Post by Shio "Mod Soul" Kyrou on Mar 3, 2022 7:13:47 GMT -5
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Shio "Mod Soul" Kyrou
Inside the Hollow Forest, the law of the jungle presides. Each day lived within Hueco Mundo was a challenge of survival, the numerous obstacles of continued existence piled up like a great mountain. And yet, the higher up on that mountain you were, the easier it was to look down upon the other ones; climbing, reaching to meet you at the peak. Many fell loose on their grip, they would not make such a climb. For the one who gleams their existence to be too petty worth considering, would watch upon with distant gaze, pondering.
"I am grateful, that for yet another day; that was not me." - this was the rule. There was precious time to think upon or grieve for the ones that did not make it. For the ones who did, who looked back into that perilous abyss where they had once crawled their way up from themselves, when truly considered - may succumb to the vertigo from the heights they might've already reached. There was no going back, there was nothing but pity.
So then, how did such a tiny soul, the likes of Shio, without much if any spiritual powers to call their own - survive? Such a question could be chronicled within a book, told within a story and elaborated upon to expose each and every detail and measure she took. But for the one who experienced it first hand, there was no other answer than one. It was a simple one, it might disappoint anyone to hear, but it was the solemn truth.
Three words to respond to such a question - "I was lucky". That's it, and for anyone in Hueco Mundo, not matter how strong or weak they might be, to some degree would be able to relate to this on an instinctual level. For they had also made their own selfsame journeys, albeit slightly differing in nature from one another; they all shared this ultimatum. It was the weak who perished, the strong who thrived. If you were weak, you were destined to die. If you were strong, then you might be afforded a modicrum of peace.
Of freedom, the desire and will to have your own goals - beyond just survival. It was a dream shared by all hollows, although many would be reluctant to admit it. Hunger was something always felt by the low rank hollows, but what after it? This was the truth, whilst famine was a strong motivator to whip anyone into moving forward, when the hunger begins to die down, what was truly left of it.
You must have a purpose, some motivation. Otherwise, your continued existence might seem like something not pursuing any longer, nihilism would be the final end of any hollow who chose not to seek greater strength. In any of the existing worlds, there was no other place for them. Furthermore, even in this one, they all wanted the same thing. In the end, and much like the history of the human world, there was never enough to go around.
In this case, you must fight for it. There was simply no other way than this. It was not an option, you must. Or else, perish. Nobody will mourn for a soul of the damned, that is what you are. It is what we are. As I place my hand upon the body of this deceased hollow. I can't help but feel a twinge of pain. Its dying regrets still left lingering upon the surface of its skin. Even whilst dematerializing into nothing but reishi, I can feel its last thoughts.
How sorrowful it felt. You look nothing but a monster, ravaged by hunger, and yet - you still feel. That is the greatest pity of all. This one fact that nobody, not even the shinigami - the ones meant to... purify, to put to rest, remember. Us hollows have aspirations, too. Often rooted in regret, a never ending cycle and blood feud between us. Selfish, we fight amongst one another. Persecuted, we are slain by all others simply for existing.
"Destined to fight among ourselves... wasn't that right, Ailene?"
Do I mourn this fact, as one is also persecuted - simply for existing? I hope you were paying attention, because if you were, you'd already know my answer. Look at them pour in, like flies to the rotting corpse of spoiled carcass. They must have sensed it, my reiatsu; as well as the dying cries of this climber, who fell from his grip. Here to feast upon the spoils of something they did nothing to earn. Anything goes, in this place.
I'll have to educate them, not with words, but force. This was also the law here, the only law - here. Far from the dome of Las Noches, the vast majority to roam here are nothing more than Adjuchas, or Gillian. Even greater in majority are the ones who are freshly formed, masks as brittle as porcelain. The hollow equivilent of infants, always hungry, always fighting, their thoughts not more advanced than what is to be their next meal.
There is at least ten or so of them, already I can hear the pounding of their limbs against the ground. Sense their energy, as finite and miniscule as that might be. Each trace of them is like a droplet in an ocean. As I await their arrival, and gaze deftly upon my own right mitten, do I remember and reflect upon the time I had spent with Ailene. That espada, someone who taught me many new experiences. Foremost, my limit.
Shio grimaces as she is forced to recall the fact, her soft mitten hand clenched into a tiny ball; reflecting upon her loss of not once, but two times. "I hold no anger towards the fact that I lost, but still... it's so, frustrating." As images of her one-sided loss to Arcadus are placed in the forefront of her mind, her felt molars grinding together. Actually, Shio lacks any teeth, performing this action just grinds her lips together, in a similar fashion to pouting.
Just as that thought rubs itself upon her conscious, does a loud sound erupt from the bark of the tree that this doll stood upon. Ever irritable, does Shio scream out in frustration as a monster emerged from the husk of the bark, crawling and crashing its way through; as it makes a mad dash towards both her and the husk of the disintegrating hollow. Without any hesitation, its only thought, to feed.
