With the tilt of his chin, a silent shift in his position, Gin finally allowed himself to glance her way. Subtle, through silver strands, glimpses of azure grazed her outline against the wall. Physical retreat was no longer necessary–nor possible–and now the prisoner was adjusted to withdrawing in other fashions to accommodate his fleeting nature. He’d grown accustomed to cages, what was one more set of bars? She spoke to a ghost.
There was no agony-free route in this massacre of himself but he’d lie through his teeth to avoid the truth of it all. Outwardly acknowledge, to her, that he had shattered into pieces whilst simultaneously molding into a deformed husk of a beast long slain. It was a miracle she could bear to look at him, let alone speak with him, standing there barely hiding her cringes at what became of them both. Yet there she remained, ever resilient, looking at what he did to them apologetically, as if it were her fault the aftermath reached its current wreckage.
❝ ——–that’s a shame, ❞ an empty smile swept back across his expression.
The pain came in every breath, gradual in its pulsing spikes; he preferred this over any numbness and groggy unclear thinking medicine would provide. But perhaps he’d take the numbness once his mind tossed and turned too far, racing through the last moments of consciousness in the Winter War, raging at the memories of his fall, (that man, that damned man, haunting him with that look, the droning monologue as the blade pierced his heart, the Hogyoku, in his grasp, the ghost of that palm outstretched if he closed his eyes hard enough–he could feel the orb almost, if his tears weren’t so non-existent he’d weep from it all)
Only at the edge of that madness would Gin finally mention his physical discomfort.
Part of him, however, enjoyed the concept of deprivation as punishment. To let the ache at his right consume him… a persistent itch of fire and rotting ripped skin—-let it burn him, he deserved it. He did this to himself, why run from his consequences, why cry for help now? A silent bite of his tongue till blood drew–ah… recovering peacefully had no appeal to a lifeless corpse like him. Living became futile the moment Aizen regenerated.
There was tension in his fist and its paling knuckles acted as a conduit—-he loomed into a dreamstate, his storm’s eye. Calm. Sighing, he shifted once more to adjust himself, moving sluggishly until the silver chain at his wrist strained and tugged. Gin sat up, the effort involved immense despite the simplicity of the action, and steadied himself by leaning back against the headboard. It was difficult to maintain how he swayed with the imbalance favoring his left–Gin pressed heavily into it, ignoring any echoing aches the support inflicted. He felt unstable, weak, clumsy—-like he’d tumble off the right side of his bed at a gust.
This would take time to get used to. But they had that in full.
❝ Meantime, hm? Guess we’ll have plenty of that now, ❞ He tipped his chin upwards, pressing the top of his head against the cool wall behind him, and opened his eyes fully to regard the ceiling. ❝ Ahh… what’ll we do, Rangiku? Since we got nothin’ to talk about. ❞
Nothing to talk about was an oversight, and a notion she immediately want to grab, dig her nails into, and drag under to prove otherwise. They had everything to talk about— ... no, she realizes, she just has so many questions that have piled up over the years that they had form a mountain on her conscious and heart. There were too many at the surface, wanting to poor out of her mouth in a flood all at once, but her own guilt keeps a dam in her throat to prevent it.
“I think there’s a lot to talk about,” she answers honestly regardless, “But.. it’s a lot of things I want to ask, things I want answers to.” The truth, she thinks, is most valuable at a time like this. When the world has caved in on them and they are left with only pieces to a ghost of who and what they are. Honesty is needed.
Rangiku pushes herself off the wall she had leaned against, her eyes falling to the floor momentarily before she gathers herself once more. “But I... I don’t think I should yet. I will, but not now.” The time wasn’t right to scavenge through the ruins of them in her own grief, there was no point to tear through rubble and open wounds deeper. It only buried the pain further into the marrow of the bones, until it simple became a part of their being— as it already has, but now.. now the have the opportunity to steadily draw it from their souls and be born again.
She inhales, but truthfully Rangiku feels as if she has pulled a weight off of her soul that she desperately needed to. A weight she had carried and nursed since their youth, and now she can set it aside; not forgotten, but she has shed a shackle of her own so that she may begin to free her heart and lover.
“I’m going to get that cuff off you first,” she announces, conviction in her voice. Rangiku thinks it should be the first step to offer him a piece of freedom ( if she could free him entirely from this place she would, but the heavens and stars are aligned against them ). For every bone that has broken between them and in Gin’s body, she will force her own to be twice as strong, until she can carry the weight of them, until they can stand together as they should, as their souls were meant to.
She wants to tell Gin to let her take care of him, to depend on her now, but there’s an anchor around each syllable that makes it too heavy to be said. They’re not the right words and Rangiku knows that, she knows in her heart and soul that they’re bittersweet at best, like salt poured into a wound with only the edge soothed by the sight of a smile. So she only smiles at him, soft and gentle. “I’ll be here as much as I can,” she says instead, and it’s unsaid promise that she’ll hold true to.
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