花天狂骨

𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁 𝗌𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀; 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝖾.

[obakeyashi]

Oh to truly be a wolf —— if only she could bare her teeth at him to display her displeasure in light of having to voice it. She asked for her freedom; for a longer leash, and he mocks it. Does he even realize the power he has over her now? Does he even care? Every striking cord of his baritone voice felt like a tightening around her throat. He did not know what it was to be wounded by her, no matter how many scars she left on his flesh.

There was no respite! He moaned of selfishness, of torment with all his poetic flourish and he sounded like a petulant child. He sees one war and it breaks him. He buries barely a handful of those he cared for and it breaks him. The forged weapon of his soul is nothing more than a languid whore that urges him to close his eyes and let go.

Hers was a hammer. An epitome of war gnawing relentlessly at her own ribs, enraged at being caged. There was no respite. If anyone was tormented it was her, and he didn’t care. He would never care. All he did was long for pity that she would never give. She had not put him in this position. … She has never had as say in hers either.

“You’re the one whining about my presence. I’m merely offering you a remedy.”

[kageoni]

Kindness is scarce in the way she speaks to him. A wolf remains a wolf no matter how many times it might try to shed its pelt. And this she-wolf, urge made flesh, yearns to wet her teeth on the lifeblood of his heart. But Shunsui, ever exposed, still holds it out to her—a fragile offer, a quiet plea for her to see his lament.

“ I see, “ he responds with a drawn-out sing-song, gripping the sketch his hands have been fiddling with. He holds it up, looks at it, then at her. Nostalgia tugs at him, but he finds it futile to placate her—no gain in summoning more yesterdays.

Unsure, he sighs again, despair creeping back like some long-lost lover. To a degree, he understands her yearning. To yearn for freedom is to be alive, and in her story, he is now nothing more than a perpetrator excusing his abuse. Once again, she's managed to steer him where she wanted. Hollow ache swirls in his stomach, the back of his throat tightens and the inside of his mouth begins carrying the tang of battery acid. Guilt.

“ If there is nothing else you wish to speak of, I'd rather we postpone this discussion. “ He forces a smile, lifting his gaze just enough to meet hers. His eye closes briefly, and the faint curve of his lips falters. His chin quivers as he bites down on his lip, an attempt to stifle the torment clawing at him. “ Please. “

[obakeyashi]

“That would require me to know what he wanted. That isn’t anything I would have known.” It isn’t a mournful admittance, but rather a plainly offered statement. She was nothing more than another toy soldier to Yamamoto, one of the many chess pieces he moved across the board at whim. Did she have her own personal thoughts on who would have made a good successor? Maybe. It didn’t matter all the same. Shunsui was chosen and he would bear that weight till it broke his bowed back.

His defense of their fallen leader came as no surprise. He had changed. Just as Unohana had. Just as the Gotei had. You are the only one who hasn’t. Words likely meant as a slap that she’d gone numb to centuries ago. Yamamoto had done little to discipline her; had left that to Yachiru. And when Yachiru had given up? Then there had been no one. Shunsui knew nothing of discipline, not even for himself. She had found it curious enough his attempts to soften her. A gentle hand instead of an iron fist. He must not have liked what he’d gotten in return.

After all, he’d never asked for her. She had come to him like a creeping shadow; a murky mirror to the darker parts of his own nature. She must have been the one now who was so very unpleasant.

It was fair to say she didn’t belong. She had been useful, but always an unmatched color woven into an otherwise symmetrical tapestry. But was it fair to say she’d never changed? No… She had changed. He just wasn’t alive to see it.

What is so wrong with my nature. Why is it always me that must change. These frustrated thoughts had been dragged behind her from the very beginning, but never voiced and thus never answered.

“… I don’t have to come back. You have the ability to pressure Central 46 to change the requirements for how often I’m obligated to torment you.”

