[august thirty-first][bleach] rasing hell
Aug. 31st, 2006 02:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: raising hell
Day/Theme: August 31st /Peace it is, till the raising of the dawn.
Series: bleach
Character/Pairing: gen, many characters
Rating: at least in the PG region
They can feel it in the air, a thrumming, an arc of energy, faceless, it dwells beside them. It walks alongside and seems almost tangible, as it could be touched.
Isshin can feel it in his bones, and with each smoke he takes, outside the safety of his own walls – the Kurosaki clinic just centimeters behind him, he knows this feeling well, the power, the rising, the sound of hollows all in some surreal life he lived before.
Tatsuki scoffs at the ghosts and outlines of monsters, bright and shimmering, a desert mirage displaced. There is no room for more ghosts in her life, she has enough of her own.
Across town Yoruichi tramps back towards the incline. Through all these years, she has gotten used to this body, her sleek haunches tensing to listen to a faraway sound (false alarm, but one can never be too careful) she pads along the way, checking in on her temporary students, yes, they are doing fine. She can smell it on the air too, but she is accustomed to this – smelling fear, anxiety, anger, each pungent scent, but this feeling, the rising is stronger. Her whiskers twitch at it.
Even farther away Ishida strings arrows until his fingers bleed, reopening the well-worn callouses to the air again.
Already there’s burn marks from the energy involved, the outburst of power, but the pain is constant, a touchstone, as he lets the string go arrows flying, it runs over the already damaged flesh, sending another wave of pain and nausea over him. He remembers.
As dawn approaches, their breaths catch, in fear, in hope, in anticipation, in determination.
Day/Theme: August 31st /Peace it is, till the raising of the dawn.
Series: bleach
Character/Pairing: gen, many characters
Rating: at least in the PG region
They can feel it in the air, a thrumming, an arc of energy, faceless, it dwells beside them. It walks alongside and seems almost tangible, as it could be touched.
Isshin can feel it in his bones, and with each smoke he takes, outside the safety of his own walls – the Kurosaki clinic just centimeters behind him, he knows this feeling well, the power, the rising, the sound of hollows all in some surreal life he lived before.
Tatsuki scoffs at the ghosts and outlines of monsters, bright and shimmering, a desert mirage displaced. There is no room for more ghosts in her life, she has enough of her own.
Across town Yoruichi tramps back towards the incline. Through all these years, she has gotten used to this body, her sleek haunches tensing to listen to a faraway sound (false alarm, but one can never be too careful) she pads along the way, checking in on her temporary students, yes, they are doing fine. She can smell it on the air too, but she is accustomed to this – smelling fear, anxiety, anger, each pungent scent, but this feeling, the rising is stronger. Her whiskers twitch at it.
Even farther away Ishida strings arrows until his fingers bleed, reopening the well-worn callouses to the air again.
Already there’s burn marks from the energy involved, the outburst of power, but the pain is constant, a touchstone, as he lets the string go arrows flying, it runs over the already damaged flesh, sending another wave of pain and nausea over him. He remembers.
As dawn approaches, their breaths catch, in fear, in hope, in anticipation, in determination.
