Knocking On Heaven's Door | Obsession

Silence filled the throne room with a thunderous applause of serenity as the King sat upon his seat of power. Creating a foggy haze around his pedestal and rolling along the marble ground of the audience floor was the only source of natural light in Hueco Mundo, that horrible crescent moon eyeing him with a contemptuous sneer through the four great glassless windows, so reminiscent of the arc of a blade it was almost laughable. Green eyes stared blankly ahead, studying sights that were far from the comprehension of lesser men with a fixation that bordered upon madness. Slow was his progress, but vast was his patience and his power. One day, one month, one year, a century, two, three, four, however long it took was of no matter to him, one day he would see the world he envisioned in his dreams become a reality. Whatever happened beyond that or before was of no concern to him and filled his thoughts for only the briefest of moments before being consumed by the fires.

A spark of recognition zapped the King's sight into focus and he saw the cyclopean stone doors that barred his throne room from the outside world and acted as a display for the authority he harbored. He saw the pillars that stretched out on either side of the room, the white mist caused by the moon and somewhere beyond the throne room, beyond the scope of his physical awareness Erasmus perceived something scuttling along the walls, skulking through corridors inhabited by servants who couldn't even hope to be aware of what it was or where it was going.

But the King knew.

Broken was the silence that had laid claim to the throne room, split by a deep and unholy note that ululated rhythmically and echoed throughout the hall, creating thousands of mirrors of that same tone as if from the bottom of some deep dark well.

The King was laughing. 

When at last he had contained himself and halted the hilarity of some unseen joke he rose from the throne, pulling himself away from it like a living statue breaks itself from it's setting in the rock. For a King his clothing wasn't at all elegant, comprised of greys and blacks and whites and hardly more complicated than a casual businessman but his movement was fluid and graceful, each inch an intricate display of confidence that could only been born from knowing everything about the journey he was about to undertake, from it's start right up until it's destination. Erasmus allowed himself another dark chuckle as he grasped the handle of the door concealed behind the pedestal of the throne and tugged, allowing a beam of yellow light to slice through the misty darkness of his audience chamber. The King's castle was open to all, but few had seen the sights that lay hidden further into the white labyrinth. The anointed servants never left and could not speak of the deeds they performed.

The snapping of his heels cracked like the bones of tiny creatures as Erasmus traversed the halls that were so seldom traveled even by him. He had no use for sleep, no need for food, practically every available facility was a waste of space. Despite this he knew where he had to go, a dusty room that had once been used for a clever little spell of trickery but had since remained derelict. Passing servants who fluttered from this room to that, performing the daily upkeep of the castle, Erasmus kept his eyes focused on the task at hand, the visitor. No member of the lowest caste of Arrancar could possibly be so interesting as to distract him from the equal force that he knew was there, had known was there all along and until now had not had an opportunity to test or to push or pull and see how much of a challenge he could find within it's power.

It was beneath him, it was above him, it was his equal and that, more than anything in the world, excited him for the first time since he had found enlightenment. 

"Tea." He commanded without stopping. "To the study." And he watched as a servant that had been travelling against his current swiftly turned to carry out the order. A pressure was weighing down upon his chest, that familiar sensation that hadn't bloomed there for over a year, fresh as a newborn. Until now he could only visit the feeling in his memories, but the heat and the comfort returned with the familiarity of a lover. When the handle of the study was grasped and turned aside that pressure burst into a plethora of sensations, all of which were neatly summed up into the knowing smile that he shared with his guest as he gazed down longingly and wrathfully at

"Penance. I apologize for not greeting you sooner, I'm sure you understand. The door won't bite you though. You can knock." Sharing the exact tone, one of intimate distance, Erasmus closed the door behind him and regarded the woman who was allied with the mortal enemy of the race he lorded over. He had been aware of her for a long time, drawn to her even from across the chasm of the worlds, had spied her once or twice through the eyes of ghosts and had never really been close enough to be unable to resist the magnetic pull.

"This was bound to happen sooner or later." The comment was neutral, something they both knew as if they had talked it over at length once upon a time but giving it voice seemed to make it complete, like signing a contract. Or fulfilling it.

