Falling into the Black [Evelynn/Kionchi]

His voice cut through one of the few days she spent reflecting on herself. Curled away in one of the many abandoned Espada towers, clinging to her fictional mortality in hope that she might realize her purpose for wandering around like a lost soul. A purpose beyond Fate. Beyond the obvious.

Or maybe there wasn’t anything else to her than being a puppet of Fate.

She rolled off the couch and pulled herself to her feet, sighing slowly as she gathered herself, slowly putting pieces back together and changing the portrait into that façade she wore in public. The king was calling her for a meal. It’d be rude not to show up. Not to mention she was silently hoping for another day with him. Another day to prove how worthy she was of him. A day to make something of herself.

So she left her home and made her way to the castle at a rather steady pace. Slow enough that she wasn’t out of breath, but fast enough to not keeping anyone waiting. But when she got there, pushing the doors open with the same confidence she always did, she saw she was alone. Well, mostly alone. A half dead Shinigami lay on the ground, marinating in his own blood, but not a single Arrancar had bothered to show up. Maybe the king knew she liked her privacy.

Her footsteps were enough to make the Shinigami stir slightly, a soft sound of pain escaping him as he faded in and out of consciousness. A pitiful sight. But a sight that looked familiar. As if she had seen a boy in this very situation before. Battered, broken, searching for someone to save him. It was right on the tip of her tongue.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” she commented as she crouched in front of the poor thing. “You must have really fucked up if you got the king himself to beat up on you. I’m actually quite curious to hear about that,” there was an innocence in her tone that betrayed the seriousness of the situation. “So, I’ll make you a deal. Give me a good story and I won’t eat you yet.”

[367. 7]

Her words brought him back to his senses as he instinctively opened his eyes and blunk with rapidity in a futile attempt to bring light to the darkness. His spiritual senses were still failing him. A kind of tinnitus-like effect from spending too long before that monster? Heh. He had heard of such things in the past in reports and journals but never thought he'd be on the recieving end. Never the less he didn't need his sixth sense to figure out what kind of creature this 'Evelynn' was. Hand jittering unsteadied with his lack of a sword the man tried his best to crawl up with arms. But slipping on the still greasy surface of the muck stained floor he slipped back headfirst into the planks that were once the King's table. His arms were about as useful as the table's legs that had given out under the pressure of Erasmus' spirit.

”Better Days?"

He chuckled under his breath as he felt the familiar tendrils of madness slip into the crevices of his own mind. Where was Tsukuyomi? His kikanshinki? The medicine that made him right when those dark thoughts began to perverse his hard-earned sanity. He had fought so long and so hard for them. And yet here was he was unable to even take his own life lest that monster devour everyone he knew and loved. Unable to even bother reciting his vows. His curses. Those chains that once kept his so tightly bound now seemed so insignificant next to the might of the King of Las Noches. And now he lie bound by those wires unable to fight the enemy croutched before him. Unable to even recall the hatred and loathing so deeply rooted in his spirit for all Hollow-kind. Unable to betray them...

”A...A story?" Coughing up as much liquid as he could he wished he could see enough to confirm whether it was merely mucus and spittle or he was still losing blood. The kaido running throuhg his body had long since given out, but he didn't think the King would just let him die like that. Especially knowing what he knew...

Ah...

That's what she's doing here, isn't it? Trying to pump him for information? Supplement his little mind-trick or information gathering or however he found out about his companions with a little more prying? Wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't another of those ghosts...

”I've been asleep for so long its hard to tell if its been a dream or a nightmare...which do you prefer?"

He wasn't sure why her words let him relax. Maybe Erasmus had learned of some friend he had in prison he had long since wiped from his mind. Someone he used to talk too? Maybe someone the King's agents knew personally. Whatever it was he found the strength to at least pull himself up and sit sideways in the muck, his completely blackened eyes looking towards the source of her voice as he cleared his throat.

”Maybe along the way you'll find whatever it is the King asked you to find about me. Ms...Evelynn was it?"

Who was she...

