Post by Malix on Apr 19, 2018 16:13:29 GMT -5
The plague, it came and set bonds of trust ablaze. Friends turning on friends, lovers crossing blades in fights to the death. Everyone who's morale code was grey or questionable, suddenly had infected blood on their hands in a claim of 'patriotic duty.' The whole thing was a massive shit show once it starting spreading like wildfire. Catching so many innocents up with false claims, leaving them all to rot in the Cells of legitimate victims.
Amongst them was Malix, the stalwart Spellblade of the Fifth, he confronted a small group of Shinigami attempting to flee before being discovered as sick. A fight broke out in which Malix was left injured and holding the weapon of one of the group. Poor timing as reinforcements showed up and saw the rusted blade in his hands. With no warning or chance to explain, they descended on the man who fought back. Enraged at the prospect of being apprehended as one of the infected. This 'resistance' only solidified their interpreted proof, and before long Malix found himself locked in a cell among the rest.
Grievously injured from the fight and arrest, Malix was left vulnerable amongst the ever increasing number of the Inmates. He forced himself to survive among the fighting for what little rations made their way in to sustain them. Apparently some of the Shinigami had retained their humanity. But the bodies began to pile up, Isolation became the norm after long. Only the falsely accused that had survived still remained, most of them snapping from the mind numbing days of blood, death and acceptance of this new reality.
In his time there, he fought and killed to protect himself. At first he blamed the cowards who jumped the gun and thought he was sick. After several months that anger turned on himself, realizing it was his hostile reaction that led to this. Had he have gone peacefully and quietly things might have turned out different. Once again his rage had put him in a bad situation, and that needed to change. so for the rest of the time in incarceration, he worked on controlling it.
Eventually the handful of survivors in the Cells were released, only a few months after the last of the plague had vanished. Ensuring the threat was completely gone before releasing the seeming survivors into a controlled environment to gauge their mental health. Wanting to ensure no attempts to seek retribution were going to come to fruition.
Now that he had survived and returned to his division, He took this time to fix his appearance for his first day back. Cutting off most of his hair, and trimming the much larger beard into a more groomed state. It was time for him to return to work, and try to help rebuild what was left of the Seireitei. His first stop, to reunite with the rest of the surviving division members.
Approaching the training yard, the collected junk and dust of disuse hung upon everything. "Nothing like being home..."
Amongst them was Malix, the stalwart Spellblade of the Fifth, he confronted a small group of Shinigami attempting to flee before being discovered as sick. A fight broke out in which Malix was left injured and holding the weapon of one of the group. Poor timing as reinforcements showed up and saw the rusted blade in his hands. With no warning or chance to explain, they descended on the man who fought back. Enraged at the prospect of being apprehended as one of the infected. This 'resistance' only solidified their interpreted proof, and before long Malix found himself locked in a cell among the rest.
Grievously injured from the fight and arrest, Malix was left vulnerable amongst the ever increasing number of the Inmates. He forced himself to survive among the fighting for what little rations made their way in to sustain them. Apparently some of the Shinigami had retained their humanity. But the bodies began to pile up, Isolation became the norm after long. Only the falsely accused that had survived still remained, most of them snapping from the mind numbing days of blood, death and acceptance of this new reality.
In his time there, he fought and killed to protect himself. At first he blamed the cowards who jumped the gun and thought he was sick. After several months that anger turned on himself, realizing it was his hostile reaction that led to this. Had he have gone peacefully and quietly things might have turned out different. Once again his rage had put him in a bad situation, and that needed to change. so for the rest of the time in incarceration, he worked on controlling it.
Eventually the handful of survivors in the Cells were released, only a few months after the last of the plague had vanished. Ensuring the threat was completely gone before releasing the seeming survivors into a controlled environment to gauge their mental health. Wanting to ensure no attempts to seek retribution were going to come to fruition.
Now that he had survived and returned to his division, He took this time to fix his appearance for his first day back. Cutting off most of his hair, and trimming the much larger beard into a more groomed state. It was time for him to return to work, and try to help rebuild what was left of the Seireitei. His first stop, to reunite with the rest of the surviving division members.
Approaching the training yard, the collected junk and dust of disuse hung upon everything. "Nothing like being home..."