[dream share; open]
[ooc: warnings for blood]
The hallway stretches far into the distance. Bars of sunlight stream through several skylights, and the walls are a pale green, shading to darker hues as she walks. Her white dress is both fitted and flowing, with gauzy sleeves brushing the ground.
Most doors are closed, but a few stand open.
In the first, Jack lounges on a dark blue couch, a tendril of smoke curling up from the cigarette in his hand.
"Long time no see, Lady," he drawls, giving her his customary slow smile. A small group of black butterflies seem to pour towards her from the air around him, hovering around her body.
His eyes go serious, and a little sad. "Can you do it again?"
She frowns in confusion, then shakes her head, continuing down the hallway; the floor is cool against her bare feet. The butterflies trail her, disintegrating until none are left.
The next open door reveals Lyle sitting at a heavy, ornately carved table. He’s wearing a strange outfit; all ruffles and buckles and chains. He’s staring at Mugen in shock; for his part, the cat looks utterly unperturbed.
"It is not that hard to understand." As though Mugen speaking isn’t odd enough, for some reason he sounds like Gundam.
"So wait, I’m really your--"
Mugen lifts a hind leg to scratch behind one ear, then leaps, settling on top of Lyle’s head. "Mother always said I had Father’s eyes."
Yoruichi keeps walking, leaving Lyle still dumbfounded; the hallway shades to a deep violet.
Another open door; Brianna is inside, wearing a floppy straw hat and a familiar pink dress . She holds a hose, watering a rosebush that’s growing from the floor. Each flower shades from gold to orange to red and back, in such riotous profusion the bush almost looks as though it’s on fire. As Yoruichi passes, Brianna gives her a silent nod before returning to her task, her expression intent.
The next room is empty, but for two nearly identical men sitting against the far wall.
"Can you do it again?" Raise asks, his brow creased in concern.
In stark contrast to Raise’s neat appearance, Praise is covered in dirt and streaked with blood. He barks a harsh laugh, the sound wet and guttural, his broken arm limp in his lap. "She couldn’t do it the first time."
She frowns, and shakes her head. "What are you--"
Apple runs up, tugging at her hand. "Bastet, Bastet! I found a tree with the biggest cheeses I’ve ever seen, and--"
"Yoruichi-sama," Lin appears behind Apple, looking serious and diffident. "Can you do it again?"
"What are you talking about?" she says, irritated and confused.
"Can you do it again?" And Crimson is there, drawing his sword; it’s as distinctive as the last time she saw it, with its bent grip and bright tassel.
Alarmed, she reaches down to draw Apple behind her, but he’s gone, and so is the hallway. There’s nothing but white space; as if all the color has been drawn into Benihime’s blood-red adornments.
The sunlight has gone cold; her dress clamps around her like a vice.
"Can you do it again, Yoruichi-san?" Crimson’s face is serious, unreadable; between one breath and the next, the point of his sword is at the base of her throat. Lin looks on from just behind him, her expression indifferent.
Everything in her is screaming for her to fight, but all she can do is force words out through a suddenly dry throat. "I told you I won’t let you use them against me."
Crimson’s hat throws a shadow over his eyes, but they’re level, and show none of the affection they always hold for her. "And how do you plan to stop me?"
Blood trickles down Yoruichi’s chest, the sword’s edge barely parting her skin. "I know you’re not him." She grabs his forearm; the touch leaves an indentation in his arm, and a wax residue on her fingertips.
It’s hard to breathe; the sword is pressing even deeper into her skin now, the trickle of blood becoming a stream. It’s pooling on the floor, warm and viscous against her toes.
A sudden, hot wave of rage rushes through her. "Go to hell." Her dress is soaking through, the blood plastering the thin fabric to her skin. Her nails dig into his arm, scoring thick gouges in the soft wax; his face shows no sign it affects him at all.
"I can do it again," she snarls. Blue-white bolts of energy arc through the air, and the familiar rush and crackle of shunko surrounds her. It fills her eyes and ears, sharp in her nose like ozone.
"Don’t think I won’t kill you again, both of you."
The air grows heavy, and the scent of hot blood hits her nose as it’s heated by the kidou. It feels wrong to want to attack the form of someone she loves so much, but right now she wants nothing more than to put her fist right through both their throats, to see the wax melt and burn away.
How dare they. How dare he.
She grabs the blade, her fury strong enough to disregard the way it bites into her hand. The air fairly howls with the force of her power, but her words are clear nonetheless.
"I will do it again. Because you and your master are goddamn well not beating me."