WC: 533; GP: 10; TGP: 18

She liked watching him squirm around in the gore around him. Limbs trembling from pain as he tried to show some level of strength. To show he wasn’t down yet. Shinigami were so stupid. So frail, now that she got a good look at the guy.

“You’re not very good at storytelling, are you?” She frowned and tilted her head.

With a dismissive tap, she pushed him back over, smiling a bit at the pained groan that came from the sudden movement and the oh-so satisfying splatter from him falling back into his own blood.

It wasn’t really fair having her here with him. She was cruel and easily amused—a cat that would rather case the mouse around the house until dawn than actually kill it. She was, more so than her brethren, a Hollow at heart. The humanity, compassion, morality never grew inside of her. Never became a thing like it had for a few notable Arrancar. No. She was just a beast that was smart enough survive as long as she had.

“The King hasn’t asked me to do anything except eat you,” she commented after the Shinigami’s gasps were stifled. “I don’t know who you are, nor do I really care. If anything, I’m being a really bad Espada right now.” There was a dip in her voice—feigned shock as her eyes got dramatically wide. “Why, could you image what Erasmus would do if he walked in and you weren’t dead yet? I’m risking my neck for you.”

She let the words sink in for a few moments as she considered the situation. As sarcastic and humorous her tone was, she wasn’t entirely joking. While she didn’t really know the King that well, if the previous rulers were a foundation of bases, then she wouldn’t be too surprised if he did kill her for disobeying.

That was a scary thought. But not enough to silence the soft nagging in the back of her head. An irritating feeling that strangled her brain. He looked familiar. Maybe that was why she was hesitating. Biding her time until the perfect “eureka!” moment hit her. But for the time being, it looked like she was meant to suffer.

“Being as generous and kind as I am, I’ll give you another shot,” she smiled with a nod. “Tell me a story and I’ll put you out of your misery. I’ll even give you a story prompt—gee I’m on a good guy roll tonight. Why don’t you tell me a story about a…”

Her voice faded as she looked around the room, searching for something worthwhile. Something that would be interesting enough to tell a story about…

“A cat.”

That wasn’t exactly what she had in mind, but the words just slipped from her mouth. Cats weren’t exactly her favorite animal, nor were they particularly interesting. Oh well. It wasn’t her fault that she gave him a poor story prompt. If anything, it’s his fault for not being smart enough to say something interesting.

[504. 10]
[17]

Finally, the boy had a bit of sense go through his head. He licked his lips and moved into the most comfortable position he could be in given his state, and then turned his head to her.

The story wasn’t really interesting in content, but his voice was pleasing enough to hold her interest for the shortly while. Interesting enough that she even sat down on the floor with him, one hand on the ground so that she could lean against it and watch him as he tried to tell his story as beautifully as possible.

There was that nostalgic feeling again. She still couldn’t quite put her fingers on it. Maybe it was just déjà vu, or something meaningless, but she couldn’t fight the annoying tickle on the side of her brain. The tiny little memory struggling to surface despite all odds.

She wasn’t really one to reflect on her past life, so many things had been forgotten. Namely, her mortal life and time as a base Hollow. Those two timer periods were just completely black slates, but the more recent stuff she could call on if she thought long enough. Her time as a Vasto Lorde was vaguely familiar under the right circumstances.

Apparently right now wasn’t the right circumstances.

When he paused, posing her a question, she could only shrug carelessly. Her thoughts had been splitting her attention and, really, she didn’t like to be asked questions. Especially given the situation.

“I don’t know,” was the dull response she gave, though her tone suggested she wanted him to go on.

[263. 5]
[22]

”Their hearts.”

He heard her sit, felt her energy subside. His heartbeat began to steady as he took in the atmosphere. Her tone a seductive invitation to continue the story. To live another day. Had he managed to win her attention? Why did he care? Was it just that he wanted to stall her until Erasmus came back? No. There was something far more simple – far more selfish. It was the kind of victory the straight-laced Kionchi could never admit. Yet, just for a second, it made him happy.

