The Ashes Call My Name [Closed]

           "For you?" A voice that came from everywhere and nowhere, the sound of it broken by his pause. Wit would have had him snap with something more amusing than he had intended, but that had been why it merited the moment to consider. Doing so set nerves raw, let a tremor roil through his arm before finally catching it at the wrist with enough force to hear the cracking beneath his fingers. No mirth nor madness in his voice, rather, a sound strangely subdued and unbecoming of what he was came out instead. The taste of it tearing at his tongue; what wretched honesty this was.

            "Long enough." If she had expected his usual pomp and presentation then it would be a disappointment. But was he a poor host for the unexpected company? Or rather that he had forgotten when they would be attending? But time had seemed less important lately, no longer accountable as it should have been. Mother Night came whispering to him in the solitude to keep him responsive to its passing, but no more than the notice that it was when he needed to play the part of the dutiful child. With each conversation it had become progressively clearer what it was he was to do, what limited options still appealed themselves to him.

            A lash of Will, quick and precise, split what fog hung over the place. This was his stage, his story. It needed to be set just so, or there was no joy to be taken from it; no point. Either the Shrine Girl would see him for what the moment was or there was no reason to bother continuing on with it. She would see him without the finery he preferred, without jacket or shirt or vest, having stripped to bare chest in the process of Becoming and barely recovered enough to notice they were gone. Later, perhaps, he would remember, restore them as he always did. Or not. It seemed moot at this point since anything they could have hidden pulsed with ugly sensations exposed to the open air.

            Ragged puncture wounds crept up his torso from beneath his belt line, though there was no way to know if the pattern would be obvious to anyone but him. The last of them, the angriest in appearance, so neatly placed where his neck and collarbone met. And if not for the Arrancar's insistence on clinging to the offending limb he would have very much liked to scratch at it.

            They were hardly the only scars that marked him now where he had once been flawless. Vanity was such a small sacrifice. Was it not? Maybe. In all that had been going on Nazomi hadn't thought to look for a mirror. A small thing that seemed inconsequential before that only seemed worth the questioning now that he saw how deep and dark the jagged wounds around his joints were. They throbbed with fresh agony given the notice, each clamoring for his attention with the eagerness of a child.

            He smiled, if only slightly.

            He had his pride.

            "Should have figured it would be you. Maybe not this place and time but..." Freezing where he stood, Nazomi considered the arm he clung to, the veins bulging, writhing with corruption. With no more notice than he seemed to be giving anything else these days he tore it from his body with only a slight effort, unsure if he had become stronger or more fragile in the exchange. Flicking his eyes over the half torn number that he'd tattooed into the flesh, he remembered. It was just that his mind happened to be much louder than it used to be, the fog filtering back across the ground to take the shape of what had once passed. Figures began to take form, their voices becoming more distinct, than gone with a flash of contempt and desire. There was only disappointment in returning to that.

            He squeezed, reducing the limb into flittering firefly lights that were quickly engulfed with a deep breath. The sensation sent the Arrancar's eyes fluttering, teasing himself with enough of the narcotic sensation that it would be enough to distract. For now, at least. With a near liquid growth springing into place a new arm quickly replaced the one he had removed, though it did so without the tattoo. What other alterations could be made? Oh but why would he want to make them?

            "Only you would tell me to leave you alone and then show up on my doorstep to return a fucking coat." Not that he could help but crack a small smile, even scoff in amused disbelief. He knew better, knew the second that she'd spoken, but this would be dreary business already. For as long as he had been alive and it was the minutes he'd spent in her company that always seemed longest. If only for himself there was the lingering wish to find a point to them if it had already come to the ending.

            "It's sentimental, considering." It wasn't appropriate to call it happiness in his voice. What he felt was deeper and far more intertwined with other things that it was unbecoming to belittle it in such a way, but he had no name for the approval in his voice. It faded soon enough, replaced instead by wringing hands and subtle tilts of his head towards the constant ticking ringing from his hip. A reminder then, that time asserted itself on the Arrancar once more whether he wished to acknowledge it or not.

            "Come along then, Shrine Girl. Bring your gift." Nazomi stepped away only to realize he had no destination in mind. In the confusion it caused he turned his gaze in several directions before clapping his hands across his eyes in order to rub at the ache that so suddenly possessed them. Stumbling blindly from his stupor the Arrancar groped at the air until finding something solid enough to fling himself against; steady against a booth he realized when the fog that had clouded his thoughts lifted.

            "There are things I no longer have the time for you to learn on your own."

===================

Word Count: 1029

GP Gained: 20

Irritating.

           "Teaching is something you do when you want to give someone enough knowledge to make a choice for themselves, to make sure that it matters to them." A pause in his shambling forward, Nazomi turned his head enough to flash a weaker smile. Weariness left a bitter resonance in his tone, but not for her. They were close enough now that a small break was cliché enough to be necessary. Those fat old worn stone steps would work. Untouched by all the labor spent they still carried the signs of abandon that had claimed much of his hideaway before. Still, half-collapsing onto them, they felt far more comfortable than they looked.

            "I was expecting someone else, you see. It felt like she'd be the one to, but..." Hysteria crept into body with a growing twitch, spasms that rippled across his muscles with irregular unpleasantness. "Then there's probably a reason I'm in mourning." That was threatening more humanity than he cared to taint himself with. Impulse after impulse barked and bit, returning a comfortable if distracting disorder to his thoughts while leaving nothing outward to show for it. Then that only left him one more thing to do before he could put what he needed into words.

            Quiet and precise. When Nazomi opened his eyes, filled with brilliant red, he let his instincts hound the little piece of himself that she had stolen, blinding it for a little while at least. If she had followed it here as he suspected then it was too dangerous to be allowed to run loose while they spoke. If anything it would be another burden he was responsible for, however unintentionally it may have been. For now he had done more than enough, diverted too much of his attention from the gnawing feeling against the base of his spine until it threatened him again with pointless base desires. Another small need that cried to be sated that drained from him with a shudder once overwhelmed. The wicked color of his eyes fled with it, not needed any further unless he wished to expose himself to the risk of more.

            "But I meant to find you after, to apologize for breaking my word, to explain to you." A touch of desperation quickly flared and faded from his features, from the words, when the Arrancar buried his face against his palm in hopes of kneading out the ache that throbbed in his skull. How to explain? There had to be at least some limited way to convey to her what it was. Glancing up he saw the coat, heard her words in his head again, thought of the goddess bright and mad, and it was the silliest but useful thing she could have given him short of being there.

            "Parts of me carry a power, a piece of what I am in them. Doesn't matter what so long as they are sealed with blood and intent." With the sort of sudden enthusiasm that only the truly exhausted could feel he exclaimed, gesturing as if it was so simple he should have been ashamed for not comprehending it before. "And that's why you're here. You took a piece of me, one you don't even understand." He muttered, about how he had been unsure until he had seen her eyes, his ranting quickly devolving into matters that even he found hard to follow. A breath later and he managed to calm himself again. Rushing it. He was rushing it again.

            It was a trial to get on his feet again but there he was, up on his heels working his way step by step in an attempt to snuff out the burst of excess energy that had nearly divorced him from reality again. Now wasn't the time to lose himself in the sky, empty or not. Approaching the core of the issue would only serve to make him unreasonably angry, but maybe rage was the focus necessary to make his prattling worth listening to. So Nazomi let it, let the anger course through his veins and bring a razor sharp hatred that radiated from him out of nowhere.

            "And it matters because we were never given a choice!" He breathed a sigh, sagged where he stood, spat the words with such venom they might as well been a curse. "Just caught up in a spiral, not noticing until it's too late." A shuddered sigh then the balm of his hands against his eyelids made it easier. That had been what he was working to, what he was supposed to say that actually mattered.

            "And I can't wait for you to learn because I'm too close to my own ending."

            He frowned, realizing even that may not be clear enough.

            "I'm going to die if I remain here."

            Very solemnly he reached for his coat.  

            "So I owe it to you to explain whatever I can before that happens."

