Bleach Drabble (490)
Whew, 4 out of 5 requests done now!! I'm kind of on a roll, I think. >> Also, 10 away from the big 500, I can't believe it. o.o
490.
Title: Necromancer
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: lightly GrimmjowxIl Forte, Orihime
Word Count: 827
Warning/s: Spoilers through I guess, like… 245 to be safe? *clueless* Also, probably OOC, since I still suck at writing Arrankar. XD;;
Summary: Grimmjow remembers. It’s…unpleasant.
Dedication: Requested by shinigamikender during this week’s meme request post! Also for kino_scythe, because it's your fault I like this pairing in the first place! :P
A/N: The request was: “Little Reminders.”
When he flexed his arm now it felt as if it had never been gone at all. There weren’t any scars, not so much as a thin pink line on his skin to show him the place from which the limb had been severed from his body. It was a perfect reconstruction, as if that event-that night, that fight, that punishment-had never occurred. Like everything that had happened in that time frame just suddenly ceased to exist.
Aizen said it was like turning back time. Making the things that happened go away in the blink of an eye.
Amazing really, that such a stupid looking girl could do something as blasphemous as that-she was frail and human and Grimmjow was certain he could snap her neck with very little effort at all if he wanted to. And yet… she had this power.
It made him want to kill her, because the more he thought about it, about turning back time and salvaging the things that were lost, it made him remember the past. Arrankar weren’t meant to dwell on the past and yet the gift she had given him forced him to, to remember the past, when he’d had this arm and a lot of other things as well.
She was the witch who turned back time and made him remember the things he should have forgotten long ago.
So he went to see her with the image of something in his head-memories of names and faces he thought he was beginning to forget but wasn’t quite there yet. She made him think about all the things he shouldn’t have-those people, his arm, the possibilities.
And he thought that what he was feeling might be hope. It was a disgusting, wishful sensation that made his skin crawl.
The power to turn back time was a dangerous thing.
Because he remembered a voice now-teasing, sweet, venomous. Long hair, deadly eyes, a body made for killing just as much as fucking. All the things he should have forgotten. That he'd been well on his way to forgetting, like all Arrankar eventually did.
But then his arm had reappeared in the span of an instant and he could use it perfectly again, like nothing bad had ever happened to it at all.
She made him remember.
Even worse… she made him hope.
And so he went to see her, stormed into that stupid looking girl’s room feeling angry and something else altogether, he wasn’t sure what. Too many feelings he thought, too many for an Arrankar to have and this was all wrong. She was a crime against everything sacred and everything not. An existence steeped in horrors, one who brought nothing but suffering to all that she touched.
When he saw her he picked her up by the throat using the arm she’d returned to him, and didn’t care that he wasn’t supposed to hurt her, that Ulquiorra could come into the room at any minute and just as soon take the arm he was using away from him again.
Maybe that would be better.
“You,” he snarled, and looked into her eyes, drank in the fear he saw there. It was refreshing enough that the rush of power made him sneer, almost made him forget what he’d come here for in the first place.
But then he saw the fingers wrapped around her throat, the ones that shouldn’t have been there but were. And he remembered.
He dropped her.
Thought once more, of the images that had been haunting him lately, the ones of someone who might have been important if he’d known what having an important person felt like.
“Y-yes?” she croaked, and clutched her wounded neck with one hand, eyes still wide but trying to be brave even if he could smell the fear on her. It all just made him want to kill her even more, but he didn’t.
Instead he eyed her for a long, wary moment. And then he surprised himself a little, when he lowered his voice and turned away so he didn’t have to look at her. He asked, quietly, “You…can you revive the dead as well?”
And when he asked, the feeling of hope that suddenly engulfed every part of him made him want to puke.
But she only looked up at him, perhaps not having expected that question from him. When she answered-an eternity later-- her voice was very, very small. “I…I don’t know.”
He laughed when he heard that-loud and hysterical-- because it was the most perfect answer possible for such a stupid, blasphemous creature that he couldn’t do anything else. “You… you really are a cruel bitch, you know that?” he howled, and could almost hear Forte laughing there alongside him.
She stared at him.
He wanted to kill her.