[kageoni]

Her reply garners a chuckle, faint and hollow, filling the empty air. Though he's unamused, he forces the sound in defiance of adversity. Unsure whether her observation is said only in jest in order to lighten his disposition, Shunsui tries to move on from the fact at hand: his inability to lead, at least by Vi's words. “ Any other changes you'd like to interpose during my tenure? Anything I should be wary of? “

With quiet resignation, Shunsui surmises that steering the conversation toward distant shores would hold no treasure of meaning after all. He falls backwards onto his desk, his arms supporting his weight. “ You know better than anyone how to employ the power of words. You wound me. And the tip of your proverbial spear is inching too close to my heart. So allow me, just this once, a moment of respite. “

His head propels upwards and freezes for a few moments. Memories flicker behind his lidded eye—fragments of halcyon days, before the weight of leadership bore down on him. A defeated exhale follows, and it's then that his palms begin to wander the wooden surface of his desk, grasping at the papers littered about.

Eventually, Shunsui tilts his head somewhat, identifying a scribble she once haphazardly left behind. A sketch depicting a younger version of himself—lighter in demeanor, yet lacking the same sincerity. She sees him for what he is, but spares no lenience or mock compassion when she persecutes him now. She never did.

“ Perhaps you should try feeling more in my stead. Would it be selfish of me to ask you that? A fair trade, if you ask me. “

[obakeyashi]

He had always been an emotional man. One of the many things she disliked about; used against him. Despite that, Vi had still found it interesting to watch him veil that very macabre nature of his beneath a thin veneer of joviality. And when he was robbed of his thespian mask? This is what was left. It hardly mattered, she wouldn’t have been placated by it anyway.

Her own expression remained unmoved, even as he sought to move her body. His hands grasped at her waist were familiar —— unwanted —— allowed all the same. She rose to her feet before he did the same, offering more vague excuses in an attempt to dispel accusations that had yet to come. That was until he found enough strength to plainly lay the reasonings for his absence.

❝ I don’t care where you’ve been. ❞ Even though she had asked that very question mere minutes ago, there was truth to her words now. It was almost as though she were attempting to remind him of just who was standing mere feet away. Their relationship had always been messy, at best. A man convinced a wolf wouldn’t take his hand if he fed it enough. That if he could only get close enough he could slip a collar around its throat without resistance.

He would never get close enough. She would always bite the hand.

In that moment, he needed her to be a softer woman, and she expected him to be a more fortified man. They would both be disappointed.

❝ I don’t know what he saw in you. ❞ She could never claim ‘closeness’ to their deceased head captain, nor had she cared to have it. But she understood his nature. He was militant and unyielding. He had been more of a monster than she had ever been. ❝ Or maybe it was what he didn’t see in you. ❞ Shunsui was none of those things. The only overlapping quality they had was perhaps… loyalty? Shunsui, too, would die for the Gotei. But Shunsui would die for many things, she failed to see it as a positive quality from him.

❝ That man had many enemies. He saw… caused … more death than this. He was unbothered. ❞ To look at the two of them, one wouldn’t know that her age overshadowed his own. She had seen the other sides of the coins printed with the people he loved. ❝ Why would he pick you if you cannot handle the same. ❞

[kageoni]

“ That makes us two, ” he muses to himself, rhetorical, allowing her to further steer him. Masochistic almost, Shunsui remains open to her assault.

He exhales a lengthy sigh, tension ebbing from his chest. Shunsui gives her question a fair amount of thought, pensive. While his eye remains glued to the approaching nightfall, he forces himself to lose focus, to block out some of the incoming, pointless aggression. “ Do suggest a more proper fit in my stead—I’m curious. ” He isn’t, but against his instinct which warns him of her bite, he chooses to indulge her a while longer. There’s still fight in him, despite knowing that tilting at windmills never took him anywhere.

“ Was, by the way, ” he emphasizes, a tacit challenge. “ Some are capable of overcoming their nature. ” His hands fall slack to his sides, he turns his head to face her now, his expression contorting somewhat. “ Some are not. I suppose I oftentimes give credit where it isn't due. Belonging isn't for everyone, I suppose. ”

A pause. Shunsui turns his head back to the horizon, his arms coming to a fold across his chest while his palms interlace in the sleeves of his haori.

“ So, if you don't care where I've been and you're done tormenting me for no other reason than it being fun for you, why are you here, Vi? ”

[kageoni]

yhwch​, darkness.

