Paradoxically, intimacy is violence and it is destruction. / We cannot conceive of ultimate collapse in a way other than in love.
ii.
Gin remembered waking in a cold and sticky pool of his own blood, surrounded by walls of white, the room spinning around and around him whilst the sniveling sounds of some lesser Arrancar prickled at his senses. He relented back to that comfortable darkness. He hardly recalled the tedious and desperate moments prior, of heaving his broken body from that pile of rubble and crawling his way towards a sputtered Gargantua. Tumbling into the pale cold stone halls of a ruined Las Noches, Gin had retreated into the palace of stone akin to a wounded beast seeking shelter in the coverage of rock and cave. He remembered a bursting flame searing in his left palm and the distinct scent of burning flesh at his right, a scream that didn’t sound like his own, his throat ripped sore. He remembered stupidly fighting to live when every single atom of himself immediately regretted the notion.
... continue reading CHAPTER 2, THE UNFORGIVING DARK.