”The kitten had no need to hunt, for he captured the hearts of the entire city. Strolling through the market every day, he'd be given far more than he needed to survive. Fish and milk and love and attention...always enough to share with the other cats, all the while becoming more and more helpless...”

The word hung heavily on his lips. He cleared his throat once more. Why. She was a soul devouring psychopath. A beast whose hands were as stained in blood as any other. And yet, something about her rang true. A truth beyond the stale courtliness and thin veneer of Seryu's friendship. A genuine interest beyond the scheming control of his three captains. Oh, sure, she was as demanding as Tokiyo or Kiriko...but after all the contests and commands, did they ever once try to see who he really was? There was something about her sincerity, something peering through the depths of her sin, that both frightened and beguiled him all at the same time.

”The market exploded,” his tone erupted, a sudden energy in his tone as he tried his best to describe the scene. ”First the fishmonger, then the dairy. An ox, easily a hundred times larger than any cat, had finally taken all it could of its handlers constant lashing. It charged back and forth, smashing into anything it could find in a desperate attempt to rid itself of its wagon. Humans and cats and even the spirits themselves fled from the rabid beast. And yet, sitting in the midst of the destruction, the scared young kitten could only lie paralyzed, the loud crashing and wanton destruction more than the sheltered creature could handle. None of those vendors he had come to rely on bothered saving the fragile child. All but one human in the market was far too busy wincing at the sight of their crushed merchandise, even as the ox made it final stampede...”

He paused for a second, tilting his head downward and closing his blind eyes as though preparing to give the bad news. He had lost sight completely of the danger he was in. His only concern the fate of his own characters. Lost in his own words.

”Silence. The kitten opened its eyes. The ox had been finally subdued, the air still thick with dust. And lying in that path of destruction, having lifted it out of the way of the cart, its mother the great hunter. Crushed to death under the hooves of the wild beast. Sacrificing itself for its most powerless child...”

Powerless. His eyes began to burn, but he knew he couldn't stop there. He knew he had to keep going. And yet, he hesitated; There was a fear. An existential dread. Like when you first wakes up in the morning, having tossed and turned all night long, and just begins to remember your nightmare, your mind trying to distract you from the torment, and your heart desperate to remind you of your own suffering.

”And that human who saw that selfless act? Who watched the mother cat give everything it could to save her powerless kitten? A child, as sheltered and helpless as the kitten, given everything in life except the power to choose its own fate. A boy who found himself reliving the event, night after night. Who would risk it all just to paint the stray cat, a futile attempt at understanding its inner nature. A futile struggle to fight fate itself...”

Stopping for another second, he took a quick detour to ask her yet another question.

”The freedom to choose to die to save the weak. Is it not the cruelest irony that we consider that a form of power?"

WC: 726; GP: 14; TGP: 53

She couldn’t say the story struck any sort of feelings with her. A sad end to an otherwise mundane story, of course, but she had lost that level of empathy years ago. She lost it when she became Hollow. Sure, on the surface she frowned and even pretended to be just sad enough that her reiatsu could hint at her understanding of the story, but deep down it was nothing.

So what? A cat had died. That happens all the time. Was it the act of saving someone weaker than her, or perhaps the motherly instinct that made the story touching? Evelynn couldn’t say. It was beyond her ability to grasp.

But still, she gave an approving nod to the blind man and even a few claps to signify her pleasure with the story. But it wasn’t so much the story that brought her pleasure as it was that nagging déjà vu feeling she had been fighting against. Finally, he had spoken something that brought back the memory.

The kid who was beat for painting cats. The boy who wanted freedom so much that he was blinded by what he was talking to. An old memory she was only moderately fond of. This Shinigami, beaten and degraded reminded her so much of that poor kid she had humored while she was a young Vasto Lorde.

“Eh,” she shrugged at his question. “No. Why would anyone save the weak? The weak are weak because they choose to be. Because they don’t get up and learn to fight or protect themselves. If they face death it’s their fault for not being prepared, not mine because I wouldn’t save them.”