A knock at the door went barely noticed as Erasmus lost himself in the magnitude of power and potential that was making the room thick with possibilities. Almost unwilling to take his focus away from his counterpart he turned back and took the tea that he had requested previously from the same servant that had heard his lashing tone. The door was closed again and the room a complete circuit with Penance and Obsession in the center of it, each of them in possession of one cup of tea and power that they could use to destroy each other as well as whichever world they chose as their battlefield.

But that would be such a waste.

Running his fingers through his shaggy silver mane Obsession looked silently at the only other member of whatever god-like transcendence they had achieved and she looked back. 

"So, what made you give in?"

[Words: 1102][GP: 22][Total GP: 22]

As the door swung wide, her breath hitched in her throat, caught up like a flightless bird that could only beat its wings against her esophagus. It wasn't fear that stilled her heart, for all that ice drenched her blood soaked veins the moment their eyes met. This was a man who was a perfect equal, something carved out of the very patchwork of her dreaming hallucinations and cast down to be her mirror. She could sense it, just being this close, the mountains that stood between them and the rest of the world. The deadly pressure of his reiatsu, the thickly cloying smog of power that sought to seal away her breath.

He was strong. Maybe stronger than her. Or maybe it was she that was stronger than him. For some reason, the first time ever, that wasn't even what mattered. Power, on its own, was inconsequential when you could shift the very fabric of reality with a thought. She had enough arrogance to know, and enough experience to prove, that a Broken Royal was not an unbeatable foe. It was larger than life, blooming wide and bright and solid in her path, but if it came to blows she would find a way to dismantle even Obsession of all things.

So it wasn't fear that made her throat tighten or caused her heart to beat like tiny hands against her collarbone. It wasn't even anger, that scalded her nerves and brought her to a perfectly honed edge, every single detail around her thrown into flawless clarity.

No, it was pure excitement that caused Kiriko's mind to shudder to a full-tilt halt as she blinked demurly up at her visitor and his proffered tea. Moving almost without thought, her body stretched upward, hands high above her head as her spine popped and that unnerving smile grew wider across both their faces. Oh, honestly, to be with someone who just knew without her having to thrust the knowledge down herself...

The two might know very little about each other. Their likes, their names, their aspirations, even their reasons for being here. But they knew what mattered, and that knowledge was like a burning iron trailing down her cheekbones. Finally. Soul King Damn it, but finally. Someone to share the secret smiles with, even as she fantasized about ripping his throat out. Decidedly content and certain in the knowledge that he looked at her with that very same desire.

Her grin edged just this side of too bright, an unholy glimmer of true amusement flickering through the dungeons that were her eyes, “Aa-h, I could knock, I suppose. But that would be far too public for what I intended, beyond which, well,” here she shrugged, square shoulders rising up as if she was a dainty maid, “it's hard to forget your training.” To strike, get to the heart of a man. Surprise him in his own space, take what is his and make it yours. In that moment of imbalance, that is the time to act.

She wasn't here for an assassination, or even realistically an intelligence grab, but the lessons of her youth were impossible to buck entirely. Even if she was finally on sure footing with her target, assured in her ability to waltz into his throne room without anyone being able to stop her. She had no need to hide in the shadows, it was just that this was where she had always been, and the darkness that had seeped into her soul was never going to wash out no matter how strong she got.

Silence dripped between them, cool and measured and yet just as hot as a summer's day. Her nonexistent heart beat a rapid staccato rhythm, drumming it into her chest until everything fluttered. Across the distance, they stared, eying each other up for the first time. Assessing, probing, analyzing.

He crossed the room, every movement filled with an easy insolence, handing her a cup of piping hot tea. Her fingers uncurled from her sides, latching around the porcelain before her arms smoothly slid away. In those few seconds, they had taken a measure of each other, and she knew all she needed to know about just what Obsession was made from. There was no need for a physical fight, not when you could tell by pure movement alone what the outcome would have been. Passionate, deadly, a fight that she would save for another day. Tucking it into her sleeve like a keepsake, a promise of wonder if ever she was bored enough to tempt fate.

Lifting the cup to her chin, Kiriko inhaled, the heavy scent of English tea far too concentrated and earthy for her own enjoyment. Sipping the scalding liquid, she rolled it around on her tongue, eyes fluttering faintly as the woman wondered what the King's choice in tea must say about him.

