I am no Queen, yet a Sovereign Weeps (Open)

Yaksha's hand remained extended slightly, as if he were an adherent, waiting for it to be taken, or someone trying to make a theatrical point. He let her speak for several long moments, making no attempt to rebut or interrupt her. He simply exuded that same sense of absolute calm and confidence, an overwhelming sense of acceptance as he let her speak. As if he were willing to stand there for years, until the sands themselves receded, if need be. And when she finally finished speaking, he rose just slightly, running a claw along his chest, with a demeanor akin to a person adjusting a suit and tie, or preparing themselves to ensure they looked their best.

"You know, I've never once considered myself to be strong? It's interesting. I hear people throw the word around often, but it really just seems to be a blind spot in my perception. Like a dead tooth, that has been numbed. My tongue flicks over it time and time again, and...nothing. Is it abnormal, to take care in what you say? Are you quite certain it isn't simply that you're weak when it comes to words?"

He tilted his head to the side once more, a tinge of smugness suffusing the sudden air of acceptance. As if to say that her flaws were known, chronicled, expected, and filed away with exact detail, but that was simply fine because what else could he do besides love her for her flaws? He extended a single claw, enunciating every word with crystal clarity, so that it could be heard across the entire area.

"'We are'. 'Our eyes'. 'Our kind'. You admit to a shared lineage, and then denounce us as your family? You are lying to yourself, Hallibel. You seek to disown us, an entire species. Or is it perhaps that you seek for us to disown you? No. I refuse. Nothing you could ever say or do would make me burn the bridge between us, Hallibel. And even if you were to burn it yourself, I know where to find olive branches large enough to circle the world thrice over. You seek to call this place home, and ask that we simply leave you be? If your interest was to be left in absolute solitude, why not set up residence in the Dangai, then? What is so fascinating about -sand- to a -shark-?"

A second finger raised, and his free hand rested by his waist. There was, about him, a sense of whipcord energy, like a spring wound extremely tightly. It was almost patently obvious that he was winding her up, waiting to see if she would lash out at some word or insinuation she found distasteful. And it was equally obvious that act was bait.

"You claim hollowkind incapable of understanding other species, even as you model yourself after shinigami. You claim you have no interest in understanding those around you. And then you go so far as to say that you can hear the cries of the sand? Well, quite frankly, they are crying 'Bullshit' at top volume right now. You are merely making up excuses, Hallibel. You obliterate the only -bed- in this misbegotten place, and you propose to make a desert your home? And -I've- the ego? Your confidence in your usefulness as a bidet is staggering. Not a one of your actions makes sense, and that seems to be by design."

He held up a third finger, tone becoming softer, warmer, almost pained. One could imagine tears filling any humans' eyes at this point, as the reddish markings on his flesh flared into life, seeming to weep red tears along his skin, until it almost looked like stigmata across his entire form. It was hideous to behold, and yet strangely beautiful in its own way, to see him so overcome with grief.

"You truly think it evil, don't you? Joy, and love? You betray your own feelings without even realizing it. What is so wrong with seeking to laugh at life, Hallibel? With those whose company you can stomach? How is it a sin to wish to see another thrive, even if your own state falters as a result? What miserable life must you have lived, to actually embrace that title for yourself? You do not understand -yourself-, much less those around you. We are not evil, we are id. We hunger for that which will destroy us, for that which we know we can never have. We long to take things which do not even exist. We are black holes, seeking to be filled. We are, each of us, seeking to be filled. And we realize, at our instinctual level, that the only thing that can fill us...is one another."

A fourth finger, raised slowly, curiously, almost as an afterthought. Now his voice was distant, contemplative, almost as if he didn't expect an answer.

"How -did- Nagato die? I don't imagine you did it yourself, but you speak as if you were there. I had been meaning to ask."

