Post by Failure on Feb 7, 2018 12:08:52 GMT -5
2018
my knuckles are bruised, but that doesn't stop me from attempting to massage my own shoulder. it hurts, truly, but the stiffness coming from my left side is far more annoying. i press into the crook of my shoulder a bit more and then something pops. i couldn't tell you if it was one of the dislodged finger joints or something in my shoulder, but it certainly felt nice. i exhale and shudder before dropping my hand back to my side. briefly, i wonder if he feels better after all of that.
my dress is torn far more than it should have been. singes line the collar that now droops a little too far down; i don't really care about keeping my modesty. i never have, if i'm being honest. it was more of a formality that came when i was... i guess born is the right word -- when i became an arrancar. every other step or so i nearly trip over a particularly long strand of cloth that drags along the let side of me. once or twice i've thought about just tearing it off, but the idea of purposely ruining my dress feels weird.
my willpower is in shambles thanks to a good-for-nothing buffoon that didn't take well to me eating his beloved. if he had loved her so much, why was she crying when i found her? why had she let me win? those aren't really question i'm allowed to ask anymore. at least, not out loud. especially when he's in a bad mood. if you haven't gathered, he's in a bad mood today.
but at least i have my freedom, as limited as it is. not that i do much with it. my days are mostly spent doing...
ah, okay, i'm here now.
i nearly walked straight into the side of the smooth, concrete-like wall. it wouldn't be the first time my nose was introduced to the wall of las noches and certainly wouldn't have been the last. i have an awful habit of getting lost in thought. so much so that i end up looking almost like a zombie. i guess that's part of the reason people like to avoid me, huh? i hadn't really given it much thought up until now.
i don't want to linger on that right now. instead, i take a step back and look up the wall, neck craning a bit as i follow the slow curve of it. there are no new holes or cracks today, so my work is already done. i try my best to keep our last line of defense in good condition, even if i'm not really a carpenter. a few well placed cero or melting some nearby rocks into the wall usually does the trick when i find something that looks to damage the integrity of it, but it usually takes me a few tries; it's an imperfect art, but i don't see anyone else really trying.
but since none of that is relevant, all i have to do is watch the doors. or, rather, door. singular. i can't clone myself and watch the other three entrances, so i have to make due. i rotate each day like clockwork. today i'm on the eastern entrance. shinigami who are too brave or too stupid like to come through this door most often, though i can't sense anything in the surrounding desert today.
it's going to be a quite day, i realize with a disheartened smile.
i take my place at the edge of the wide mouth of the walkway. there are no doors, just large mouths that yawn out at the desert. one could simply walk into las noches. it's the privaron -- the smaller number that due still remain -- and myself that keep intruders at bay. i say privaron as if that means anything. most shy away from actual threats, others have abandoned the ghost town (see, it's funny because we are all ghosts!), and the remaining few are simply too weak to much protecting. it's really just me.
thankfully, no one is really interested in invading the desecrated remains of our former glory.
artificial light beams down on my right side, but brings no warmth to the coolness of the desert. the light, entirely for show, always felt colder than the shadows to me. i lean towards the inside of the wall and let the line of darkness take over a good portion of the light on my body. it comforts me, like the embrace of a lover.
...
that phrase saddens me for reasons i don't quite understand. i close my eyes and lean back against the frame. i can't sleep, nor do i want to, but keeping my eyes closed makes reality seem subject to my will. my imagination can take over and bring happiness to the life i hate so much.
do i really hate my life that much? i just said i did, didn't i? i guess that means i do.
i wait for hours -- maybe even more than the full 24 hours i had anticipated. time doesn't seem to pass in the land of the monsters. the sun is always at high noon. people come and go with no real schedule. there's no method to the madness that is las noches. maybe i stayed there for days. unmoving, like a gargoyle. when i finally do move, some sand falls off my shoulders and pours out of the crevasses in my dress. i shake off gently and then pat my dress free of any lingering dust pools.
without a word, i make my way back to his house to check in with him.
