Post by Based GigaPhantasm on Jul 15, 2018 14:55:20 GMT -5
A plume of white 'sand' exploded into the air as Fionn collapsed backwards into it. Cradled by it, he pulled out a small journal.
Scribbled on the pages, now coated in white sand, were four passages from the Bible. Despite the get ups, Fionn had never been a religious man. Sure, he'd studied countless religious texts and memorized hundreds of verses - yet it never meant a thing to him. Perhaps it was the fact that he was well aware of the spiritual world, which almost seemed to disprove it all.
Today though, lying in the remnants of innumerable hollows, he found meaning in the passages. His bloodshot eyes scanned the page.
“Whom God set forth to be a propitiation, through faith, in his blood, to show his righteousness because of the passing over of the sins done aforetime, in the forbearance of God”
“Wherefore it behooved him in all things to be made like unto his brethren, that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people”
“And he is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but also for the whole world”
“Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins”
Fionn held no delusions of grandeur. There was no holy spotlight on him. He hadn't been sent by an organization or even another person. Whatever shallow reasons that brought him here were his and his alone.
He wasn't here to be the bearer of sins or a redeemer for the Quincy. That wouldn't be a task he'd have wanted anyway.
Even so, being a Quincy so seemingly stranded in the vast and hostile land of Hueco Mundo sure felt like being a sacrificial lamb.
Pocketing the journal, his gaze fluttered to his right. Just across a short stretch of sand laid the pillars of Las Noches, looming overhead. All he'd ever known of it was from old books, but he had heard the rumors of it's destruction and recent reconstruction.
It seemed to glitter now in a way he had never imagined it would in his head. Paper white pillars and spires that seemed to reach up into the night sky like hands trying to grab the moon and pull it down.
Chuckling to himself, he pushed himself up to his feet. Maybe they'd devour it too.
Wiping the dust off his uniform, he straightened himself and faced the castle. A cursory look of the area revealed that the 5 spires surrounding the castle were in fact castles themselves, no doubt the personal abodes of the Espada.
Eyes focusing back onto the main attraction, he steeled himself.
Just as the other Arrancar had said, there wasn't any way for him to escape other than to push forward and hope he would encounter another Arrancar he could woo into sending him home.
Dangerous or not though, he wasn't about to turn away and try to go home when he was so close to a place of such massive importance. Tremorring, he anticipated the creatures he'd encounter within. If the stories had any truth to them, they too would want to bring about the end of the Quincy Order and even the Seireitei. All he needed was an audience and there was a chance of that fantasy coming true.
Surely they'd agree that now was a better time than any to strike.
Enough deliberation.
With nary a breath, Fionn covered the distance to the massive white doors with a burst of das Nachbild. Standing directly in front of them, he noticed they looked like something out of a medieval art book or a video game.
Setting his gloved hands against the pale white stone, he slowly pushed open the doors. Despite their size they smoothly and easily swung open.
What greeted his eyes after was a long, wide hallway flanked on either side by a multitude of other doors. Straight ahead was a wide staircase that led up a pristine set of stairs and ended at another door - the throne room.
Slowly, Fionn walked down the hallway and up the stairs. Pushing his tired body along with his hand on his knee, his breathing hastened.
"The proud Quincy defeated by a set of stairs," he whispered to himself. "A fate worthy of the best."
What drove his heart to beat so fast though was hardly the stairs. The pure excitement of all this was getting to him.
Placing his hands on this door, he ran them back and forth - listening to the buttery smooth sound of the leather brushing against the stone. It calmed him. Every comfort was necessary when he was this far into the jaws of the beast.
While normally he might've stood there and rehearsed every word he'd later come to say, after his dream yesterday there was a kind of childish giddiness about it all. Besides, maybe this Queen would take his unfiltered thoughts as a kind of honesty.
With a deep breath, he pushed the doors wide open and strode into the throne room. With as much fervor as he could, he released his reiatsu. If the stories of this place were true and they still held themselves to the same rules, it'd be the best substitute he had for ringing a welcome bell.