===================

Word Count: 819

GP Gained: 16

           One little word. Imperfect, unimportant, but the question she still chose to ask. That look on her face spoke of a familiarity with the girl that he had not felt for some time. For all the distance that he had created between what once was and what was now there was always the memory. Clouded, like so much anymore, but still there somewhere beneath the gashing instincts that had completed him. And now, now when they had been strongest and tearing at the anchors that held them, it all abruptly fell quiet. Simple silence, the emptiness of a long night where he was left waiting for the next desire to give him point again. In the face of what drove their meeting it had been easily subdued. To feel it so stilled without indulgence was...new. It made things easier even if it seemed unlikely to last long enough to matter.

            But he was beginning to appreciate the preciousness of a few seconds more.

            "You know-" Tilting his head up he waited. Some sign, some light, some sort of sensation to overwhelm him. Nothing came. The sky was just a sky. Empty. Pointless but pretty. On his feet again somehow before he turned his eyes back to her, a small smile all he could share honestly. Taking his coat gently, if it was even really his anymore, the Arrancar lingered long enough to touch the back of her hand. Was that the right gesture? It always seemed to be what others used. Taking someone else with that small embrace to tell them it would all be ok. It never was but it may not have been a lie. Not an intentional one. Just a small strangling seed of hope to bind them together a bit longer with so that they might find the time to heal. With what she would seem to mourn it might have been more masturbatory narcissism than he should have participated in. Then again, how many other chances would he get to?

            "I've always liked that about you." A coy laugh became a sigh. Where was he going again? Oh right. Up the steps. That could wait. It felt like too much to be concerned with. Instead Nazomi wandered just a bit, looking at his home and remembering it used to be different. It had changed, and he wasn't sure how or when. The jacket was nice though. Warm. Where had he gotten it again?

            Neurons misfiring. Headball broken even now. Had to let it heal now and hope it had all been worth it. And he found his smile again! It would just piss her off so much when the Arrancar had shared what he had done. A little brain damage was worth that much.

            Darkness moved in his veins, bulging them against his skin with a rush of vitality that wore away at his stuttering steps. A few seconds more and Nazomi moved with something resembling normality. The whole thing was less wearying now that the need to circumvent certain synapses was no longer a necessity. He could afford the damage or his composure but not both.

            "Do you feel better?" A stretch of his fingers, a crunch of bone as he made a fist, and it all seemed to be in order enough to provide a more lucid answer. Still, that feeling lingered, enough that it he almost longed for the chaos that want always brought with it. If there was a name to this emotion, the knowing that he lacked something that could never be his, then it was unknown to the Arrancar. In these moments of silence, more so in this one than any other before, he was aware of it. Not sad for it but able to acknowledge it in a way that had once driven him to moments of irrationality before. So often, as irony would have it, because of her. Always her. Because neither of them had been capable of doing what had been needed. Neither would they have ever been if the meeting had never happened. So there they were, a fine pair he supposed, with what they had become.

            "I ask, because it has alot to do with my answer. To explain it, I have to explain something else that's very important." He paused just long enough to turn a curl of a smile at her. "So do try to pay attention." The quickest, easiest way to explain it would have been to let her experience it as he did. Or to slip into his being just as he had done with his dear goddess. Experience decided otherwise; she simply lacked the constitution for it. That was part of the problem. Always part of it. But using words would mean the attempt would be imperfect no matter how well he conveyed it. A shame, but one that he would have to accept given their limitations.

            "Have you ever looked at someone and felt like you understood them suddenly? Not just their emotions but deeper things, memories, what makes them who they are?" Blinking, brandy brown bled into his eyes for an instant then slipped away, bright as gold as they might have once been. A wave of his hand displaced air around them, a expulsion of will and mind that might help her relate better now that it had occurred on him to call on it.

            The window of their reality shattered.

            A hole carved with his power, an imprint of what sat in his memories forcibly pressed upon the waking world. A new depth he had discovered himself capable of if used just right. Difficult, granted, but allowed him such an interesting means of using his abilities in new ways. For this, though, he did not call on it to fling nightmares or spill his insanity out around him. It was a moment that had decided much for the both of them, on the sands with blade deep in her shoulder. Watching it from the outside was...disorienting. Recalling it did not prompt the same things it once had, nor what he thought it might have. No pride or hunger, no want or craving that could have been stronger than it had been back then. Just the realization that it had been the last time that she had been given any real choice in her life.

            An act of naivety that had plunged her into the same spiral that...he was uncertain of having ever been without. At least not since the Arrancar had chosen a new name to suit his new state of being.

            "That was what you took from me. The piece that allows me to do that, that shows me what it is I want." Their past selves' eyes locked in that distant stare, the moment they had torn pieces of time and anima away from one another.

            "And it's not just limited to people. I can open myself to the world to experience it at a magnitude greater than just that." A small smile, recalling something else best not displayed outwardly, and Nazomi reached blindly down his side until he felt the comforting shape of his pocket watch sitting in the tiny pocket meant just for it. Still ticking, still humming with eagerness to be used.

            "It filters through in bits and pieces, in ways that allow me to take in the information without being overwhelmed by it." An all too brief smirk as he remembered the way mortality had been imposed on him and he added: "Except the first time I used it. Opened myself too far and well..." Drawing the timepiece out it flipped open, resisting only slightly at the mundane gesture. At least, mundane for him. The hands spun as ceaselessly as they always did, but no where at the speed they might have once. Never an exact time but cursed with the same ability that gave him that knowledge in the first place he knew it was waning.

            "I understood that I would die. How and when. Altering just so with every choice I made until now."

            The watch snapped shut, cutting off the image of how it would happen as he knew it now. An unpleasant reminder. One that would continue ticking away safely separated from him for the time being. 

==============================

Word Count: 1382

GP Gained: 27

Fear.

She froze.

Kill her.

She didn't even feel anything for the girl on the sands anymore, no fear, nothing but pity.

            Why was it important to her?
 
            Did she enjoy it? At least he couldn’t begrudge her that, if it were the case.  If she could delight in parted lips that trembled at the idea of speaking it then she was crueler than Nazomi could ever be. Such a ridiculous notion, though. In spite of his misgivings she was not like everyone else. Time and again the shrine girl had proven that; always human, as he had noted. Though, maybe that was inaccurate. That was not typical of what he considered human. It lacked the darkness that he thrived upon. Yet there was no way of seeing her as anything else. Perhaps that was why she had always stood out. Kind, if naïve, but even knowing that it seemed impossible that she could still show such concern for the creature that had scarred her so deeply.
 
            The question was still one that would go unanswered.
 
            Several times he tried, each attempt sputtering out prematurely before even the first word could slip past.  What struck the Arrancar as odd was that he couldn’t even feel frustration over it. No desire to throw a tantrum as he might have another day or to spitefully shatter the living dream he had created. What Nazomi felt, rare and unwanted, was shame.  Lowering his gaze he tried several times to work himself into the frenzy that he could release it through, disappointed further when it continued to sit as a lump in his chest that only swelled to smother him from within. It came with clarity, a clear headedness that he had not expected himself capable of. It only made a certain amount of sense that this would be the one dreadfully sane reaction that had ever possessed him.
 
            “I think it’s enough that I know.” Forcing a smile he presented her with a mask that threatened to slip more easily than he would have liked; inexcusable for an actor, really. That was also a risk that went with being so painfully close to the source material. A chance for something real to slip through instead of a part played out for the appeasement of others. Feigning an emotion for its theatrics allowed those watching to live through the moment vicariously, safely disconnected. Doing more, baring himself so completely, would only remind her of the old wounds and the self-destruction that lingered behind them.
 
            She seemed to have enough of that as is. There was no need for him to make it worse.
 
            “Don’t add me to your burdens, please.” What he needed, what she needed, was a change of subject. So he turned to the dream, the scene scrambling along in short order to the moment that had so irrevocably altered them both. From the outside it was almost amusing to look at. The impression against their clothing or lack thereof was the only sign of the invisible force that had flung them apart. Their eyes were still locked, dilated as the threads of the connection were still snapping. A miscalculation, though he doubted it had not been yet another tiny push that caused him to miss it, and they had been doomed to the path they had been on since.
 
            Then, without prompting, he finally managed to say it.
 