It was a typical Hollow response, she figured. Growing up in a world that centered around the very idea of ‘dog eat dog’ was enough to make most every Hollow frown at those less fortunate. How had the Shinigami thought she got to where she was now? She sure as hell didn’t by throwing herself in the line of fire for every poor soul that walked in front of her.

“But you know what?” She stretched out her legs and arms. “You remind me of someone I was really fond of back in the good ol’ days. So I was thinking…” She paused long enough for dramatic effect, her own sort of storytelling tone taking hold. “I can offer you the same sort of freedom I gave that human. Freedom from not only death, but the shame of going back to the Seireitei like this.”

She tilted her head at him, watching his every move like the predator she was. It wasn’t exactly the same thing she had done to the human, but only because she didn’t know how to make Vaizard back then. But it’s really the same concept. Changing him into something new so that he could escape reality and fulfill whatever weird dreams bubbled around in his head.

“Or,” she continued after the tense silence. “I can kill you now and be on my way. The choice is yours.”

[509. 10]
[32]

”Freedom...”

His body shivered. His heart nearly leapt from his chest. He could feel the word in the back of his throat, only heard static. His fingers stiffened, pain shooting up his arms, reminiscent of Tsukuyomi's curse. Between hisses and cracks of static he heard a scream off in the furthest corners of his own mind. The voice so familiar and yet so distant. An intimate part of his very own soul. He shook once more. His body wracked with pain as the deafening roar of the static came crashing down around him. Suddenly silenced by the sound of shattering glass.

His Pupils dilated. His pallid face dripping in sweat. Only four seconds passed. And yet he found himself no different than he was one hundred and forty-six years ago.

”I'm not scared,” Nostalgia lost in the truth of the moment, he sat back up and kept his dead eyes closed. He had no reason to fear her. After all, if she ended his life her King would lose every reason to torture the other shinigami. ”I've been afraid my entire life. Not afraid of scary things, like death or loss. But rather, afraid to live.”

His speech far more childish than his normal flower up-tightness. A series of words recalling a memory long sealed. A night long forgotten, tucked away and stashed by his precious Tsukuyomi. Her spirit crushed in Erasmus soul. Her grip on his past loosened, fingers mangled beyond recognition. But Kionchi knew none of this. To him, his words today rang as true as they did that night in Kyoto. The last century and a half of running and fighting and searching in vain. Looking for that monster who ruined his life. That beast – that woman – who promised to protect her. Who left him to his own devices. Who left him to the Gotei.

”I want to be free.”

His voice as resolute as it was as a child. Spirit returning to his body, the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. For everything he gave the Gotei – Tokiyo, Seryu, Jinpei and the others – For everything he gave them, not a one lifted a finger to save him from the Nest. For eighteen years he languished. Prisoner. Traitor. Monster. Beast. And even the angel that came to free him, the goddess he swore himself to forever, dumped him back into this hell without a second thought. The reward for his trust. For his loyalty. Another shallow betrayal. Another empty promise.

”I want the freedom to be afraid of something other than myself.” He opened his eyes, a single shining glimmer in the center of each black sphere aimed straight ahead at Evelynn's azure eyes. ”I want to experience and live and learn and cry and know what's worth protecting in this world...”

The darkness of his eyes flickered for just a split second. His crystal clear reishi becoming something of a lens; A clear lake in which lied something far darker. An ambitious, wild and obsessive nature that lied in such stark contrast to the reserved courtesan lying in his own blood and bile. His energy surged, neither violent nor peaceful. But rather capricious and wayward, like a meteor lighting up the night sky for just a moment – lost before even have time to point out the bright streak across the otherwise empty sky. The magnitude of his power unquestionable. But lost. Directionless.

”I want to be impulsive and wild and free enough to find my own strength. And find something worth taking for myself.”

He looked away once more. The hollow hadn't responded to his story like he thought she would. And yet her words had lead the man back into his characteristic paranoia. Lead him to question, more directly than ever, the nature of this hollow named Evelynn. This voice in the darkness, so much like the laughter that haunted his dreams. So much like the beast he had given everything to find. So much... ”Like you...Onee-sama.”