[942]
my knuckles are bruised, but that doesn't stop me from attempting to massage my own shoulder. it hurts, truly, but the stiffness coming from my left side is far more annoying. i press into the crook of my shoulder a bit more and then something pops. i couldn't tell you if it was one of the dislodged finger joints or something in my shoulder, but it certainly felt nice. i exhale and shudder before dropping my hand back to my side. briefly, i wonder if he feels better after all of that.
my dress is torn far more than it should have been. singes line the collar that now droops a little too far down; i don't really care about keeping my modesty. i never have, if i'm being honest. it was more of a formality that came when i was... i guess born is the right word -- when i became an arrancar. every other step or so i nearly trip over a particularly long strand of cloth that drags along the let side of me. once or twice i've thought about just tearing it off, but the idea of purposely ruining my dress feels weird.
my willpower is in shambles thanks to a good-for-nothing buffoon that didn't take well to me eating his beloved. if he had loved her so much, why was she crying when i found her? why had she let me win? those aren't really question i'm allowed to ask anymore. at least, not out loud. especially when he's in a bad mood. if you haven't gathered, he's in a bad mood today.
but at least i have my freedom, as limited as it is. not that i do much with it. my days are mostly spent doing...
ah, okay, i'm here now.
i nearly walked straight into the side of the smooth, concrete-like wall. it wouldn't be the first time my nose was introduced to the wall of las noches and certainly wouldn't have been the last. i have an awful habit of getting lost in thought. so much so that i end up looking almost like a zombie. i guess that's part of the reason people like to avoid me, huh? i hadn't really given it much thought up until now.
i don't want to linger on that right now. instead, i take a step back and look up the wall, neck craning a bit as i follow the slow curve of it. there are no new holes or cracks today, so my work is already done. i try my best to keep our last line of defense in good condition, even if i'm not really a carpenter. a few well placed cero or melting some nearby rocks into the wall usually does the trick when i find something that looks to damage the integrity of it, but it usually takes me a few tries; it's an imperfect art, but i don't see anyone else really trying.
but since none of that is relevant, all i have to do is watch the doors. or, rather, door. singular. i can't clone myself and watch the other three entrances, so i have to make due. i rotate each day like clockwork. today i'm on the eastern entrance. shinigami who are too brave or too stupid like to come through this door most often, though i can't sense anything in the surrounding desert today.
it's going to be a quite day, i realize with a disheartened smile.
i take my place at the edge of the wide mouth of the walkway. there are no doors, just large mouths that yawn out at the desert. one could simply walk into las noches. it's the privaron -- the smaller number that due still remain -- and myself that keep intruders at bay. i say privaron as if that means anything. most shy away from actual threats, others have abandoned the ghost town (see, it's funny because we are all ghosts!), and the remaining few are simply too weak to much protecting. it's really just me.
thankfully, no one is really interested in invading the desecrated remains of our former glory.
artificial light beams down on my right side, but brings no warmth to the coolness of the desert. the light, entirely for show, always felt colder than the shadows to me. i lean towards the inside of the wall and let the line of darkness take over a good portion of the light on my body. it comforts me, like the embrace of a lover.
...
that phrase saddens me for reasons i don't quite understand. i close my eyes and lean back against the frame. i can't sleep, nor do i want to, but keeping my eyes closed makes reality seem subject to my will. my imagination can take over and bring happiness to the life i hate so much.
do i really hate my life that much? i just said i did, didn't i? i guess that means i do.
i wait for hours -- maybe even more than the full 24 hours i had anticipated. time doesn't seem to pass in the land of the monsters. the sun is always at high noon. people come and go with no real schedule. there's no method to the madness that is las noches. maybe i stayed there for days. unmoving, like a gargoyle. when i finally do move, some sand falls off my shoulders and pours out of the crevasses in my dress. i shake off gently and then pat my dress free of any lingering dust pools.
without a word, i make my way back to his house to check in with him.
[942]