The hallway stretches far into the distance. Bars of sunlight stream through several skylights, and the walls are a pale green, shading to darker hues as she walks. Her white dress is both fitted and flowing, with gauzy sleeves brushing the ground.
Most doors are closed, but a few stand open.
In the first, Jack lounges on a dark blue couch, a tendril of smoke curling up from the cigarette in his hand.
"Long time no see, Lady," he drawls, giving her his customary slow smile. A small group of black butterflies seem to pour towards her from the air around him, hovering around her body.
His eyes go serious, and a little sad. "Can you do it again?"
She frowns in confusion, then shakes her head, continuing down the hallway; the floor is cool against her bare feet. The butterflies trail her, disintegrating until none are left.
The next open door reveals Lyle sitting at a heavy, ornately carved table. He’s wearing a strange outfit; all ruffles and buckles and chains. He’s staring at Mugen in shock; for his part, the cat looks utterly unperturbed.
"It is not that hard to understand." As though Mugen speaking isn’t odd enough, for some reason he sounds like Gundam.
"So wait, I’m really your--"
Mugen lifts a hind leg to scratch behind one ear, then leaps, settling on top of Lyle’s head. "Mother always said I had Father’s eyes."
Yoruichi keeps walking, leaving Lyle still dumbfounded; the hallway shades to a deep violet.
Another open door; Brianna is inside, wearing a floppy straw hat and a familiar pink dress . She holds a hose, watering a rosebush that’s growing from the floor. Each flower shades from gold to orange to red and back, in such riotous profusion the bush almost looks as though it’s on fire. As Yoruichi passes, Brianna gives her a silent nod before returning to her task, her expression intent.
The next room is empty, but for two nearly identical men sitting against the far wall.
"Can you do it again?" Raise asks, his brow creased in concern.
In stark contrast to Raise’s neat appearance, Praise is covered in dirt and streaked with blood. He barks a harsh laugh, the sound wet and guttural, his broken arm limp in his lap. "She couldn’t do it the first time."
She frowns, and shakes her head. "What are you--"
Apple runs up, tugging at her hand. "Bastet, Bastet! I found a tree with the biggest cheeses I’ve ever seen, and--"
"Yoruichi-sama," Lin appears behind Apple, looking serious and diffident. "Can you do it again?"
"What are you talking about?" she says, irritated and confused.
"Can you do it again?" And Crimson is there, drawing his sword; it’s as distinctive as the last time she saw it, with its bent grip and bright tassel.
Alarmed, she reaches down to draw Apple behind her, but he’s gone, and so is the hallway. There’s nothing but white space; as if all the color has been drawn into Benihime’s blood-red adornments.
The sunlight has gone cold; her dress clamps around her like a vice.
"Can you do it again, Yoruichi-san?" Crimson’s face is serious, unreadable; between one breath and the next, the point of his sword is at the base of her throat. Lin looks on from just behind him, her expression indifferent.
Everything in her is screaming for her to fight, but all she can do is force words out through a suddenly dry throat. "I told you I won’t let you use them against me."
Crimson’s hat throws a shadow over his eyes, but they’re level, and show none of the affection they always hold for her. "And how do you plan to stop me?"
Blood trickles down Yoruichi’s chest, the sword’s edge barely parting her skin. "I know you’re not him." She grabs his forearm; the touch leaves an indentation in his arm, and a wax residue on her fingertips.
It’s hard to breathe; the sword is pressing even deeper into her skin now, the trickle of blood becoming a stream. It’s pooling on the floor, warm and viscous against her toes.
A sudden, hot wave of rage rushes through her. "Go to hell." Her dress is soaking through, the blood plastering the thin fabric to her skin. Her nails dig into his arm, scoring thick gouges in the soft wax; his face shows no sign it affects him at all.
"I can do it again," she snarls. Blue-white bolts of energy arc through the air, and the familiar rush and crackle of shunko surrounds her. It fills her eyes and ears, sharp in her nose like ozone.
"Don’t think I won’t kill you again, both of you."
The air grows heavy, and the scent of hot blood hits her nose as it’s heated by the kidou. It feels wrong to want to attack the form of someone she loves so much, but right now she wants nothing more than to put her fist right through both their throats, to see the wax melt and burn away.
How dare they. How dare he.
She grabs the blade, her fury strong enough to disregard the way it bites into her hand. The air fairly howls with the force of her power, but her words are clear nonetheless.
"I will do it again. Because you and your master are goddamn well not beating me."