It taunted her. Glittering, shining, luminescent in all it's lonely freedom in the sky. It appeared to say "Look- I'm free! You're not!" laughing at her, as it spilled the watery milky light into the plain room, the pallor silver reflecting off of the bleach white walls. It perched there in the sky, as smug as an eternal crescent moon could look, never rising and never setting, setting askew all sense of time and being as the sands below remained unstirred by neither a breeze nor living creature.
The moon leered at Orihime in a sick sort of glee as she blew a strand of fiery hair from her eyes and slid down the wall in heavy disappointment. She looked beside her at the couch she'd dragged over to the window, and the pillows and chairs balanced haphazardly atop it, stretching up to the high window. Escape was futile; she knew this well, yet the moon in all its perverse tormenting had only widened its personified grin as she had gazed listlessly out at the unchanging landscape. The sand, as finely grained as powder, shone with the dull luster of the moon. The skeletal, convoluted trees shivered in the barren land, spread out over unreasonably long distances.
It wasn't fair, she thought- everything here was alone. That awful moon, those sickly trees, herself; each was alone. The trees could see their companions she imagined, but would never be able to be with them, isolated within their individual spits of land. The moon shone on relentlessly, as though compensating for the stars she knew would add more life to the dead black sky otherwise.
"I wonder if the moon and trees here are lonely as well." She whispered, seeing the shadow in front of her from her peripheral as she traced designs on the cold marble floor. The shadow's head tilted to the side a fraction, the odd and out of place protrusion from an otherwise normal head accentuating the fact. Whether or not her guard was aware of this action he performed whenever something she said or did confounded him, Orihime did not know. All she knew was that as weeks had extended into months, little things about him had become more obvious to her. Imperceptible to others she was sure- but to herself, having seen only him for the longest, loneliest time, these personality traits manifested themselves to her. She doubted even Ulquiorra was aware he did these things.
She knew from experience with this wall of ice, that the barely there tilt of his head meant he wanted an elaboration. But oh, he would never say it aloud- his pride wouldn't do him the honor of allowing him to quell his curiosity by stooping to her level so much as to ask her a question. God forbid he displays something other than nothing on that sharp, handsomely terrifying face. She conjured up what she was sure his expression looked like at that moment- blank- or so he would like to believe. But she had been fast enough to catch it once or twice, and had been around him long enough to discern the smallest fraction of a centimeter his left eyebrow drew down when he didn't understand her.
"Pointless." He had called her antics once when out of sheer boredom, she had constructed a fortress out of the pillows and hollowed out couch (the springs were set atop the peak of her castle, used as antennae receptors for her F2 nacho-covered-in-relish-platter delivering robot, she had told him- the food here was so bland.) "Childish." He had interrupted her as she babbled on about how the nachos really were good with relish, and adding a side of pineapple slices made it even better. She had cut short her rant about how the store never had artichoke-entwined pretzels to observe him, finally stating simply after a beat "Nobody is making you stand here and listen to me."
He had opened his mouth, and then just as quickly closed it, features ever indifferent as he turned on heel gracefully and strode out, stone door sliding shut soundlessly. Orihime giggled as she imagined him beating himself up over letting a "simple-minded human" find a loophole in his perfect logic as he fluidly walked down the endless white hallway. Later when he entered, this time carefully stoic, Orihime ate the tasteless meal without argument for once. She knew, as she had grown to learn, that these little unexpected things would set off Ulquiorra's guard a bit, opening him up for even better jabs.
"Don't your fancy, billow-y things ever get stuck in doors? You look like you belong in the Matrix, what with the way you walk all slow motion." Orihime had said as an offhanded comment as her blank faced guard stepped through the door, shirttails undulating gracefully, mocking him with her rightness. Before the door slid shut completely she was graced with seeing an exasperated look aimed at her over Ulquiorra's shoulder, and one white shirttail caught in the doorway as the wall closed. Her laughter escaped into the hall for a millisecond as the door cracked open an inch and the white fabric end was hastily pulled out, and for once she didn't care- the laugh echoed off the walls and bounced across the sparse room, and tears collected in the corners of Orihime's eyes as she howled with mirth- she knew seeing Ulquiorra slip up like that was a one in a million chance, and she intended to enjoy it; knowing full well that he would be able to hear her long after he'd turned the corner.