            “A bright light. A bright, blinding, burning light.” His eyes stung when he managed to summon up enough will to turn towards the shrine girl again, his voice unsteady and quiet even as he forced himself to finish what he had begun. “Like the one you stepped in the path of for me.” It shocked him into numbness to have finally strung together what had so interested him in her initially, the spark that had garnered his attention when they first met, but like many things it had been overlooked when nudged so subtly forward.
 
            The response, her answer didn’t surprise him. Shocked perhaps, cut into a piece of him that he had not used for some time, but it did not startle him. It was uniquely her, something essential he had come to expect. Not that it meant that it affected him any less for it. It still managed to numb him, left his fingers listlessly digging into the skin of his chest without the reward of sensation. The shrine girl had to know that this moment wouldn’t last forever. Regardless of what had allowed it, this was a passing moment allowed only by the enormity of the rage and recompense that they were both owed; her more so than even Nazomi. And still, this was what concerned her more.
 
            He mouthed the words quietly but would not speak them any louder than a whisper.
 
            That was the only appreciation that he could allow himself to show.
       
            No...
 
            No that wasn’t quite true.
 
            A wave of his hand and dark blue words sprang into the air around the memory, the images of how they used to be.
 
            Pride. Love. Fury.
 
            And the only thing he had heard her say, carried in her voice as clear as the day he had heard it.
       
            “She is mine.”
 
            Being reminded of that moment filled him with much the same. Between the two it had been her wife he had felt more reflected in; broken but willing to rebel against the Heavens if it meant finding what she sought. It was a dim distant happiness he felt to see it again. “I never told you before because I didn’t want this to be another loss to taunt you with. But there was a reason I couldn’t wear your skin like so many others.”
 
            Again he gestured and something new shuddered into the memory. Arms laced around the Shrine Girl’s shoulders in obvious claim, the dusky skin a contrast against the pale. Dark hair displaced by the clashing wills that flitted behind her. Navy blue eyes that burned with the proclamation that had been made and a willingness to spill blood for it. If he hadn’t already known, it would have been the chain that linked the two of them that would have marked her as a lost soul.
 
            “I suppose that’s just one more harm I’ve done you without meaning it. Can’t imagine being exposed to me like that helped her any.” He would have sighed if only it really bothered him. No, the reason he had felt so close was because those passions that had defined her wife were the same that eventually consumed most mortal souls. It would only twist them until they were another monster, just like him. And when that happened…the same things that had once been virtues would turn dark, aimed back at the small girl that had been the one to inspire them. From the look that twisted across her features that may have already come to pass. A shame, but one he might have insulated her against earlier if the Shrine Girl had not so insisted on being herself.
 
            It was the change that came with the agony that altered things. That almost defeated way her head sagged when taking in the memory; hidden eyes burning through the Arrancar from beneath the bangs of her hair. His patience didn’t wane but Nazomi understood innately what the body language suggested, what was likely to happen next. In the same role he might very well react similarly. So he waited, arms crossed and willing to answer whatever it was she asked. Even that small twinge that leapt to indulge itself dispersed when slamming against the emptiness that had settled in his being.
 
            He could be patient.
           
            Long enough that the Shrine Girl could ask him the quietest question.
 
===============
Word Count: 1275
GP Gained: 25

...weren't they?

That beloved voice.

           There'd never been a moment before where the Arrancar had been so capable of tolerance. Then he understood why.

            There were lessons to teach yet that mattered more than his frustrations.

            Again his eyes drifted back to the scene, lingering there in silence before the memory faded from the spot he had imposed it upon. It wasn't worth the minor investment of concentration he'd allotted it anymore. Not if she found it merited the reaction she had decided upon.

            Some small part of him wanted to pull at that obvious wound, to rip into her memories and taunt her with the knowledge pried free. But to do that would mean Nazomi would sacrifice this moment for another momentary diversion that would not accomplish what he'd set out to do in the first place. So he answered, arms crossed and with the practiced tone of a parent attempting to explain to a somewhat simple child about the truth of things.

            "I only knew she hadn't passed on." He shrugged, almost apologetic in the way he shifted, uncomfortable that it had required that must explanation. With the motion a soft noise pricked at his ears enough to catch his attention. Distracted by it he picked a familiar piece of paper from his jacket pocket, smiling ever so slightly as he felt it between his fingers, felt the impression of letters against the tips of his fingers. The smile didn't live long, replaced instead by a dark twitch of features over his own. A reminder. An ugly piece of himself that he hadn't been touched by in quite some time now; or at least it felt that way. Time hadn't mattered so much back then. It was only obvious now why it had mattered so much or why it still remained until now.

            "She was not with you the next we met and I was still too confused to tell you then, but I might if only the choices had been ours." Hysteria tugged at his nerves, built slowly when the events following slipped into his mind, the way the fire had seared his flesh and what it had eventually wrought. Again he bit it back, a bark of laughter being the only sign that it had been when he rolled his hand, shrugged his shoulders, and shared with her with so bluntly that it startled even him.

            "When I changed? I simply didn't care. And when I changed again, I no longer thought. Yet you weren't alone that time either. Not her but..."  No. No, they didn't have time for this. He could hear it, feel the clock twist and tick away against him as a hateful reminder of what would be. Wasting a moment that would never come again would only keep him from the goal, the point of what their meeting was supposed to yield; should yield if there was any sort of justice in their existences. The storm of what he was would come again, tear apart the small sanctuary he had found in the eye of it. Then there would be so much worse to be concerned with than the child's feelings.

            "Maybe you've forgotten who the fuck I am." Spoken so softly for how much he sneered at the thought, Nazomi felt the creeping of Need and Madness start to assert themselves in equal measure. No time. No more that could be wasted waiting for her to ask the right questions or shake off the effects of what had been done to her. It called for a far more direct approach, no matter what it might cost in finally getting through that thick skull of hers. If she so desired the "him" that she was familiar with then she would get her wish.

            His smile stretched into razor-wire and his eyes bled brandy brown.

            "I am not Hi-to.  My Beloved Thanatos. So confused by what I want and what others told me I want that I don't know what my purpose is." Heat poured through his skin, sank into his nerves and drove them to spasm. When he spoke the words didn't just come from his lips but echoed, spilled into her heart and head with the image of the Arrancar and the Reaper wed in violence and fire. No more than a photograph of the instance but enough to know as Nazomi knew of how the confrontation had gone.

            "I am not Colin. A thief who would be a knight. So afraid of what could be that I need to hide it behind the pretense of inhumanity." It was his torso that ached this time, filled with knives and fury, wonderful and chaotic humanity that he failed to find in the echoes of her memories. Still bright and shining but with a far colder light than he remembered. He felt only what she had, heard only what had been spoken to her. In doing so he made his estimate of a young man that had changed greatly since their last meeting, but would seek out the boy to see for himself what would become of the choices made since then.  

            "I am not Takua!" A noise caught in his throat too hateful to be real at seeing what had passed between them. To be compared to that...to even think she would mistake their actions, only incensed him further. "I am not my idiot sibling! Trying desperately to pretend I'm not a monster and proving that I am with my good intentions." With that Nazomi no longer felt the need to be a part of the background, to let his will be obfuscated by the world itself. The Merry Madman spilled his malice out around him in waves of invisible Will. It excited, blinded him more than it should have, begged him to let go to the last slivers of thought that he so urgently clung to.

            "I am Nazomi. I am the one that chooses. And I leave no debt unpaid. " The finality in how he spoke it almost blotted out the stray emotion, a secret desire that threaded the thoughts together under a banner of loss. Reaching out with his will to know it again and the intensity of his anger vanished from the from around them. It left a void in its absence, the life that had flitted in the air all but stripped entirely from it. Insanity fled his features, leaving a momentary twitch of his lips in disgust before they settled into emotionless mask that he slipped on. Color and light seemed to blink out of his eyes but his voice bolstered by a softness and warmth that did not belong in it.

            "Sekai..."

            A shudder slipped in his tone, warmth dripped down his cheek. He remembered what she had said only a few minutes before.

            No one should have to die alone.

            The realization shattered him.

            "Why did you come here?"

