I was trying for a new style - more choppy, more train-of-though, more poetic, and... less coherent. I was going for Nek0-sama's Yami Malik portrayal style, except I might've taken it too far. xD
Heavens' Allegory
bmwremixed
They flowed together like time over the desert. An unforgiving sun burning out a path for the chilling night that followed (sensations - hot on cold and cold on hot and hot on cold and cold hot cold hot cold hothothot - in trails that snaked around limbs and muscles).
The fiery Grimmjow - (oh the inferno that is Grimmjow) all anger and fury and passion (no thought just want need fill now) fueled by a deceptively cold, dead, stone center. To whom everything was nothing, and therefore should be nothing and he was going to burnburnburn them all out of existence (hands gripping, teeth tearing, no mercy – light the nerves on fire dance in the flames rejoice in the pleasure and sing for the pain).
And the other, polar opposite, the scorching heat of day frozen into an endless abyss, so feral in his stoic contempt of the world. The halls echoed with whispers of his presence (UlquiorraAizenUlquiorraAizenUlqui– the whisperers would later burnburnburn) – first nearest entity to the living dead, second from God, and Fourth to ultimate absolution. A cold dead visage extended to all but the inner recesses of the core, where the hunger and instincts lay coiled ready to be used. (a twitch, a stir, a fissure in the dam – split the crack wide open and watch the show)
A lone finger traces down the other's pale skin, scratching angry welts in its wake, crisscrossing with the remnants of other marks and bruises from other teeth and other fingers that weren't his own.
- pock-marked, cratered, little lunar devotee– bearing the brunt of the heavens for the earth it protected
The lithe form beneath him shifts slightly under the touch, the horned mask pressing into his cheek and whispers ghosted across his own chest. Grimmjow turns too, ignoring their clumsy position. His lips lower to claim the valley between Ulquiorra's neck and shoulder, frowning at the lingering essence of a familiar presence.
- he needed fuel to burn to shine to smolder to glow – what better than jealousy anger hatred vengeance vengeance vengeance (to protect?)
Grimmjow felt Ulquiorra snake a thin, bony hand around his neck and anchor in his hair, both tugging him away and pushing him to go further. Grimmjow rises up on one arm and looks Ulquiorra in the eyes, finding only his own hatred reflected back at him from the empty emerald depths.
-he envies him – for being so noticeable beautiful ethereal bright shining without trying – stealing light from his own anger – let him burn and breathe and live (for the both of them)
There is no natural light in Hueco Mundo, only the fluorescent buzzing atrocity Aizen tried to pass off as the sun. By his orders, it was turned off periodically, to mimic the passage of time in the real world, in its absence drowning the landscape in the nothingness that is nighttime in hell.
No starts, no moon, just a thick empty sludge that danced with phantom colors – the hollows' world before Aizen. Grimmjow always felt the most alive at night
-the other stars disappear in his own glory, yet he is still just one of those stars –closer (to God? To humanity? To. ?) - but still not close enough
It was tiring, the light, seemed to suck all his energy away, and it hurt his sensitive eyes, reducing them to slits by noon. And by the time it was turned off, his limbs felt like lead and his eyelids felt like stones.
-the glory was his, and his alone, and none could take it from him – not even God
He could wander out onto the roof and observe his world at sleep.
(and the stage was set for his supernova)
They were the sun and the moon and the rest of the world could just go fuck off – Aizen thought he was fucking Aristotle (and contrary to popular belief, Grimmjow does know his classical philosophers), or something like that. Him and his mind breaking shit about being God and God being the world (why doesn't God Almighty just require them to just stuff their balls in a jar and hand them to him – easier to number that way).
But then again, in the end, Aristotle was wrong (wrongwrongwrong, so gloriously fucking wrong) – because the sun didn't revolve around the earth and the moon and God but the other way around.
"Where the fuck were you?"
"Aizen-sama requested my presence."
"Figures."
"Jealous?"
"Tch. No fucking way."
"I see."
"…What did he want?"
"Nothing that would interest you."
- (but now the moon followed the earth around and around and around, running circles around the sun.)
A supernova, by definition, is the death of a star. Where its internal fuel begins to feud with itself, destabilizing the core (a pinch of pain and a dash of jealousy, mix it all together until its nothing but rageragerage) until all that's left is one final performance.
"You're an idiot."
"You're a hypocrite."
"I know my limits."
"And I know no matter how loyal you claim to be, Aizen will not be hearing of this conversation."
- (And what a dazzling performance it will be.)
Even if Grimmjow does know his ancient classical philosophers, it still doesn't make up for the things he chose to forget, blinded by his own power and ambition.
He forgets the sun is merely a star, one among millions, he forgets the sun is a child, ego blown out of proportion, its own importance insignificant in the grand design of things. He forgets the sun is too small, that it will never supernova, it will pop and fizzle and shriek like an angry kettle (and throw a tantrum that is fit for the Gods) but ultimately settle down into a simmering, bitter shadow of its former glory.
"Ah, Sexta! Always such a naughty kitty!"
Grimmjow hated Gin, that sneer, that superiority complex – so like a worm that should be crushed beneath his heel. He snarled and lunged at the Shinigami, only to drop to the floor as another wave of agony ripped through him.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You should know better by now."
Gin kicked him in the side again, rolling him a few feet with the impact.
"Aizen won't be very happy when he hears about this," he tittered, grinning as he walked out of the dungeon. He slammed the heavy door behind him, leaving Grimmjow in absolute darkness.
The sun simply lacks the strength.
Grimmjow brought himself to his knees, unwilling to look weak in front of his enemy. Aizen calmly paced in, serene and calm. Ulquiorra followed him in, forever emotionless.
"Well, Grimmjow. I thought I taught you better than this."
"Fuck you."
(Anger and frustration and nothing to breakkillburn.)
"I guess I shall have to punish you better this time."
Grimmjow snarled in frustration, this wasn't the end, not his end at least. So much to do, so much to kill, so much to live and love and fuck – I'll kill him yet – wipe that grin off his face with his own blood—I'll watch him squirm and scream and beg for mercy –He won't dare, not to me, –He is only human, only mortal, only wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wro—
The smile never wavered as Kyouga Suigetsu was drawn.
Ulquiorra looked away at the last second.
But most importantly, Grimmjow forgets that Aizen is God.
And God controls the earth and the Heavens.
Including the Sun and the Moon.
Comments and Critique welcome!