WC: 901
Failure | Cherish
Scribbled on the pages, now coated in white sand, were four passages from the Bible. Despite the get ups, Fionn had never been a religious man. Sure, he'd studied countless religious texts and memorized hundreds of verses - yet it never meant a thing to him. Perhaps it was the fact that he was well aware of the spiritual world, which almost seemed to disprove it all.
Today though, lying in the remnants of innumerable hollows, he found meaning in the passages. His bloodshot eyes scanned the page.
“Whom God set forth to be a propitiation, through faith, in his blood, to show his righteousness because of the passing over of the sins done aforetime, in the forbearance of God”
“Wherefore it behooved him in all things to be made like unto his brethren, that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people”
“And he is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but also for the whole world”
“Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins”
Fionn held no delusions of grandeur. There was no holy spotlight on him. He hadn't been sent by an organization or even another person. Whatever shallow reasons that brought him here were his and his alone.
He wasn't here to be the bearer of sins or a redeemer for the Quincy. That wouldn't be a task he'd have wanted anyway.
Even so, being a Quincy so seemingly stranded in the vast and hostile land of Hueco Mundo sure felt like being a sacrificial lamb.
Pocketing the journal, his gaze fluttered to his right. Just across a short stretch of sand laid the pillars of Las Noches, looming overhead. All he'd ever known of it was from old books, but he had heard the rumors of it's destruction and recent reconstruction.
It seemed to glitter now in a way he had never imagined it would in his head. Paper white pillars and spires that seemed to reach up into the night sky like hands trying to grab the moon and pull it down.
Chuckling to himself, he pushed himself up to his feet. Maybe they'd devour it too.
Wiping the dust off his uniform, he straightened himself and faced the castle. A cursory look of the area revealed that the 5 spires surrounding the castle were in fact castles themselves, no doubt the personal abodes of the Espada.
Eyes focusing back onto the main attraction, he steeled himself.
Just as the other Arrancar had said, there wasn't any way for him to escape other than to push forward and hope he would encounter another Arrancar he could woo into sending him home.
Dangerous or not though, he wasn't about to turn away and try to go home when he was so close to a place of such massive importance. Tremorring, he anticipated the creatures he'd encounter within. If the stories had any truth to them, they too would want to bring about the end of the Quincy Order and even the Seireitei. All he needed was an audience and there was a chance of that fantasy coming true.
Surely they'd agree that now was a better time than any to strike.
Enough deliberation.
With nary a breath, Fionn covered the distance to the massive white doors with a burst of das Nachbild. Standing directly in front of them, he noticed they looked like something out of a medieval art book or a video game.
Setting his gloved hands against the pale white stone, he slowly pushed open the doors. Despite their size they smoothly and easily swung open.
What greeted his eyes after was a long, wide hallway flanked on either side by a multitude of other doors. Straight ahead was a wide staircase that led up a pristine set of stairs and ended at another door - the throne room.
Slowly, Fionn walked down the hallway and up the stairs. Pushing his tired body along with his hand on his knee, his breathing hastened.
"The proud Quincy defeated by a set of stairs," he whispered to himself. "A fate worthy of the best."
What drove his heart to beat so fast though was hardly the stairs. The pure excitement of all this was getting to him.
Placing his hands on this door, he ran them back and forth - listening to the buttery smooth sound of the leather brushing against the stone. It calmed him. Every comfort was necessary when he was this far into the jaws of the beast.
While normally he might've stood there and rehearsed every word he'd later come to say, after his dream yesterday there was a kind of childish giddiness about it all. Besides, maybe this Queen would take his unfiltered thoughts as a kind of honesty.
With a deep breath, he pushed the doors wide open and strode into the throne room. With as much fervor as he could, he released his reiatsu. If the stories of this place were true and they still held themselves to the same rules, it'd be the best substitute he had for ringing a welcome bell.
WC: 901
Failure | Cherish