The copper haired prisoner snapped out of her memories. She would still mess with Ulquiorra at times, prodding his cold personality and exterior for her own amusement (he wasn't allowed to kill her, there was nothing else to do, and he was usually right there- so why not?) but she had grown up a lot. Within a few weeks of being held captive, she had liked to think she had run out of tears, and they stopped flowing. She had taken out her hairpins and done some good long soul searching in that timeless prison, going over everything- her brother Sora, her friends, and most importantly Ichigo. She had stroked the final gifts from her late brother lovingly as she let her infatuation go, the vice around her heart unclenching from its long hold on her. Undoubtedly the carrot headed boy would always hold a place in her heart, but she accepted Rukia would always hold a far larger place in his.
"I was sick of the moon, so I made a ladder and looked out the window. I noticed everything here is alone. Isn't it?" At this she drew her eyes up, resting them easily on Ulquiorra's lean profile. In response the nihilistic Espada continued to stare at her, making no movement of any sort. That was Ulquiorra code for "I still don't get your point and I'm trying to look like I don't care, but I'm failing at that and I don't even know it." Well, maybe that wasn't exactly right, but Orihime shrugged it off and continued on steadily studying his glinting green eyes.
"What I mean is, the moon- don't you think it'd be a lot friendlier if it had some stars to buddy up with? And" scurrying up on the precarious tower, she peered out the ridiculously high window "those dead trees. I know they're dead and all, and it's hard to feel anything when you're dead, but I still think they'd look more at ease if their companions weren't far enough to see but forever out of reach." Orihime balanced unsteadily on the stacked objects, looking down at Ulquiorra. In the back of her mind she realized this was the first time she'd even been taller than him (even with the extra stuff boosting her height), but the miniature epiphany was chased away as Ulquiorra silently approached, stepping up onto air as easily as though he were pouring tea, or flipping pages in a book.
Reaching her side, he too observed the scenery, struggling to grasp her logic. The moon, buddies with stars? The dead trees more consulate with their nonliving status if they had neighbors with which to share it? Ridiculous. It was such a human- such an Orihime- comparison.
"You're logic is pathetically incorrect on all accounts." He murmured, watching a flat look smear across her face. A short while ago she would have looked crestfallen, or even annoyed, but now she just seemed t expect these responses from him. "And you should be falling right about…now." He added tonelessly as a pillow gave in, and Orihime muffled a shriek as she was pitched forward. Withdrawing a single hand from his pocket, he caught her by the arm as the ground lurched closer to her. A mere inch or so from the ground, where a direct fall would have certainly sprained or shattered something, he allowed her a full view of the danger she had just avoided thanks to him. Only once he heard her exhale shakily and gulp more loudly than normal, did he drop her the remaining inch to the floor.
Returning his hand to his pocket, he was back at the door before Orihime had finished getting over her shock. "Dismantle this… thing, woman. Saving you from yourself is irritating." As he left, his sensitive ears easily picked out a hesitant "T…thank you…" from the woman, who had planted her feet more firmly on the ground, like she was reassuring herself it was still there.
On the route back to his chambers, the two word phrase echoed in the back of his thoughts annoyingly. Frowning and trying to brush it off were to no avail as he chastised himself for frowning at all- he was the Espada of nothing. Emptiness. Nihilism. He had feelings, but they had been buried under layer upon layer of walls. He had spent the entirety of his actually somewhat short being cultivating these walls, tending them, plugging up cracks or holes through which the emotion leaked. Through his detachment from anything and everything, he had gained power- it was no surprise he found emotions to be weak and below him.
Yet as he seated himself stiffly and signed sheet of paper after sheet of paper at his desk after sliding into his dark room, his own name blurred before him into meaningless blots of ink as his jade eyes unfocused and brought him back to that moment- the first time the woman had thanked him for anything.
First chapter of a new story. I want actual FEEDBACK on this one. Do you think it sucks and you want to carve out my spleen with a rusty pencil? Righty-o then. Tell me so, and do be a dear and include why.
REVIEW. It means the world to us authors, it really really does. When I log on and I see a review, I flip, spaz, and open microsoft word and get word- crunching. I write like a crazy mofo. Because, even if it's something like "Omg dis is k3wl." that's enough. (not great, but I can't expect more I suppose) It makes me happy someone read the story, went yay or nay, and SHARED WITH ME WHYYYYY. So I can FIX STUFF. Or, if you have a suggestion, put it out there. I might use it I might not, but it's worth a shot making me aware of it, ne? Some of the best ideas are those occurring without planning. Spontaneously. Like spontaneous combustion. Only, you know, with less fire... Well, usually with less fire anyways. But who knows.
Hint hint, the more or better quality the reviews, the faster I'm motivated to upload more. Yes, it really does work that way.
~Thank you!~
