Swirling desert sands fill your vision. Pyramids glint in the distance, the air is dry, the sun is punishing, and your destination awaits: a grand palace. Small specks of darkness swirl at the edges of your vision, but you pay them no mind. You have a job to do.
You stride through the village confidently, bursting through the palace gates like you've always belonged there. The guards stationed on either side of the throne stand, weapons at the ready, but the pharaoh in the center of the room rises to his feet and briefly waves his hand to urge them back.
The pharaoh is of short stature, but he projects a commanding presence. His hair is wild, pointing in every direction in fiery colors. He wears a golden headdress and ornaments with his garment, looking every bit a king.
You smirk in response, activating a strange armor-like device on your arm. You're preparing for a battle you've been waiting for all your life, blood pumping with excitement. More dark flecks swirl at the edges of your vision, but you can't stop to worry about that. There's unfinished business to complete.
The pharaoh is silent, but he reacts with a smile thrown your way.
Memory Two
"Seto, you just have to see this one! It's going to break records!" You are walking beside a young man who appears to be about 15, with neatly trimmed black hair that wants to be free and wild and bright purple eyes. He's dressed in a silvery suit with a clipboard tucked under his arm.
"Of course it will. It's your design, isn't it? The Lightning Strike, you said. Any reason for that name?" You're dressed in the silver coat and black clothing you usually wear these days, and you have a blue lens mounted over your eye. You press a button on your temple to activate it when you both sit on the front row of the coaster.
"Making a recording to remember the time you hurled?" Mokuba teases.
"Maybe the time you hurled, Mokuba. Let's go."
Mokuba gives the operator a thumbs up, and you're up like a shot. You reach the first peak...and then you spiral down, down, and down, inverting several times, shooting around and up once more. Another mountain to circle down. Riding an up and down path at the base...and one last peak, and a slower circle to a stop.
The ride is largely uneventful, thankfully, but Mokuba is laughing as they roll to a stop.
"What," you answer grouchily.
"Just...look at your hair!"
You raise a hand to your head and frown when your fingertips brush hair when they shouldn't. You squint over at your brother, whose situation is no better. You both look like you've touched a wire.
"Is that why you call it the lightning coaster? Because the after effects are like being shocked?" You ask, folding your arms.
"Yup. But people won't stop talking about this! Come on, Seto, it's gonna be great."
"...that remains to be seen," you answer, but you reach for Mokuba's clipboard and put a checkmark next to 'Lightning Strike'. A wide grin appears on the younger man's face for a moment.
Memory Three
A basic, severe-looking building pops into view. There's a barren courtyard, and a small playground to the side, where a small boy about five years old with black messy hair and wide purple eyes sits alone on the swing. He doesn't use the swing, he's too distraught for that.
Another boy wearing a blue sweater vest approaches: it's Seto, age eight, looking just like a smaller version of the 18 year old Kaiba. He approaches the swing with a small, thin smile, but there's clear tension around his eyes.
"Hey, Mokie."
"Hey, Seto. How'd you know I was out here?"
"Lucky guess. Cheer up! We've gotta make the most of this place. So how about a walk?" He reaches out to ruffle his younger brother's hair, finally earning a smile from the boy---much to Seto's relief.
They set off around the courtyard as the sun sets. Seto worries, but it's best not to overly fuss when the caretakers might be watching, so he waits until they're at the edge of the property.
Finally, he turns to Mokuba and asks gently. "What's on your mind?"
Mokuba scrubs his eyes once more. "I miss Mom and Dad. I wish they were here with us. It's not fair that they left us all alone!"
Seto grasps his brother's shoulder as he looks back at the cold, grey building, and there's a hardened expression beyond his years on his face. "Come on, no crying. It won't help us. There's only one way we'll get through this: we have to get tough. Emotions will only get in the way of our survival."
"Tough..." Mokuba wonders, watching his brother curiously.
"Right. Don't expect anyone else to help us ever again. We're on our own now." Seto leads his brother back to the orphanage, determined to keep moving forward. There's no room for weakness when you have to fight for every scrap to live.
Seto Kaiba | Zoki
Themes: Battle, friendship, brotherhood, family.
