[CLOSED ] [ this is the beginning -- ]
Characters: Aizen/Reverie [iniquiticity]
Date/Time: September 13th - Midday.
Location: All through residential areas.
Rating: R for character death.
Summary: Reverie's desire to learn things gets the best of him.
Reverie hadn’t found much use for the journals recently. Oh, sure he’s been keeping track of all the recent problems and issues and amusing little things, but honestly, not much has been very interesting. Mostly, he’d spent a lot of time training with the broken sword he found in the junkyard. Once, it might have been quite the longsword, but with half the blade broken it’s just the size he likes. It made him feel familiar and empty at the same time, and eventually he decided it’s because this isn’t the right sword.
When the hurricane came, Reverie had no intentions of leaving. Not in the slightest. He heard the shuffle outside, and when it’s quiet - well, as quiet as it could be when the wind is screaming - there might be words, and when he tries so hard to hear them they fade away. The rain thundered upon his rooftop, made it nearly impossible for him to hear his own thoughts. He stepped outside, watching the last few stragglers evacuate. Immediately, the cold rain soaked through him.
There’s problems that maybe he can figure out, though, as he stared up into the sky. This hurricane must have come from somewhere. He read up on them in the bookstore and they form, and none of the conditions for their forming exist here. Edensphere exists inside a closed space, and Reverie suspected it’s the enclosure that makes the hurricane strong. He walked down to section one, which seems to be taking interesting abuse, and without warning, the winds switch direction. The winds are coming from nowhere and everywhere. These sort of things don’t come from a place - they come from a person. The thoughts of someone.. Unconscious, maybe, but thoughts are thoughts.
He walked up to section three, where everything is doing a little better - but not by much. But the hurricane is getting worse, too. He threw up one hand to protect his face from the from fist-sized raindrops and stared around, figuring that heading back to his place now would probably be the best idea - when the storm relented, he would look for it more.
The winds and rain around him became strong enough to hinder vision. He headed towards the elevator, absolutely drenched, though he was strangely hypnotized by the wind and rain. He saw figures and not - saw angry glares in the hateful gusts and the bend of a branch. He shook his head and pressed the button to his elevator. Only tired eyes playing tricks. But still….maybe they were real. And now he was agitated by his inability to tell fake from reality - he felt like he should know the answer to this question. After all, he's fairly familiar with illusions and tricks of that trade, after all. But for once, it was hard to tell. He heard the ding of the elevator but could hardly see the doors open him. The wind picked up and didn’t let him enter, and it might have not have been the wind, it might have been an angry breath from some person, or maybe their fist, or maybe a solid kick - but whatever it was, it lifted him off his feet. And not only that, it tossed him off section three and off the tree and dropped him, quite brusquely, into empty space.
The rain pushed him down. He tried to move, pull the space around him to get closer, but he felt like even when he might have moved, things pulled father away. He groped for the tree to be greeted with empty air, and he found that quite soon, he was shockingly cold, not just from the water. He moved a hand to see ice forming on his soaked coat, to see it stretch over his fingers and his feet and the fraying ends of his pants. The ice felt like it seeped through his body, wrapped around his blood and allowed snowflakes to drift through his sluggish bloodflow. His heart calmly slowed, a curious paradox that he notice in a distanced kind of way. Falling should cause him to panic, cause his heartrate to rise, but this impossible fall only calmed it. Must have been the ice.
Blinking shattered the crystals forming on his eyes. He tried to shake his head only to realize that he no longer could. Chuckling, the breath barely melting the coating over his mouth, he closed his eyes and allowed the cover to reach completion.
He fell with all the other hailstones.
Date/Time: September 13th - Midday.
Location: All through residential areas.
Rating: R for character death.
Summary: Reverie's desire to learn things gets the best of him.
Reverie hadn’t found much use for the journals recently. Oh, sure he’s been keeping track of all the recent problems and issues and amusing little things, but honestly, not much has been very interesting. Mostly, he’d spent a lot of time training with the broken sword he found in the junkyard. Once, it might have been quite the longsword, but with half the blade broken it’s just the size he likes. It made him feel familiar and empty at the same time, and eventually he decided it’s because this isn’t the right sword.
When the hurricane came, Reverie had no intentions of leaving. Not in the slightest. He heard the shuffle outside, and when it’s quiet - well, as quiet as it could be when the wind is screaming - there might be words, and when he tries so hard to hear them they fade away. The rain thundered upon his rooftop, made it nearly impossible for him to hear his own thoughts. He stepped outside, watching the last few stragglers evacuate. Immediately, the cold rain soaked through him.
There’s problems that maybe he can figure out, though, as he stared up into the sky. This hurricane must have come from somewhere. He read up on them in the bookstore and they form, and none of the conditions for their forming exist here. Edensphere exists inside a closed space, and Reverie suspected it’s the enclosure that makes the hurricane strong. He walked down to section one, which seems to be taking interesting abuse, and without warning, the winds switch direction. The winds are coming from nowhere and everywhere. These sort of things don’t come from a place - they come from a person. The thoughts of someone.. Unconscious, maybe, but thoughts are thoughts.
He walked up to section three, where everything is doing a little better - but not by much. But the hurricane is getting worse, too. He threw up one hand to protect his face from the from fist-sized raindrops and stared around, figuring that heading back to his place now would probably be the best idea - when the storm relented, he would look for it more.
The winds and rain around him became strong enough to hinder vision. He headed towards the elevator, absolutely drenched, though he was strangely hypnotized by the wind and rain. He saw figures and not - saw angry glares in the hateful gusts and the bend of a branch. He shook his head and pressed the button to his elevator. Only tired eyes playing tricks. But still….maybe they were real. And now he was agitated by his inability to tell fake from reality - he felt like he should know the answer to this question. After all, he's fairly familiar with illusions and tricks of that trade, after all. But for once, it was hard to tell. He heard the ding of the elevator but could hardly see the doors open him. The wind picked up and didn’t let him enter, and it might have not have been the wind, it might have been an angry breath from some person, or maybe their fist, or maybe a solid kick - but whatever it was, it lifted him off his feet. And not only that, it tossed him off section three and off the tree and dropped him, quite brusquely, into empty space.
The rain pushed him down. He tried to move, pull the space around him to get closer, but he felt like even when he might have moved, things pulled father away. He groped for the tree to be greeted with empty air, and he found that quite soon, he was shockingly cold, not just from the water. He moved a hand to see ice forming on his soaked coat, to see it stretch over his fingers and his feet and the fraying ends of his pants. The ice felt like it seeped through his body, wrapped around his blood and allowed snowflakes to drift through his sluggish bloodflow. His heart calmly slowed, a curious paradox that he notice in a distanced kind of way. Falling should cause him to panic, cause his heartrate to rise, but this impossible fall only calmed it. Must have been the ice.
Blinking shattered the crystals forming on his eyes. He tried to shake his head only to realize that he no longer could. Chuckling, the breath barely melting the coating over his mouth, he closed his eyes and allowed the cover to reach completion.
He fell with all the other hailstones.