Post by Ginjō Xôi on Jul 2, 2017 20:58:33 GMT -5
He wasn't sure where he was. Who he was. There was only the shifting darkness, slowly dancing before his eyes- was he looking at the sky? Could the sky be that dark? Then he felt it, the slight chill whispering at the edges of his skin- like ice water flowing around him and coating the back of his body. Terror. The sensation was terror, absolute fear as he heard it, how many times had he felt this sensation, dreamt this dream? Cold dead hands slowly pushing free of the moist earth beneath him- but he couldn't look at them. Paralyzed. Forced to stare up at the pitch black sky.
The sensation of the rotting fingertips digging into his skin, ripping into his flesh, slowly pulling him down into the earth as his vision blurred. What was he doing? Why was he letting this happen?
He couldn't remember- no matter how hard he tried to tell his body to move, nothing happened, the scent of rotting flesh flooded his nostrils as more hands slowly pushed from the earth, clinging to his limbs- ripping into his clothing, his flesh, slowly pulling him into the moist ground. He felt it beginning to slowly swallow him up, the scent of his own blood mixing with the scent of rotting corpses. Who're corpses? He wanted to see. He didn't know why, but he needed to see.
Slowly, his eyes shifted from the sky, struggling all the while- until they settled on those around him, at first they appeared to be nothing more than faceless corpses- no real shape. But then he saw it. He saw the shifting of their faces, first their hair, then lips, cheekbones, everything slowly forming into faces- faces of people that were familiar and yet he couldn't place them. Until he saw a flicker of blonde hair, and he felt his stomach clench- slowly, his eyes turning to see a slim shape resting on his chest, sitting on him, small, female, blonde- and yet her skin was so pale.
Familiar.
Who?
His eyes met the corpses own, and as he stared into those purple eyes it all came rushing back to him. Initially, there was no change, only his body stiffening- his pupils slowly dilating, and then- the screams began. Bellatrix. His Bellatrix. Blood dripped from her lips, splattering his cheeks as the body slowly lowered, misty dead eyes staring into his own, lips coming so close to his own as the grip of the corpses clawlike hands dug into him- and right before their lips connected the whisper filled his mind.
It's all your fault.
--
Ginjo's eyes snapped open, staring at a ceiling. Home. He was in his home- breathing heavily as his hand raised to his face, covering his eye that he could feel had shifted. The flawless white perverted with twisting strings of black, glowing a brilliant gold as he tried to steady his breathing. It took him several minutes in order to calm down enough to slowly lower his hand and force himself to sit up straight, his face falling into his hands as he took slow breaths.
He was shaking. How pathetic.
Slowly, his eyes opened as they stared down at the floor- it had been a month, a month since Ai had died. A month since he had watched her get stabbed through the chest, a month since his world had crumbled. Pathetic. All the strength he had begun to regain, to foster once more, gone in smoke- just like her. He had left, without a word to anyone, they likely thought he was dead, eaten by the hollow that killed Ai. He hadn't even picked up her corpse.
He'd just left her there. Wandering off, broken and defeated to the human realm. He'd already made connections, having prepared to migrate here already- but it had been for Ai. Not him. Everything had been or her. Without her, what was the point of it all? The corpses were his failures, each one, his teachers, lovers, children, everyone he had killed for his "greater good", and now- Ai was counted among them
What kind of "greater good" existed without her in it?
Gin's lips twisted into a smirk, broken and fake- just like him. Slowly lifting his head from his hands he let his gaze focus on the mirror in his room- the voice had been getting stronger by the day, each time he had the nightmare it got louder. He was starting to hear it whisper to him from the shadows when he was alone and allowing his mind to drift. Slowly, he hauled himself up- fingers trailing through his hair, he needed a walk, something to distract his mind.
Passing his hand over the glass on his desk, he ignored it completely and went straight for the bottle instead as he took a swig out of it. Wandering toward the door, he was still in his clothing from yesterday, his mane of hair usually well groomed and cared for was a mess of curls and knots on his head- not having been cleaned for a few days. His beard had gotten longer, unruly and holding the scent of alcohol. His nice suit ruffled, wrinkled and holding the occasional stain. If his old self could see him now he'd sneer in disgust.
Pitiful. He was pitiful, but he didn't care.
This wasn't like the other losses, even when he had lost his child- even when he had lost Dahlia, he had been so full of rage along with the sadness that he could keep going. But not this time. Everything was so dark now, he felt no anger, no ambition, no desire for anything. A broken man with nothing left, staring silently at the ground as he wandered out of the home- passing the occasional servant and walking out into the yard. How long until the Shinigami came and tried to "help" him? How long till a Hollow came and decided his fluctuating energy looked like a good meal?
