Post by Serraph Quarrere on Apr 10, 2020 23:10:58 GMT -5
Serraph couldn't recall the amount of time since the last time he'd visited this place. His position of Espada demanded much of his mind to dwell on such things, but now that he had separated himself from his post to make this venture, he couldn't help but wonder. The exact position had never left his memory. After all that he had done, all that he had accomplished in her servitude, how could he forget it. It existed in the fringes of the white desert where the eyes of the Espada and vying Hollow lords would not think to look. No one in their right mind would dare suffer this seemingly endless journey. No one save for Serraph, or so he would think.
The Espada could make the journey in record time with minimal stamina loss, no doubt thanks the strength he obtained by removing the accursed mask. The time saved by raw speed alone was minuscule. One first must avoid the bands of hollows and other horrifying creatures along the way. Most were normal level hollows who posed no threat to him now, so what was the worry? Serraphs hand gripped the hollow-skin flask he bore in response to his contemplation. There were things more precious than his own body.
He could see glimpses of it now on the horizon. The black obsidian obelisks and hinges reflecting the light of the great moon that watched over all who suffered here. There was something nostalgic about that sight, even from this distance. He could remember when he wandered here as a fresh-eyed hollow, torn between his hunger and desires. That reflected light was a beacon of hope in this wasteland. When he had arrived, a score of fellow hollows tiny and unfathomably gigantic came to greet him and welcome him to this small, nameless queendom on the edge of nowhere. He was taken to the Queen, the target he was tasked with killing, but how could he? She knew why he had come but instead welcomed him, made him one of her own.
One will lose themselves in the past if they are not wary. For one whose purpose was to collect and record the past, such a thing was far too easy. It was only when he arrived did the filter of what was lifted to reveal what is. Serraph sighed as he slid to a stop before the rugged enclave of obsidian only to find that things have changed since his leaving. None came to greet him and the beautiful obsidian architecture no longer reflected the moon's light. Signs of battle littered the place and organic, flesh like growth covered nearly all that he once adored about this place.
It was a pitiful sight. In the end, however, it didn't matter who moved in here. His last promise will be fulfilled.