Post by Gahrok on Apr 5, 2008 6:51:52 GMT -4
The shadows of bars wrapped around the dark and bloody figure as he lay hunched in the corner of his cell, sunlight failing to permeate his blackened soul. Even in sleep Gahrok looked wearied and pained, his back curled in an uncomfortable arc and his head twisted to the right, displaying his bagged eyes, shut tightly as if his life depended on never seeing the sights that surrounded him.
“Hiktesu,” boomed Wolfe’s ever towering growl “We must forgive them, we must work with them… they are our brothers, our sons.” . A great silence seemed almost to echo throughout the black void that the two Zanpaktou’s were sitting in, and despite how short it was it seemed so defiant, so potent… so angry. “And what do we do when ours sons have gone astray Wolfe?” said Hiketsu in a slight hiss, but one could tell… .if they really listened, that more then any anger lingered a deep sadness, a deep disappointment…. an emptiness. “We forgive them.” said Wolfe, “And we start again.”.
The image began to fade in Gahrok’s head, as consciousness returned, he struggled to hear the snake’s response… he knew somehow deep down that it was important, that it was something he need to hear….
Peaceful blackness turned quickly into painful light and Gahrok tried valiantly to shut his eyes against the painful sunlight, failing to succeed. The memories flooded in, trampling and charging their way through the already cramped doorway to his freshly awakened mind. A bloody Masaru standing over him…. falling to the ground, that hole in his chest… that look in his face. Wolfe… Wolfe in his hands once more. The hollow, ever screeching. The shinigami… he’d killed. The images stopped there as he pictured that fragment of a second, so blurry he could barely remember. He’d killed…. an innocent shinigami. Gahrok, like a zombie, an unfeeling an uncaring thing, stood and took two stoic steps towards the bars of his cells. His hair down, covering his face, he traced his hands up and down the bars… finally gripping them tight. He began to shake, gripping ever harder… and suddenly he whipped his hair back ferociously, burning green eyes giving him an almost ethereal presence despite the grime. Gahrok screamed, one pure and anguished scream. It was his broken heart, his broken soul…. his failure… his betrayal… all in that furious shriek. It stopped abruptly and he let his hair hang down over his face once more, his grip on the bars loosening.
“I killed him,” he said quietly in almost disbelief, “I ended his life… He could’ve been any man… a good man, a strong man… a fighter… a warrior… for justice.”
“I killed him,” he repeated with a desolate finality, defeated. Letting his hands slide down the bars with a dull squeal Gahrok slumped to the ground, landing cross-legged and hunched. I deserve these bars, he thought to himself with a depressed conviction, I am a criminal.
It doesn’t matter about justice, it doesn’t matter about Wolfe… it doesn’t matter about Masaru. I’m a murderer.
No tears would come to Gahrok as he lay crumpled and broken on the floor, nothing would come.
Gahrok’s mind wandered to his past, the days were he had been a man and not a demon… a warrior, not a criminal. “Desperado…. do you remember him Masaru?” Gahrok whispered almost happily, the image was beautiful to him…. the memory precious. “The day we became…”. His words drifted off as he was once more living that unforgettable scene, carrying Masaru… He opened his mouth to speak, to tell his vice-captain the one thing he’d always needed, always felt… but never said… he was prou-
Gahrok winced painfully as the scene turned to blackness, slowly fading before the words could form…. he was suddenly in his office, Gitana stood in-front of him. His eyes went wide.. “You…” he whispered fearfully, knowing why she had come…. the arrancar-girl smiled wickedly. Masaru said nothing, he stood silently facing the wall, his back to Gahrok. “SPEAK!” Gahrok wailed to his sentient vice-captain… but there was silence, only the grin of that evil girl…. and the Masaru’s back, like a mountainous barrier between them. “I DIDN’T MEAN IT!... I DIDN’T… I just wanted…”
Gahrok, back in his cell once more shook his head with vigor, his hands tearing into his skull so hard it nearly bled….
“I wasn’t myself….” he whispered with a growing hint of hysteria in his voice… “It wasn’t me…. You know that right?”. Gahrok’s vacant eyes looked imploringly around the room, everywhere he looked a faceless Masaru stood, looking down upon him…. looking down with their masks.
How can they forgive me…. how can HE forgive me…. when I would have never done the same….?