HE WOULD WATCH HIS KINGDOM FALL.  it felt like time and again, and many more.  walls crumbled. towers felled. the storm rolled in and wind filled up his mantle.  there was something jarringly beautiful about things being decimated —— something familiar.     the dimming of the halo, a fallen crown, swallowed by darkness.  like a kiss that went too deep and came to pronounce itself a DEVOURING.

as shunsui turned,  the floor collapsed under his feet.  he stood tall and unfazed.  did the shinigami see the ground sink in? the world receding when he was not looking? as if it existed only, only in his eyes?   while the other man, or mannish figure —— he the shadow, the spirit,  the haunting. following behind shunsui’s footstep and colorful coattail; the one smear of color that brought forth shape and form and light in the endless abyss.    he did not  f a l l .  not quite. there was no end and no bottom to this darkness.  in this darkness he was forever standing, forever falling … forever here on the cusp of existence and nought.

so he watched his kingdom fall.  all around him and behind shunsui, out of the peripheral of his sight in that one split second,  the portrait greyed and dissolved to ashes, walls collapsed to dust. all returned to the togetherness of the dark.  even while shunsui’s warmth still lingered on the tip of his fingers. still colored the sensation when he rubbed them together against his thumb … after the grand hall would’ve returned to pitch black nothingness behind him, and all before shunsui would turn to him in the new glowing light.

he raised a brow as if he hadn’t anticipated shunsui’s turn, that they would be face to face again so soon not even after a millennia.

‘SOMETHING TROUBLES YOU.’   he took the hand on his cheek, against the thickness of his beard, as an invitation to PROBE. or maybe he would’ve done it anyway. a very docile and tame dream he was not always.   ‘YET YOU WOULD NOT SHARE IT WITH ME.  I SHALL FIND THAT TROUBLING.’  he watched as the light crawled up and haloed around shunsui’s person. his shape. and raised a hand to lay atop of shunsui’s hand on his face.  ‘YOU ASK OF ME EXPLORATION. BUT WHAT EXPLORATION IS THIS,  IF NOT THE DEPTH OF YOUR SOUL, THE CONSTITUTION OF YOUR HEART,  —— AND THE RELATION OF US?’

“ ...what troubles me? the future, everything is fast to come and pass by. i can’t control it, and it frightens me. ”  

the shift is unending. ignorant as he is, skewed by his own insatiable curiosity, he doesn't even perceive how the environment adjusts against him. rejecting him. or perhaps he simply chooses to pay it little to no heed; to ignore the probability that his owninner world is in fact repudiating him. blissfully ignorant, he would deem himself. for he does not acquiesce the dangers of this unknown.

and this unknown, it feels familiar. warm. candid. it feels light. engulfing. grim. looming. voracious.

the contact tears him from this wide-eyed slumber. he peers into the gloom, and without remorse, it examines him with mirrored fervor. it consumes him akin to a beast lapping at the remains of its feed. it turns him into a hollow cur and brings him back to life. brand new and pristine. a speculum of his their very souls. and once his lungs recharge on breath, he's awake again. the darkness surges and dies when streaks of light engulf them. the bristles of his beard feel like limbs. creeping, inciting, searching. his body becomes a tree out of which hearts grow. he eventually smiles; and when he does the earth laughs flowers and the debris of a castle formerly unknown vanish like rain does during springtime. warmth floods him and doubt soon leaves his mind.

“ it's nothing. ”

nothing. the foreground flashes, and suddenly, there's nothing.

but short lived is this nothing. for undergrowth is quick to lurk and slither through the crevices of infinite night. it's then that his empty hand, like the branches of a newborn tree, extends and joins his left. his fingers poke and prod and dig into the skin as if he's barehandedly digging a shallow grave. and he almost urges them together. two mouths, one heart, one breath. shunsui stops, befuddled by the promiscuity of his overwhelming longing. inadvertently, his eyes dash from the flesh of corruption to the newfound creation, at which he meekly points. “ our exploration is not over. spring has come. or so it seems. join me, perhaps we’ll find our answers there. ”

[voirlvmer]

What is longing but my arms pulling at the sky as if it weren’t already fog and rain collecting the ground?

