Summary: Drabbles and prompts and quotes
Warning: I do not own this *flails arms around wildly* Also updates are going to be a bit slow from now on... sorry. Though I have this story planned out so I'll never abandon it!
Breathing Just A Little
My spirit wanders-
I exist somewhere
between coming
and going,
almost-
I am almost here.
- Present
It is like whirring, something black, something white.
All colors.
But mostly black, splattering like a liquid and there is a sheen, glimmering with confidence.
He is moving, all and everywhere.
(He billowing, green, like something mutual between smoke and clouds but floating and flying and will not dissuade from harsh winds).
Through skies and it is like a reflection of blue on both sides that closes him in but he's never felt so free.
Well that's what he says and the drips to sail on are comforting but there is something else he is searching for.
A piece, a big and glamorous and everything.
It is missing and it hurts.
Antagonizing and aching and sharp and never quick and there used to be something there, pulsing and making a noise.
Bu-dum. Bu-dum. Bu-dum.
Something important.
It's gone, gone, gone, never coming back, absent.
Greyer than before, fog and mist and he is lost.
(He is not he anymore, he should be it).
It is gliding, nothing being seen but a fog and something glows.
Remembering... (Please, remember, remember, remember).
Ah, that's where-
Something glows and sparkles and smiles and beautiful warmth that starts in the stomach and travels to the heart and blossoms and is alight in the soul and-
It moves back, eyes blown-open wide and mouth open in a silent scream of something it doesn't understands and a wave of fresh, hot tears are falling with a plop.
Plop.
Plop.
It finds him, understands and dives.
They reunite, connecting together like the red string of fate and the world shines.
(Because it and him have been a part from each other for what seems to be decades to a few months and they fit together, sharply, like a jig-saw puzzle, like a soul-mate).
Brook flexes his skeleton fingers with a displeased frown and grabs his violin.
And then he plays, surrounded by his dead nakama and the shiny, black liquid all name as blood.
(And he finds himself, he finds his soul).