=============

Word Count: 1151

GP Gained: 23

Simple explanation with no excuses, no attempt to slip free of responsibility.

No Guilt.

Silence, heavy and leaden upon their shoulders, filled the empty spaces between his words and her ability to absorb them. Had only known her wife hadn't passed on-- an implication of yet, something dismissed as the consequences being what they would be but not known. Unforeseen. Further words, further explanation of 'why' gave her no reason to speak, no reason to be anything other than the defeated puppet with cut strings before him. Limp, loose, and utterly unassuming but for the building storm threatening to explode with the right push to send her off the final edge.

A breath, ragged and as if her lungs were filled with broken glass-- her head lifted just enough that her eyes could just about be seen-- and the storm within temporarily halted.
 

Stillness.

He may have spoken in riddles and allegories-- but not once, not a single time had he ever chosen to intentionally withhold information. He had known her spirit was around, but hadn't had the capacity to tell her-- and later hadn't been able to muster the energy to mention anything for the more important matters at hand. The words should have hurt, should have rallied some sort of indignant fury within her, to give her cause to lash out and berate him for keeping such a thing from her for so long.

But... he wasn't Takua.

He hadn't known and withheld intentionally to further means to his own end, hadn't held it though the two of them had been in such close proximity, hadn't watched over her and kept her safe in the land of the dead-- trained her further to protect herself and those around her 'just in case'.

He-- Nazomi had known her spirit was there and nothing more.

Softly, too much so for the icy touch running down her spine and whispers of warning from the ground to be ignored, his voice spilled forth. Her chin jerked, dirt streaking her pale face and the jagged scars arching down from the corner of her jaw to disappear into the high collar of her coat standing out in contrast as she tensed, one boot clad foot tentatively stepping back in case of attack. Her mouth opened to deny the accusation-- she knew exactly who he was, after all, hadn't that been why she had come? Why she had, even subconsciously, asked him if he'd known all along, knowing that he had been nothing short of--

Words locked themselves in her throat as his eyes flashed the color of her own to accompany the smile she was all too familiar with.

Blood and fire, the two of them locked together in hate and despair.
-- it hadn't been a dream after all.

A knot formed in her stomach, one of many as something fluttered, teased the corner of her mind like mist linen by a mischievous breeze.

It wasn't-- he clearly-- or did he?

Nazomi's conflict bore an eerie resemblance to her own final encounter with the Shinigami she had... no, she wasn't going to speak, or even think of him.

Wouldn't have to; Nazomi would know and have already seen the way that battle concluded.

His name was a surprise, her eyes widened abruptly in alarm as she tried to figure out some way, any way to return the favor he had given to her and slap the blinds closed on his ability and vision into the events of her life. Panic, sharp and swift, protective instincts rising, soaring higher and higher-- to be dashed by the spear of despair in the next instant.

Someone laughed softly, nearly weeping in triumph.
 

Another raged.

Something too hate filled to be a snarl or a roar ripped free from his very being. The name of the Arrancar came forth in the next moment, vicious vitriol in its wake as he was condemned-- and she couldn't, wouldn't call him wrong in his judgment over the blind man's actions. Her shoulders hunched about her ears, head sinking as she braced for something, anything that would come inevitably unless she did something first.

She could, that weeping-laughing voice murmured ever so faintly.

She could always strike first.

She could always--
 

The malignant aura shattered-- and so did the feedback loop.

Her name trailed from his lips, silence followed in its wake. A pause lethal, predatory left behind as his eyes, once filled with color-- bloody, and then the color of her own-- returned to that same empty silver as before. Such gentle tones and warmth did not suit the role he had been so determined to cast himself in, only further served to make her wonder just how close he was to his own destruction that he could even manage to dredge up such a poisonous kindness.

Bright and clear, it started with one, and multiplied from there. One cheek, and then the other.

Her own eyes responded in kind-- hot, over-bright, and stinging-- and yet, nothing fell. Nothing fell the way it did from his eyes, not even when the question dropped to shatter the tension between them and the moment of truth hung so fragile and crystal clear before their very eyes.

Unspoken, but known all the same; all she needed to do was speak it and she would have to confront what it was she had been denying herself, and others, the entire time.

Tell the truth.
 

Lie and anger him further, make him turn away in disgust, dismiss her as the waste of time and space that her entire existence was comprised of.

Face it. Confront it. Stop running. Work through it.

Denial was easier. Denial. Hide it. Shove it down. No one needed to be burdened-- it wasn't what a proper young woman of marriageable age would do. Complaining was asking to be punished. She knew just how well honesty had worked for her last time, didn't she? Or, had she already forgotten how it had sent Colin running as far away from her as possible?
 

Run.

Her head throbbed, threatened to split in two along with the rest of her. How much longer, she wondered, would she be able to keep herself from flying apart?

Lies. Truth. Run. Fight. Stay. Go.

With agonizing slowness, her shoulders unfolded from their position about her ears, face alone having conveyed the war within like the open book her heart had always been. She tried, several times, and faltered, struggled to find even a single word that could do anything but dig her deeper into the mess of her own making.

A lie would be kind, he could believe her lies, bad as they were, and blame her for it. She would have to, have to lie to h--
 

He never lied toYou

.

She froze, throat convulsed, worked to try and say something, anything. Her hand squeezed her wrist hard enough to hurt, nails digging bloody crescents into flesh.

”...you were never anyone else.” She told him quietly. ”Nazomi-san has always been Nazomi-san.”

It wasn't what he was waiting for.

"...I was..." Faltered again.

Do it.
 

Don't do it.

Oh, how her head hurt. Nails dug deeper, dull, burning heat as blood seeped to the surface. "looking for her." Quiet admission. The truth-- but not all of it. "I was looking for my wife, lost her trail a little while ago and just..."

She swallowed hard, mouth suddenly too dry and tongue thick.
 

I wanted to apologize to her and end her suffering before I could end my own.

Do it.

Don't do it.

Why wouldn't it stop?

"...I found myself here before I knew where I was. I was looking for her, because I-- it's my fault she's... she's hurting. She's hurting because of something I did, I have to free her, or find someone who can send her back into the cycle properly if I didn't make it." Something she had mentioned before, at the very beginning of their fourth encounter. The memory of those graves-- hand dug, as her senses told her with alarming precision-- came back to the forefront of her mind.

It hurt.

Her chest, her head combined, the very destruction of her soul leaving her bleeding from a wound she couldn't heal... she couldn't do this. Not again.

Does he know I'm dying?

Not anymore.

And yet, she still couldn't make the tears fall. Never thought she would find the day where she envied another for their ability to weep where she couldn't. " I thought... I thought that she may have led me here, back to the beginning, that time had rewound and here we were like before."

The smile on her face was wobbly and fake. "I thought that, maybe, the mistake of my existence might finally be rectified and I," He had the right, didn't he? He had introduced her to that world, had dragged her into it.

Wouldn't it only be fair that he be the one to remove her from it?

The words came as three whispers as her head dropped, eyes shut and face contorted in agony as they slipped free.

"I could die."

The truth hurt worse than any form of torture that she had been through combined, and shame followed hot on the heels of her confession.

”...it's not fair. You want more time, and I want mine to be up.”

--
WC: 1568
GP: 31

           Seized by the words he already knew she would speak the moment changed. Within the heartbeats after he did not think, did not plot or plan his actions, but acted all the same. Within the next pulse of existence there was no space between them, no comfortable distance. There was only a step between them when he flashed back into being, his hand arching through the air.

            It was the most mundane thing Nazomi had ever done.

            He felt the contact of knuckle against flesh, but no hate, no heat behind it. It sounded more violent than it had actually been, but the noise had been enough to undo the disconnection he'd felt in acting. What he did next was no more deliberate than the slap had been, but he at least knew why he was doing it. Gentle hands that weren't his, never were his, but he never tried to claim they were. His arms around her he simply held her there, tightly but with no more to it than that. When he could finally find the reason to speak his voice nearly refused him with a half-hollow laugh that sounded more like choking than joy.