WC: 675; GP: 13; TGP: 66

There it was again. That feeling. But this time, the memory was right in front of her, ready to be used as a reference for this very moment. A memory that had eroded over time, but was clear enough to put the pieces together and answer the question she didn’t even know she was asking.

This was the very same boy from so long ago. The boy who drew cats.

Her smile crept onto her face and tickled her Reiatsu with the warmth of a mother looking upon her child. A reunion with the poor soul who she had utterly fucked beyond belief. One of the very few times she so actively cared about someone other than herself while she was a Vasto Lorde.

“…And find something worth taking for myself,” she spoke in unison with him, though her uplifting tone drowned out the emotion in his. She rose to her feet and walked over to him, closing the distance just in time to finish mocking him. “Just like you, Kionchi.”

Once more, she knelt before him, the space between them thick with the tension she had created. Who else would know the speech like she did? No one else had shared that moment. Sure, he might have told someone else at some point, but she doubted he was so dense as to not figure it out by now.

To be fair, she only just figured it out herself, but she could hardly recognize the poor boy with all the blood and mess on him.

“You know,” she broke the stunned silence. “I really did like those cats you loved to draw. Remember that last one you gave me before I saved you? I still have it in my tower.”

There was no time to respond before her hand was in his chest, fingertips stretching into the soul within the fleshy casing. And in that moment, they were the same person. Connected by an imperfect link that shared their lives and experiences in a matter of seconds. Impossibly long seconds filled with flashes of images and noises that somehow made coherent stories.

Flashes of knowledge and gifts that should never be learned by another.

And then it was over.

She pulled her arm from his chest, letting him drop to the side in a groaning mess of agony and confusion as he was bombarded with Evelynn’s experiences. True, Evelynn herself was recovering too, but she was used to it. She had come to expect the nasty back lashes of making these inner hollows. Kionchi was not. He was an innocent child who had been thrown in the middle of the lake.

But Evelynn was kind, if only because she still found the boy just as amusing as he was all those years ago. So she grabbed the frayed edges of his Shinigami garb, pulling him up by the shoulder to sit up straight. With a gentle pat, she dusted off his shoulder and regarded the nasty mess in his chest

“Sorry,” her apology was nothing more than a meaningless reflex. “But freedom comes at a cost. Haven’t you learned that yet?”

[521. 10.]
[42]

Just like you...

His lips parted, just enough to let out a breath. That twinkle in his blackened eyes condensed itself into a single point. She was close. He could feel her breath on his neck. The warmth of her reishi. He tried to speak. Tried to move. But that sharp pain in the back of his skull pulsed with each twitch of his muscles. The air got thick. Too thick for him to breateh. The static came back. But it wasn't enough. Her words cut through like a megaphone. Shook and rattled him down to his bones.

He wanted to struggle. To bind her with a bakudo and carve her to pieces. To grab her by the neck and choke the life out of her. To cut and spit and scream and shout and let that laughter that had tormented him finally come to an end. Let that voice consumed by shadows at last be silenced by his own hand. Take back the life that was taken from him. The deception and lies and pain and failure that left his hands filthy no matter how hard he scrubbed. No matter how much he ran. No matter the penance...

Only a quiet exhale. His voice silent.

He didn't feel the impact. The convulsions were entirely unconscious. Her hand brushed against his heart. Her breath passed once more over his ear. He felt his soul slipping away. That crystal purity he had honed and shined and polished for so long cracking under the pressure of her fingertips. No string of questions unanswered. No tears as that final glass wall came crumbling around her. That final barrier he had so desperately kept up between himself and the rest of the world. Those black wispy tendrils shooting from his body, his spiritual perception more than enough to paint the scene for his otherwise frail and dying body, flowing free from his wound and as black as his raven hair. Those inhibitions he had always suppressed. That malnourished id that had left his ego a dried out husk. Those desires flowing forth, the final seal broken: Vengeance. Passion. Anger. Madness. Ambition. Control. Power. Freedom.