Jennifer S. Cheng, from “Dear Blank Space: A Literacy Narrative” (via voirlvmer)

[senkaimon]

act one.  tameraikizu no wakachiai  ( the sharing of pain ):  wounds inflicted on the enemy surface on oneself as if to share them.

act two.  zanki no shitone  ( the pillow of shame ):  a man who regrets wounding his enemy falls to the floor from shame and suffers an incurable sickness.

act three.  dangyo no fucki  ( the abyss ):  accepting their fate they throw themselves into the rising water until each other’s spiritual pressures are exhausted.

“…  but that’s you being selfish…  how disgraceful can you be?  the disgrace of the man she swore herself to.  only pity keeps her with him and bound to this world.  isn’t that right,  sakuranosuke?”   @kageoni​

[monkifuraibo]

--- @kageoni said: shunsui (demiromantic & bisexual) if you re still accepting ofc :,D || None of these are turning out the way I want them to :')

[kageoni]

senkaimon​ / starrk. 

          Starrk can feel the atmosphere shift between the two.  Despite the bright sun overhead,  the blue sky,  the soft breeze   -   it seems as if it might begin to rain at any moment.  No,  not just rain but pour.  The former Primera knows Shunsui must feel it too,  the heaviness of it.  Or perhaps it wasn’t the atmosphere at all.  Perhaps it was the weight in his soul that radiated out and all around him.  He was aware that it had always been rather gloomy,  that loneliness to him was far more than an  ‘ aspect of death ’  but rather a thing he encompassed while living…  If what he was doing could be considered living at all.

          He cannot help the slight press of his lips,  the furrow of his brows,  the soft glare given to the man at his side when he makes such a promise without saying the word itself.  It wasn’t that Starrk didn’t believe that he would try but rather…  he was aware of the impossibility of it.  There were those above him who would not hear the matter further than whatever strings he had already pulled to keep him alive.  Unohana-san had been kind enough to him as she claimed it was her responsibility as a healer but…  he was sure the kindness did not extend much further beyond the two of them other than the Captain who had refused to fight Lilynette.

Speaking of which   -

          “…  I’m afraid it’s not much consolation.”  He ought be earnest even if it comes across as pessimism…  and who could blame him truly?  Hadn’t Starrk earned the right to feel in such a manner?  Everyone had been taken from him or at least he had been taken from everyone who might have survived…  All because of the number he had been designated.  The Primera had been a collar then as it was a collar now,  only the one who held the leash was different.  “And don’t say things that sound like promises so frivolously…  I’ve resigned to my fate here so I’ll give you no trouble about it.”

          “For both of our sakes it would be best if we come to that understanding now.  I  ‘ behave ’  and you don’t lie to me.”

               many would consider him a deceit weaver. a man of charades. a misleading individual who only enjoys seeing the way others attempt make something of the clues he arbitrarily tosses about. this time, no game of mischief is in order. he deems it futile and perhaps even more unnerving. the least thing he wishes to do in that moment is laugh in the face of a man who’s lost his motives to live. he’s been in that position many a times, and perhaps someday, he’ll be in starrk’s shoes again. 

                ‘ i know just as much as you do, i’m not playing tricks on you. ’ 

                for now, all he can do is try to assist the former espada in his fight meant to renew his outlook on the future that’s to come. starrk’s words echo throughout his head countless times. it’s as if he’s launching taunts, and whather that is his or isn’t his intention, shunsui is unsure of. the conversation treads into deeper and deeper waters, and he’s uncertain whether he should leave it as is or delve deeper. shunsui tries to sort his thoughts in order of pertinence. in order to ground himself, he lets a palm thread thorugh the chaos of raven strands at the back of his head. ‘ it’s a deal, then. ’

                  there’s a rumble in the sky that prohibits him from verbalizing his train of thought. a storm brews amid the laden chunks adorning the night’s sky. the streaks of moonlight that’d only just arrived are soon abolished by a blanket of rain. akin to a chime, the sound of droplets crashing against the still environment mesmerize him. perhaps their discussion prompted it. for a sign to come forth and beckon a clean slate for them both. kyoraku’s head faces skyward, his eyes resting if only for a moment while he’s taking in the rejuvenating spell of rain. after he manages to collect himself, he plants the most feeble touch upon starrk’s shoulder as if to reassure himself that he bears no ill intent. afraid of invading boundaries, the contact doesn’t last. he then gets up and looks himself over before turning to his new comrade with precise haste. 