Obsession's last sentence hung like delicate vines in the room, roped and dangling just out of reach. She let the silence deepen, like her thoughts rustle and curl like wisps of steam from her teacup. Gazing upward, eyes agleam with a childish mystery, Kiriko felt herself smile for real. So many tendrils of meaning in that one sentence, thousands of unspoken questions, hundreds of missed moments between the two of them. They had each lived such full lives, and yet the emptiness was what echoed the loudest.

“Was it really giving in, Obsession? If you dislike visitors so, I could oblige myself to work on a disguise the next time I visit. But honestly, I think the word is inevitable, not defeat. To meet now, or tomorrow, or three months from now on the battlefield... Whatever time, whatever place, we were going to come into contact. I just decided to hurry up fate a little bit, I've never liked waiting.”

WC: 973 | GP: 19 | Total GP: 39

Where Penance sipped the scalding liquid, numbing her tongue to the tastes that the tea had to offer, Obsession took his cup and set it aside upon one of the shelves. Utterly forgotten. He wasn't interested in tea, didn't want it. The only thing that interested him, the one thing in the room that he did want, was the woman before him. Wanted her warming a bed with her flesh either intact or torn asunder, either would bring him an equal amount of pleasure and the prospect of both in succession was almost too good to even imagine. While near the shelf the sly emerald eye of the King had caught a glance at the disturbed layer of dust that coated one of his personal creations, a small statuette featuring two figures, one remarkably similar to himself, though a decade younger and the other a small girl, their hands entwined. As if to declare his discovery of her tampering with his belongings Erasmus reached up and gently pushed the tiny figures back into that perfect position on the shelf where it could be seen from all angles. Was he a meticulous perfectionist? Certainly not, though for this one piece of furniture he had to make an exception. 

Setting his eyes upon his guest once more Erasmus walked backwards, as if stepping away from his latest sculpture to admire the dimensions, study the proportions and decide whether or not his own creation pleased him enough to spur him onward. That unashamed analytical stare persisted as he stood, shoulder hefted against the edge of a bookcase, leaning into it with his arms crossed and the faintest of smiles decorating his features.  Gazing up and down her figure he admired her loathsome visage, square and stalwart with nary a feminine feature in sight, a little off from what Erasmus considered attractive but with it's own appeal all the same. If nothing else she was homely, the kind of woman you'd want to settle down with as opposed to joining for a few wild nights in mutual company. Still, he wondered, as his studious leer returned to her eyes, how she would look full of lust and joy, sorrow and lifelessness. As it was it was difficult to ascertain what was going on in her mind simply by staring at her face. Was she sharing his exact thoughts or was there a different process behind her opinion of him?

One important note that he made was the fantastic foreboding feeling that he experienced whenever their eyes met.

"I personally loathe those words." He declared, purring like some great feline beast. "Yes, it was inevitable that we should meet, but only because of the actions we chose to take. I knew that my decisions would one day lead me to you, fate had very little do to with it. You might claim that fate is simply causing me to make these decisions, but at that point it becomes a debate centered around belief and we both know how well that turned out for the Christians, don't we?"

"It's like a game." Obsession went on, pushing himself from the shelf and waltzing over to his broken counterpart, he sat upon the desk, close enough to reach out and touch her if he wanted. "Either you would win and I would grow too impatient to wait and seek you out, or you would lose and you wouldn't be able to stand not meeting me any longer and come to my castle to find out more about me, or we would end it with a draw and meet at the point in time pre-determined by our actions. In the end; you lost." His grin grew and adopted a mocking sympathy as he took advantage of the lack of distance between them to place a consoling hand on her shoulder. She was impatient and now he knew that she was impatient, a fact that Erasmus committed to memory and tucked safely away into a secure corner of his mind for future use.

"It was for the best though, had we drawn then I think our meeting would have been far bloodier than this and that simply wouldn't do. It'd be a shame for such a wonder as you to be sullied." He withdrew his hand and cocked his head slightly as he looked down at her, an almost fond gesture as he saw all of his most cherished relationships embodied by the woman sitting in his chair.  "So let's not chalk up this meeting to anything silly like fate and just admit that you were too eager to see me." 

And with a charming sinister wink Erasmus waited for the backlash.

