Post by Kireon on Feb 16, 2015 18:51:10 GMT -5
Crying wasn't going to get her into the house and cleaned up before the Fujimura woke that morning. Clarity and sensible thought returned with molasses-like slowness.
Stiff muscles locked up, protested violently against her decision to move as she stifled a whimper. Scabs barely healed over cracked and split, blood welling with a heated sting she'd become all too familiar with in the months past. Her teeth ground together as she tried, miserably, to force herself to her feet with little success.
Help me. Thoughts directed to the earth, wisps of her life flowing into the wreckage of home as the floor twisted, pulled itself together to gently push her to her feet. Remnants of the wall stretched out to form a bar to grasp, guiding each stumbling, uncertain step until she regained the small amount of strength necessary to pull herself out of the rubble and into the dark hours just prior to the dawn of an already ill fated day.
Her lungs filled themselves with air that didn't taste like blood and ash and dying memories. Filled and released in a violent, hacking cough that nearly sent her to her knees with its vehemence. Clean, pure mountain air didn't do well when paired with starved, reduced functionality of one's lungs.
Smoke inhalation was awful, she thought distantly, shuddering against the cold as blood tacky garments clung to her skin.
Why was the main house so far away?
One foot, and then the next. Scoured white-grey stones rose up to offer her a firm surface to lean on. Ahh, the cold comfort of stone walls was better than nothing at all, she supposed. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend there was enough warmth there to compensate for the abrasions left behind by sandpaper rough surfaces scraping her skin raw.
Against her better judgment, Sekai looked back. Brown eyes peering through a haphazardly constructed veil of tangled white strands to the extent of the damage done to the place she'd called home those last several years.
Twisted, barely recognizable ruins of stone and support beams charred and melted into grotesque shapes.
It was like seeing the aftermath of Karakura all over again in a place so full of memories.
She took a step forward, ready to head back to the mess she'd left to deal with it before the Fujimura themselves could see it and wonder why, and how, they hadn't heard anything going on. They didn't deserve to see it torn asunder like that. At the very least, she could make it look like nothing was wrong... could make it appear like it always had with her power.
Could make the structure appear as if it weren't exactly how she felt inside.
A pulse, a warning of vicious, primal fury from her right, impact against stone radiating from her second sight as the dual part of jaws opened, curved talons flashing, gleaming black-red in the dim starlight as weight crashed, unforgiving, body slammed and skidding against the ground. Burning, flesh peeling, tearing, shredded. Serrated fangs deep into the flesh of her shoulder.
She shoved.
Talons sank deep, raked and caught the corner of her cheek, dragged viciously down, scrapped with a shuddering agony against the curve of her jawbone and down her throat.
Asgard's cleaver swung, flat of the blade slammed into the side of the broad, elongated skull. Fist followed, crashing into the emaciated shoulder with a sickening crack of bone and cartilage for extra oomph to drive it away.
High pitched shriek-- defiant and fury filled, grief and territorial snarling as the multi-limbed creature thrashed its way across the ground, great gouges in stone and earth shrieking into the ending night. Red eyes flashed hate, bloodied jowls parting, dripped with reddish saliva eating away at the hallowed ground it struck.
Enemy.
Someone had touched what wasn't theirs. Hers. She'd staked claim on this hunting ground, had taken it properly from that stupid blind one and his self-loathing when he fed her. There was a scent there, a body, a flash of moonlight that she liked and hated the look of. Familiarity made the chest constrict and the ring burn about her middle. Little reminders, a soft voice calling, weeping, laughing and it was hers.
All of this was hers and that Shinigami was going to die for touching, bleeding, hurting.
Blackened tongue flicked out, caught the taste-- froze.
Not Shinigami... not mostly Shinigami. Stupid black ones. They were always in her way and skulking about where they had no business.
Interfering, taking away her prey and food. Souls were hers. Everything as hers here.
Four eyes blinked independently of one another. Taste lingered. Power sweet and stifling, overloading the taste buds that faded over time until the next meal of meat and soul and everything that she needed to sate that never-ending ache.
No. Not Shinigami.
That which she'd claimed as hers to eat, when she felt like it. The Moonlight one that Burned her with presence and things she couldn't touch without screaming, eviscerating the nearest living or dying thing claw and fang could touch.
Asgard hissed back.
Four sets of eyes blinked all at once. Creaking limbs folded themselves as the quadruped plopped down, too thin belly and barrel chest scraping the ground, and stared in abject confusion.
Stone did not hiss.
--
OOC: Takes place immediately after this by, oh, I'd say about thirty to forty-five minutes.
