JULY 9, 2014.
Post by Emil Heidrich on Feb 16, 2014 23:28:19 GMT -5
HEAVEN'S GATES
won't open up for me
Blood trickled and stained the sand as it separated from a fragile body. Darkness swallowed everything and soon the light of life would be snuffed out as well, for tired and alone, one could only survive the onslaught of the damned for so long. It had been less than a week since the male had reawakened his Quincy powers to their full extent and already he was in a dire situation.
Back pressed into the stiff ivory of a tree, Emil sat in the one place that no human belonged. How he had ended up in this false Hell even he wasn’t sure. Reality seemed to be little more than a haze and he found himself praying to gods that he didn’t believe in. Was this some divine punishment or was it merely the scorn of superiors? The answer escaped him and in truth he didn’t wish to know. Both would merely send the man further into the downward spiral of insanity. Hope was lost and as the moments ticked by he could only find comfort in knowing that the madness of his existence would end.
The silence that had enveloped the area was serene by comparison of what it had once been and what it would eventually come to be. More hollows would come, just as they had come for him before. The idea of forming a spiritual defense sickened him and he knew that his fingers could take no more, they had become raw from usage of an extensive amount of reishi. The task of merely raising his limbs to take aim at the enemy seemed daunting and he found himself welcoming the prospect of death at that moment. Physically his injures were far from grave but he was fatigued to no end and the mental support of his mind wasn’t exactly stable.
Why? Why had the world forsaken him and sent him to this dimension? If this wasn’t hell than he pitied the souls that had been damned.
The young Heidrich had been in this dimension an unknown amount of time, but in that duration had had faced an anguish that he had never known. He’d kill hollow after hollow and menos after menos, with every death it seemed as if more of him was chipped away. Mind and body suffered in unison as his own power destroyed him along with the damage taken from higher-level hollows. It was hard to find an inch of his body that wasn’t drenched in either sweat or blood.
Blackness nipped and bit at the corners of his vision and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he passed out. Perhaps he would be lucky enough to find himself incapacitated by the time a hollow found its way to him. He didn’t deserve such luck however, for Emil had become the scum of all scum. He’d killed hollows and he’d killed his brethren for doing the same. He’d fought and interfered with shinigami and executed others for even had attempting to. No longer was he in the mortal realm, yet others had died for what had been forced upon him.
There wasn’t an aspect of the pact that he hadn’t broken. He was the ultimate hypocrite and as he lay there he found that perhaps this was a pleasant sentence compared to what he deserved.
Such a notion vanished at the first shriek of his demise.
There was another hollow coming and this would be the one that would claim a prize that was foreign to all of the others. This would be the hollow that devoured the soul of the Knight-Commander. There was no escaping it, no fighting it; all that was left to do at that particular moment was to accept and embrace it. The blond hadn’t lived to change the world or bring about the end to violence. No, as he sat there at death’s door he realized that he had merely added to the hateful circle under false pretenses. The pacifist that most considered him to be was a lie, he was as bloodthirsty as the rest of them. He just wanted to feel better about himself and denied such pleasantries.
If he was allowed to he… no. No. NO. NO. NO.
Emil was many things but he wasn’t bloodthirsty and he wasn’t twisted. No, that wasn’t quite the truth either. It was a part of him but it was a part of himself that he denied and as such it didn’t hold any claim to his identity. He had helped people throughout his life as much as he had hindered hurt or destroyed others. He was no saint but he was far from the sinner of all sinners.
Death was frightening but he gritted his teeth and told himself that he wouldn’t allow for it to rob him of himself. To strip him of his sanity mere moments before it came. He’d face it down, maybe not physically but mentally and he would do so with a stiff spine.
Back pressed into the stiff ivory of a tree, Emil sat in the one place that no human belonged. How he had ended up in this false Hell even he wasn’t sure. Reality seemed to be little more than a haze and he found himself praying to gods that he didn’t believe in. Was this some divine punishment or was it merely the scorn of superiors? The answer escaped him and in truth he didn’t wish to know. Both would merely send the man further into the downward spiral of insanity. Hope was lost and as the moments ticked by he could only find comfort in knowing that the madness of his existence would end.
The silence that had enveloped the area was serene by comparison of what it had once been and what it would eventually come to be. More hollows would come, just as they had come for him before. The idea of forming a spiritual defense sickened him and he knew that his fingers could take no more, they had become raw from usage of an extensive amount of reishi. The task of merely raising his limbs to take aim at the enemy seemed daunting and he found himself welcoming the prospect of death at that moment. Physically his injures were far from grave but he was fatigued to no end and the mental support of his mind wasn’t exactly stable.
Why? Why had the world forsaken him and sent him to this dimension? If this wasn’t hell than he pitied the souls that had been damned.
The young Heidrich had been in this dimension an unknown amount of time, but in that duration had had faced an anguish that he had never known. He’d kill hollow after hollow and menos after menos, with every death it seemed as if more of him was chipped away. Mind and body suffered in unison as his own power destroyed him along with the damage taken from higher-level hollows. It was hard to find an inch of his body that wasn’t drenched in either sweat or blood.
Blackness nipped and bit at the corners of his vision and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he passed out. Perhaps he would be lucky enough to find himself incapacitated by the time a hollow found its way to him. He didn’t deserve such luck however, for Emil had become the scum of all scum. He’d killed hollows and he’d killed his brethren for doing the same. He’d fought and interfered with shinigami and executed others for even had attempting to. No longer was he in the mortal realm, yet others had died for what had been forced upon him.
There wasn’t an aspect of the pact that he hadn’t broken. He was the ultimate hypocrite and as he lay there he found that perhaps this was a pleasant sentence compared to what he deserved.
Such a notion vanished at the first shriek of his demise.
There was another hollow coming and this would be the one that would claim a prize that was foreign to all of the others. This would be the hollow that devoured the soul of the Knight-Commander. There was no escaping it, no fighting it; all that was left to do at that particular moment was to accept and embrace it. The blond hadn’t lived to change the world or bring about the end to violence. No, as he sat there at death’s door he realized that he had merely added to the hateful circle under false pretenses. The pacifist that most considered him to be was a lie, he was as bloodthirsty as the rest of them. He just wanted to feel better about himself and denied such pleasantries.
If he was allowed to he… no. No. NO. NO. NO.
Emil was many things but he wasn’t bloodthirsty and he wasn’t twisted. No, that wasn’t quite the truth either. It was a part of him but it was a part of himself that he denied and as such it didn’t hold any claim to his identity. He had helped people throughout his life as much as he had hindered hurt or destroyed others. He was no saint but he was far from the sinner of all sinners.
Death was frightening but he gritted his teeth and told himself that he wouldn’t allow for it to rob him of himself. To strip him of his sanity mere moments before it came. He’d face it down, maybe not physically but mentally and he would do so with a stiff spine.
MADE BY SIRIUS OF GANGNAM STYLE
