, as thick at the arms but so long and pointed and grasping that there seems to be little difference. They cling to the shelves, perfectly still.
There are no legs to match, only a twisting tail which might better fit some incorporeal spirit. It brushes against titles and names, caressing them like a lover before stilling. It is partially covered near the top by the only kind of clothing the thing possesses, a long thin top which wraps tight around the neck and then heads straight down to flow around the hips in some sort of strange upside down heart design. Exclamation points, question marks, and periods- they hang down from the bottom and dangle like bait for fish. But without a doubt, the strangest things are the wings.
They twist unnaturally from its back, pressing tight against shelves and walls- who knows the 'hows' behind their ability to hold on effortlessly. Feathers soon fade, replaced by white skin. Enormous hands protrude from the wingtips, mimicking the main hands in terms of proportion and long fingers. In other ways, however, they are also feet, palms now too long even for the fingers to look in place.
Despite the stitches laced throughout its skin, it looks at others easily, head focused right on them. And then, finally...
The whispers begin.
The first thing anyone will notice about the Fallen are their voices. This is a given, because 9 times out of 10, they won't be seen. It's one of their strange little abilities; they don't quite become invisible, but you just don't seem to truly notice them unless they're either in the corners of your eyesight or they purposefully let you see them and move. So yeah. Voices.
They're very literary things, the Fallen. There's this tendency to only speak in rhymes, quotes... They're very fond of quotes and poems, although they'll steal things from movies, cartoons... If someone else says it, they'll use it.
Even real people. Fun fact: The Fallen remember everything anyone says. It is unwise to speak freely in their presences, although generally, most people don't even realize they're there. Oops. Don't be surprised if they bring up your worst regretted words right back in your face. Of course, this also means they make very good spies, which is what Zexion uses them for. They're seriously not combat oriented and quite frail. The feathers on their wings are like strange crystallized things when separated from the actual wings and will shatter into a shitload of dust, kind of like ninja smoke screen. This enables them to make quick escapes if they need to.
They're also extremely bendable, rather like contortionists. Another handy trait.
As mentioned in the prose, they tend to whisper, or have that very quiet kind of tone. Even if they're far away or whatever, when they speak, it feels like they're doing it right in your ear. Secretive little buggers. Another quirk is that they always use a 'true' or 'proper' name. For Nobodies like Vexen or Xigbar, they'll use their Somebody names. For someone like Jackie, they'd use 'Jacopo'. They're also fond of using names by their meanings. In TNC, for example, they talked to Namine about Sora just a teeny bit, but referred to him as a 'sky'.
The only exception to this is Zexion, whom they positively adore. Zexion is always referred to as 'Young Master'. They also tend to hang onto him, or perch weirdly on his shoulders. Invasion of personal space, whee! For whatever reason, Zexion doesn't seem to mind this. He's also somewhat fond of his little insane freaks of nature and gets quite annoyed if harm comes to them.
The people most likely to become Fallen Nobodies are insane people or artists, no matter what medium they use. Occasionally, those two intersect...