[Words: 782][GP: 15][Total GP: 15]

[GP Reset due to claim]

His eyes never quite left her, shifting sideways, up, down, even peripherally when he turned to adjust the statuette she had disturbed earlier. But never once, despite his smooth movements, did those eyes depart from their study of Penance. She could feel the gaze like a heavy thing, hot and liquid and yet there was no stifling pressure, no automatic irritation as he took in her full features with an open appreciation. Even without her preternatural insight she could feel the attraction in his reiatsu, thick and cloying, tinged with crimson blood that was a hue away from hate. The stirrings of Obsession's interest was closely paired to his own personality, hewn from the very bedrock of his nature. She was not surprised to find that someone so consumed by obsession would be the sort of man to focus on the physical.

And yet, no one had ever looked at her like that before. Penance had always taken it for granted, that she in her female body was either professional enough or fierce enough to dissuade anyone from thinking of her as something other than utilitarian. Work was all that mattered, and to a Shinigami society that was implicitly accepted and never brought up, to her face at least. As she matured into her true power, there had been times when her presence had become terrifying enough to elicit responses in some few men. None had been brave enough to stare like that though, to telegraph their intentions so openly. To aggressively take apart her body piece by piece with their eyes, as if consuming her through visual contact alone.

She found that it irritated her just as much as one might have assumed. The tools of the trade had always been her body, just never in this way. Kiriko appreciated what she had, as an effective weapon. She could understand beauty, the thrill of power, the flicker of Shunko lights against the sharp angles of her face. But this... This was not welcome. And it stirred the angry beast that had coiled itself so neatly in her stomach, dazing under the thrall of her earlier enjoyment.

She was not an object to be admired like other woman. She had surpassed that long ago, moving beyond such limited understandings of life. He had no right to objectify her with his eyes, as if he was the one in control here. As if he could take whatever he wanted from her without even asking permission. This was not a man's world, not here in this room. They were not going to share that dynamic. She had had enough of men, what she needed was a Sovereign.

Her lips peeled away from her teeth, a nasty glower turning her bland eyes into a maelstrom of promised pain. The easy delight of earlier melted away to reveal a hard posture, all dark lines and jagged edges. She was the edge of the blade and he would do best not to forget that. They were not fighting now only because she wished it to be that way, not because she was too soft to instigate battle. Her blood flushed with the song of war, it was in her very nature. She was a blade borne through struggle, sharpened in strife, blooded in calamity. There was nothing delicate or womanly about it and this Hollow-breed had no monopoly on that.

Her reiatsu, hot and sharp normally, had been augmented with the addition of the Shakonmaku's force to her own soul. Intermingled as the two were it was no surprise that the heat and flames of her natural energy had soared. She kept it tightly leashed, not wishing to turn the ground she walked on into kindling, but in this moment of anger she let the collar loosen as the air immediately around her spiked to a temperature nearing supernova levels.

Eyes chips of coal in a glacier face, Penance shrugged off the hand on her shoulder and delicately set her tea between them. Leaning forward, careful to invade his personal space without actually touching, she bared her teeth in a guttural growl, “Don't play games with me, Obsession.” Breath hot against his throat, she was close enough to go for the jugular, but instead let her eyes invade his privacy in her own particular way. Cutting him into pieces as she assessed his functionality.

To be sure, Obsession had the full force of personality required to be a Sovereign. He would be strong just because of that. But that alone wasn't enough. His enormous presence swelled and fluctuated, beating like stormy waves against everything nearby. He lacked precision, control, finesse, and she could see it in every line of his body. He was used to quick power, jumps in skill without ever putting in the effort to truly master things. He hadn't had to struggle like she had for her hard earned abilities. His was a natural aptitude, and that left its mark just as often as a lack of genius did.

“Don't try to play games with me, Obsession. I can read you too, and you'll find it's an uncomfortable game to be the recipient of.” It wasn't just her own soul's transformation to Penance that allowed her to divine his past, though that opened up clear as a book in front of her now that they were this close. Even before Penance Kiriko had been the best in Soul Society at understanding others. At reading them. She had made it a specialty, the first person to recognize and master reading microexpressions. At this level of the game they were all the more exaggerated, body language becoming open and expansive in a way that weaker beings could never safely sustain.