A tear rolled down Gahrok’s cheek… he knew there could be no way.
“Before they kill me Masaru… you need to know…” it became almost unbearably hard, one could see it in the way he grasped and fumbled to even part his lips, to speak the words…. “I’m sorry.”
“Hiktesu,” boomed Wolfe’s ever towering growl “We must forgive them, we must work with them… they are our brothers, our sons.” . A great silence seemed almost to echo throughout the black void that the two Zanpaktou’s were sitting in, and despite how short it was it seemed so defiant, so potent… so angry. “And what do we do when ours sons have gone astray Wolfe?” said Hiketsu in a slight hiss, but one could tell… .if they really listened, that more then any anger lingered a deep sadness, a deep disappointment…. an emptiness. “We forgive them.” said Wolfe, “And we start again.”.
The image began to fade in Gahrok’s head, as consciousness returned, he struggled to hear the snake’s response… he knew somehow deep down that it was important, that it was something he need to hear….
Peaceful blackness turned quickly into painful light and Gahrok tried valiantly to shut his eyes against the painful sunlight, failing to succeed. The memories flooded in, trampling and charging their way through the already cramped doorway to his freshly awakened mind. A bloody Masaru standing over him…. falling to the ground, that hole in his chest… that look in his face. Wolfe… Wolfe in his hands once more. The hollow, ever screeching. The shinigami… he’d killed. The images stopped there as he pictured that fragment of a second, so blurry he could barely remember. He’d killed…. an innocent shinigami. Gahrok, like a zombie, an unfeeling an uncaring thing, stood and took two stoic steps towards the bars of his cells. His hair down, covering his face, he traced his hands up and down the bars… finally gripping them tight. He began to shake, gripping ever harder… and suddenly he whipped his hair back ferociously, burning green eyes giving him an almost ethereal presence despite the grime. Gahrok screamed, one pure and anguished scream. It was his broken heart, his broken soul…. his failure… his betrayal… all in that furious shriek. It stopped abruptly and he let his hair hang down over his face once more, his grip on the bars loosening.
“I killed him,” he said quietly in almost disbelief, “I ended his life… He could’ve been any man… a good man, a strong man… a fighter… a warrior… for justice.”
“I killed him,” he repeated with a desolate finality, defeated. Letting his hands slide down the bars with a dull squeal Gahrok slumped to the ground, landing cross-legged and hunched. I deserve these bars, he thought to himself with a depressed conviction, I am a criminal.
It doesn’t matter about justice, it doesn’t matter about Wolfe… it doesn’t matter about Masaru. I’m a murderer.
No tears would come to Gahrok as he lay crumpled and broken on the floor, nothing would come.
Gahrok’s mind wandered to his past, the days were he had been a man and not a demon… a warrior, not a criminal. “Desperado…. do you remember him Masaru?” Gahrok whispered almost happily, the image was beautiful to him…. the memory precious. “The day we became…”. His words drifted off as he was once more living that unforgettable scene, carrying Masaru… He opened his mouth to speak, to tell his vice-captain the one thing he’d always needed, always felt… but never said… he was prou-
Gahrok winced painfully as the scene turned to blackness, slowly fading before the words could form…. he was suddenly in his office, Gitana stood in-front of him. His eyes went wide.. “You…” he whispered fearfully, knowing why she had come…. the arrancar-girl smiled wickedly. Masaru said nothing, he stood silently facing the wall, his back to Gahrok. “SPEAK!” Gahrok wailed to his sentient vice-captain… but there was silence, only the grin of that evil girl…. and the Masaru’s back, like a mountainous barrier between them. “I DIDN’T MEAN IT!... I DIDN’T… I just wanted…”
Gahrok, back in his cell once more shook his head with vigor, his hands tearing into his skull so hard it nearly bled….
“I wasn’t myself….” he whispered with a growing hint of hysteria in his voice… “It wasn’t me…. You know that right?”. Gahrok’s vacant eyes looked imploringly around the room, everywhere he looked a faceless Masaru stood, looking down upon him…. looking down with their masks.
How can they forgive me…. how can HE forgive me…. when I would have never done the same….?
A tear rolled down Gahrok’s cheek… he knew there could be no way.
“Before they kill me Masaru… you need to know…” it became almost unbearably hard, one could see it in the way he grasped and fumbled to even part his lips, to speak the words…. “I’m sorry.”
