I'm so sorry if these seething words I say impress on you
that I've become anathema of my soul
I can't say that you're losing me.
I always tried to keep myself tied to this world but I know where this is leading...
that I've become anathema of my soul
I can't say that you're losing me.
I always tried to keep myself tied to this world but I know where this is leading...
Sestran
Leader of the Hellfires
* 
* 
“You belong here!” The protest was an attempt to be strong but the deep voice wavered as it understood the position it was in. “For your crimes you will languish in agony for all time. It is justice…”
“Silence filth. What could you possibly know of agony and justice? You would torment an innocent man because an unjust man told you he was guilty? You are not here to think, but to act as a machine, one that will be broken.” Sestran’s voice cut off the keeper’s comment roughly.
The warrior had seen better days, days long ago, so far away now he could barely consider them actual memories, they were no longer his. He was no longer what he had once been. He was covered in dirt, blood, and other various gore. Leaning on the shaded spear that was his weapon, it too had been as corrupted as his body in their extended stay in hell’s gates. This place was as unclean as it made any that lingered within it's walls.
They assumed the paleness was that fear had finally taken him, that he'd finally lost the battle to those that thought themselves his jailers. He'd never planned to remain here however, and the several dead gatekeeper’s around him were a good sign of that. His lack of color was something wholly different than that of most. Fear, wasn't an emotion that had gripped him in centuries, and likely one that never would again...it had to make way for more honorable emotions like loathing.
While the creatures around him might normally return to their forms to continue fighting; within the destructive essence of his zanpaktou’s power it wasn’t possible for them to regenerate. It made his escape easier than he predicted, even if it was also salt in the wound that he could no longer fully control his own powers…it didn't matter, he would be done with this place soon enough.
“Physical discomfort is mild you know.” He commented, as though observing more for himself than the creature unable to speak against him now that the command had been made. Those with weak spiritual pressure were the easiest to control...almost more like puppets...
“If ignorance is bliss, true pain is knowledge. It’s coming to understand that no matter what you do you cannot change the past.” He sounded thoughtful, his voice light and introspective, but then it changed oh so quickly, darkening as his eyes refocused on the creature and he drew his weapon in front of him again. “That is the world in which I dwell, the world that I once blindly considered beautiful reeks of torment. Every light is a p***k, every color, every sensation a new dagger which twists the bitter strain of my memory. My sister loved all of it, oh she found beauty in everything, and it betrayed her. So no, these lacerations to my flesh mean nothing, they’ve never meant a thing when compared to the truth of what I live.”
“All the weight of the world cannot match what a single memory does to my very being. My soul burns each time I see her smile fade, every time the loss of her innocence replays and her blood curls across my body again. Did you think I’d stay here…with you having put my injury on repeat? Did you think that you could torment me anymore than I torment myself for having trusted the very men that removed the light from her eyes?” Sestran’s eyes narrowed hatefully as he approached the gold glimmering as he raced suddenly forward to put his spear through the creature’s skull. “No man can torment someone more than they are capable of tormenting themselves.”
Then he laughed, a bitter loveless sound that died shortly after it left his lips. “Oh but I must have grown lonely in that cell, what other reason could there be than to explain myself to such a beast...”
Ignoring the littering of bodies around him he allowed his blade to revert to the form of its sword. His power fully released would draw too many of the opposing watchful eyes, and too much of a commotion would reach the spiritual world before he was ready. He couldn’t let his hatred boil over to the point that it ruined his plan, he had many steps left before he could march on heaven and bring low the creature so pretentious as to call itself a just god while ordering the death’s of innocents.
He still had others that required breaking out, and if they were to be freed by him and be his soldiers, they would bow before him else he wouldn’t let them out. His majesty wasn’t perfect control but it was much more than not having it in effect at all.
He’d waited this long for a reason…his escape had come with his understanding of his final ability, the trick that he would only ever be able to do once. He had intelligence on the soul society, he was as prepared as he would ever be. He flexed his hand, it was regenerated from the strike it took during the battle, a few hops later and he was approaching a section that apparently held high profile souls in torment. Curious who he would enlist to his cause and who he would leave to rot, it was ever a judgment, he had to weigh his choices carefully now that he had escaped. He needed those that would bring him closest to the soul society and his goal…
Position: Hell
With: No one of importance
Thoughts: Soon now...
Release State: Sealed at the end of the entry.
Theme
...but I must be that which I am though I know where this could take me
No tears. No sympathy.
Gracefully. Respectfully.
Facing conflict deep inside myself.
No tears. No sympathy.
Gracefully. Respectfully.
Facing conflict deep inside myself.
