Author's Note: I've always imagined that Orihime's experience in Las Noches - from her perspective, specifically - must've been a lot like Alice's experiences in Wonderland and through the looking glass. I liked the idea, and this drabble series was born. Each part will be titled after one of the chapters from the book, in sequential order (although the drabbles themselves will not be ordered chronologically). Each chapter serves as my inspiration/prompt for each drabble. Hope you like!
Down the Rabbit Hole
"In another moment Alice went down after it,
never once considering how in the world she was
to get out again.
The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel
for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so
suddenly Alice had not a moment to think
about stopping herself before she found herself
falling…"
– Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
When her brother had died, Orihime had sought solace in the fact that she could still speak to her brother. She could still light incense and say a prayer, and Sora would hear her.
She wondered if he could still hear her now, or if her voice was muffled by the tunnel around her.
At a glance, the passages to Soul Society and Hueco Mundo were very similar. Both were dark, dank, and, in Orihime's opinion, best traveled with a friend at your side. But one distinct difference between the two, she noticed, were their atmospheres.
The path to Soul Society might have been chilly and, at times, muggy, but it smelled of water, of rain. It smelled familiar. It smelled like calm, comfort.
The garganta, however, was anything but. The way its appearance had split the air in two, swallowed up both she and the man who'd emerged before her, and closed behind them like the jaws of a monster was unnerving. Inside, it smelled old and musty, like an old wax museum nobody bothered to dust, like an ancient trunk full of forgotten things.
Orihime kept her mind on her friends. Kurosaki-kun, Ishida-kun, Kuchiki-san...
Her eyes were focused on the figure before her, all ashen white skin and black hair and horned helmet, leading the way. He occasionally glanced back at her, probably to make sure she hadn't tried to flee. His eyes were two brilliant green circles in a monochromatic painting.
After her brother's funeral, Orihime had returned home with bleak eyes and a heart that hurt from the weight of the sorrow she carried. She hadn't liked the way her brother had been put away, his remains kept shut inside an urn. She knew it was tradition, but...it was dark in there. It seemed like it'd be so cold, so lonely. She hated thinking of Sora in a place like that.
And now here she was, in a place just like that.
Everything was backward. Night was never-ending and the moon waxed and waned in reverse. The world was quiet, but the silent air hung heavy and pregnant, anxiously waiting for something to happen. Orihime felt as though an entire congregation was watching her, though no one was in sight.
Both his and her footsteps echoed in the empty halls, the sound bounding back and forth between the walls. The whole place seemed dead. All of it was dead.
Orihime sent a silent plea up to her brother, asking him to please stay close as she followed the white figure ahead of her, reticent as the grave.