(no subject)

[cardoperatedboy]

When the Replica sleeps he dreams of Destiny Islands; the sun beaming down and him and Sora shoving at each other, competing. The sound of his own laughter hard in the air as Namine picks him, draws, smiling, her face hidden as she bends over her sketchbook. It's a hot day and he's stripped down to his shorts and on top of the world, the sound of the waves beside him, the wind blowing salt on his skin, the sand hot beneath his feet and shifting, getting in between his toes, coarse and real--

When he wakes, though, he's cold.