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YakshaExperienced Member- Joined : 2016-11-13
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Serenade of the Soul(Yaksha/Sofia)
Wed Nov 23, 2016 7:14 pm
Why was it, Yaksha wondered, that the humans spent so much time trying to convince themselves that there was nothing out there worth comprehending? Why did so many people spend all of their time with their faces stuck in a near-permanent expression of slack-jawed disinterest? He'd observed it time and time again; they would walk right past signs and then demand that the information be given to them, when it was already standing right there to be found? What was it about humans that would lead them to outright refuse to find the information for themselves?
Was it perhaps the simple fact that they could? Was it that simple; humans would ignore the signs, refuse to glance at the world around them, would dismiss all of the evidence of their eyes as irrelevant, because simply knowing those facts would cut down on the social interaction? Learning was itself a social process after all. There was power, great power, in a simple exchange of words and pleasantries. Even if the entire conversation was scripted, totally predictable in every way...there was still that sense that there was a second player. That you weren't shouting into a void; that if you opened your mouth, you could always reasonably expect an answer.
Or perhaps Yaksha was giving the humans too much credit. It wasn't the first time he did something like that, after all; humans were often notoriously simple, so simple that it almost looped around into a sort of perverse complexity. What else could you call something but complexly simple when you could track a person's actions only by the way they contradicted themselves? It was absurd to watch sometimes, how quickly and easily a human would put their own foot in their mouth, or change their opinion at the drop of a hat. Yaksha had watched for years, for centuries in fact...and it never changed. Not truly. All that changes was the terminology.
And they called Yaksha insane.
Perhaps, by hollow standards, he was; he was one of the few hollows who really tried to polish his skills in rhetoric, to be certain. And he may well have been the only hollow to put an active effort into protecting these mortals. Not that they appreciated it, of course; all too often, the closest he'd get to thanks is a person's babbled shouts of fear and confusion as he soothed them into silence.
Like right now, for instance. A woman, perhaps in her fourties, wearing a sporty outfit that had already told Yaksha she was trying desperately to deny the progression of time. He leaned against a wall in the alleyway, a hollow dangling from his hand. It seemed to resemble a spider, and one of Yaksha's hands was thoroughly cocooned in silk at the moment; to his credit, he seemed more amused than concerned, bashing the hollow into the ground over and over, as if he were playing with a yo-yo.
"Look, I don't know how to be any clearer here. You're free to go. I don't want your money, or your soul. I don't care who would miss you if you were to disappear from this world. You don't have to persuade me not to kill you."
He looked at the sky, rolling his eyes and muttering a soft curse to himself. Why was it always the humans who were able to be heard, when they rose their voices to the sky? Why was it that those who could never appreciate the simple pleasure of the touch of flesh on flesh were the ones who had it in such free supply? It seemed, to Yaksha, the old adage was true.
"Life is wasted on the living. Honestly."
Was it perhaps the simple fact that they could? Was it that simple; humans would ignore the signs, refuse to glance at the world around them, would dismiss all of the evidence of their eyes as irrelevant, because simply knowing those facts would cut down on the social interaction? Learning was itself a social process after all. There was power, great power, in a simple exchange of words and pleasantries. Even if the entire conversation was scripted, totally predictable in every way...there was still that sense that there was a second player. That you weren't shouting into a void; that if you opened your mouth, you could always reasonably expect an answer.
Or perhaps Yaksha was giving the humans too much credit. It wasn't the first time he did something like that, after all; humans were often notoriously simple, so simple that it almost looped around into a sort of perverse complexity. What else could you call something but complexly simple when you could track a person's actions only by the way they contradicted themselves? It was absurd to watch sometimes, how quickly and easily a human would put their own foot in their mouth, or change their opinion at the drop of a hat. Yaksha had watched for years, for centuries in fact...and it never changed. Not truly. All that changes was the terminology.
And they called Yaksha insane.
Perhaps, by hollow standards, he was; he was one of the few hollows who really tried to polish his skills in rhetoric, to be certain. And he may well have been the only hollow to put an active effort into protecting these mortals. Not that they appreciated it, of course; all too often, the closest he'd get to thanks is a person's babbled shouts of fear and confusion as he soothed them into silence.
Like right now, for instance. A woman, perhaps in her fourties, wearing a sporty outfit that had already told Yaksha she was trying desperately to deny the progression of time. He leaned against a wall in the alleyway, a hollow dangling from his hand. It seemed to resemble a spider, and one of Yaksha's hands was thoroughly cocooned in silk at the moment; to his credit, he seemed more amused than concerned, bashing the hollow into the ground over and over, as if he were playing with a yo-yo.
"Look, I don't know how to be any clearer here. You're free to go. I don't want your money, or your soul. I don't care who would miss you if you were to disappear from this world. You don't have to persuade me not to kill you."