His head arched back. His eyes half-lided. The two tiny pins of light flickering on the surface of those black spheres, smokey wisps of night crawling over and around the dying star. This was his limit. This was as far as he could go. As close to achieving his goal as he'd ever get. Both as far and as close to failure as he could possibly be. The repetitious pattern of his languid servitude at last coming to an end. Another ending to another story as poetically justified as any other, penned by the cruel and relentless author named Fate.

Goodbye, Sweet Faker.

His eyes opened wide. The spark igniting like never before. He looked into his own eyes. His hands felt a familiar thump. His own heart. His own body. Her body. Their body. Before he could react, his own eyes lit up in the same cerulean blue as hers. His soul taking on the same fickle alloofness as hers. That straight and narrow edge of his, sharpened so meticulously over the years, cracked and shattered into a glittery aimless dust as liberated from its origins as it was alive. His own iris exploded, the once blue hues sucked like stars into the black hole of his own pupil. The stardust spinning in an endless spiral as he watched the world around him blur and phase and flicker in and out of existence.

The darkness inside him pulsed to the beat of their synchronous hearts. He looked down. Face to face with her. Simultaneously looking right at himself. His eyes twirled. Her face distorted. One. One. Two. Three. Five. Eight. Thirteen. An endless number of Evelynn layered one over the other over the other over the other. One smiling. One with a scowl. One biting through his neck. The other, a tear down her cheek. Each Evelynn another world. Another path. Another route. Another possibility, one after another. Had Fate's fickle pen simply written down a different sentence. A different word. A different letter. The same fair-skinned woman, her hair a shifting blend of white and blonde. Different styles and cuts and even a hat flickered in an out of existence. The only consistency the azure hue of those capricious eyes.

And the piercing golden gaze of that muscular dragon-like monster standing over her. Its wings stretching wider than Kionchi's peripheral. A toothy grin on its muzzle. Its tail occasionally coming into view as it flickered behind it. And yet no matter how the arrancar before it shifted between worlds, the vasto lorde behind her stood resolute. An ideal. Perhaps a figment of what Kionchi expected. No. The light of her eyes was too real. Its bloodied claws in the same sullied state as Evelynn's hands, gouged deeply in his chest. And looking behind himself, the arrancar's senses still as linked to him as her soul, he saw the shocking sight of all.

Tsukuyomi lie in tatters. Uninjured and whole. Yet broken and listless. Her gaze on Evelynn. Then on the Evelynn of her Zanpakutou. Her eyes sad. Devoid of hope. Her white kimono tattered and ripped. Specks of blood on her sleeves indicative of some struggle in her gilded prison. The bars just barely visible, darkness overwhelming. But most shocking of all was her face. Those streaks of black burnt forever on the sides of her cheeks. Those tears shed in a desperate attempt to cleanse herself of the King's influence. A powerless, broken bird, peeking out of its cage. Desperate to reach out for her master. Yet broken enough to know it wasn't worth the effort. Her longing in her eyes a plea unanswered. Evelynn's embrace around Kionchi, a defeat more crushing than the King's merciless torture. She wanted to keep that Kionchi she loved from growing further away. Reach out and grab those awful black tendrils and rip them free from his heart. She wanted to take in his darkness.

But it was too late.

Figures appeared around the pair, one after the other. Tsukuyomi and the Vasto Lorde glowed, taking in the spiralling energy of the pair of fused beings. The shadows around them began to take shape. Shinigami. Humans. Hollows. Men and women and children alike, all important figures in the history of the pair's lives. Kionchi scanned each one as he looked from one side of the blackness to the next. His zanpakutou and hers combining their powers in such a grandiose display. Toto and Maya looking on in pain. Shun, Ryou and Robert looking at him with a disgusted smirk. Kiriko and Tokiyo and their machination fueled half-smiles. His students looking on in veiled interest. But what caught his attention, more than any other, were the blacked out faces of Seryu and Mirabelle. The pair he was so close too. One holding Kionchi's violin. The other his painting of Seryu's pet cat. But both faces obscured by an unstable darkness. Both souls resonating with that same darkness that came billowing out of his own.