                     ‘ here’s to a new beginning, ’ for the first time since their first meeting, he allows himself to gaze into starrk’s eyes. they parch him to the marrow. the glare is not warm, however. it’s frostbite cold and protruding. there’s not much more he can do but help him stand. aiming to yield some kind of response, he proffers his hand, expecting naught but refusal.  ‘ we should head back inside. it doesn’t look like the rain’s going to stop anytime soon. ’

[kageoni]

senkaimon​ / katen.

          More like a babe than ever he seems displeased by what she’s said,  moving within her arms as though he might pull himself free and throw a tantrum over it.  BUT SHE WAS NOT WRONG.  A truth that the both of them knew better than anything.  Katen spoke to him all of the things that he did not want to hear,  from all of the deepest and most shadowed places of his heart and mind.  The hand once at his face yet released in his turn to his side now settles for combing into his hair.  She listens,  she watches,  she does not look away from him even as he reaches out into the abyss.

          “Sakuranosuke.”  Fingers like spiders legs entangle and twine as she listens to him spill the things she already knows.  He blames himself but when did he not?  It was the same tale told over and over and over and over   -   perhaps the both of them were going mad because of it.  That was the understanding of insanity,  wasn’t it?  To be stuck on a spinsters wheel repeating the same patterns of a never ending quilt.  Hmph.  How frustrating that the freedom she desired for him from such a fate felt nigh impossible.

          “Yes,  perhaps they would be…  but perhaps they would still be dead as well.”  Katen muses,  her fingers still caught in his hair.  She gives a light tug with the purpose of getting him to look at her again.  “Who’s to say?  …  Do you wish to carry the weight of every death around you on your shoulders for all of eternity?  You’ll drown yourself in such a foolish attempt to do so.  You must learn to let these things go.  I know,  it’s a concept that has always been difficult for you to grasp.”

               it puzzles him, how calmly she speaks of death. of pain. like a deer in the headlights, he’s caught off guard by the unprompted lecture. although he wishes to swerve away and disprove of her cruel antics, he can’t seem to find the power to do so. to some extent, she’s right. silently does he lean further into her embrace. the fingers that spider about his hair soothe the shame he’s laboring under more than her words do. 

                disallowed from speaking by the abrupt swerve of her grip, his eye bulks open and his brows furrow in dissatisfaction. when she so nonchalantly exclaims his middle name, it almost feels like a wake up call. it’s then that the epiphany dawns upon him like the rainfall does during summer. guilt. for too long he’s been experiencing it. and were it not for her, by now he would have left himself be ground by its unforgiving maw. ‘ i don’t. nor do i want them to be forgotten. they’ll be with me for as long as i live. ’

            what garners a somewhat positive response isn’t the healthy strike with which she jars him back into reality, but the way she speaks of guilt. he would have never thought that he would come to labor under the illusions he’d been avoiding his entire life. as per usual, she’s a perhaps the most considerable feat of his life. a rough laugh parts his lips some, all before they bend back into an amused grin. ‘ survivor’s guilt’s one hell of a burden to live with, ’ he props himself upward, enough for his eye to gain a better glance at her features. how stern she stands in the face of the unknown. ‘ thank you, my flower. i don’t know what i would do without you. ’

[kageoni]

steps on him. (starrk)

            to say he's been caught on unprepared heels would be a certain understatement. he'd been lying idly onto the ground, resting underneath the freshly blossomed wisteria and reviewing the protocol nanao had provided for their new comrade. his arms are crossed underneath his head and his kasa is sheltering his eyes from the ever-scorching summer sunlight. for a while, he’d been humming a tune that’d stuck with him ever since the former espada had joined them. unbothered, if only for a moment, he dares close his eyes. whatever figment of serenity he’d gathered during his break will soon come to shatter.

              the hems of his haori barely shield his bosom. and perhaps the inviting sight prompted the contact that’s to follow. a foreign touch weighs down his chest. it’s abrupt and cold, but it lacks the ever present hostility he’s grown accustomed to. at first, he’s unconcerned, thinking it’s hirako playing some type of practical joke. the thought is soon to be dismissed. the contact lasts perhaps a tad too long, and he grows increasingly wary of its source. kyoraku unfolds his arms and from his sprawled position sways the tip of his kasa upward. when he opens his eyes his irises blow open. the sight of his newly acquainted comrade garners an almost instantaneous reaction. a startled inhale precludes any reply he seeks to give.