            "Why are you always so stupid?" As if the question had hurt he found himself clutching at her. She smelled like flowers. His grip eased. He eased. Lethargy crept into his limbs until they could no longer hold her as still as they had, until the last touch they would allow him was a slip of fingertips against the side of her hand in a failed attempt to seize it. Too much fog. Time far too limited. Speak plainly and hope that she can understand.

            "More time for me means more suffering for people like you." Strength, a small surge of it but enough that Nazomi could will his hand underneath hers. Did she feel it tremble? A weakness that could not be abided but if he shared it, showed it, she might understand better. What was the point of defying everything that had burdened them if he hid it now; when the truth, more than anything else, mattered in spite of what impulse or desire might demand.

            "Because I never wanted you to be this."

            It wasn't something he could make sense of. Even having been a part of him since he had become whatever he was now, Nazomi had never felt it, never mistaken it. It had always hurt though, but never like this. Never enough that he clutched at his chest only to find emptiness where he wanted to dig his fingertips into just to feel something, anything else. To tear it out.

            Weakness.

            He never could abide it.

            Yet always inherent.

            "I had a reason, once. It was more important than I could ever put into words. For it, there was no threshold I would not cross, no act I would not commit regardless of how wicked it might be. And all for a purpose that, to me, was worth risking everything."

            And there it was.

            His strength.

            His weakness.

            The only thing that had ever mattered.

            "I wanted to make people better than they are. Even if it meant playing the monster in their story." Too much. The contact, the scent, the acknowledgement of what was always driving him to this point and how it had been used against him. Rage. Thick, bubbling in his veins until even the madness of his being could not contain it. It couldn't touch the surface now or he'd lose all sense; which would only be the beginning of a finale even he dreaded.

            They used him. Used her. Never forget. Never forgive.

            "I wanted you to be better. Wanted you to be stronger and instead I let someone use me. Just like someone used you." A shot of anger was good for his clarity, at least. Enough to force him back away from her squeezing the hand that had touched hers until the bone beneath began to crack. Steadier for it than he would have been without, though. From that he was able to open his eyes, focused where he needed to be. In the now. Now in the intensity of the world around him. All the colors that had sound, all the cracks growing in the foundations of the world. But not in her. Never in her. It was enough to know now why he had revered her as much as despised.

            She didn't deserve to be broken like the rest.

            "Are being used, I should say. But now I'm worse than the monster I pretended to be and you're on the cusp of knowing that same despair." A slight smile touched his features. Irony wasn't lost on him for the time being. Time that would be against them if they continued to stand about prattling. It was worth the gamble, to do the one thing that had brought them together in the first place for an entirely different reason.

            "I can fix that. I can give you a chance to take back your own destiny. To share with you everything I no longer have time to speak."

            He extended his hand.

            "But I need you to trust me."

            One eye brandy brown.

            The other sinking into the darkness of the socket until only blackness remained.

            "You have to make a choice."

            Shadowy mist spilled out from the edges of the empty hole.

            "Fate has conspired against you, turned every pain you've felt in your direction."

            But he smiled. Fierce and proud. Made of razor wire.

            The last of his compassion fitted in a grin.

            "I can help you fight it, but only if you let me. It will be deeper, worse perhaps, than the first time we shared what shaped us. But..." What were the words? This was shameful. Even he'd admit it that...that it felt wrong to try and look for a way to manipulate her into it; no matter how desperately he may want that bitch's head. There were always words for it, always pleas that would mirror hopes she might have once held. But he used none of them. A wonderful actor, but a terrible liar when it came time to hide what frightened him so badly.

            "You'll have this to remember me by. A moment where no matter what I might do next you'll remember I thought you important enough to spend what is left of my humanity, whatever good you might have once seen in me, to see you have a real choice." His eye stung, the one that mirrored hers. Gods, what was this even? His chest heaving as if the breath mattered or choking back the lump in his throat even as a new one swelled to replace it.

            "And...I want you to remember me like this. While I'm not confused. When I could be worthy of the memory."

            It was the one thing the Arrancar had forbidden himself ever doing again, but still...

            He begged.

            "Please, let me make this right."

            Fading faster now.

            “You don’t have to do this on your own.”

            And he’d never be sure why it was he chose those words.  

================

Word Count: 1194

GP Gained: 23

Fight.

When I could be worthy of the memory.

Help.

           The panic was not hers.

            No amount of control could prevent it now, not when he had seen fear in the attempt to prevent the poor child from reaching out to him. What warred in her had been subtle to that point, noticed only because the Arrancar understood what to look for. Even then, it had been difficult.  Yet, such overt attempts to manipulate the girl couldn't be mistaken for anything else than what they were. To have attempted it was just as costly as it was telling to how close the bitch had gotten to assuming a body that did not belong to her. The shrine girl would understand as he had soon enough.

            Knowing that was not the same as caring. If anything it was the noise of a mind sinking into the background in favor of vile lusts driven into frenzy from the sight of fresh terror. Prey. He saw prey. Not in the Shrine Girl but with what resided in her. The hated matron that had conspired against him with her husband to steal existences they had no right to. A dying ember of a once great fire desperate to reignite itself but never finding fuel enough to do so. She might have been more whole than the other had been, but they were beings, shards in a soul, that possessed no means to restore their power once used. Watching it dwindle as it surely had in the attempt to prevent the child from seeking his aid was glorious. It was a distant death knell for a being that should have faded long ago.

            He would be kind enough to help her along to such an ending, if only so she could

be forgotten after expending every ounce of fury she was owed.

            Teeth gnashed beneath his lips until they split into a grin, wolfish and hungry.

            Maybe that wasn't how he truly wished to be; possible even that the small glimpse of sanity was what Nazomi could have been on a different path. Lingering on what if was just as pointless as anything else, though. Who, what, he had become were the reality that consumed him like sleep; slow at first then all at once. She knew this as well as the Arrancar did, or at least the portion of it that she had seen. What had been withheld, evolved, since that endless night in the sands was far worse than she could imagine at the moment.

            It should have been a somber affair. What he intended was deeper, more meaningful than he cared to share with most. His skin rippled with sensation sudden and pure, on the verge of pleasure but withheld to the point of agony. This was not the same as his dear valkyrie. She sought an enemy, a point, beyond the recesses of her mind. This was not some sworn service or benign in intent. The Shrine girl had provided him a clear road to his enemy even if he could not settle the matter immediately but soon; enough that the anticipation of it aroused hunger and need. If not for the fact it was so directed the poor child asking for his aid might have been the perfect means to please both.  

            Perhaps later.

            For now it was enough to be delighted in the moment coming together as perfectly as he had needed it to. Since she had fought for the limb that she offered Nazomi it seemed the place to start. A bit of defiance, a willingness that enamored him to keep to behave until all scales were balanced. Taking her hand was more than a simple act of confirmation. It tethered them, brought them together in will and body if only in a small way. That was enough in of itself that if he had wanted to force his way in it might have worked with anyone else. Anyone but her it seemed. The awareness of their wills seemed to be almost instinctive in her, enough that it almost felt like a living thing that tested his probing. Almost, but not quite fully formed yet. That would make anything but parlor tricks difficult, if not for her consent. Worth remembering, that.

            "All choices are hard, Shrine Girl." Oh how the Arrancar beamed at her; pleased with her in at least this one instance. If only so he could gloat it was worth imparting a lesson about choices, honest as she had earned that much from him by finally making one that was her own.

            "All leave scars; some shallow and some deep." A lingering unlikely thing asserted itself. Sentiment? Or close enough to it. Accurate for the lecture, at least. Nazomi pulled her fingertips to his scars, still aching in the most enjoyable way exposed as they were, each inflamed with sensation even greater at the touch. And in turn he reached out for her, not brazen so much as drawn to each with a sort of magnetism that should be thoroughly explored another time. Touching her shoulder with his free hand he could still feel it give beneath biting blade, stilled only by scraping the skeleton beneath. There were more, others far more intimate that he treated with a eager worship that was barely tempered with a modest respect for her having earned them.

