In which I realize I cannot pronounce arrancar names.
I've manage to convince myself Nnoitra is pronounced "Noitora" and Ulquiorra is "Ulquoria" in my head. And apparently I refused to acknowledge Szyael Aporro - but that's only because the Szy is too condusive of a keyboard smash and "Zael Apollo" is so much fricken cooler.
*sigh*
Title: Cacophony
Author:
bmw_remixed
Fandom: Bleach
Character(s): Neliel, Nnoitra
Cacophony
Neliel stands at the edge of the desert and contemplates broken memories. A face there, a voice here, and the name of a child (of children?) long forgotten. She can’t remember the before, and the after remains a distant fuzz too.
Anger and abandonment - such pain, such fear - melting to hunger, ravenous hunger - she must devour to survive, devour to evolve, devour to find herself again.
But instead, she lost her self.
Before the hunger, before the anger - a spirit chain breaking… a child crying
The first clear memory - one that didn’t slip away like a dandelion seed in the wind when she tries to grasp at it - was of pounding through the desert sands, cloven hooves barely touching the ground, and a mask that was finally her own.
What is self? She questions. The mask, the power, or the number? Or rather what the three hide?
Neliel could pretend she knows what happened - piecing together a dream from her own knowledge of Hollows. A green haired child - did she have green hair in life? She cannot imagine herself without it, so she must have- wandering through the world, lost and dead and confused. She must have waited and wandered for who knows how long, for a Shinigami, for a Quincy - for someone - to find her. Fear melts to resentment and resentment ignites into rage.
And there would have faded her last tie to the human world.
Neliel wonders what form she took before her Menos years. Perhaps large and hulking, enjoying the suffering of victims before she crushed them between her teeth, perhaps like the little lizards that burrowed beneath the sand, gaining nourishment from the very air of Hueco Mundo until she was strong enough to hunt.
Both possibilities revolt her.
Sometimes, Neliel ponders death. Would she be usurped as an Espada and her essence would join the countless others to fuel another’s evolution? Or would the last thing she feel be a Shinigami’s blade piercing her hierro, smudging away her sins post mortem and she’d wake up as the (green haired?) child she’d forgotten so long ago.
Would she remember in Soul Society? The feelings of absolute superiority, power coursing through her veins, the weight of a ram’s skull upon her brow?
Would she still be Neliel?
Neliel watches Nnoitra; he does not trouble himself with these kinds of thoughts (and for only that reason does she watch him). He lives in the present, for the present, and laughs and sneers at the ghosts of the past and uncertainties of the future.
Neliel sometimes wishes she could become a Menos again - if just to be freed of the constant monologue in her mind. A different kind of freedom - no worries, no fear, just pure instinct - a Beast, in her own words.
She fights Nnoitra, the Gamuza in her soul braying, its cry drowning out her thoughts - and the anger in his eyes pulls her in, anchoring her to the present, until nothing exists except the whistle of the blades as they slice the air and sand slipping beneath her feet.
There are no more ghosts, no more questions, no more memories, and no more uncertainties.
For a moment, she almost allows herself to revel in the rush before the Neliel Tu Oderschvank in her whispers again and the number three on her back burns.
So she pulls back.
His disappointment does not go unmatched.
She may claim to pity the Beast, but she must admit she envies him too.
Start/End: August 1, 2008
Word Count: 584
*sigh*
Title: Cacophony
Author:
bmw_remixed
Fandom: Bleach
Character(s): Neliel, Nnoitra
Cacophony
Neliel stands at the edge of the desert and contemplates broken memories. A face there, a voice here, and the name of a child (of children?) long forgotten. She can’t remember the before, and the after remains a distant fuzz too.
Anger and abandonment - such pain, such fear - melting to hunger, ravenous hunger - she must devour to survive, devour to evolve, devour to find herself again.
But instead, she lost her self.
Before the hunger, before the anger - a spirit chain breaking… a child crying
The first clear memory - one that didn’t slip away like a dandelion seed in the wind when she tries to grasp at it - was of pounding through the desert sands, cloven hooves barely touching the ground, and a mask that was finally her own.
What is self? She questions. The mask, the power, or the number? Or rather what the three hide?
Neliel could pretend she knows what happened - piecing together a dream from her own knowledge of Hollows. A green haired child - did she have green hair in life? She cannot imagine herself without it, so she must have- wandering through the world, lost and dead and confused. She must have waited and wandered for who knows how long, for a Shinigami, for a Quincy - for someone - to find her. Fear melts to resentment and resentment ignites into rage.
And there would have faded her last tie to the human world.
Neliel wonders what form she took before her Menos years. Perhaps large and hulking, enjoying the suffering of victims before she crushed them between her teeth, perhaps like the little lizards that burrowed beneath the sand, gaining nourishment from the very air of Hueco Mundo until she was strong enough to hunt.
Both possibilities revolt her.
Sometimes, Neliel ponders death. Would she be usurped as an Espada and her essence would join the countless others to fuel another’s evolution? Or would the last thing she feel be a Shinigami’s blade piercing her hierro, smudging away her sins post mortem and she’d wake up as the (green haired?) child she’d forgotten so long ago.
Would she remember in Soul Society? The feelings of absolute superiority, power coursing through her veins, the weight of a ram’s skull upon her brow?
Would she still be Neliel?
Neliel watches Nnoitra; he does not trouble himself with these kinds of thoughts (and for only that reason does she watch him). He lives in the present, for the present, and laughs and sneers at the ghosts of the past and uncertainties of the future.
Neliel sometimes wishes she could become a Menos again - if just to be freed of the constant monologue in her mind. A different kind of freedom - no worries, no fear, just pure instinct - a Beast, in her own words.
She fights Nnoitra, the Gamuza in her soul braying, its cry drowning out her thoughts - and the anger in his eyes pulls her in, anchoring her to the present, until nothing exists except the whistle of the blades as they slice the air and sand slipping beneath her feet.
There are no more ghosts, no more questions, no more memories, and no more uncertainties.
For a moment, she almost allows herself to revel in the rush before the Neliel Tu Oderschvank in her whispers again and the number three on her back burns.
So she pulls back.
His disappointment does not go unmatched.
She may claim to pity the Beast, but she must admit she envies him too.
Start/End: August 1, 2008
Word Count: 584