Post by Eve Avana on Aug 24, 2014 23:20:01 GMT -5
Days? Weeks? Months? Years? How long had it been?
Been since he ruined my life.
Seconds? Hours? Minutes? How long had it really been?
Been since I lost all control.
Millennia? Centuries? Decades? How long had it really been now?
Been since I gained all control.
Time had never been her strong suit. Especially not after Ine’s little trick. Especially not after her little vacation in the Dangai. Especially not since she developed the habit of searching for that little rat that had left her. Time had become fluid, like the water that fell from Earth’s sky. No, not fluid… Malleable. Like sand. It could be hardened and make linear, or it could be crushed and fall like water between her fingers. Time was a pitiful thing now that served only as an annoyance to her now.
Time was not the same for the Mortals.
Time was their god. It demanded that they plan out everything so that they could accomplish lackadaisical goals or pursue works of fiction. Never enough time for them, but sometimes there was too much time. Time’s a-wasting. All the time in the world. The young complained of wanting time to work its magic on them and the old prayed for time to stop flying by them.
No time had really passed for Severance—No, today she felt like being Amaya—as she stepped from the dimensional rift. Years of searching; years of seething in her anger. That’s how long she tromped through the worlds, always seeing the same things. Same, but different due to their stories. She had surely killed thousands of Tova’s by this point and found thousands more too powerful for her to tango with.
Not a one had accepted her offer.
Decades later, though it was really only hours, Amaya returned home, though not really to home. Her rift had opened up and set her out on the streets of New York City. At first she just stood there, letting the crowds weave around her subconsciously, but then a smirk came onto her face. A momentary idea of amusement tickling her mind with promises of a better mood.
To those who were paying attention, she had just appeared. A woman with long pink hair and wearing clothes like a homeless person simply came into existence in front of them.
A man gasped, stopping mid stride.
A man disappeared, his very life severed from this reality.
A disturbance rippled through the crowd that had now gone still around her. Eyes, confused like a pet that knew no better, darted back and forth as murmurs were exchanged between pedestrians. Trapped by curiosity, they were fish ready to be trapped by a net.
“Hola,” she spoke in her native tongue, her almost-dead eyes looking between that creatures who dared to remain. “Que? Pasa algo?” Her tone lax and vocabulary foreign to the idiot Americans, the people shifted like a ripple in the ocean. Hushed gasps of magic or street performers started to wash them all free of their worries. “Or do you think I killed that man?” The perfect shift in language ironically seemed to ease the crowd further. People dispersed, though kept a shifty eye in her direction. Few remained, their eyes begging to be enlightened to her magic.
She hated people.
Screams echoed from above only to suffocate in the sounds of iron bending and snapping. Clanks, crashes, and sounds people from a distance would call explosions blasted the city of New York. Cries of terrorism and lost loved ones would follow, only no evidence to ease the mourners that watched as their friends and loved ones were crushed by the falling bits of the Statue of Liberty.
Of course, Amaya watched all of it from her position on the street. Just close enough to really get a good view of the monument’s downfall, but not actually on the island it had once been perched on. The cut was clean, though the cleanliness of it was lost on the debris banging against each other as they fell. Right down the middle. She was almost sad that the perfection of it would be lost through tears and suicide.
Police, military, SWAT, they all arrived in a somewhat timely manner, though there was nothing for them to do except pluck out the few survivors as the dust settled. Bomb teams, K9 units, TV stations. They all wanted a piece of the action.
“What happened…?” A man that had been one of the first to notice Amaya upon her arrival approached her side, his eyes fixated on the situation across the water. “Did…” His voice quivered when he dared a peek at her.
Amaya’s robes shifted despite the distinct lack of a breeze. “You people disgust me. Too stupid to find your own way, too arrogant to accept the truth. Frantically trying to tame this ‘modern’ world, though you only lose yourself in all of it.” She was speaking more to the statue than the man, but she promptly turned her head to address him. “You can try to warn people. Maybe make a blog or YouTube. But who listens to the conspiracies? You heard about Japan, right? Not a bomb. It was us. Us higher beings in the spiritual world. You’ll understand when you die.”
She left without flair. A step through a portal the man could not see. One minute there, the next gone.
She settled into her throne, a scowl finding residence on her face for what she could only assume would be the remainder of the night. She hadreally thought taking away a monument from the American’s would maybe brighten her mood, or give her a twisted since of accomplishment, but it had not. If anything she felt even more frustrated with life.
The castle was empty and dark.
She had been avoiding her responsibility to Las Noches. Avoiding the need of building up a proper defense. A task that boiled her blood since the very first day she realized she would have to deal with it. Tova had left the place in shambles, probably thinking it not worth the time since he was everything their military needed. While Amaya supposed she could have the same mindset—especially since she had a loose peace with Hatred—but she didn’t want to play mommy for a kingdom she hated. She’d rather they pick up their own slack so that when they collapsed on themselves the books wouldn’t shun Amaya’s name for the downfall.
But she really, really didn’t want to go out and pick her Espada. She didn’t want to go through the same pointless effort she had gone through with Nazomi. So, she’ll just do what Hatred always does.
Arrancar and Hollows alike would hear her because that was what she wanted. Reality would momentarily bow to her so that she could gather all of their attention at a single moment, regardless of where they were. A feat she often struggled to understand how to accomplish, but years and years of idle training made it almost too easy.
Perhaps the message wasn’t as focused as she’d have liked. For some, it may have just been a sudden realization that they needed to come to the castle, should they want a chance at power. For others, a clear message in the words of their Queen asking for potential Espada to make an appearance. Hollow, Arrancar, even Vaizard should they let their minds open to Amaya’s will, were all welcomed to the meeting, though she purposely shunned Ine for obvious reasons.
And then the message was gone, leaving behind a faint pull on the souls of those it touched. A gentle reminder that this was a onetime offer.
She eased back into her throne, crossing her ankles as she put her elbow on the arms of it. Head being held by an open palm she waited, half expecting no one to show, half expecting too many to show.
Shall we begin, Las Noches?