              he ties to fight through a wet swallow to keep himself from shaking. some kind of befuddling arousal prickles hot underneath his skin. there’s a trickle of sweat beading near his temples. as much as he wishes to wrap his mind about the situation, he’s seems to be stuck in a stasis. it’s perhaps a bit too difficult to fathom the mere idea of this particular event taking place. he refuses to meet starrk’s eyes, so he instead dauntlessly dares to let his free palm slowly journey all the way from the sole pressing against his chest to the ankle it’s attached to. they curl around it and his nails dig against the exposed skin. shunsui’s eyes alight with amusement and he bares his impish grin like nightfall does the moon. 

            ‘ that’s rather brutish of you, starrk-san... ’

@senkaimon

[kageoni]

shunsui kyoraku + coyote starrk, on new beginnings & distance. 

‘ I’m not unfamiliar with what it’s like to have no one to return to.    Even here, surrounded by others, it doesn’t change the fact that  I still am alone. ’

[kageoni]

jigokumai​ / senjumaru shutara.

@kageoni​​

𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍, her eyes traced a skyline brought low by war, the skeletal remains of their once proud horizon only now beginning to reach for the heavens once more. How the mighty do fall. Still, she supposed progress was progress. From the Soutaichou’s office the entirety of the Seireitei sprawled out beneath her, souls busy at work; though as fascinating as the view was, it did not concern her quite so much as the Soutaichou himself.

“Things are coming along nicely,” she began, turning with a soft clink of metal from her kanzashi. Shutara eyed him where he sat, his desk against the far wall, and wondered if it was the trappings of this new office that bowed his shoulders so. “Though there are a few loose threads." 

"Do you intend to allow the arrancar to rule themselves?” She counted three, at least, in between the battles, flashes of bone white masks. 

“…Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how 𝙵𝙾𝙽𝙳 Vi has become of one of them.”

            she carries herself with unprecedented poise. her unprompted presence leaves him somewhat daunted, agitated amid the sea of formal documents scattered all across desk. despite the ever so enthralling allure and impeccable grace, the headcaptain never does forget who he stands before. a fiction weaver, a deceit breeder: senjumaru shutara could only ordain more trouble.

            from his spot where he sits almost motionless, he lifts a tentative hand in order to greet her. the problem with which she presents herself is amiable, manageable even. or so he thinks at first. it allows his chest to subside with a muted exhale. ‘ for now, i would pay them no heed. they’re in a position just as defenseless as we previously were, ’ he explains, angling the brim of his kasa with nervous fingers.  ‘ some of them even decided to help. ’

            shortly after elaborating his position on the matter, kyoraku sinks into his chair and a smile devoid of warmth surfaces. ‘ i am aware. but the restrictions we’ve imposed don’t seem to keep her occupied. ’

[kageoni]

senkaimon​ / coyote starrk. 

          Starrk turns his eyes away from the Captain as they walk,  instead taking in the scenery before him.  Of course it’s vastly different from Las Noches and even more so from Hueco Mundo.  Everywhere he looks there is some buzz of life between flora,  fauna and humanity alike.  Even Las Noches on it’s most lively days still held an air of sterility,  as if it wasn’t truly lived in…  perhaps because it hadn’t been.  His kin had been taken in and placed into a world that was entirely foreign to them.  Perhaps that was why he’d never truly settled in.  Lilynette  -  he stops that train of thought,  instead purposefully focusing on what the man at his side was saying.  He didn’t want to deal with that either.

          He had suspected that perhaps the other man had done something,  pulled some sort of string in his favor but the  ‘ why ’  eluded him when hearing it confirmed.  Their fight had been nothing but formality,  two men on opposite sides of a war…  but that didn’t mean they owed one another anything.  At least it hadn’t until he’d gone and saved his life,  now it was Starrk who was indebted.  He feels a little annoyed,  not because he thinks Shunsui will take advantage of that fact but because he’d not been given a choice.  He would have much rather died along with…  his jaw tightens a little bit as they come to stand before the bench.  In colorful display the Captain drops down to sit,  Starrk follows a few moments later with much more purposeful movements.

