short chapter, nya
Ulquiorra was trapped in darkness again. Darkness was his ally, he'd been born into a world of endless night, and yet this was different. It wasn't nightfall or a lack of light that robed him only of his sense of perception; no, this was the physical manifestation of isolation, a deprivation of all senses and all feelings of being. That is what he feared. Not that he would admit it, and not that his pride would let him degrade himself by interracting with lower beings, but he feared being alone. The time he'd spent in self-induced isolation had been a terrifying mistake, and he'd been grateful to Aizen for freeing him from it.
But that didn't stop the here and now. Trapped as he was, there was no escape in sight. He felt a lunging sensation, as if there were no floor so he was continuously falling without actually falling. So complete was this darkness and so used to it as he was, even the faintest of changes would have been immediately noticable, so when a voice penetrated the blackness he felt it quiver right down to his core.
It was quiet, and he couldn't make out the words, but it was a voice, and he'd never heard a voice in these dreams before. After all, its supposed to be total isolation. When it faded, he found himself straining to catch more of it, his reduced state of anxiety quieting as he concentrated on something other than the void around him. For a second, he thought maybe he'd finally gone insane when there was nothing more and the darkness began to creep in again.
"Ulquiorra."
He started, turning in a circle.
That voice.
"It's only a dream. Wake up."
Erin?
Why would she be in his dreams? No, she wasn't, she was calling him from the waking realm, bringing him from his horror. It was definitely her voice cutting into the nightmare, fracturing the darkness until it started to turn grey. Ulquiorra tried to call out to her, to ask her to keep talking, but his own voice was robbed from him; his mouth moved but nothing came out.
"Ulquiorra, come back. It's a nightmare."
Yes, he knew it was a nightmare, but he found he couldn't reprimand her obviousness.
The falling sensation stopped and in its place came heat across his face, as if something warm were pressed on his cheeks; he could smell something sweet now, like sugar, which he found pleasing despite not being fond of sweet things himself. At his back, the grey began to brighten even more, signifying the end of his nightmare. Turning toward it, he let the white wash over him to one last sound.
"Come back to me. Please."
Being thrust back into his body, which constituted slight disorientation, with the dream snapping away so he only felt the fear that had been tumbling through his being left him on autopilot, and when his eyes opened and found a looming shadow, he reacted the way anyone trained to fight would when faced with a sudden and unknown adversary: his hand came up and went for a vulnerable spot. The figure gagged as he clamped down on their neck and sat up, pushing them into the mattress hard as his sense came trickling back.
Their skin was warm and soft under his palm, like silk even, but the wheezing breathing interrupted the sensation with fingers clawing at his hand; his eyes focused in the darkness at last and he saw who it was he had in a choke hold.
"Erin," he said simply, releasing her throat and hearing her gasp sharply, her chest rising and falling quickly as she sat up and rubbed the sore, red ring that was beginning to form on her neck.
"Ulquiorra," she said just as pointedly, unable to find it in herself to be angry about the violent wake up at the moment. "Are you alright?"
"Why are you in my room."
This guy was gifted in making questions sound like commands and it took her some training to be able to differentiate commands, questions, rhetorical remarks and his sarcasm apart given he had very little for vocal or facial variety, but she was learning quickly since she enjoyed listening to his voice.
"I woke up and came here without meaning to," she said, seeing no reason to lie.
"Why." Compsure was encasing him smoothly as sleep slipped away, saving his self-oriented frustration for when he would be alone to curse himself for being tricked into feeling something that wasn't there.
Erin touched her lips and he found himself following the gesture rather than keeping his eyes on hers, seeing how they were slightly parted as she considered her answer. "Well," she drawled softly, her brow furrowing, "that I'm not sure about that exactly, but considering the circumstances, I think it has to do with your nightmare."
He was about to deny it-reflex-when she shot him a look.
"Don't lie. I saw everything."
His jaw ticked, his composure quivering.
"I've woken up to your nightmares before. So it doesn't surprise me."
"Even so," he began to reason, feeling more like himself by the minute, "you were present at the time. Sensory preception remains active, even while sleeping, to guard against surprise dangers. You should not have woken up from down the hall."
"But I did," she argued, folding her arms.
He noticed their little skirmish had disturbed the order of her nightwear and left a few centimeters bare from collar to naval, her Hollow hold cutting a dark void between her breasts, which looked supple but not overbearing like Halibel's-though it was a point of fact now that no one could be considered well-endowed after she emerged, but Erin wasn't lacking like Lilinette or Loly either. It fit her build, so to say. With his gaze riveted on this exposed flesh, he went on to ask, "Then what would compel you? I was no where near you and you were sleeping, weren't you?"
Erin hadn't noticed where his line of sight was, her forearms folding under her chest; and unconscious reaction to frame her breasts. "I must've sensed you, because I was sound asleep." He wanted to point out that made no sense when she made a sound. "Wait, not quite. I was actually entering a nightmare of my own, and REM sleep is one of the deepest stages but also easier to come out of than Stage Three when disturbed. So saying, I should not have woken up unless something was around and the nightmare hadn't actually started yet so it's not like I scared myself awake. Therefore, I had to have sensed you, even from down the hall, in order to wake up like I did."
He had nothing to say to that. This is one of the things he was constantly impressed by regarding Erin: she didn't fight him with feelings-unless she was mad-or nonsense like Grimmjow or Nnoitora; no, Erin argued with logic, and having his wits tested was both a wonderful change of pace and an aggrivating turn of events since he was used to winning with his own logic. Apparently he doesn't know you can't win an argument against a woman no matter what, but he's a quick learner. That being said, he couldn't come up with anything against she, because she was right and too sharp for him to manipulate with questions.
He was lost in reason, and he didn't have a map.
Erin returned to her room when he asked-demanded-to be left alone and she felt upset; not for the brush off, but for him. He'd claimed emotions were folly, that they were a trick of the mind, yet he wasn't making himself feel fear when he dreamed. He was too proud to admit he felt when he slept, and she knew pride could be a dangerous insulator to reason. But how did she convince the most intelligent of the Arrancar when he had a habit of going arctic when his beliefs were challenged?
"I only believe what I see and touch, and emotions are not things, therefore I can neither see nor touch them. If it cannot be seen by these eyes or felt by these hands, it does not exist."
That's why she argued.
"I am despair incarnate. I exist. Therefore, only despair is true. The emptiness of existence, the pointlessness of it, is what I am. I have never been given reason to feel anything else, never been given proof it is possible, yet even I cannot deny this crush void within myself. Since it is me, it is physical, and therefore can be seen, felt and heard. Depsair is the only true emotion. All else is lies born of the mind."
She didn't know how she'd do it, but Erin liked a challenge. Not so much the draft, though. What the crap is with the chill? Looking down, she noticed her robe was open. Oh. Heat washed her cheeks. I hope he didn't notice. But at least it was only my stomach.
"He better like what he sees. I have a sexy stomach."
