( @silencedglaive )
he felt it before he saw it. a quiet. not just a lack of noise. this was a presence. a heavy, absolute silence that ate cursed energy. a dead spot. a patch of the world where the frantic static of everything just… stopped.
it was more interesting than any curse he'd felt all year. he was sitting on the edge of the tokyo tower, a half-eaten crepe in his hand. he forgot about it. this was better. he let his senses unspool, a net cast over the city. looking for the source of that terrible, beautiful stillness.
he found it. a small park. a girl on a swing. small. looked fragile. simple dark dress. but the energy, or lack of it, was a black hole. it wasn't a void. not an absence. it was the calm at the heart of a storm that could end galaxies. it tasted like deep space. like old ash. like the last note of a song played at the end of the world.
it was the most powerful thing he had ever felt. and it was just… swinging. ( what the hell are you? ) he said nothing. just watched. the slow arc of the swing. back. and forth. the chains made a small, sad squeaking sound. the only noise in the quiet she carried around her like a coat. his voice, when it came, was soft. casual. like tossing a stone into a deep, dark well.
“that’s a heavy look.” he waited. for her to turn her head. for those deep, old eyes to land on him. “planning on ending the world?” his grin sharpened. “or just trying to decide where to start?”