            "All are reminders, that sometimes we must make the hard choices even if we don't wish to." Distractions. Dreadfully agreeable, but there was already one woman waiting for him. One that deserved his full attention far more than freshly sown desires crying out to be fed may have wanted of the shrine girl. Another that had nurtured such appalling need for recompense that it made such droll conversation tolerable if it allowed the Arrancar a chance to acquire it. A debt, as always that he put himself into to such a naive child just for that opportunity; one he would square with her another way. It would not do to try and ignore it now. Rabid and hungry, still baying for the bitch's heart. Without fulfilling it he would surely wither where he stood.

            Hmm, poetic. All that contact must be teasing creativity Nazomi had not indulged in for some time.

            Oh, but then he was about to create, wasn't he?

            "The key is what you took from me, the same thing she's used against you." Squeezing her hand lightly he played at a smile before feeling it start to build. It slipped when that happened, the merry madman's attention drawn afar from the child and somewhere else that looked past her, past the painted walls of their set piece. Lips parted he exhaled once, the noise closer to a groan than need be but not as keen as it would have been in any other activity. Always a matter of approach. A gift. That was the way. And so often when it came to their relationship it would be a mirror. An act that in union would be reflected, potential shown for a brief moment but enough to unlock the gates, so to speak. But she needed to understand before he acted or it would risk all that.

            "Try to remember you shouldn't experience much more than mild discomfort." Was that reassuring? Well it would have to be. It wanted out and Nazomi didn't feel any particular reason not to let it. Surely it'd look odd, not nearly as much as it felt, but therein lay the amusement of it. Eyelid snapped shut but an impression already pushing against the thin barrier of flesh from the empty socket. It tickled. A mock shiver accompanied the giggle, but in of itself was only a means to keep the touch of amusement from crawling anywhere else along his body.

            From beneath that it pushed, slithered out from beneath the eyelid in lazy newborn fashion. It's head popped out first, blinking in turn at the Shrine girl with deep red eyes. A flick of its split tongue and a lethargic hiss was the nightmare's way of greeting before it made a visible effort to drag the rest of its body from its creator's head. Slick shining black scales wound tightly around the length of its body, whipcord strength evident even in the languid way it twinned around Nazomi's arm. Easily as long as the limb it coiled around, the snake was unlike the creature it could claim kin to. No pattern identified it. No constraints bound it. If it so desired or at the behest of the Arrancar it could be abominable or as benign as needed.

            Which spoke of a will endowed into it by virtue of what it was.

            Such fun new things Nazomi had learned himself capable of.

            So sad it wasn't meant for him anymore. It was crafted knowing as much as well, which might have explained the sluggish behavior. Eventually it did as needed. Weaving itself around the Shrine Girl's arm and refusing to be pried around from the living warmth of her. Already feeding off her Will, the stolen portion of his talents made it so much easier than need be for the greedy little shit, but that was an humorous necessity. That was the last preparation that they'd needed before they could begin proper.

            Admittedly, even the madman felt somewhat nervous to be going to such great strides, to experience her again so completely, even if that was a stepping stone to what he'd actually been hoping for. The worst part of it was that it relied on her from this point forward. If not for that bright and brilliant moment she had chosen for herself, against the tide that tried to consume her, it would have been a fool's game. But Nazomi had stacked the deck in his favor as much as he could. All that he could do now was hope, absurd as the word was, that the gamble would be worth it.

            Two things happened, one an instant before the other.

            The snake lunged for her right eye.

            And Nazomi stepped into her, ceasing to be separate from one another the moment their collective wills fell into harmony.

            One dream, if only for an instant, and with it so much worse would come to pass.

========

Word Count: 1710

GP Gained: 34

She wasn't good with snakes.

He was not Nazomi, formerly Nicholas Renfield.

           The madman but not. For their purposes he was the very same as his creator. Calmer, obviously. No madness or ranting, so to speak of, but they were as much a part of what crafted him as anything else. Integration would have been difficult if that had been more influential than a material to be formed by. Instead he was, now that they were there, given more form due to her own thoughts of Nazomi and those vital laws of which he had been constructed by. And as she expected such things of the Arrancar, and he was no different by virtue of that, he would meet her expectations in deed and name unless she chose differently.

            "Inside you." In that smile was bared a satisfaction and amusement with his choice of wording. If that didn't make her blush then it was merely a matter of waiting for a more opportune choice to come along to use less subtly. Which, knowing the girl as he did, didn't seem unlikely to take too long. Compulsion would not let it be at that, no matter how much it might have been a part of him to want to do so. So while he did let it linger on that response, at least initially, he was forced to abide by the necessities of his existence to answer more clearly. That did not mean, however, he had to do so without a exasperated sigh.

            "To be specific? Inside your soul. Though this is...unexpected." A brief pause to make sure he was certain, but his interactions been with mental worlds and were largely limited to those that he had broken the vaults of. Typically they tended to mirror the moment they had left behind the physical. It was a strange aspect many beings, particularly humans whom lived in the moment. More or less than the things that came after death he was unsure of, but it was generally consistent. Not that he had much experience with these exact circumstances. If things had gone correctly, the stolen power she had taken from him would have mirrored the extent of his own the moment they had joined. And given that he was formed from the most potent use of that power then, in theory, she should have done the same.

            So her path diverged. Obviously. How, why, or into what still were beyond him, nor of any real import. What curiosity there was to be had about it was largely for his own shits and giggles at this point. It wouldn't be necessary to his purpose nor could he transfer it back to the host. It was familiar, that much he could say. Not how, of course but the distinct deja vu of having been close to it before was not something easily ignored. But with no answer in mind he hand waved the entire ordeal and paced about taking in the setting.

            "Potent, I suppose. Not sure how practical it would be to use...or if it can even be used." No point in being surprised. Really, his words described her as well now that he considered it. She regularly did impossible things; most of which were confusing, impractical, naive, absurd, or capable of making the host wish for a stroke. It would take time for her to develop her abilities back up to this point, though. By then she might, and by relation so would he, have a better understanding of how to wield what she had taken and what could be done with it. At least her choice in clothing made it more tolerable to deal with. Attention grabbing and simple, no frills really except for the tiny black hairclip.

            Except hairclips didn't move. They surely could look like butterflies but movement wasn't something they were supposed to do.

            It shouldn't have been possible for him to have a migraine but there it was.

            Interesting but in of itself not confirmation of anything. It was entirely possible to read too much into things, if not outright be mistaken. Whether he hoped that was the case or not this time was still up in the air. It seemed improbable but then again, so did many things that had already happened in the short time they had spent together. For the moment there were more pressing concerns.

            In most ways this was better than expected. It wasn't near as easy as he'd wanted or anticipated, but it was still quite possible to eject the entity this way. The connection was still there, it would just require a bit more of both him and the girl to do it correctly. Tethered like that it would only take an act of will to allow the host the window needed. An act of will that relied on her. Such realizations were liable to start making him curse rather vividly if that trend continued. Further analysis and the headaches that would inevitably come with them could wait.

            To business then.

            "To save some time you can call me the same as my creator, or whatever you choose. It matters not. To you I am merely a tool." A wink and a quickly dimming grin was really the only humor he had to share. Still no target to focus on as of yet. After which he grumbled about it being sooner than he would have liked to have met. A stretch, a shrug, a sigh and that was as physical as he felt like being at the moment. If it weren't for the necessity of all this he could have been resting instead; albeit uncomfortably if his new surroundings were any indication of what to expect. Out of habit, which granted is probably the wrong word for it, he threaded his tongue across his lips in annoyance before continuing.

            "I am a filter of sorts, doing for you what comes naturally to him. I am bound, in turn, to answer you as he would have moments ago. To be the aid he offered but can likely no longer give directly." And no more than that either way, not that she needed to be informed of such. There was no lesson in it if she had known and it was, as with few things, something that he was his own agent in instead of servant. Just as he was in another matter which he would tend to shortly since their unwelcome guest had yet to put in an appearance.

            Oh he could have done it immediately, but that was counterproductive. The Shrine Girl's choices were still of great importance as far as what would become of them both. Selfish, certainly, but he no more wanted to be attached to weakness and indecisiveness than he wanted to give up the pleasant comforts of lounging about. That and his own existence was now tied to hers for good or ill. If she fucked that up he would be forced to suffer through it as much as she would.

