Post by Nanami on May 27, 2017 23:14:17 GMT -5
Nanami had gone back and forth on her decision to remain in Las Noches a hundred times. She would certainly have much to explain once she returned but that was a risk she was willing to take. She had made peace with some hard truths, but decided to walk a path and being able to do so honestly were two separate things. There was too much at stake for her to lose control at a critical moment in the heart of the Seireitei. As much as she hated to admit it, there was that risk. Acknowledging her baser instincts didn't make that pull any less, it made it many times worse. Her only solace was that instead of denying those desires, she welcomed them, and used them. It was easier when she had a face to put to her darker sides, surprising still that it was not one but two of them.
Sumizori and Shirazayagami, together they made Nanami who she was. Refined yet assertive, serene yet barbaric. Where one pulled her towards bloodlust the other drove her into pacifism and between those two forces, Nanami found herself and the balance she so desperately sought. It didn't come easy, she could hear their whispers in the background of her mind, two contradicting guides tugging her this way and that. The first aspect of her new life that she mastered was silencing them, enough that she could think in peace.
She stayed in Las Noches because she didn't fear the collateral damage of her failure to adapt to her new life. She didn't despise the Arrancar who flitted about in the towers of Las Noches, nor even the Hollows that lived in the wastes beyond, but she also didn't fear their incidental destruction either. Fear of failure was as potent a catalyst for creating failure as anything, and that was something Nanami was deeply familiar with.
The air around the palace was oppressively desolate. An uncomfortable warmth clung to her on all sides as she made her way across the shifting dunes, her shadow cast long as her black robes occasionally obscured the footsteps that falling sand did not. When she found herself a suitable distance away she stopped atop one of the larger dunes and simply watched the castle in the distance. When a few minutes passed she allowed her boredom to overwhelm her sense of caution and relaxed, allowing the flood of sensation to pass over her. Both voices were at war with Shirazayagami's voice the dominant one. The topic didn't seem to matter, they seemed to be willing to disagree on the color of the sky itself if it served their need to be contentious to one another. Nanami, for the moment, lent her will to Sumizori by raising her left hand to her face and dragging her presence forth with a whispered call.
"Stain it black, Sumizori."
The effect was instantaneous, she could feel the abrupt tearing sensation inside, like a punch to the gut, as Sumizori reared against her summons. There was a moment, like every of the few attempts she'd made thus far, where instead of merely resisting her call that Sumizori pulled back, trying to rest Nanami's control. In that moment she could taste the rich copper in her mouth, feel the delightful feel of pain as she bit her own tongue and the promise of what it would be like to do more. To hunt. To kill. Nanami bent low almost doubled over and let out a sharp hiss as the Hollow's mask began to materialize from her fingertips and spreading over her face. She was so close to such joy, all she had to do was let go.
Suppressed but not forgotten was Shirazayagami's stern rebuke to her master. Nanami let out a coy smile and rose upright letting out a loud free laugh that echoed out across the still dunes of Las Noches. The mask materialized and stop and Nanami's hand dropped low. She exhaled sharp and grinned wide feeling goosebumps ripple across her flesh. She shivered and took another look over Las Noches, extended her senses and felt the presences within and around it. Prey of varying strengths, but all delightful to hunt if given the opportunity. She smiled wide at the thought then stopped and drew a sharp breath. Her equilibrium tilted and the ground seemed unsteady. She hesitated and out a sharp scream as her hand shot up and gripped the mask she could feel it slipping away from her and while part of her cheered the thought she gripped the mask tight. All the blood, all the violence she could have if she wanted.
But she didn't.
It came free of her face, but not without a fight. She stood there in the perpetual night breathing hard, a thick cold sweat covering every inch of her body. Time had passed but she couldn't be sure how much. Minutes? Hours? Time passed strangely in this dimension but her perception in those struggles felt so strained. Sumizori's presence had thankfully receded.
One step at a time.
847/847
Sumizori and Shirazayagami, together they made Nanami who she was. Refined yet assertive, serene yet barbaric. Where one pulled her towards bloodlust the other drove her into pacifism and between those two forces, Nanami found herself and the balance she so desperately sought. It didn't come easy, she could hear their whispers in the background of her mind, two contradicting guides tugging her this way and that. The first aspect of her new life that she mastered was silencing them, enough that she could think in peace.
She stayed in Las Noches because she didn't fear the collateral damage of her failure to adapt to her new life. She didn't despise the Arrancar who flitted about in the towers of Las Noches, nor even the Hollows that lived in the wastes beyond, but she also didn't fear their incidental destruction either. Fear of failure was as potent a catalyst for creating failure as anything, and that was something Nanami was deeply familiar with.
The air around the palace was oppressively desolate. An uncomfortable warmth clung to her on all sides as she made her way across the shifting dunes, her shadow cast long as her black robes occasionally obscured the footsteps that falling sand did not. When she found herself a suitable distance away she stopped atop one of the larger dunes and simply watched the castle in the distance. When a few minutes passed she allowed her boredom to overwhelm her sense of caution and relaxed, allowing the flood of sensation to pass over her. Both voices were at war with Shirazayagami's voice the dominant one. The topic didn't seem to matter, they seemed to be willing to disagree on the color of the sky itself if it served their need to be contentious to one another. Nanami, for the moment, lent her will to Sumizori by raising her left hand to her face and dragging her presence forth with a whispered call.
"Stain it black, Sumizori."
The effect was instantaneous, she could feel the abrupt tearing sensation inside, like a punch to the gut, as Sumizori reared against her summons. There was a moment, like every of the few attempts she'd made thus far, where instead of merely resisting her call that Sumizori pulled back, trying to rest Nanami's control. In that moment she could taste the rich copper in her mouth, feel the delightful feel of pain as she bit her own tongue and the promise of what it would be like to do more. To hunt. To kill. Nanami bent low almost doubled over and let out a sharp hiss as the Hollow's mask began to materialize from her fingertips and spreading over her face. She was so close to such joy, all she had to do was let go.
Suppressed but not forgotten was Shirazayagami's stern rebuke to her master. Nanami let out a coy smile and rose upright letting out a loud free laugh that echoed out across the still dunes of Las Noches. The mask materialized and stop and Nanami's hand dropped low. She exhaled sharp and grinned wide feeling goosebumps ripple across her flesh. She shivered and took another look over Las Noches, extended her senses and felt the presences within and around it. Prey of varying strengths, but all delightful to hunt if given the opportunity. She smiled wide at the thought then stopped and drew a sharp breath. Her equilibrium tilted and the ground seemed unsteady. She hesitated and out a sharp scream as her hand shot up and gripped the mask she could feel it slipping away from her and while part of her cheered the thought she gripped the mask tight. All the blood, all the violence she could have if she wanted.
But she didn't.
It came free of her face, but not without a fight. She stood there in the perpetual night breathing hard, a thick cold sweat covering every inch of her body. Time had passed but she couldn't be sure how much. Minutes? Hours? Time passed strangely in this dimension but her perception in those struggles felt so strained. Sumizori's presence had thankfully receded.
One step at a time.
847/847