Yaksha's hands spread outwards, the thick red substance oozing forth from his form without end. He seemed content to let that alone be his response to her statement about his humanity, until he simply rose a hand, and twirled it around in the air, as if he were gesturing for a helicopter to take off from the ground, or similarly speaking in coded message. And the reaction was obvious and quick enough to make it clear he had.

The myriad flames that had prefaced his return, throwing off wicked shadows on the sands, began to flicker back towards him, one after another. They coalesced around him, covering his body from head to toe. With each one, they seemed to merge and fuse together, becoming one single flame, white and heatless, surrounding him. And as his wings splayed outwards, his tails both inscribing a perfect circle in the sand, he simply looked at her.

He didn't speak at all, while he went about whatever strange, sickening, shocking ritual he was undergoing. He simply continued to leak from every inch of his body, and to burn with a curious heatless flame, as he let Hallibel mull over the silence. He finally reached out with both hands, allowing the fingers there to extend and splay outwards, until they looked like spindly branches. The horns atop his head began to grow down towards the ground, resembling roots as they slammed into the sands beneath them.

When he finally did speak, it was in a dreamy, distant tone.

"Ah...thrice, and once more for good measure. I'm afraid I must correct you one final time, Hallibel. You are, of course, under no obligation to reply. You never were."

"You have expressed yourself in as obtuse a manner as possible, over and over. You expect us to -know- what it is you believe, what it is you consider yours, what it is you want to protect, what it is you sought. You speak in roundabout, passive terms of your goals and interests, and then take offense when I pry further. We do not hang on your words because you are royalty, or because we seek for you to take on a role of leadership. We simply wish to know what it is you so delicately dance around."

His voice grew fainter and fainter with each word, until it seemed like he was struggling with every bit of the last sentence. Like each word was dragged from a deep deep pit, weighing more than the Earth itself. And the reddish blob inside of this fascinating latticework of appendages and white carapace was slowly shifting and twitching, like a womb that was set to birth some new creature. And this time when he spoke, his voice wasn't even a voice.

"Have I ever once said I was Yaksha? You decided that, all on your own."

There was something inside of the mass that finally twitched and pushed forth; it was a horn, much like Yaksha's, but far longer, and more intricate. It resembled a stag's more than anything else, but the entire thing was sharp and barbed, making it look closer to a rapier. And the head of the creature that stepped forth was that of a bull, long and stretched flat. Its chest was thick and corded with muscle, its arms little more than masses of wriggling life that resembled maggots, and its legs looked like that of a monkey's.

"Your conversation with Yaksha is finished. I'm not him. In deference to your preference for silence, I'll just ask. You miss them, don't you? Emilou. Franchesca. Cyan. You want to mourn them, in peace. You don't even want to build new relationships, after how thoroughly Aizen's treachery shook you to the core. You were hoping one of them would show up, weren't you? And now that they haven't, you just want to...do nothing."

"You are correct. There is nothing to be gained from extending this conversation any further. I understand now what it is you seek, and what it is you fear. The unintended consequences of actions are rarely worth dwelling on. We have no intention of imposing on your time any further, save to make one final observation."

The creature's tendrils began to expand outwards, as if they were roots seeking nourishment, spreading towards the countless smaller, weaker hollows in attendance. His shadow seemed to warp and contort constantly as he did so, like it was trying to assert its own identity once more, and figure out for itself what the creature Hallibel was addressing was supposed to be. Its physical form never faltered once, but everything about it seemed to make it clear this thing was a distortion, something that had never meant to exist, and that the world itself was displeased with its presence, attempting to forget it ever had existed. Aggressively, in fact.

"Your ideal world is a hueco mundo to yourself. A world of sand and solitude. You do not wish to rule, or to be surrounded by others who would impose upon you their wishes or aspirations. This is respectable. Our ideal world is a hueco mundo devoid of mindless beasts. A world where they roam in a place of beauty, and culture, to remind themselves that there is more to their lives than the hunt. You wish there to be no company in your desert. We wish for those present to have a new place to reside. It seems in your interests that we take with us these creatures, when we go. But we would not wish to sadden your sands."