But all he could do was clench his fists and remember, standing there drowning in all that misplaced hope.
END
EDITS PLZ.
490.
Title: Necromancer
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: lightly GrimmjowxIl Forte, Orihime
Word Count: 827
Warning/s: Spoilers through I guess, like… 245 to be safe? *clueless* Also, probably OOC, since I still suck at writing Arrankar. XD;;
Summary: Grimmjow remembers. It’s…unpleasant.
Dedication: Requested by shinigamikender during this week’s meme request post! Also for kino_scythe, because it's your fault I like this pairing in the first place! :P
A/N: The request was: “Little Reminders.”
When he flexed his arm now it felt as if it had never been gone at all. There weren’t any scars, not so much as a thin pink line on his skin to show him the place from which the limb had been severed from his body. It was a perfect reconstruction, as if that event-that night, that fight, that punishment-had never occurred. Like everything that had happened in that time frame just suddenly ceased to exist.
Aizen said it was like turning back time. Making the things that happened go away in the blink of an eye.
Amazing really, that such a stupid looking girl could do something as blasphemous as that-she was frail and human and Grimmjow was certain he could snap her neck with very little effort at all if he wanted to. And yet… she had this power.
It made him want to kill her, because the more he thought about it, about turning back time and salvaging the things that were lost, it made him remember the past. Arrankar weren’t meant to dwell on the past and yet the gift she had given him forced him to, to remember the past, when he’d had this arm and a lot of other things as well.
She was the witch who turned back time and made him remember the things he should have forgotten long ago.
So he went to see her with the image of something in his head-memories of names and faces he thought he was beginning to forget but wasn’t quite there yet. She made him think about all the things he shouldn’t have-those people, his arm, the possibilities.
And he thought that what he was feeling might be hope. It was a disgusting, wishful sensation that made his skin crawl.
The power to turn back time was a dangerous thing.
Because he remembered a voice now-teasing, sweet, venomous. Long hair, deadly eyes, a body made for killing just as much as fucking. All the things he should have forgotten. That he'd been well on his way to forgetting, like all Arrankar eventually did.
But then his arm had reappeared in the span of an instant and he could use it perfectly again, like nothing bad had ever happened to it at all.
She made him remember.
Even worse… she made him hope.
And so he went to see her, stormed into that stupid looking girl’s room feeling angry and something else altogether, he wasn’t sure what. Too many feelings he thought, too many for an Arrankar to have and this was all wrong. She was a crime against everything sacred and everything not. An existence steeped in horrors, one who brought nothing but suffering to all that she touched.
When he saw her he picked her up by the throat using the arm she’d returned to him, and didn’t care that he wasn’t supposed to hurt her, that Ulquiorra could come into the room at any minute and just as soon take the arm he was using away from him again.
Maybe that would be better.
“You,” he snarled, and looked into her eyes, drank in the fear he saw there. It was refreshing enough that the rush of power made him sneer, almost made him forget what he’d come here for in the first place.
But then he saw the fingers wrapped around her throat, the ones that shouldn’t have been there but were. And he remembered.
He dropped her.
Thought once more, of the images that had been haunting him lately, the ones of someone who might have been important if he’d known what having an important person felt like.
“Y-yes?” she croaked, and clutched her wounded neck with one hand, eyes still wide but trying to be brave even if he could smell the fear on her. It all just made him want to kill her even more, but he didn’t.
Instead he eyed her for a long, wary moment. And then he surprised himself a little, when he lowered his voice and turned away so he didn’t have to look at her. He asked, quietly, “You…can you revive the dead as well?”
And when he asked, the feeling of hope that suddenly engulfed every part of him made him want to puke.
But she only looked up at him, perhaps not having expected that question from him. When she answered-an eternity later-- her voice was very, very small. “I…I don’t know.”
He laughed when he heard that-loud and hysterical-- because it was the most perfect answer possible for such a stupid, blasphemous creature that he couldn’t do anything else. “You… you really are a cruel bitch, you know that?” he howled, and could almost hear Forte laughing there alongside him.
She stared at him.
He wanted to kill her.
But all he could do was clench his fists and remember, standing there drowning in all that misplaced hope.
END
EDITS PLZ.