“Unless you want to discuss your sins? There's so much to regret in a life like yours, isn't there? So many people you lost. So many people you were unable to protect. Oh, but you did your best, didn't you? You were a good father. A good brother. Family is so important, after all. And yet I watched Kirishi decry her 'Otou-san' as we destroyed her. I watched Tenko die alone. And poor little Rose, well it wasn't your fault you were never there for her... In hindsight though it's a wonder that anyone would want to call you Father, or... what is it that little cat-girl says...? Abba? What a farce, did you become Obsession to try to fulfill that expectation? Abba, like some god of old?” She laughed, low and dark, her face aglitter with the rage. “Or was it selfishness, huh? You keep surviving, don't you? When everyone else is dead or gone.”

“I guess you have their ghosts though, right? What a good Father you are, keeping the family together like this! I wonder though, how happy their lives might have been without you. It seems like a mighty coincidence that with one little addition to so many lives you end up with a bunch of dead children, hmm?”

“I'm not the only one who was too eager.”

WC: 1178 | GP: 23 | Total GP: 62

Hueco Mundo's King eyed the cup of steaming brown that had been placed between them, even as Penance rose from her chair, her face a disgusting puzzle of red hot lines and sharp searing wide eyes. Was it meant to be the barrier between them? Did it signify that even two things as grossly intertwined as Penance and Obsession had boundaries that they couldn't cross? Even as the almost feral looking woman hovered her oh so human looking canines above his throat Erasmus' smugly satisfied smirk persisted. She had, as he was expecting, tried to snap at the hand that he had purposefully slipped through the bars of her cage and allowed herself to give Obsession the rise that he was looking for. How sad, to think that she tried so hard to keep the mask of professionalism and sophistication from cracking and all it took was a bit of aesthetic interest to shatter it completely. Perhaps it would have been different if they were in public. Maybe she felt comfortable enough around him that even she acknowledged how fragile the disguise was. Either way she was just as much of a liar as the rest of them.
 
Erasmus had hoped that a fellow enlightened would be just as honest with themselves as he was. It was disappointing to see that it was not so.
 
Lightly slipping his fingers through the handle of Penances cup Erasmus brought it up to his face, mocked whatever boundaries it represented, and took a sip as he waiting for Kiriko to stop sniffing around his cologne. If the crackling of the wooden desk was anything to go by then all Erasmus had to do was figure out how to make her do this in Seireitei, she'd destroy half of the Shinigami without him ever having to lift a finger.
 
"You know," The King began, setting the cup back down again and reveling in the warmth that defying her brought him. Emerald eyes glanced down to continue studying this new expression of rage and disgust. "Get any closer and I might just have to hug you. You seem like you really need one." She could try and assert her dominance all she liked, she wasn't in Seireitei anymore, she didn't have authority in the land of monsters. Obsession was the Alpha and she submitted to that hierarchy the moment she sought him out.
 
And yet.
 
The once vibrant and warm -if mocking- life that encompassed Erasmus' features drained swiftly with the tide of the discussion. No longer did his pupils shine with interest, now they were cold and lifeless as the fires behind his iris' burned hotter than ever before, consuming not the future this time, but the charred corpse of the woman standing before him who dared to allow the deceased parts of the soul to have a voice. A storm of brimstone rained. Even over her shoulder Erasmus could see the black shape that was Loss, peering without expression, but he knew the putrid emotions running through it's veins like sewer water. A horrific black hand slithered under the arm of Penance, wrapped itself around her waist, her shoulders, her arms, attaching itself to her as it's ally until those elongated slimy crimson fingers extended towards Obsession himself, dripping the red ink, wiping the blood on his face, his clothes, his soul. Clotting it in his hair. Soaking it in his garments. Painting it over his skin. Slathered. Sticky. Covered.
 
Fear and anger, joy and excitement, they all quivered in his eyes and were exposed in the insane curl of his lip. Finally, he looked every bit as broken on the outside as he was on the inside. Even when the visions of children wearing skulls danced through his mind. 
 
"You're very good at that." A voice pointed with sharp icicles, spoken through an expression of frozen satisfaction. Loss vanished as Obsession regained himself, breathing hard in his effort. "Must be nice to be so skilled. But I can see the flaw from a mile away; you're good but you're never good enough, and you're slowing down while your wonderful little sister catches up. That's nice of you. She's so beautiful, you know, so talented. It's as if she doesn't even have to try to accomplish the thing's you've accomplished, almost as if she's better than you. Pretty little Nagisa, talented little Nagisa. She's everything you're not. Is that why you're so defensive about people ogling you? She probably has a plethora of suitors, but you? You've never touched a man, have you? Or perhaps I'm wrong, perhaps you were touched. Or," He gasped dramatically. "Perhaps you were touched too much?"
 