Did it even matter anymore? Did he care? Of course, he'd resist, but what was the point of it all, really?
Maybe he wanted to die.
Post WC: 1030
Total WC: 1030
Tags: Levi Amadeo Picard
The sensation of the rotting fingertips digging into his skin, ripping into his flesh, slowly pulling him down into the earth as his vision blurred. What was he doing? Why was he letting this happen?
He couldn't remember- no matter how hard he tried to tell his body to move, nothing happened, the scent of rotting flesh flooded his nostrils as more hands slowly pushed from the earth, clinging to his limbs- ripping into his clothing, his flesh, slowly pulling him into the moist ground. He felt it beginning to slowly swallow him up, the scent of his own blood mixing with the scent of rotting corpses. Who're corpses? He wanted to see. He didn't know why, but he needed to see.
Slowly, his eyes shifted from the sky, struggling all the while- until they settled on those around him, at first they appeared to be nothing more than faceless corpses- no real shape. But then he saw it. He saw the shifting of their faces, first their hair, then lips, cheekbones, everything slowly forming into faces- faces of people that were familiar and yet he couldn't place them. Until he saw a flicker of blonde hair, and he felt his stomach clench- slowly, his eyes turning to see a slim shape resting on his chest, sitting on him, small, female, blonde- and yet her skin was so pale.
Familiar.
Who?
His eyes met the corpses own, and as he stared into those purple eyes it all came rushing back to him. Initially, there was no change, only his body stiffening- his pupils slowly dilating, and then- the screams began. Bellatrix. His Bellatrix. Blood dripped from her lips, splattering his cheeks as the body slowly lowered, misty dead eyes staring into his own, lips coming so close to his own as the grip of the corpses clawlike hands dug into him- and right before their lips connected the whisper filled his mind.
It's all your fault.
--
Ginjo's eyes snapped open, staring at a ceiling. Home. He was in his home- breathing heavily as his hand raised to his face, covering his eye that he could feel had shifted. The flawless white perverted with twisting strings of black, glowing a brilliant gold as he tried to steady his breathing. It took him several minutes in order to calm down enough to slowly lower his hand and force himself to sit up straight, his face falling into his hands as he took slow breaths.
He was shaking. How pathetic.
Slowly, his eyes opened as they stared down at the floor- it had been a month, a month since Ai had died. A month since he had watched her get stabbed through the chest, a month since his world had crumbled. Pathetic. All the strength he had begun to regain, to foster once more, gone in smoke- just like her. He had left, without a word to anyone, they likely thought he was dead, eaten by the hollow that killed Ai. He hadn't even picked up her corpse.
He'd just left her there. Wandering off, broken and defeated to the human realm. He'd already made connections, having prepared to migrate here already- but it had been for Ai. Not him. Everything had been or her. Without her, what was the point of it all? The corpses were his failures, each one, his teachers, lovers, children, everyone he had killed for his "greater good", and now- Ai was counted among them
What kind of "greater good" existed without her in it?
Gin's lips twisted into a smirk, broken and fake- just like him. Slowly lifting his head from his hands he let his gaze focus on the mirror in his room- the voice had been getting stronger by the day, each time he had the nightmare it got louder. He was starting to hear it whisper to him from the shadows when he was alone and allowing his mind to drift. Slowly, he hauled himself up- fingers trailing through his hair, he needed a walk, something to distract his mind.
Passing his hand over the glass on his desk, he ignored it completely and went straight for the bottle instead as he took a swig out of it. Wandering toward the door, he was still in his clothing from yesterday, his mane of hair usually well groomed and cared for was a mess of curls and knots on his head- not having been cleaned for a few days. His beard had gotten longer, unruly and holding the scent of alcohol. His nice suit ruffled, wrinkled and holding the occasional stain. If his old self could see him now he'd sneer in disgust.
Pitiful. He was pitiful, but he didn't care.
This wasn't like the other losses, even when he had lost his child- even when he had lost Dahlia, he had been so full of rage along with the sadness that he could keep going. But not this time. Everything was so dark now, he felt no anger, no ambition, no desire for anything. A broken man with nothing left, staring silently at the ground as he wandered out of the home- passing the occasional servant and walking out into the yard. How long until the Shinigami came and tried to "help" him? How long till a Hollow came and decided his fluctuating energy looked like a good meal?
Did it even matter anymore? Did he care? Of course, he'd resist, but what was the point of it all, really?
Maybe he wanted to die.
Post WC: 1030
Total WC: 1030
Tags: Levi Amadeo Picard