Ken Gets Detention 7a
7a Ghosts whisper across time
Kenpachi sits alone in a rented room, his dirk loosely held in his hands as he focuses his mind. He had been trying to contact sloth all evening, but all he'd heard was that he should be focusing on remembering himself, not losing himself in the links. So he had decided to focus on a different tack, remembering his past and honing his fighting edge.
He sat there in the dim of the hotel's neon lights in his darkened room, the dirk on his lap a subtle reminder of who he had been, of the battles he had fought together with the once mighty blade, now reduced to this fragment of it's original power.
Ken whispered to himself, knowing words were not neccesary but needing to say them all the same. "Gar, can you hear me? Is everything alright?" The blade had once had a much longer name, heroic and fearsome at the same time, but age had dulled it's radiance much as it had weakened Ken. The whispers emanating from the dirk were almost to quiet to hear and even harder to understand. Gar was still dreaming, there in the dark.
"We can't stop them all, the numbers are too great. Junior, we're going to have to retreat." Suddenly Ken was seeing the battle as it had taken place, swarms of monstrous creatures boiling out of the shadows of the evening, a great warrior wielding the full power of the blade of darkness, black fire welling up around his bright aura, intermingling light and shadow.
"Gar, that battle ended years ago. it didn't end like that and you know it. Why are you still fighting the ghosts of the dead?" Ken felt dampness on his cheeks and brushed away the tears. It hurt so much to see their faces, feel their hopelessness. The battle had been won, but at what cost? Ken himself banished to Slumber, forced to weaken himself almost beyond recognition while Gar lived out a life without more than the hunger that the ghost of power left.
They had always been a team, the two of them. The blade of light and the blade of darkness, twin ghosts haunting the battlefields of the world and campfires alike with the chilling tale of their eternal struggle. Of course, over time it had been greatly exaggerated in the telling. Ken and Gar had been heroes once, in a mythic age almost before time began.
Then had come the curses, the withering that tore them from their place beside their fellow warriors and left them weakened and shattered. The two had leaned on each other for support and forged the legendary bond that still held the two tight together.
"Gar, it's alright now. you can rest. I'll handle things from here. Just get better, man." Ken whispered again in the darkness, standing and holding the bare blade in his hand as if he could make his old friend hear by bringing the dirk closer. The blade refused to cut his skin as it always had, a blessing that had been part of their gifts from the earliest times.
In the darkness, the blade of light continued to fight the ghost of it's own legend, fires of day and night blazing up against one another. "It's alright Gar. We're here, we survived. We made it back again. I swear to do my best to wield you as nobly as you used my blade of darkness." With a silent sigh the blade ceased it's battle against itself and Ken held out his empty hand. An identical dirk made out of nothing but shadow appeared out of nowhere into his waiting grasp. "We're whole now" Twin voices spoke from both the blades. "It is time to continue our work."
End Scene 7a
Kenpachi sits alone in a rented room, his dirk loosely held in his hands as he focuses his mind. He had been trying to contact sloth all evening, but all he'd heard was that he should be focusing on remembering himself, not losing himself in the links. So he had decided to focus on a different tack, remembering his past and honing his fighting edge.
He sat there in the dim of the hotel's neon lights in his darkened room, the dirk on his lap a subtle reminder of who he had been, of the battles he had fought together with the once mighty blade, now reduced to this fragment of it's original power.
Ken whispered to himself, knowing words were not neccesary but needing to say them all the same. "Gar, can you hear me? Is everything alright?" The blade had once had a much longer name, heroic and fearsome at the same time, but age had dulled it's radiance much as it had weakened Ken. The whispers emanating from the dirk were almost to quiet to hear and even harder to understand. Gar was still dreaming, there in the dark.
"We can't stop them all, the numbers are too great. Junior, we're going to have to retreat." Suddenly Ken was seeing the battle as it had taken place, swarms of monstrous creatures boiling out of the shadows of the evening, a great warrior wielding the full power of the blade of darkness, black fire welling up around his bright aura, intermingling light and shadow.
"Gar, that battle ended years ago. it didn't end like that and you know it. Why are you still fighting the ghosts of the dead?" Ken felt dampness on his cheeks and brushed away the tears. It hurt so much to see their faces, feel their hopelessness. The battle had been won, but at what cost? Ken himself banished to Slumber, forced to weaken himself almost beyond recognition while Gar lived out a life without more than the hunger that the ghost of power left.
They had always been a team, the two of them. The blade of light and the blade of darkness, twin ghosts haunting the battlefields of the world and campfires alike with the chilling tale of their eternal struggle. Of course, over time it had been greatly exaggerated in the telling. Ken and Gar had been heroes once, in a mythic age almost before time began.
Then had come the curses, the withering that tore them from their place beside their fellow warriors and left them weakened and shattered. The two had leaned on each other for support and forged the legendary bond that still held the two tight together.
"Gar, it's alright now. you can rest. I'll handle things from here. Just get better, man." Ken whispered again in the darkness, standing and holding the bare blade in his hand as if he could make his old friend hear by bringing the dirk closer. The blade refused to cut his skin as it always had, a blessing that had been part of their gifts from the earliest times.
In the darkness, the blade of light continued to fight the ghost of it's own legend, fires of day and night blazing up against one another. "It's alright Gar. We're here, we survived. We made it back again. I swear to do my best to wield you as nobly as you used my blade of darkness." With a silent sigh the blade ceased it's battle against itself and Ken held out his empty hand. An identical dirk made out of nothing but shadow appeared out of nowhere into his waiting grasp. "We're whole now" Twin voices spoke from both the blades. "It is time to continue our work."
End Scene 7a