          “…  It may have been the first war I participated in but I know cruelty.”  He was Hollow,  he was Arrancar.  He had lived his life in the midst of brutality.  Of course it could never quite reach him but that in and of itself was cruel.  Hell for him had been the isolation,  until…  “I was told they couldn’t find her body.”

          Not that Starrk had expected them to but it’s that knowledge that bothers him most of all.  Everyone else…  well,  she had always been the one to try and bring them together.  He had often only vicariously participated in things because of her desire to bond outside of themselves.  The former Espada meets his gaze.  “I’m not unfamiliar with what it’s like to have no one to return to.  Even here,  surrounded by others,  it doesn’t change the fact that I still am alone.”

                  ‘ regardless of which side you’re on during war...  ’ he’d only just began speaking when starrk interrupts him, the gumption resounding in his tone foreign to the captain’s ears. it’s not gall that’s causing the former espada to be so caustic, but the resentment of being unable to protect and fight for the only affiliation he’s ever had. that much he knows. shunsui’s eyes remain fixed on starrk as he words his anguish. and despite being there with him, in that very moment, they’ve never felt more apart. the manner in which he speaks is cold and detached, but not in the ever so characteristic calculated way in which starrk normally addresses such concerns. 

               the suspicion amassing within starrk’s is hardly unnoticeable. his words alone are enough to bring a tinge of misery into shunsui’s heart. to an extent, he can feel his resolve shattering. and despite wanting to say something in order to assure the other that the future isn’t always as cruel and unforgiving as it may now appear, he can’t quite conceive a motive worthy enough to be spoken. after a short while, shunsui’s hands come to fall upon his knees where they rest for some time. he blinks and turns his head away, giving him a wandering side-eye as they carry on sitting in silence.  ‘ for now, i’ll do whatever is in my powers to let you go back unscathed.  ’

                 his brows remain knitted with quiet fury, his jaw a rigid line. with each deep breath his chest rises, subsides and then rises again. when he finally decides that enough time has passed, kyoraku tries to address his concern.  ‘ we’re nothing but wayward leaves scattered by an indifferent wind, ’ he muses, expecting his barrage to yield no reaction. ‘ the only thing you can do now is fight until all the remaining jagged edges of yourself knit themselves back together. ’ he, however, offers no suggestion on how to attain such result.

               ‘ if it’s any consolation, after our fight concluded, the little one didn’t manifest again. ’ a pause sunders his reply. he then corrects himself, turning face starrk once again. ‘ lillynette might still be alive. somewhere in hueco mundo. ’

[kageoni]

senkaimon​ / katen.

          Her hand is held fast beneath his much larger one,  to his cheek,  despite her attempt to remove it.  Of course he would not be so easy about things.  Katen relents for the moment,  allowing him to have his way as she turns back to look at him.  It’s not deserved,  she thinks,  but she’ll oblige him upon the dramatic verge of death that he clings.  More tendrils made fingers,  her free hand lifts to caress her own chin thoughtfully.

          “You  wound  yourself.”  Katen tuts.  There was no need to mince her words with him.  He ought to hear them clearly and precisely or else he may not receive them at all.  Her hand still caught beneath his curls,  nails lightly raking where she can to make further point.  “You stay near the end of  that  rope purposefully,”   (  with melancholic sigh she goes on  ),   “you cannot fool or lie to me,  you know.”

          “Don’t be so frivolous.  There is much still to be done.”  She hovers,  she looms.  “Fret not.  One day I will join you where you want to be but now is not the time for it.”

