The way her nails dug into her palms surprised her, as did what she said next -- not to him, but to the two women who stood behind her, keeping as always a distance perfectly balanced between intrusion and permissiveness. "The key," she said. "To this cell."
She knew they'd have it. They had access to almost every door in the citadel; he had made a point of telling her this, as if holding that promise of unlooked-for freedom barely out of her reach had been proof of his sincerity rather than a torture in itself. Uni had swallowed her fear that first time; and now-- "The key," she repeated, and was hard-pressed not to betray any emotion when she felt the cold metal of it pressed into her palm.
Uni opened the cell door and stepped inside. She didn't glance at the others inside. She didn't know them, and it was difficult -- more difficult -- to deal with these strangers, as if somehow anonymity rendered them more innocent and weak and deserving of her protection (...no) than those she knew. At the back of her mind she still wondered, from time to time, how much Las Noches had twisted her, changed her, that she was happier to see those she knew because at least she could take on the more tangible weight of their suffering.
Except... no-- it wasn't like that. It hurt just as much. She knelt close to Souji, hesitating a little, afraid to draw near. To touch. "I--" It had to be said, first of all. "I'm sorry."
"Uni-san, always apologizing." he muttered, still a little delirious from blood loss, smiling goofily at her. He knew they were both in a bad way, just in different circumstances, and he wanted to comfort her. Ha! Comfort her when he couldn't even move. When he felt like his head was going to pop like an overripe fruit. Maybe if he asked nicely she'd pop it for him-
He tried to lean into that not-touch, but the chains were too short. They were taking no chances with him. So instead he leaned as far as he could, as if to catch her breath.
She couldn't take it. That smile. It cut straight through her, dangerously close to rupturing the fragile shell of calm that held her together, and-- She couldn't take it anymore. Uni crumpled forward, a thin, pale girl wrapped in white, and reached out blindly to him, sagging onto his blood-stained form as if it was she who had been wounded.
"I couldn't," she whispered. Couldn't-- what? Do anything, a voice whispered in her ear, and she blinked wide blue eyes unseeing into the shadows, seeking tears and not finding them. Ah, no. It had been a long time since she'd been human enough for tears. "It wasn't enough. It wasn't."
"It's... alright." he muttered into her hair, smearing blood all in that raven blackness. It didn't show as much as on him, but he could smell it regardless. If anything that fact that she was trying, here in this place, that warmed him more then if she had actually managed it.
Then, softer. "Be careful what you say... ears." He titled his head towards the two woman that were her honor guard.
She nodded mutely, closing her eyes for a moment to let the warmth of the touch, the feel and the pressure of someone living, seep into her skin, her bones. It was comfort, but it was cruel comfort, because beneath the sweetness there was always the poison that he had mingled with every breath she now took. And it was bitter, bitter--
Uni drew a shuddering breath, pulled back a little to try to look at him, seeking something she had long known she wouldn't find. "Is there anything--"
He took a deep breath, as if to memorize her scent before speaking, as softly as he could manage. "He won't let me bleed out down here." The he could have meant Aizen, Gin, anyone really. Just a overreaching male power. "So... if they haven't come in a day or so..."
He didn't continue, but he had an idea that Uni understood. She could make it as quick and sleep-like or as mind-rending painful as she wanted, with just a single drop. That was the power she held over him now. The gift she could offer if there was no chance for them, for Yuri to rescue him.
He liked to think he was strong. But he was practical enough to know that no amount of strength would stop his guts from pouring out after a few hours of tender alone time with either of the dark men that ruled over this place.
ASKLDA;FJ;LASJF. ASKLDHKLASHFKLSAHLKHFASF.onlyluminousMarch 6 2010, 20:44:00 UTC
"If they haven't," she echoed, blindness falling like a veil over her vision. This, she remembered, was the taste and the sight and the scent of despair, a mute sort of shadow that stole all the color from the world.
Her fingers clutched at the bloody fabric over his shoulders, a light, thorned form of pleading. She understood. She'd always understood, even if she didn't know how or why or what herself; but in the back of her mind where her silence resonated as deeply as his, it had been a constant. That possibility.
She wasn't sure when it had happened, though, that something in her had chosen to value him so much that she'd sacrifice anything for him. Even what remained of her peace.
"How badly," she forced herself to ask, a whisper, even as one hand detached itself from where she held him to slip thin fingers under the fold of her sleeve, "does it hurt?"
He tried to keep the pleading look from his eyes, desperately. And the fear. He didn't need to burden her with that now anymore then any other time. She had enough pain; she didn't need his on top of it all, lingering long after he was gone.
"Ah, I've had worse." And it was true. He'd had his body torn and tattered enough in battle. But there was always his Persona there to patch him back together. Not now.
"...I'm sorry to have to ask this... It's selfish, huh?"
She knew they'd have it. They had access to almost every door in the citadel; he had made a point of telling her this, as if holding that promise of unlooked-for freedom barely out of her reach had been proof of his sincerity rather than a torture in itself. Uni had swallowed her fear that first time; and now-- "The key," she repeated, and was hard-pressed not to betray any emotion when she felt the cold metal of it pressed into her palm.
Uni opened the cell door and stepped inside. She didn't glance at the others inside. She didn't know them, and it was difficult -- more difficult -- to deal with these strangers, as if somehow anonymity rendered them more innocent and weak and deserving of her protection (...no) than those she knew. At the back of her mind she still wondered, from time to time, how much Las Noches had twisted her, changed her, that she was happier to see those she knew because at least she could take on the more tangible weight of their suffering.
Except... no-- it wasn't like that. It hurt just as much. She knelt close to Souji, hesitating a little, afraid to draw near. To touch. "I--" It had to be said, first of all. "I'm sorry."
Reply
He tried to lean into that not-touch, but the chains were too short. They were taking no chances with him. So instead he leaned as far as he could, as if to catch her breath.
Reply
"I couldn't," she whispered. Couldn't-- what? Do anything, a voice whispered in her ear, and she blinked wide blue eyes unseeing into the shadows, seeking tears and not finding them. Ah, no. It had been a long time since she'd been human enough for tears. "It wasn't enough. It wasn't."
Reply
Then, softer. "Be careful what you say... ears." He titled his head towards the two woman that were her honor guard.
Reply
Uni drew a shuddering breath, pulled back a little to try to look at him, seeking something she had long known she wouldn't find. "Is there anything--"
--I can do, she wanted to say. But couldn't.
Reply
He didn't continue, but he had an idea that Uni understood. She could make it as quick and sleep-like or as mind-rending painful as she wanted, with just a single drop. That was the power she held over him now. The gift she could offer if there was no chance for them, for Yuri to rescue him.
He liked to think he was strong. But he was practical enough to know that no amount of strength would stop his guts from pouring out after a few hours of tender alone time with either of the dark men that ruled over this place.
Reply
Her fingers clutched at the bloody fabric over his shoulders, a light, thorned form of pleading. She understood. She'd always understood, even if she didn't know how or why or what herself; but in the back of her mind where her silence resonated as deeply as his, it had been a constant. That possibility.
She wasn't sure when it had happened, though, that something in her had chosen to value him so much that she'd sacrifice anything for him. Even what remained of her peace.
"How badly," she forced herself to ask, a whisper, even as one hand detached itself from where she held him to slip thin fingers under the fold of her sleeve, "does it hurt?"
Reply
"Ah, I've had worse." And it was true. He'd had his body torn and tattered enough in battle. But there was always his Persona there to patch him back together. Not now.
"...I'm sorry to have to ask this... It's selfish, huh?"
Reply
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