He tapped the test tube; the glacial echo tinged through his laboratory as frost crick-cracked up the glass, reaching from the floor to the ceiling. A smirk slid across the older Nobody's lips; the translucent etching suited the lifeless doll waiting beneath the glass.
He liked being there, in the cold, damp basement of Castle Oblivion. The atmosphere was a whitish-blue, like the core of a flame. A flame of ice. How appropriate for a being without a heart.
Soon his puppet would come to life, but he was resistant to release him from his frozen state. Icy perfection.














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