The Sound of Sorrow

Madness, isn’t it just great? It eats away at you, picking at your inner demons. Reveling in your faults and errors, the soft cacophony of doubt and self revile jeering at you in howling laughter. It brought a person down to their knee’s took from them everything they cherished and left only the sweet tunes of denial and regret in many. It would drive a sane man insane, it’d turn the proud into ragged shells of their former selves.

It brought the meek to do horrid things, terrible. . terrible things. Or, atleast this is what inami thought. Coming here following the turbulent tides of energy from one of the persons she held oh so near and dear, the thought that this would be . . messy certainly crossed her mind. Infact she wasn’t picky, oh no oh no~ Rather she might as well join in the fray, and enjoy the feast that was impending.. . Or , that's what she’d normally do. What she normally would find to be acceptable in such happenstance as this. Alas, this was tsubasa, and because it was him, the wailing churning bubbling pot of turmoil within her was put on the side burner.

You see, she was many things, depraved, insane, horrendous, dastardly, damnable, pretty, sly, cutsie and sarcastic. But to those that knew her and her rumbling ball of contradictions and self serving biases she was still loyal, friendly, kind and most of all not willing to abandon them to their own inner demons. She’d rather self destruct with them than let them suffer alone.

Before her she could hear it, the wails of those who had touched upon tsubasa’s reverse scale. Had caused him so much pain, and so much anguish. She knew tsubasa, she knew the passifisto personality was merely a sham bolstered by the resolve he had to atone. So her body vanished in such a speed that the air seemed to distort, the ground seemed to rumble, the skies seemed to be blown apart by the inverse force of her body puncturing the pressure that pushed against it. Her skin might be torn, her blood might bubble up in a maleficent blackened streak but what was the point?

Her body was but a shell, mundane and wordly, she did not need it. She did not crave the comforts of flesh, and even as the pain screamed and her nerve endings had been beaten raw she bridged the gap at such speeds that when she appeared her skin was blackened by sticky blood. Her skin shorn off, and yet as the bloody arms wound around the tired mans body, there was. . such softness in such a gesture.

Even as her blood sizzled and pulsed from her body, as depraved and broken she was. As her mortal flesh mended, and the pain ran amok in her brain. As her body was restored to that of a pristine youth, whose multi-colored eyes shone with compassion there was only tsubasa, and his pain. The greif that was so apparent upon his face, so raw and vulnerable that it caused her blackened ice-cube of a heart to quiver. She gently squeezed his back and brought him into her embrace.

He could stab her, and she’d continue. He could rip her limbs off and she’d re-attach them. It didn’t matter much to the demonic queen who had invaded the soul society’s space to come here. Even if she was beaten she’d console him. Even if she was harmed she’d never revile him. Rather she softly lamented with him, and in this moment of silence to which her thoughts were organized in the sea of chaos that pervaded every inch of her being, she sought to ask him a gentle question.

”..Do you lament the choices you have made?”

She hadn’t told him I told you so, she hadn’t tried to ridicule him, or giggle at his misfortune. She merely had asked this question and then gave him a squeeze, the queens chin resting lightly against his broadened back, her eyes staring at the fabric of his robe before sliding shut. She could say many things, ask many questions and say they would all pay. That she would burn them, kill them, castrate their kin, and slaughter every one of them until they became a speck in the endless passage of time. Yet, she refrained, this emotion, this fury within her chest yearned to be released upon the world.

She hated those that would harm him, she wished them dead. She wished to take their worlds and turn it to ashes, to obliterate them from existence only after casting them into the wretched pit they deserved to be in. Punishment wouldn’t be enough for them, bloodshed would not sate her. Even now she thought of hundreds of ways to find these wretches, to punish them , to kill and slaughter them.

It would be so easy for her, a flick of her wrist, or a snap of her finger and they’d instantaneously be in a living hell. Yet here in the quiet, in the sorrow and despair she did not voice or bring about these actions. She did not fan the flames of hatred, she did not stoke the feelings of revulsion that tsubasa had to be feeling. She did not confirm to him that he should go upon a different path. No, as she clenched her pristine moon-kissed fingers in his kimono, and pulled him in closer she merely murmured in a tone that was barely a whisper, as she held back the tears at seeing a man, who she respected so much, being reduced to such a state.

”..Haven’t you done enough, haven’t you atoned enough?”

Her questions remained calm even if she was the very inverse definition of the word. She was powerful enough to topple the heavens, to destroy everything in their wake, to cause bloodshed on such a scale that she could eradicate the earths and build a tower of bones that reached the heavens. But with the matters of the heart all the power in the world could not fix that . . She merely did not know, how deep the wound within tsubasa’s heart was. And that saddened her.