He looked at the sky, rolling his eyes and muttering a soft curse to himself. Why was it always the humans who were able to be heard, when they rose their voices to the sky? Why was it that those who could never appreciate the simple pleasure of the touch of flesh on flesh were the ones who had it in such free supply? It seemed, to Yaksha, the old adage was true.
"Life is wasted on the living. Honestly."
Cooking SprayExperienced Member- Joined : 2016-10-24
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Re: Serenade of the Soul(Yaksha/Sofia)
Wed Nov 23, 2016 9:02 pm
[PLAY POSTING MUSIC]
THE QUINCY PRODIGY
Artist: 繁中字幕 - Song: 우리 그냥 사랑하게 해주세요
Had it not been for the nature of the streets she walked, the end of the day would have seemed pleasant, and the dawn of the night welcomed. America was not an area the Quincy prodigy frequented, and certainly not one she found appealing. For quite a while, the country had become enslaved by the demonic occupation. The dark intent of the demons, and the presence of the Hollow kind was felt everywhere. Although the Humans were still allowed to continue on with their daily lives, their numbers had plummeted as had their chances to thrive within a society that placed their interests far below the rest. It was a sad and pitiful sight. It was one of the many reasons the Quincy continued on their plight to further their race, and deliver the Earth back into human hands.
There was no denying that Humans were weak when compared to the rest of the spiritual races. It had long been established by both her family and Sofia herself that Quincy were a needed evolution of the Human race. They were believed to be the evolution needed to prevent extinction, and to have a chance to regain their rights to the planet. Unfortunately, the Quincy would see themselves through culling and genocide brought upon in part due to their disorganized and misled beliefs, as well as the hatred and jealousy from the other races. Sofia was chosen along with some of the remaining renowned Quincy, to continue to push on the legacy of their kind. With their numbers dwindling, it was up to the select few to redefine the Wandenreich, and set a foundation that would be difficult to destroy, in hopes of attaining the goals that seemed just as difficult to obtain.
”Right now…?
Her voice seemed indicative of someone that was frustrated, irritated, and in some way likely upset. The main reason for her travels to America had been due to a very peculiar mission. There was what seemed to be a rather invasive and dangerous disease occurring in the city of Chicago. Leading her men in the Jagdarmee, the Quincy prodigy along with fellow Captain Toshiko and the Quincy Elect Niflheim had battled a gigantic beast of power that was beyond comprehension. With the skirmishes having finished, she attempted to find a way to enjoy the remainder of her time in the country without eliciting too much attention to herself. Alas, it seemed wherever she went, the circumstances were always the same. The weak were preyed upon by the powerful, and the Hollow kind continued on their mindless siege of the human souls.
Just a little longer.
As she approached the area where the spiritual signals originated, something rather peculiar set her off. One of the Hollow’s spiritual signal had disappeared. It hadn’t fled however. Instead, it seemed as though its existence had been erased. Strangely enough, the human had managed to flee. It certainly did not fit any of the scenarios she imagined, and the notion of the results puzzled her. The intrigue continued to eat away at her as she neared on the location of the remaining Hollow. And, just moments after the Human’s departure, a near blinding light and a harden step would caution the Hollow as to the prodigy’s arrival, not more than 20 feet or so away from him.
As was usual for her, the famous musician was clothed in vestments that reveled in her exquisite taste, in her sense of function over fashion, and in her loyalty to the style and the color of the Quincy uniform. Her outfit consisted of a white top that displayed a pronounced v-like shape that curved in a peculiar way over her breasts, seemingly enhancing whatever sizable and noticeable heft they possessed. A rather short and unopened white collared jacket was worn over it. On her left and right sleeve, she wore the symbol of the Wandenreich and the Montero family shield respectively. Her white pants looked clean, and tight hugging enough to stick to the point where one could have confused them for a second layer of skin. It seemed to hug her body nicely, contouring easily to the curves of her body, namely some of her best assets, like her butt. A pair of black gloves and matching black boots finished the look, along with a blue scarf wrapped around her neck.
”You. Hollow. Speak if you’re able to, and pray your answer does not lead to your end.”
While it was certainly unlike Sofia to try and be violent upon a first meeting and at a moment’s glance, certain occasions merited. She had yet to meet a Hollow or an Arrancar that was not befitting to be killed upon acquaintance. The only reason why she hadn’t in this case was because she was curious as to what had happened. Even then however, her curiosity could grow thin rather quickly. It was not unlike the Hollow to use Humans as bait to lure, kill, and devour stronger and more satisfying beings, even if they were of their own kind. Rare as it was though, the prodigy was allowing the Hollow the benefit of the doubt. It was a graceful touch of mercy she had never seen herself perform with their kind before. If the Hollow was to see any good come out of his situation, it would be better to choose his words carefully or otherwise succumb to the results that came from crossing the devout Captain of the Jagdarmee.
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[THEFROST]
