Post by Fulfillment on Oct 13, 2015 19:44:37 GMT -5
The platform was high enough to give her central position some distance from anyone gathered below, dark shadows clinging to the icy stone columns at her back. It was a good spot, the lighting casting an open arc across her ramrod straight stance while cloaking the sides of the stage in deepening darkness. Gazing at the empty space before her, the woman wondered how quickly it would fill, and who would respond to her summons. The day when she had announced herself to the other Captain's as their leader had been a poor example of attendance, but this forum had been opened to the entirety of the public, Seireitei in all its vast numbers. The message was such that it needed to be broadcast. It was not a murmur to be whispered from ear to ear, nor something read from an official report. This was more than a shift in the winds, and she owed it to the rest of the Gotei to put a face to her choices, the very choices she was making for the future of Soul Society.
Stepping back, a half pace that had her turning towards the darkened corner of the platform, Kiriko's eyes were drawn neatly to another's. Chinda Nagisa's lithe form was shrouded in mystery, hidden as she was at the edges of sight, but shared history and shared blood ensured that Kiriko could always find those eyes in any room, no matter their placement. Meeting the gaze of her little sister, she felt an odd sigh within her chest, the susurration of leaves in a sacred forest. It felt strange, like pressing at a lanced wound, to hold that gaze without trying to shield herself from the love it contained.
Nagisa was loyal to the Gotei, to the dream. She'd prove that. But above all such considerations, she was loyal to her sister, and it had taken far too long for Kiriko to appreciate what that meant. Even now she wasn't sure that the tightness within her fists was worth recognizing that emotional outpouring. There was power in being distanced from all things, in holding herself high and above, a sheer cliff from which nothing could draw near.
And yet there was power too in family, of that she had been taught these last few weeks. So many voices coming together to remind her of the tender threads that held her grounded in a world so easily forsaken. If the cost of peace was weakness, she would chose the proper one and abide by its strictures.
Nagisa, childish and determined, was not the worst weakness to claim. Once she had been unable to defend herself, unable to even meet her own eyes and see truly into her soul. But that time had passed, and the little Nagi-chan of the past had shifted, form blurring timelessly until what emerged was somewhat that Kiriko had little to do with. Nagisa was a woman now, full grown and heavy with it, and Kiriko could no more make her the child she had been than she could throw away the benefits Nagisa offered her today.
Lips quirking in an almost smile, the frosty coating of her eyes warmed a degree as she strode towards her sister. “It is hard, I know, to confront societies expectations. But you have already mastered your fear once, this is merely another challenge on that path, Imoutou,” her words were cool and measured, an orators announcement. She shifted, placing her hand on the other woman's shoulder before adding lightly, “Besides, I am here and I will brook no challenges to your loyalty or your humanity.”
Breaching the chasm between them had been as simple as a word, and the many long sentences that had followed that acknowledgment. The talking itself had been painful, jostling lose memories Kiriko had tried to rid herself of, and yet in its own way it was healing for that very same reason. Abrading the wounds she had merely cauterized in her attempts at finding perfection, letting them bleed anew so that this time she could chose not to forget them.
Nagisa was a risk. A chance she had never been brave enough to take in the past, too caught up in the whirlwind that was her need for power and control. And yet now, today, standing out in the open like this with the sun beating down upon the crown of her head, it seemed painfully right. Not natural, not yet, but this too was an agony of her own making and if even this could be penance than perhaps she had been seeking the wrong sort of repentance this whole time.
“Remember what we spoke about,” she murmured, her hand falling from her sister's side, trailing down her arm as if trying to memorize the shape and form before she pivoted and strode back towards the center of the stage.
People would be arriving. Their Commander had called them.
WC: 824 | GP: 16 | Total GP: 16