Memory One
Swirling desert sands fill your vision. Pyramids glint in the distance, the air is dry, the sun is punishing, and your destination awaits: a grand palace. Small specks of darkness swirl at the edges of your vision, but you pay them no mind. You have a job to do.
You stride through the village confidently, bursting through the palace gates like you've always belonged there. The guards stationed on either side of the throne stand, weapons at the ready, but the pharaoh in the center of the room rises to his feet and briefly waves his hand to urge them back.
The pharaoh is of short stature, but he projects a commanding presence. His hair is wild, pointing in every direction in fiery colors. He wears a golden headdress and ornaments with his garment, looking every bit a king.
You smirk in response, activating a strange armor-like device on your arm. You're preparing for a battle you've been waiting for all your life, blood pumping with excitement. More dark flecks swirl at the edges of your vision, but you can't stop to worry about that. There's unfinished business to complete.
The pharaoh is silent, but he reacts with a smile thrown your way.
Memory Two
"Seto, you just have to see this one! It's going to break records!" You are walking beside a young man who appears to be about 15, with neatly trimmed black hair that wants to be free and wild and bright purple eyes. He's dressed in a silvery suit with a clipboard tucked under his arm.
"Of course it will. It's your design, isn't it? The Lightning Strike, you said. Any reason for that name?" You're dressed in the silver coat and black clothing you usually wear these days, and you have a blue lens mounted over your eye. You press a button on your temple to activate it when you both sit on the front row of the coaster.
"Making a recording to remember the time you hurled?" Mokuba teases.
"Maybe the time you hurled, Mokuba. Let's go."
Mokuba gives the operator a thumbs up, and you're up like a shot. You reach the first peak...and then you spiral down, down, and down, inverting several times, shooting around and up once more. Another mountain to circle down. Riding an up and down path at the base...and one last peak, and a slower circle to a stop.
The ride is largely uneventful, thankfully, but Mokuba is laughing as they roll to a stop.
"What," you answer grouchily.
"Just...look at your hair!"
You raise a hand to your head and frown when your fingertips brush hair when they shouldn't. You squint over at your brother, whose situation is no better. You both look like you've touched a wire.
"Is that why you call it the lightning coaster? Because the after effects are like being shocked?" You ask, folding your arms.
"Yup. But people won't stop talking about this! Come on, Seto, it's gonna be great."
"...that remains to be seen," you answer, but you reach for Mokuba's clipboard and put a checkmark next to 'Lightning Strike'. A wide grin appears on the younger man's face for a moment.
Memory Three
A basic, severe-looking building pops into view. There's a barren courtyard, and a small playground to the side, where a small boy about five years old with black messy hair and wide purple eyes sits alone on the swing. He doesn't use the swing, he's too distraught for that.
Another boy wearing a blue sweater vest approaches: it's Seto, age eight, looking just like a smaller version of the 18 year old Kaiba. He approaches the swing with a small, thin smile, but there's clear tension around his eyes.
"Hey, Mokie."
"Hey, Seto. How'd you know I was out here?"
"Lucky guess. Cheer up! We've gotta make the most of this place. So how about a walk?" He reaches out to ruffle his younger brother's hair, finally earning a smile from the boy---much to Seto's relief.
They set off around the courtyard as the sun sets. Seto worries, but it's best not to overly fuss when the caretakers might be watching, so he waits until they're at the edge of the property.
Finally, he turns to Mokuba and asks gently. "What's on your mind?"
Mokuba scrubs his eyes once more. "I miss Mom and Dad. I wish they were here with us. It's not fair that they left us all alone!"
Seto grasps his brother's shoulder as he looks back at the cold, grey building, and there's a hardened expression beyond his years on his face. "Come on, no crying. It won't help us. There's only one way we'll get through this: we have to get tough. Emotions will only get in the way of our survival."
"Tough..." Mokuba wonders, watching his brother curiously.
"Right. Don't expect anyone else to help us ever again. We're on our own now." Seto leads his brother back to the orphanage, determined to keep moving forward. There's no room for weakness when you have to fight for every scrap to live.