Obsession laughed as easily as if he had just shared an inside joke with his childhood friend.
 
"See? We can go at it right now, destroy each other and be done with it. But we'd rather torment each other until we're blue in the face, even though it accomplishes nothing." Sliding himself from the surface of the desk Obsession stood, taller than his dearly hated new friend and grasped her by both shoulders this time, staring directly, fixedly, obsessively into her pupils. Smiling. "Games are all we have."
 
"So let's play some more." 

[Words: 871][GP: 17][Total GP: 32]

There was so much rage it was hard to see, hard to breath, hard to focus beyond that agony of flame inside her gut. The licking tongues of Hell's fire that danced through her ribcage and settled like candles in a chandelier amongst her bones. She was a being filled with simple and pure wrath, her very muscle carved away so that the heat could shine through paper-thin skin, body aglow with a horrible light. Shunko had long since come to rest beneath the skin itself, a queer spate of glitter that gleamed in the hollow of her throat and at the bend in her wrists. Purple bloomed like flower petals as the air cried out to be away from her, shadow dappled amethyst twining and caressing as her flames let out a shriek of celebration.

Her shadow lengthened, flickering across the wall, claws of inky blackness rising up to fill an impossibly large silhouette as the rage rode her straight down. The pure emotion in that Shunko was enough to suck the oxygen from the room, and yet her body remained ice cold, face carved from nothing more than obsidian stone. Those dark eyes the only thing to shine, forgotten ash crushed into faceted coal as pure loathing stared into the face of her enemy.

Penance disliked men on principle. They were the ones who always used her and then walked away, as if it was so easy to toss her aside when they were done. They were the ones with these expectations, these heavy dreams they wanted to shove onto her shoulders. They were the ones who lacked dedication, who didn't know how to sacrifice for a cause. They were the ones who abandoned and betrayed and played with. And she hated them all for that trait, hated with a childish and gasping power.

She was self-made. This world had cast her down, and so she had done what was needed, and in return all the men in her life had done their best to tear those accomplishments away. But she was ready to give it all up, she had given everything, to survive the war. To live to fight another day. Tsukimiya-taichou had asked her, when they first met, if she was ready for war. She had never considered if he had been asking about Hueco Mundo's invasion or her life, and yet the memory now seemed oddly apt. Kiriko was born into struggle, it only made sense that each second of her life would be filled with that same pain. The dull agony of being stretched too thin, the rub of stone against flesh as the world scraped and scraped at her soul.

That was why she had torn her soul apart. It was too fragile, not meant for the high-stakes game she had found herself in. She wasn't like the other Broken Royals in that way, she hadn't reached for the sky and fallen into Hell instead. No, she had stared into the Abyss instead, stared and smiled at the promise of true suffering. Whatever else this was a chosen punishment, chosen to give her the power needed to survive. Men could try to defeat her, could try to scrape away one more layer of humanity, one last edge of veneer, but they would all fail. Because in the end she could go further, she could lose more, she could sacrifice it all, if only the end result was achieved.

And no man could say the same.

So she hated, oh yes, she hated, and the flame burned for them. Burned with an ugly desire to immolate the entire world, to snuff out these useless excuses for life. To sear and carve and turn to ash all those who refused to acknowledge the truth.
Obsession was weak, as all men were.

He thought she cared about vanity? About love? About some semblance of human emotions? Was that what had shrouded him like this, in a cage of death and regret? Was that what had turned him into Obsession? Love? What could that mean to a woman who had never felt it? The best she could muster up had been loyalty, perhaps even admiration, and in the face of such a man she felt nothing more than dark mockery. Here he stood, so glorious in his brokenness, and yet it was emotion that had created him. Emotion that would end him.

He thought to play her like an instrument? To call up on some hurtful past? Some deep regret or fear? Did he not see her even half as truly as she saw him? What a truly pitiful man...