            ‘ mmm? ’ the correction has him perplexed. distraught, even. her words ring true to his ears. there’s no point in prevaricating. akin to an open book, she skims through the pages of his mind, uncovering each enigma with projected ease. one dilemma at a time. she is but a reflection of himself. soon enough, he reaches a fair conclusion. or at least that’s what he considers fair in that moment. 

            his spine straightens some, and he tries to get up, but it doesn’t take him long to realize that no place in the world is safer than the clutch of her embrace. shunsui’s grip loosens, and he turns on his side, averting his eyes while his throat lets out a defeated rumble. he stifles a befuddled laughter and then outstretches one of his arms, fingers spread, as if he attempted to grasp something that was too far out of reach. ‘ you have a way with words, my flower. ’

             silence proceeds engulfing him anew. his arm retreats and then shields his sight from her gaze. he feels seen. vulnerable. kyoraku slowly grows more uneasy, and it’s visible in the way he refuses to converse. after a moment’s though, his mouth falls slack; a sign that he’s practically coaxing himself to speak. ‘ it wasn’t meant to be this way. had i been more responsible, perhaps they would still be alive and well.  ’

[seethearrowtheyshot]

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[kageoni]

senkaimon​ / lisa-chan.

          “What’re you talking about?”  She was not about to deal with this  -  actually she was but certainly not in a way he was going to enjoy it.  “Your break has been over for fifteen minutes.  I was nice enough to give you that extra time so now you need to  get to it.  No complaining about it either.”

            ‘ fine, fine! ’ he cautiously attempts to remove lisa’s foot before finally gathering his personal effects. kyoraku eventually looks himself over, brushing the dust off his haori with a quick shake. ‘ what now? today’s paperwork’s mostly done... maybe you’d like me to train with you, lisa-chan? ’

[kageoni]

senkaimon​ / starrk.

          Starrk remains passive,  observant of the smile upon the Shinigami’s mouth but for some reason it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes.  Unease works in.  Though he had been treated…  well thus far in his time in the Seireitei it didn’t mean he was entirely comfortable.  He had grown used to one building and the inhabitants within the Fourth,  they were easy enough people to be surrounded by.  They left him alone most of the time.  To see a familiar face,  one from the war he certainly tried  not  to think about…  well,  it wasn’t entirely unpleasant but it brought up a lot of things he’d been attempting to shove down.

          Perhaps the other man could sense it,  hence why he’s requesting him walk with him.  The word  ‘ requesting ’  used lightly.  It felt more like a subtle command.  Starrk could unpack that thought later.  He joins the Captain at his side,  pausing so that he might direct them where he wants them to go.  There’s a level of tension building up but it’s muted enough that the former Primera decides to ignore that too.  The question he’s given is unsurprising and he’s clever enough to read between the words and see the meaning.  Well,  he’d known it all along anyhow.  He’d had plenty of time to think while healing.

          “Starrk is fine.”  He remarks,  removing the cover settled over them.  There was no need for games and minced words.  Starrk gives him a long side glance.  “Well…  I think we both know there are only two options and only one of them is in my favor at all.  So let’s not pretend we both don’t know what one I’m going to take.”

              in spite of easily he notices the growing apprehension, kyoraku does nothing to dilute it. at least not at first. while his eyes are glued onto the paved pathway, he makes little effort to acknowledge the other with a sideward glance.  after hearing the former espada’s correction, he regards starrk with unserious curiosity.  ‘ starrk, yes, ’ blithely, he decides to adjust his address, although only momentarily. instead of calling him a previous title, one that bears a burden perhaps too heavy to carry, he’ll think of something else.

              ‘ mm, you catch on pretty quickly, no surprise there, ’ spoken more as a fact than an observation. his tone might seem pointed, but the playful lilt of his voice and the smile that’s ever present seem to contradict it. similarly to their previous battle, he carries no ill intent. he’s but a messenger wanting to deliver greater orders. ‘ there wasn’t much of a choice. the old man wasn’t sure what to do with you, ’ he explains, and so the admittance is rather plain, but no less true. ‘ i suggested you stay with us. at least for a while. ’

                silence settles in for the rest of their journey. once their mock patrol comes to an end, kyoraku suggests they take a seat somewhere in the back of his squad’s barracks. once they arrive, the captain, with all the grace of a falling rock, limply buckles over the closest bench. the saturated skyline drips its last minutes of daylight through the amassed dark-grey chunks scattered across the horizon. shunsui huffs longingly, his shoulders sagging the tiniest bit more once he arranges his thoughts in order of pertinence. ‘ war is cruel, ’ he begins, a frown quirking his eyebrows downward. ‘ i’m afraid most of your comrades didn’t survive. even if you could leave now, you’d have nobody to return to.  ’