            "So, consider me your council, if you wish. Please, use me properly and with purpose or not at all." And with that exasperating detail finally sorted he could move forward with things. It was never enough to simply move in without first making clear the rules of their arrangement, but now that it was done, not that there was any real option for either of them at this point, he could turn his attention where it belonged. More effort than he would have liked but it was another task on the way to peace and quiet that would otherwise continue to be interrupted by all the simpering going on. And while he may not be as true as his host in being, they did share a common desire that already tickled his features with delight.

            "And I would advise you to deal with the most pressing concern. Do I have your permission to facilitate that?" As expected, her reaction was...less clear minded than preferred, but nodded anyways. While not necessary it was at least comforting to see her trust, likely misplaced, in what the host had promised her. Beneath the fatigue he felt there was something else that pressed and pushed, bubbling up with purpose in his chest that he gleefully accepted. And as the host so often expressed himself, his smile turned to teeth and razor wire.

            "You see, you have a squatter of sorts. An old pointless bitch who turned away from her grieving husband when he needed her most. In that, she is more responsible for all the tragedy that followed than he was. And so selfish to think she's owed another chance that she would do all this to us. Consider it and you will know what the host does of it, and how pitiful the whole of it was." It was an odd lilt that touched his voice, danced in his words. Smug, perhaps, but not without merit. His speech was not for the Shrine Girl, after all. He would not have spoken so loudly if it had been. The one it was meant for had already showed her hand, stunk of fear, and drew upon part of the predatory hunger that had created him.

            "And like her husband she used what was part of her to manipulate everything. Every agony and meeting. every pain you have felt are her doing. And like him, she was mistaken in revealing herself so overtly. Though we should thank his tantrum for that. You remember it, yes?" There was no need for the show the Host might have given her. There was no need to bring the visual into this. The mention of it should have been enough to strike her with the memory of their meeting in the desert, the first half of which the Host had been largely absent from. And from it the things that had become of Nazomi since had been born. The black fire that burned in thought and became real in wound. The same act that had allowed the Arrancar's insight to eventually piece together what had preceded his evolution.

            "Nazomi figured it out, eventually. In madness and pain there was a greater moment where he saw the world and his place in it. And the other, the father, had no choice but to reveal himself again. Tried to seize the body while it was warped with exhaustion." With that he chose to let slip the memory that time had culminated in, a thought that rippled through everything. A simple image invoked in their minds that was no longer held back by his hand but shared as it had been intended. To see a bone bleached body busily and mindlessly tearing into flesh that it had woven together, just to give form to the hated thing it wished to obliterate. And the form beneath it of fair white hair and gold eyes, glazed over from the repeated woe visited on it and from the nightmares that swarmed about both happily indulging in the same.

            It was a small slice of hell, just a moment stolen from what had gone on.

            "It didn't go well for him."

            And he knew how to twist that knife just as well as the Host.

            "He even called out for his wife once, before the throat he had been given was torn out."

=============

Word Count: 1889

GP Gained: 37

Ashte.

Brightened to near blinding in preparation for the strike to boil him alive.

One more time. Please, help me one more time.

            What was, as he stepped into her, was different once emerged from the Shrine Girl. Too brief for the wealth of memories that had become his but wore on the Arrancar all the same. As much his as they had been hers, every second that had been spent living through them, now weighed on him as if he had been there to experience them first hand. A twitch of fire in his spine washed through every nerve and that was the last of the weariness that they brought him. After such there was only the knowledge of what passed, fuller than what had he had glanced before, and the delights that Nazomi might take from them another time. Of much more concern was that things had not gone how they should have.

            That was, of course, always a possibility. But there was no snapping sensation of a soul being pushed out, no Nightmares coursing out of her as had been so eager to spring out of him. Frustration set quickly in his features while marching about, poking and prodding, a fingertip across her spine simply for the attempt to draw out something. For all that effort she seemed still as a statue. The connection still held strong, subtle but tethering them together just as it had been before, but gained him no more, much to the spite of his attempts to pry further into her thoughts. So, as should have been predictable by now, she had unknowingly altered the designs that Nazomi had so thoughtfully crafted for a more rewarding end. And without even a clue as to how. Before he might have at least had that much. Perhaps she was learning how to be more annoying; if that were even possible.

            So he paced; Nazomi's aggravation growing into more every moment that passed. The only distraction to speak of was the bible-black darkness that spilled out between his fingers while clutching at his face. All those eager derangements aching to slip out into newly born form to taste flesh and ruin earth. Impatience did nothing to lessen that want. Heightened in their want they could hardly be ignored. Hungry as he was the merry madman almost would have preferred not even trying; rather he would have happily indulged with them given the insatiable need that possessed him. If it weren't so particular then it could have been any soul or any wickedness with a far more available toy.

            Hungers that were far too specific for the moment to desire spending on anyone but the one they were meant for. All he could do for now was promise them as well as himself that it would all come to an end, whether it would require drastic means or not. But patience was a tool to use as well, a means to stoke that want and cage it where it belonged. Where he had lost it in the confusion that the Shrine Girl had inflicted once again by simply being herself. Instinct was enough in most instances, but for this, more than any other moment, he wanted to own all that was in him to inflict on the wretched bitch. The sparks were there, he needed only to rekindle it. A slower process than he imagined but not difficult in the end.

            Still, she stood there doing nothing. That was as curious a thing as potentially dangerous. If the choice had not been sufficient enough he had thought Will and council would see her through to something more meaningful. Yet, the Girl had always been weak. If she turned away from her choice then it might mean his enemy gaining a foothold, a soul refreshed, and maybe not as dangerous as might have once been but enough that it was not a position the Arrancar found himself anxious to be in. Knowing a bit more of what she was capable of now, what her powers were instead of what he had thought them to be, made the endless night in the sands almost insulting.

            With the opportunity it was impossible to divert himself from what he already found his hands busy with. Silly child, trying to hide them all as she was. He knew each on her body as if his own, and on that thought decided to remove that separation. Skin across his collar, torso, and arms began to blister, bubble, burst, and bore deeper into his body. This was especially important, given what Nazomi had spoken of her about scars earlier. His essence resisted it, much as it had resisted the need to do anything but thread back together the ragged holes that impalement had left into flawless flesh. Angry wounds, these ones. New focuses for his attention and enhancing that which had already begun to burn in him, all felt right in the Arrancar.

            And yet he couldn't stop himself from touching them, even beneath the clothing the feel, the knowledge of them, revealed each. And more than just those that his beloved Thanatos had left her. The brand, unfamiliar in event but recognizable in the sensation it provoked. Another where a reaper's sword had pierced her. These ones he did not take on as he had his brother's; they were hers to be reminded of and his reaction to those that had left them would be his own. Oh but how he would entertain a bit more spite for each of them when it came time. Even that, however, was just another attempt to ignore what his fingers settled on.

            Thrice owed, now. Whatever he may try to reason otherwise, she still held his debt. His impulses could have fought and whined all they wished, could inflict hurt on him as they insisted to any other time the madman saw fit to fight them, but they could not usurp him in this. It was a law that defined him even more than anything else he had become. A truth that was so adequately reinforced by the scar that he had given her on her shoulder. One that, if he was right, she should have never been given. If, though. Whether or not it had been his hand that deigned it was beyond him in ever knowing for definite . And that, really, was the sin that he could not forgive the husband or wife of.

            They had stolen his certainty.

            Repaid twice, there was nothing left to add to the attempt but the small gratitude he had included with the snake. Which may not have been the best form to have given it, after seeing her reaction. Little that could be done of that now but worth remembering, for various reasons, in the future. This was about him now, not that he understood why the reminder was needed. His word should have been satisfied enough with the efforts that had been taken and the courtesy that he continued to show by not taking a throat that wouldn't have even noticed the teeth in it. Still, while not close enough to call it doubt there was no other name for it that he could give the feeling that lingered.