She was truly different. It wasn't emotion that had led her here today. It had never been emotion, though she had tried to create it, tried to foster and kindle it inside her heart. No, there was some fatal flaw all along, some ineptitude in her brain perhaps, or a dark karma in her soul. Aneue was the first true sign, she should have understood back then. Emotions existed as a cloud between life and action, and she had no need for any such distraction. There was only pain, and in pain rage. Beyond all that was the cold clarity of purpose that had always driven her, driven her down into Hell and beyond. Driven her to become better than all those men who would so casually use her.

She was filled with a crystal understanding as she looked into that smoldering face, staring beyond the skin stretched tight and piercing flesh as the skeleton became clear. It wasn't about Obsession, it was about herself. And she finally understood.

“Yes, let's play,” she whispered, her voice a crooned dirge. And then she went for his throat.
 
WC: 959 | GP: 19 | Total GP: 81

"I can smell the hypocrite in you." Erasmus said, milliseconds before the raw power billowing from his guests body hit him like the breeze before a tidal wave and his skin hardened instinctively as he threw himself aside, underestimating the distance that Penance's Shunko could reach. The side of his throat was torn open as sparks erupted from the point of impact and showered the desk in a hail of dazzling light, neither Hierro nor his own self-styled way of fighting giving him enough resistance to prevent injury. At best he had managed to keep the damage to a minimum, blood spurting from the thin yet deep cavern in his neck as he careened to the ground and flowed with the motion, rolling until he was back in an upright position and braced for a follow up assault. Had he dodged a second later then he'd likely have been decapitated.

It had been a long while since Erasmus had had to employ so many of his faculties just to survive a single blow and as much as he enjoyed the feeling that came with the ability to stretch his metaphorical legs he knew that if the situation progressed further then only one of them would be walking away alive. And what a waste that would be. Besides, Erasmus had far more important things to worry about than a super-powered feminazi. Though the smiles had vanished and the eyes no longer gleamed mischief there was still the lingering air of smug confidence about The King's persona, nothing could ever wipe that away. No matter what words a person spoke, nor the actions they chose to take, Obsession knew them. Everything that drives a person, their motivation and their inspiration, the very source of their existence. All of it was known to him. 

In her efforts to wipe away her own flaws and find justification for herself Kiriko did nothing but lay the blame on others. Her outburst had been a result of that. Erasmus could understand her efforts at least, if not her results. She could point fingers all she wanted, it didn't make her accusations true. That was the case with so many people, Erasmus had found. Once presented with the truth about themselves people frantically searched for an answer, a source of blame and when they found none they grasped at straws and frequently got violent. Such was the problem with Humans and Shinigami, so dishonest with themselves that they forced others to suffer. If only they'd learn to trust themselves with the knowledge that they are who they are, they'd be much happier. Erasmus preferred Hollow for that reason, just about all of them were the most honest beings you could ever meet. Yes, they'd lie and cheat and steal, but it was all because they knew that it was what they had to do, they didn't make excuses for their ineptitude, for their secret desires, they simply indulged in them and damned anybody who told them they were wrong.

Vowing to be more careful about Penance and her pitiful insecurities Erasmus relinquished his stance and stood straight, any lack of composure wiped away as he continued to address his fellow broken soul.

"It seems that you, unlike me and my poor neck, have missed the point." The King spoke in groans, indicating the injury. Reaching up to the still gushing slit in his neck Erasmus pressed his palm against it to dam the flow, his previously crisp and clean shirt stained a muddy crimson as the blood pumped from his veins and slithered down his neck. Within he could hear the angry frightened shrieking of his childs soul thrashing in outrage. The wall beside the desk had been spattered with a thin trail of red and Penance, in her anger, hadn't gotten so much as a drop on her. 

"Killing each other is all well and good, but I'm aware of the risks. As much as I hate to admit it the possibility that I might lose exists, and I'd rather not risk my life before I've accomplished what I've set out to do." Every word invited a fresh wave of blood to leak from between his fingers, each drop creating a rapidly expanding dot of scarlet in the carpet, the fabric drinking up the liquid hungrily. "There is a way that we can engage each other now and save the joyous slaughter for after ​we're both satisfied with our endeavors. We're both very influential members of our respective societies, and I predict that you'll become even more influential in the weeks to come. So why not take the assets that we have available to us and play a game? We can have our fun and complete our goals at the same time, two birds with one stone."

"Then we can use the stone to beat each others heads in. Consider it a tie-breaker if it ever comes to that."

[Words: 823][GP: 16][Total GP: 48]