Memories of what they meant to him. Some fresh. Some long forgotten. Some precious. Some futile. His quest for Evelynn. His desire to save the world. His resolute belief in his overwhelming fate and destiny. His never-ending desire to unravel the mysteries of the human soul. To cleanse the world of sin and suffering. To save everyone, and then find out why the world was worth saving. They all came flowing out at once, joining the mingling souls as he watched a cherry-haired little girl screaming bloody murder at some figment in the shadows far off in the most distant corner of that all encompassing darkness.

And then it was over.

Closing his eyes, the resonance ended as abruptly as it began. He didn't feel his body fall. Only the tuck and pull of his collar. The pat of her hand on his wound. The warmth of her body as he fell sideways into her lap. The resonance was unlike anything he had experienced before. Was it just because she was so experienced delving into the souls of others? No. A smile crept on his lips as he nuzzled gently into her lap. His pretentious intolerance gone. The disgust of being so close to an arrancar in that blood-stained dining hall lost on him in that moment. As accepting of her as he was of his own happiness.

”If bearing one's soul is the price we pay,” Kionchi whispered, eyes still closed as he turned his neck to try to face her. ”Well, I'm not stupid enough to think that was it.”

He tried to laugh, coughing as blood still dripped from his chest. The resonance's panacea had long since worn off. The aches and pains of his body should have long since knocked him out. Yet, unbeknownst to him, his muscles began to grow together as his skin restitched itself around the sizable wound. The pale white skin leaving a bit of a mark, in stark contrast to the blood-stained flesh around it.

”So how many cats is this going to cost me?”

WC: 1548; GP: 30; TGP: 96

The link was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. No… Actually, it wasn’t that abnormal. It reminded her of what she had shared with Naoko. A brief moment in which something went horribly right and their souls became one. Their lives reflected each other as their souls embraced and cuddled between the stunned duo.

But at the same time, it was a wholly unique experience for the both of them.

For her, it was just watching. Watching from some balcony while sitting in a chair that didn’t really exist. Wrists and legs strapped down tight and her head forced in only one direction, she could only watch the LSD-like scene play out before her.

Embodiments of her danced in and out of existence, playing just a second of their story before being replaced with a new one. Each one twirling in or away from an equally whimsical Kionchi. An endless dance that had been played throughout all of these different realities all at the same time. All of these possibilities for the both of them.

Death.
Life.
Happiness.
Sorrow.
Acceptance.
Denial.

She could just sit from her high up perch and watch it all play out. Watch as “her” and Kionchi stared at each other through the midst of these other possibilities, their eyes locking onto one another as they shared this intimate moment.

Do you think it’s just symbolism to see them merge into one another? A Hollow and Shinigami becoming one?

The thought was her own, but foreign. It echoed in her mind, taunting her with her own voice, but somehow ringing true. Like a psychotic killer who happened to say just the right thing to thoroughly scare his timid victims.

Evelynn jerked her hand against the invisible restraints as the figure of her stepped closer to Kionchi, hands beginning to reach for him.

Have you not thought about it at all? How you began to unlock powers only available to Shinigami? How you’ve been distancing yourself even more? How you’ve begun to give up your ideals in pursuit of finding more Shinigami to fawn over?

Because I have. I’ve thought about it long and hard. The way I see it, there’s really no other answer that neatly sums up all of your problems. Do you know what it is? Well… Of course you do, because I know it. But what I’m asking is: can you admit it to me--to yourself?

She gave her wrists another shake, her eyes unable to look away as the two in the distance embraced, arms snaking around each other as they leaned into each other’s bodies, souls meshing and merging in a surprisingly beautiful display of light.

Light that swarmed the black background and reached out to Evelynn with horrendous arms, threatening her with gangly claws and vicious teeth.

Can you admit that you’re killing yourself?