            A silly notion, but perhaps it was a reaction to having to put faith in another to see him through. Because whether he acknowledged it or not, indeed, if she recognized the undertaking he had asked of her even, she made a choice not only to reclaim her own freedom but to relieve him of a burden. In the infancy of their relationship Nazomi had only wanted to prepare her, to see her ready -- no, better, for the path she would be thrust upon. Now that he saw a chance of it when there was no longer a chance to appreciate it left only a queer and dissonant feeling in the wake of it. That should have been beyond him. It...it wasn't as unwelcome or intrusive as the Arrancar might have imagined it, though.

            Against his better judgment he would wait until the last second to act. This was her battle to win or lose, that much was always true, but a loss would mean something ancient finally gaining a foothold and renewing all that had been spent. Against such a thing there was no chance of success, not for him at least. Taking her head now would save the potential trouble. That would have been the practical thing to do even if it meant the wife would still exist to trouble him in the future, if such things mattered. And yet, the idea of taking the choice from her was so abhorrent that it made his guts roil with sickness and rage.

            This confusion simply wasn't worth it.

            Still. Everything went still at once. It was a gift, one the madman had gotten quite good at come of late. There was no great trick to it either. It was, in fact, quite simple. Everything in him stopped, from whatever force that allowed him to exist, near snuffed out until there was nothing in him but the knowledge that he still existed. Without words or reason or even thought, but the spark of unlife that endowed him so entirely to be the monster he'd become. An empty smile twitched across his features when allowing that to fill him as it once had when the chain first shattered and the hole was still fresh in his chest.

            From that everything else flowed.

            Run like a blade, to and through the heart.

            Soon the nightmares whimpered, stirred with fear and joy that quickly became indiscernible from one another, but no longer pushed against his will in hopes of being free. One eye shut and his mind freed from distraction it was...just so much easier than he had ever realized. Proceed as if the girl would prevail for now, accepting that if she did not then it was no great loss. Everything was entertaining in the correct light and he had found the one necessary make it a merry effort either way. A quick quiet giggle more than a little appreciative of the circumstances preceded the next step required of him.

            Another endowment, this one from both being and the father he had never known, had proven of use for playing with his dear mortals, but this time it allowed a great deal more reward from using it. A shame that he had never met the fellow before, but their times in the desert had never seemed to mesh, and once beyond that they would have had little to discuss. That particular insight had taken time to sort through, but it had followed neatly after the first time Nazomi had spun flesh from spirit, fashioned a body for himself to inhabit in the living world.

            Having grown far more proficient the more use he made of it made the work itself quick, if not disturbing to anyone that could have seen him in the throes of creation. A hand stuffed down his own throat, in and out quick as could be once it relaxed, and then it was a matter of Will and how much he had gorged upon as of late. As the Arrancar never left himself hungry long there was more than enough to work with. It came out a shapeless mass, half pulled but mostly vomited out onto the dead ground before him, his fingers still sticky with clinging strings of matter that he could continue to shape it through. Like molding clay, not that he had to get his hands in it to craft it just so. It was simply an old habit that he enjoyed. Much like the way he hummed while in the process of it.

            Fleshcrafting was delicate but rewarding. All the body's veins and organs having to be mapped out just so to allow it to function correctly. Done instinctively, it would have copied the Arrancar's own form, obviously fit for less dead company, of course. Forethought, attempting to direct it to copy another? Well, that took quite a bit more. More than a few messy mistakes, at that. This one he had prepared for. Created and destroyed a dozen times. A body, not unlike the Shrine Girl's, but more spare. Long dark hair that was nearly as disastrous. If he had actually stopped to consider it, it seemed unlikely they could so adapt a host body. Not a physical one anyways. If it were going to matter beyond this moment he might have considered it more carefully. But if the Shrine Girl was not the one producing the body then that duty fell on him.

            Finished, it wasn't as long a wait to find out as it first seemed like it would be. The tether between the two of them surged with more, a soul rejected and caught, that coincided with a sudden scream from the Shrine Girl. Invisible hands shot out, snatching her up before she could drop and lowered her instead to the ground while he stalked the newly made body. So much exertion at once. A new connection formed with the doll while tending to the girl, and the rest was a series of mechanical routines that routed the fallen wife to it. And while she choked and sobbed in anger, cast into the form unprepared and perhaps a bit damaged by design, Nazomi was busy stripping from the clothing that constrained him.

            "So nice of you to finally join me." Bleached bone color seeped into his form, skin pulled taut against its frame. Emaciated features calling back to the base form that had once been his, and his voice ringing with a dozen different tones out of time with one another. With it came a flush of adrenaline that only served to make every sensation that crept through much more intense. Brought closer to the edge of ecstasy by it, and enamored further by the hateful defiance in the wife's eyes, the very ones he had given her, he made no attempt to hide what he intended or how much he looked forward to inflicting it upon her.

            Desperation only incensed that desire further. There was no insight needed to know what she intended next. It was, in most ways, an option that Nazomi himself would have taken. To lunge at the host that had rejected them in an effort to make sure their own death would not be solitary. Only that was not something that could be allowed, as much as he appreciated the rebelliousness behind it. There was no place for petty conversation now. They both knew it. So he waited, gave her the chance to believe that she could, smiling at her all the while.

            He eagerly wanted to take that from her too.

            So the Wife struck, flung herself at the Shrine Girl with a soon to be dying fury. But in the child's place she found Nazomi, suddenly with the snapping of air bringing them face to face and the disappearance of what she had hoped to make her last victim. It hadn't stalled the attack, merely redirected it at the one who had butchered so much of her hope. Backed by his Will Nazomi intercepted it with a swing of his arm, catching her wrist but unable to prevent the harm she had intended from finding a mark. A feint on her part, perhaps. She never needed to make physical contact to strike. It was...even possible that she had hoped things would play out this way.

            A silly hope but one he would indulge. Not that he could have done much to prevent the muscle and flesh of his arm from twisting itself around the bone in grotesque revolutions. No more than he could have stopped the surge of fire that had poured in underneath it until the combination of both finally exploded. The flame poured out of the wounds in the limb that it had gouged out through pure force, spilling across the rest of him even as his grip would not relent. And again she struck, without the preamble of an attack this time. Rocked him with each additional strike even if he would not buckle underneath it. And in that he noticed two things.

            The first, and likely more important of the two was that the more frantic the efforts became, the weaker they became. More delightfully though...

            It wasn't the right kind of fire.

            Unfortunate for her then.

            Some of the damage needed more time to tend to, but not so long that it crippled Nazomi from taking what he wished. She had spent too much in her tantrums, numbing the viciousness of what she was capable of by a measure that his ability to heal was far more capable of dealing with. Glaring down at her even as she struggled to fell him with more only made it that much more entertaining. He let her see the red and gold in his gaze, the tiny eager hands that worked to pry their way out from underneath his eyelid. One spilled onto her cheek, a shadow of a tear, that she immediately swatted at to keep it from reaching her own eyes. 

            A sweetened smile and the Arrancar slipped an arm around her waist, singing quietly to her even as the fire she had harmed him with began to creep across the rest of his body. She struggled all the more, though it seemed uncertain why she would at this point. He allowed it regardless, let her batter against him all the more useless each attempt. His arm tightened around her in response to each. Placing his other hand between her breasts it was a matter of pushing, holding her still enough even as she flailed at it until he was finally rewarded with a satisfying crack of bone.

            She tumbled leglessly out of his grasp.

            There was enough of him in the body to restore feeling, even some movement as they spent time together went on; something he would make sure she realized in short order. Which would only be more evident as he shared so intimately the flame she had coated him with. She screamed finally when he did, but only after he spoke with her with the familiar voice of the husband that had passed before her, with every vulgarity and offense he could thread into their pillow talk. That wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to take from her just those things or make her regret what she had done. She needed to suffer in ways that only he could compose for her.

            That, however, was what he intended the Nightmares for. Oh the fun they were going to have savaging more dolls born from flesh and dreams, each experience synced through Nazomi and right into every nerve and every thought she could experience in this limited way. But the desire to share with her just one more thing, something she knew of for certain but never got to experience as she should have, as the Shrine Girl had been forced to in their last meeting. His pocketwatch appearing in his hand, called by thought and Need, he whispered to her while moved by the irony of it, this goddess dispelled from her throne, and said to her:

            "Wail, La Llorona" 

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Word Count: 3216

GP Gained: 64