It howls, creating ripples upon the impaired senses of the doll. Only scowling does the doll remain in place, as though trying to match the howl of this hollow with her own shrill yell; before it reaches her, does it skid forward. It seems to trip on invisible strings. Reduced to its knees, still writhing in an attempt to lash out, its arm is dislocated, then its knee, followed by its neck - craned ever so slightly upward to gaze forward. Until it too, it placed firmly in the dirt. As though crushed under its own body weight, excessively.
Between these two, the whole area seems to shift in density. Already once was this air thick with reishi, the density of spiritual particles belonging to a spiritual world; now it is not only so, but also heavier. As though the very air itself washes down in spikes, so many of them as though a surging waterfall had fallen upon the atmosphere. This pressure continues to crush the hollow, who seems all but at its mercy.
Impaled, and twisted, by hundreds of invisible spears. Mangled as though a toy within the hands of a child. This doll begins to laugh, like an uproar chorus does it descend upon the area and echo as though it were an auditorium. Everything within this space was her domain, her dominion, it felt good. Accompanied by this laughter is the crescendo of many other hollows, rending their way up to her using their malformed limbs.
Incapable of recognizing the danger her gravitational pressure poses, over their everlasting hunger, do they edge on. Those climbers, ever so desperate to reach her level. Just like this one, the one who had came first, they too shall be met with their fates. Beholden to only herself, the law of the jungle suited this ersatz hollow just fine; if they wished to ascend, then they must, they had no choice - the ones who sat above reveled in this fact.
I am no different, neither is anyone else. Everyone is just doing what they damn want in this world anyway, am I in the wrong for enjoying these moments?! Of course not! Nobody is above this feeling, and when I need to vent, it sure feels amazing - ahaHAHA~! Come and get me, my fellow monstrous beasts. Surpass me, rise above that it is which makes you weak, that makes you lesser than me, that is - if you can!
Cacophony of howls accompanied, the hollows writhe, they climb. Pile above each other, claw at each other as they scramble above one another, some forgetting their goal within its entirety; opting to prey upon their fellow climbers. It is absolute chaos, total anarchy. And yet, to Shio, who has lived a life of this, it is an order that makes the most sense to her of all. All of this, was simply what she had witnessed all before. It made perfect sense.
It was logical. How could it not be? Just as she was beginning to enjoy herself, however, does another presence make itself known. It is one that stands out above the rest, like no other. Much in a spiritual, and physical sense - does the ground tremble. In a calamity combined of her own gravitational pressure, and the footsteps of a towering giant of which she senses looms ever closer. A thrill-tempered grin contorting her expression.
Inside the Hollow Forest, the law of the jungle presides. Each day lived within Hueco Mundo was a challenge of survival, the numerous obstacles of continued existence piled up like a great mountain. And yet, the higher up on that mountain you were, the easier it was to look down upon the other ones; climbing, reaching to meet you at the peak. Many fell loose on their grip, they would not make such a climb. For the one who gleams their existence to be too petty worth considering, would watch upon with distant gaze, pondering.
"I am grateful, that for yet another day; that was not me." - this was the rule. There was precious time to think upon or grieve for the ones that did not make it. For the ones who did, who looked back into that perilous abyss where they had once crawled their way up from themselves, when truly considered - may succumb to the vertigo from the heights they might've already reached. There was no going back, there was nothing but pity.
So then, how did such a tiny soul, the likes of Shio, without much if any spiritual powers to call their own - survive? Such a question could be chronicled within a book, told within a story and elaborated upon to expose each and every detail and measure she took. But for the one who experienced it first hand, there was no other answer than one. It was a simple one, it might disappoint anyone to hear, but it was the solemn truth.
Three words to respond to such a question - "I was lucky". That's it, and for anyone in Hueco Mundo, not matter how strong or weak they might be, to some degree would be able to relate to this on an instinctual level. For they had also made their own selfsame journeys, albeit slightly differing in nature from one another; they all shared this ultimatum. It was the weak who perished, the strong who thrived. If you were weak, you were destined to die. If you were strong, then you might be afforded a modicrum of peace.
Of freedom, the desire and will to have your own goals - beyond just survival. It was a dream shared by all hollows, although many would be reluctant to admit it. Hunger was something always felt by the low rank hollows, but what after it? This was the truth, whilst famine was a strong motivator to whip anyone into moving forward, when the hunger begins to die down, what was truly left of it.
You must have a purpose, some motivation. Otherwise, your continued existence might seem like something not pursuing any longer, nihilism would be the final end of any hollow who chose not to seek greater strength. In any of the existing worlds, there was no other place for them. Furthermore, even in this one, they all wanted the same thing. In the end, and much like the history of the human world, there was never enough to go around.
In this case, you must fight for it. There was simply no other way than this. It was not an option, you must. Or else, perish. Nobody will mourn for a soul of the damned, that is what you are. It is what we are. As I place my hand upon the body of this deceased hollow. I can't help but feel a twinge of pain. Its dying regrets still left lingering upon the surface of its skin. Even whilst dematerializing into nothing but reishi, I can feel its last thoughts.