WC: 951
GP: 12
Stiff muscles locked up, protested violently against her decision to move as she stifled a whimper. Scabs barely healed over cracked and split, blood welling with a heated sting she'd become all too familiar with in the months past. Her teeth ground together as she tried, miserably, to force herself to her feet with little success.
Help me. Thoughts directed to the earth, wisps of her life flowing into the wreckage of home as the floor twisted, pulled itself together to gently push her to her feet. Remnants of the wall stretched out to form a bar to grasp, guiding each stumbling, uncertain step until she regained the small amount of strength necessary to pull herself out of the rubble and into the dark hours just prior to the dawn of an already ill fated day.
Her lungs filled themselves with air that didn't taste like blood and ash and dying memories. Filled and released in a violent, hacking cough that nearly sent her to her knees with its vehemence. Clean, pure mountain air didn't do well when paired with starved, reduced functionality of one's lungs.
Smoke inhalation was awful, she thought distantly, shuddering against the cold as blood tacky garments clung to her skin.
Why was the main house so far away?
One foot, and then the next. Scoured white-grey stones rose up to offer her a firm surface to lean on. Ahh, the cold comfort of stone walls was better than nothing at all, she supposed. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend there was enough warmth there to compensate for the abrasions left behind by sandpaper rough surfaces scraping her skin raw.
A little more blood as offering to the shrine grounds wasn't too much to ask for in return, right?
Against her better judgment, Sekai looked back. Brown eyes peering through a haphazardly constructed veil of tangled white strands to the extent of the damage done to the place she'd called home those last several years.
Twisted, barely recognizable ruins of stone and support beams charred and melted into grotesque shapes.
It was like seeing the aftermath of Karakura all over again in a place so full of memories.
She took a step forward, ready to head back to the mess she'd left to deal with it before the Fujimura themselves could see it and wonder why, and how, they hadn't heard anything going on. They didn't deserve to see it torn asunder like that. At the very least, she could make it look like nothing was wrong... could make it appear like it always had with her power.
Could make the structure appear as if it weren't exactly how she felt inside.
A pulse, a warning of vicious, primal fury from her right, impact against stone radiating from her second sight as the dual part of jaws opened, curved talons flashing, gleaming black-red in the dim starlight as weight crashed, unforgiving, body slammed and skidding against the ground. Burning, flesh peeling, tearing, shredded. Serrated fangs deep into the flesh of her shoulder.
She shoved.
Talons sank deep, raked and caught the corner of her cheek, dragged viciously down, scrapped with a shuddering agony against the curve of her jawbone and down her throat.
Panic; she was going to die.
Asgard's cleaver swung, flat of the blade slammed into the side of the broad, elongated skull. Fist followed, crashing into the emaciated shoulder with a sickening crack of bone and cartilage for extra oomph to drive it away.
High pitched shriek-- defiant and fury filled, grief and territorial snarling as the multi-limbed creature thrashed its way across the ground, great gouges in stone and earth shrieking into the ending night. Red eyes flashed hate, bloodied jowls parting, dripped with reddish saliva eating away at the hallowed ground it struck.
Enemy.
Someone had touched what wasn't theirs. Hers. She'd staked claim on this hunting ground, had taken it properly from that stupid blind one and his self-loathing when he fed her. There was a scent there, a body, a flash of moonlight that she liked and hated the look of. Familiarity made the chest constrict and the ring burn about her middle. Little reminders, a soft voice calling, weeping, laughing and it was hers.
All of this was hers and that Shinigami was going to die for touching, bleeding, hurting.
Blackened tongue flicked out, caught the taste-- froze.
Not Shinigami... not mostly Shinigami. Stupid black ones. They were always in her way and skulking about where they had no business.
Interfering, taking away her prey and food. Souls were hers. Everything as hers here.
Four eyes blinked independently of one another. Taste lingered. Power sweet and stifling, overloading the taste buds that faded over time until the next meal of meat and soul and everything that she needed to sate that never-ending ache.
No. Not Shinigami.
Mine.
That which she'd claimed as hers to eat, when she felt like it. The Moonlight one that Burned her with presence and things she couldn't touch without screaming, eviscerating the nearest living or dying thing claw and fang could touch.
She hissed at the shining construct in her way. Stupid blocking thing with its shining radiance and red glowing eyes that made hers pale in comparison in brightness to the dark night.
Asgard hissed back.
Four sets of eyes blinked all at once. Creaking limbs folded themselves as the quadruped plopped down, too thin belly and barrel chest scraping the ground, and stared in abject confusion.
Stone did not hiss.
Why did it hiss?
--
OOC: Takes place immediately after this by, oh, I'd say about thirty to forty-five minutes.
WC: 951
GP: 12