She woke up with a tiny gasp, Kionchi in her lap and grinning up at her like a love struck idiot. Blood oozed from his mouth and the wound, and yet he found happiness in this moment of life. This closeness that went far beyond any sort of physical bond anyone could have. A bond that tied them together and begged for them to stay together. A pull she could only describe as the undeniable urge to protect and coddle him.

So, she smiled right back. Panic, agony, realizations, all of those emotions just a backdrop to the happiness of the man below her. In fact, she even laughed at his weak attempt at a joke--something that never would have made her laugh before, but she’d humor him. Humor him like she had for all of his life.

“Forty-five sounds like a good starting place,” she joked back, her eyes flicking to the wound on his chest. “But I think first we should get you patched up. Can you walk?”

[652. 13]
[55]

He didn't think he'd wake up. The nightmare had last so long, consuming so much, and leaving so little behind. A ripple of gold light broke through the black; Cloth moving to the subtle emission of his breath. He had given into his hatred for so long...maybe it surprised him that there was anything left. Shifting his head up her lap, he felt the warmth of her body against his skin. A light pulse against the side of his head. Her muscles shifting against the pressure of his body against her thigh proof of his own existence. The subtle shift in the golden light rippling from her body telling him she had finally woken up. The light dancing in the darkness, regardless of whether or not his eyes were closed.

He shifted himself in her lap, taking in the outline of her face for the first time. It wasn't that he could see her, his brackish eyes still shut, but rather an outline of her features drawn by her own aura. A golden portrait painted on a canvas of darkness without end. And while he didn't expect the evolved hollow to have the same features as the dragon that stalked his nightmares, he didn't expect something more human than what he saw when he looked at his own reflection. As soft as she was strong; But accepting of her own imperfections enough to face her own fate. Not that such a thing could be so easily discerned, even filtered by the surreal vision his senses had decided better suited his new worldview.

He heard every word, but wondered if he should just pretend he couldn't. He wished he could just sit there a moment longer. And yet the very thought made him nauseous. What would his master say if he found him like this. The hunter had finally found his prey, and now couldn't bother getting to his feet? No. He was always her prey. Always dancing on her fingertips, knowing the moment he stopped she'd grow bored and finish him off. Knowing that the moment the cat grew tired of its toy it'd finish it off with a single well timed snap...

”Then I guess its too early to end my story,” His hair slipped over her lap as he pulled his body up. It was so heavy. Every part of him screamed for mercy. Begged the stupid fox to collapse back into her lap and fall asleep. He staggered, almost tipping over, but managed last minute to catch himself. ”But maybe someday I'll have the luxury.”

He lurched onto his knees, turning his closed eyes to her once more and taking in the entirety of her feminine form. That soft, even dainty form, so unlike what he'd expect given she'd long since become his symbol for all the world's suffering. Yet before he knew it he was back on his feet. The wound on his chest almost completely closed. Even his facial disfigurement slowly healing itself, scar-tissue melting away as welt and cysts broke apart under his skin. He felt his energy returning. Bones once broken and muscles once torn settled down from screaming in agony to merely bitching in sore indignation. It wasn't brute strength that let him pull himself from her, neither kaido that let him hoist his aching muscles up onto his own two legs, wobbly as they were. Whether it was Evelynn or Xiaobei or even Erasmus' influence on his body, at that point he was just grateful he could breath without much pain.

”But I have a hard time believing this was all part of some grand master plan,” his playful jabs were so unlike him. He held out his hand, offering to help her up. ”And even getting as good a look I could, there were enough locked doors in there to know even I couldn’t pry them all open...” He paused. Part of him wanted to ask why. But this intuition, this voice he’d shut out, told him before he could spurt it out that it was the wrong thing to ask. The boring thing to ask. ”So where do you keep the keys?”

”Or is that all there is?” He spoke impatiently. His eyes opened to a world of possibilities he always been to afraid to indulge himself in. She wasn’t evil incarnate, but rather opportunity, and he refused to believe, after all this time, that this was all she had to offer.

WC: 750; GP: 15; TGP: 111