How sorrowful it felt. You look nothing but a monster, ravaged by hunger, and yet - you still feel. That is the greatest pity of all. This one fact that nobody, not even the shinigami - the ones meant to... purify, to put to rest, remember. Us hollows have aspirations, too. Often rooted in regret, a never ending cycle and blood feud between us. Selfish, we fight amongst one another. Persecuted, we are slain by all others simply for existing.
"Destined to fight among ourselves... wasn't that right, Ailene?"
Do I mourn this fact, as one is also persecuted - simply for existing? I hope you were paying attention, because if you were, you'd already know my answer. Look at them pour in, like flies to the rotting corpse of spoiled carcass. They must have sensed it, my reiatsu; as well as the dying cries of this climber, who fell from his grip. Here to feast upon the spoils of something they did nothing to earn. Anything goes, in this place.
I'll have to educate them, not with words, but force. This was also the law here, the only law - here. Far from the dome of Las Noches, the vast majority to roam here are nothing more than Adjuchas, or Gillian. Even greater in majority are the ones who are freshly formed, masks as brittle as porcelain. The hollow equivilent of infants, always hungry, always fighting, their thoughts not more advanced than what is to be their next meal.
There is at least ten or so of them, already I can hear the pounding of their limbs against the ground. Sense their energy, as finite and miniscule as that might be. Each trace of them is like a droplet in an ocean. As I await their arrival, and gaze deftly upon my own right mitten, do I remember and reflect upon the time I had spent with Ailene. That espada, someone who taught me many new experiences. Foremost, my limit.
Shio grimaces as she is forced to recall the fact, her soft mitten hand clenched into a tiny ball; reflecting upon her loss of not once, but two times. "I hold no anger towards the fact that I lost, but still... it's so, frustrating." As images of her one-sided loss to Arcadus are placed in the forefront of her mind, her felt molars grinding together. Actually, Shio lacks any teeth, performing this action just grinds her lips together, in a similar fashion to pouting.
Just as that thought rubs itself upon her conscious, does a loud sound erupt from the bark of the tree that this doll stood upon. Ever irritable, does Shio scream out in frustration as a monster emerged from the husk of the bark, crawling and crashing its way through; as it makes a mad dash towards both her and the husk of the disintegrating hollow. Without any hesitation, its only thought, to feed.
It howls, creating ripples upon the impaired senses of the doll. Only scowling does the doll remain in place, as though trying to match the howl of this hollow with her own shrill yell; before it reaches her, does it skid forward. It seems to trip on invisible strings. Reduced to its knees, still writhing in an attempt to lash out, its arm is dislocated, then its knee, followed by its neck - craned ever so slightly upward to gaze forward. Until it too, it placed firmly in the dirt. As though crushed under its own body weight, excessively.
Between these two, the whole area seems to shift in density. Already once was this air thick with reishi, the density of spiritual particles belonging to a spiritual world; now it is not only so, but also heavier. As though the very air itself washes down in spikes, so many of them as though a surging waterfall had fallen upon the atmosphere. This pressure continues to crush the hollow, who seems all but at its mercy.
Impaled, and twisted, by hundreds of invisible spears. Mangled as though a toy within the hands of a child. This doll begins to laugh, like an uproar chorus does it descend upon the area and echo as though it were an auditorium. Everything within this space was her domain, her dominion, it felt good. Accompanied by this laughter is the crescendo of many other hollows, rending their way up to her using their malformed limbs.
Incapable of recognizing the danger her gravitational pressure poses, over their everlasting hunger, do they edge on. Those climbers, ever so desperate to reach her level. Just like this one, the one who had came first, they too shall be met with their fates. Beholden to only herself, the law of the jungle suited this ersatz hollow just fine; if they wished to ascend, then they must, they had no choice - the ones who sat above reveled in this fact.
I am no different, neither is anyone else. Everyone is just doing what they damn want in this world anyway, am I in the wrong for enjoying these moments?! Of course not! Nobody is above this feeling, and when I need to vent, it sure feels amazing - ahaHAHA~! Come and get me, my fellow monstrous beasts. Surpass me, rise above that it is which makes you weak, that makes you lesser than me, that is - if you can!
Cacophony of howls accompanied, the hollows writhe, they climb. Pile above each other, claw at each other as they scramble above one another, some forgetting their goal within its entirety; opting to prey upon their fellow climbers. It is absolute chaos, total anarchy. And yet, to Shio, who has lived a life of this, it is an order that makes the most sense to her of all. All of this, was simply what she had witnessed all before. It made perfect sense.
It was logical. How could it not be? Just as she was beginning to enjoy herself, however, does another presence make itself known. It is one that stands out above the rest, like no other. Much in a spiritual, and physical sense - does the ground tremble. In a calamity combined of her own gravitational pressure, and the footsteps of a towering giant of which she senses looms ever closer. A thrill-tempered grin contorting her expression.
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