Unretentive [Closed]

            Hunt.

            Crystalline figures shattered. Blood and screams painted bone white flesh with the most delicate and pleasing sensations. The world was aglow with colored sounds and shifting patterns; a holocaust of euphoria that sharpened every sense with absolutely orgasmic intensity. One wasn't enough, nor two. Time was limited to savor being unleashed so completely and that in of itself pleased more than the kill ever could. Silver light that snapped between one previously living form to the next, or often to search for it across the sands. Small ones though, empty things that did not satisfy like they should have. None worth the notice except as means to fulfill another Need. Mindless. Pointless! Filthy fucking idiot children not worth the chance they were given and so no more deserving to keep it.

            Rage. No, Wrath. A far more fitting word to encompass the song in his blood. It needed out. So badly that as he flitted from one spot to the next that the static scream of the Sonido intoned so much more than it could have otherwise. One note became two, and two became a chorus of a hymn with no name. The air rang with the growing fury of every crescendo and the howling that rose to meet it. His own lost in the glory of the aria as it sprang from his being to become a part of the world in act and vision. But missing a vital piece. It hummed and moaned in the world as music yet unfinished, a cord still not struck.

            There was nothing to do but follow the music to see where it went. Flowing from one note to the next and yet adding more when they felt lacking, restoring the strength of the what had echoed across the barrens. Finally, having suffered on the cusp of whatever it was that had conducted the orchestra thus far, it dawned on the Arrancar what was happening. A thought so clear as to cut through the rosy red haze of impulse that it was startling. In that Nazomi found himself at the heart of the song, the entirety of it ringing around him in waiting for his voice to finally join it proper. And when he did, the slow cadence of what was reflected in him found release at last. The final chord striking against the air, hot and saturated with Will, joined him in the climax that silently sundered the desert grounds.

            A flash of light so intense and quick that there was no protecting his eyes from it. They seared at the sight only to be restored as it was dying, shadows of what had been still flitting across his vision. Stumbling forward still half-blind something crunched underfoot, splintered but failed to dig into the naked flesh that was bared against it. When his eyes no longer burned with the fire that had stunned him, Nazomi saw what it was he had done in his fury; smiling as the mirror polish of his work shone back at him. Stretched out before him was the by-product of his creativity. Glass. Glass that reached farther than he realized himself capable of extending his Will. And among the flattened stage were sculptures, fading lives that had been coated with the sands by the initial force of the blast that then seared them into statues. Some only claws creeping from beneath the sands in a failed effort to have fled what was coming; others torn apart before being imprisoned as they now were.

            Thrilling, really. Toyed with there was probably more such songs could be used for, but that had been exhilarating in its on right. Enough so that even as the Atavistic self began to rescind he was still  paralyzed, half hunched and clinging to himself as flood of intertwined senses and experiences drove him to ecstasy. Bent as he was the attempt to move ended in failure, tripping half a step forward then collapsing down onto his knees. Again he tried with only slightly more success than his first attempt but eventually gaining a steady tread across the sea of glass. No life, no light. Just emptiness to the senses again. Solitude that felt welcomed for once. Calm came with it, the deceit of satisfaction and contentment.

            No. No a beacon, a spark of one tiny life farther away. Such a tiny thing that it had nearly gone unnoticed. It could have continued as such if it had not been for the inclination, the flash of insight that urged the madman to reconsider. Young. Not yet shaped, maybe. Perhaps not set in its ways as other kin might be; still able to bend without breaking. Or maybe just interesting. Whatever it was the feeling was gone in an instant, as they often were. All that he could be sure of at that moment was that a curiosity lay in the direction that may be worth spending a bit of time investigating. Perhaps it would sate other needs, maybe not.

            Spent as Nazomi was, now was not the time to be showing up as a mess. For all the fine fun that nudity often entailed it also shared secrets that no one but the soon to be deceased need be privy to. So while thought was not some foreign concept for the time being he remedied it as he would any other time. An investment of Will trivial enough to be forgotten that snapped at the reishi rich air and drew it to him in motes of small light. Threads wove themselves from that and back around his frame in quick bursts of direction, one article of clothing at a time until finally, as boring as it was, he was considered decent once more. Reaching into a bundle of the little lights the madman impatiently pulled his newly minted coat out rather than wait a moment longer.

            Yanking it back on the world about him raced, broken images jumbled together and spinning in a glorious chaotic motion until finally the source of his attention appeared. Just as simple as that the Arrancar stepped out of the air in front of his lesser kin, near face to face with it, or as much as their physiology allowed one another. A smile on his lips like razor wire was all the prompt Nazomi gave before tilting his head to the side, then farther, twisting it into unnatural positions with the popping of bone, muscle, and cartilage before sitting it straight again. None too surprising that black blood pressed against the skin of his throat as it set to work tending to the damage. Dark streams swimming against flesh that strained against it with tiny hands in the direction of the young Hollow.

            "Well, well. Hello there, pretty bird." If this one wasn't intelligent enough to speak there would be just so many unpleasant verbs that the Arrancar would have to start using. Still, for the time being he spoke with a lurid half-sweetened smile and laced his words with amused anticipation. Whatever answer there was to gain from it he'd have soon enough.

            "Do you have a name, Mr. Owl? Or shall I see how many licks it takes to get to your center?" 

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Word Count: 1207

GP Gained: 24