Seamus
Voodoo Gnomes
Parallel State
1006 words
1006 words
Reeling from a blow he did not remember taking, Cameron stared with flickering sight up at a blue sky as the sound of wind on grass filled his ears.
...The sound of grass.
That couldn't be right.
He hadn't heard a thing since he'd been alive.
There it was again when the wind gusted. He hadn't heard a thing since he'd been alive.
He could hear.
That was an impossibility. Cameron knew that as well as he knew his own name. He'd lost the ability to experience sound as the price for being able to survive a terrible virus as a child. Nothing could restore the inner membranes of his ears that had baked and died in the heat of the fevers that had wracked his body as a very small boy.
So why then could he hear.
His vision flickered and for a moment all he could see was a lithe body and a mouthful of teeth; the scent of ozone and shattered steel came unbidden to his nose; phantom reiatsu pressed against his soul, crushing him down, down and grinding him into the pavement. For a dreadful moment he relived a still frame of battle. The recollection faded as quickly as it had come leaving him winded and confused. The young Shinigami wasn't entirely sure but he thought that that memory was from sometime before he had opened his eyes to the crystal clear blue sky above him. Had that been what had done it? Had that hollow, and it could only have been a Hollow; of that Cameron was sure--nothing else in the world could fill his mind with such a potent sense of fatalism--had that Hollow's blow struck him and somehow bent the attacking reiatsu to such a frequency that it had healed his ears?
Sitting up with a groan, the young man rubbed an aching hand to his neatly trimmed beard. Even for a Shinigami--beings who made the impossible possible on a daily basis--that seemed like a bit of a stretch.
Healing Hollows? Cameron almost laughed at his own audacity and resigned himself to be patient; answers would surely present themselves in time. He had let himself, then, enjoy a completely unguarded moment of pure bliss and profound relief as sounds that he had thought existed only in memories of a childhood he could scarcely recall filled his mind.
Move. Kaja's voice was like glass shattering in a bucket and it seemed to come from everywhere and within him at the same time; unexpectedly cold and sharp it jarred him from his thoughts. Move. You were never one for Divination so the chances of you being able to divine what happened are basically nonexistent so get moving, find some people so we can get questions. How did we even get here? Last I remember we were fighting in a parking lot. Where are the others? Why do you keep twitching like you have a palsy?
Cameron cringed inwardly--
I felt that, came a terse snap.
It would seem that his Kaja, the only apparent ally he had left, had recovered enough to start asking her questions. He knew better than to delay his answers. She would continue to ask until satisfied.
I don't know, how we got here. I don't even really remember where we were. I just remember something fierce taking all of us out in one. I don't know where the others are: I came to alone in this grass. I guess that would be because I can hear. His reply was a gentle mockery of his sword's quickfire questions but there was no real bite to it.
So big deal, you can hear. There's something weird about all this, I wouldn't count on your renewed senses lasting long. This feels weird.
I agree, long experience had taught Cameron that arguing with his zanpakto without good reason was an excellent way to waste hours upon hours of time.
For starters, we could move. Pick a direction, any direction and hopefully we'll run into people.
Feeling somewhat chastened, Cameron started to walk.
ELSEWHERE
A soft rustling of feathers roused the figure reclining elegantly on the beautifully upholstered chez-longue. Positioned in front of a great window, sunlight, warmly yellow and soft in tone poured in through the great panes of glass striking great shafts of light onto the sofa and into the shadows of the room. In the air, swirls and eddies of dust shifted and flowed, twining about one an other the flying apart as though they had been choreographed in some great, chaotic dance. Yet, even this radiance paled as it drew near the woman who had drawn herself onto her side, propped on one elbow. She commanded the instant attention of any who beheld her for she was no normal woman. Where as the sunlight shone, she shone on, brilliant white radiance poured from somewhere just beyond her frame. She was naked, but that did not concern her. Her face was deeply lined by the passage of countless ages, yet still her haughty and aristocratic features and bearing were as undiminished as the day she had risen from the reishei of this place. Great wings of white feathers beat gently against the sofa as she regarded her visitor.
"You," when she spoke, she spoke with the voices of the countless more, "Mikael you should know better than to disturb me here. This is the inner most of my chambers. To intrude here...your life in payment for your sin."
"Great Lady, it will be so; I must first tell you something of great importance," the messenger shuddered as if the news he carried scared him to the very core of his being, "Atrix was careless. One of them slipped through to this side."