Tsuzuki Asato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sweetdeath) wrote2009-04-27 07:19 pm
sweetdeath) wrote2009-04-27 07:19 pm
Entry tags:
[010 | voice, Japanese]
[the sound of footsteps can be heard under Tsuzuki's voice, and the occasional soft ghostly whisper]
Does anybody know where Hisoka went? He still hasn't come back, and it's dark out there now.... I must have lost track of time up on the roof. Man, it's dark in here. The lights aren't working, are they? Anybody know why not?
Come to think of it... has anyone seen Watari since day before yesterday?
[a click, and a few snapping noises]
Oh, come on.
[Snap.]
That's better! At least I can see... a--
[A nearly deafening clatter as the communicator hits the floor, somehow managing not to turn itself off in the fall. The voice is farther away now, spiraling up into hysteria.]
No. No. You're wrong. You don't know me. Who are you? Who are--
[thudding and scraping.]
No! Go away! I am-
[A hoarse sob, and the communicator cuts off abruptly.]
[[ooc: comment logs only; Tsuzuki found his room covered with "You will never be human" and the word never repeated across all of the walls. He's tried to scrape some of them away, but the words are re-written over the smears. Tsuzuki himself is huddled in a ball against the smeared wall.]]
Does anybody know where Hisoka went? He still hasn't come back, and it's dark out there now.... I must have lost track of time up on the roof. Man, it's dark in here. The lights aren't working, are they? Anybody know why not?
Come to think of it... has anyone seen Watari since day before yesterday?
[a click, and a few snapping noises]
Oh, come on.
[Snap.]
That's better! At least I can see... a--
[A nearly deafening clatter as the communicator hits the floor, somehow managing not to turn itself off in the fall. The voice is farther away now, spiraling up into hysteria.]
No. No. You're wrong. You don't know me. Who are you? Who are--
[thudding and scraping.]
No! Go away! I am-
[A hoarse sob, and the communicator cuts off abruptly.]
[[ooc: comment logs only; Tsuzuki found his room covered with "You will never be human" and the word never repeated across all of the walls. He's tried to scrape some of them away, but the words are re-written over the smears. Tsuzuki himself is huddled in a ball against the smeared wall.]]
no subject
How did they know?
[Alucard had tasted it in his blood, but the ghosts... he heard the echo of their taunting voices. And so: he was rejected even by his fellow dead. Never never never - He should be used to it. Hadn't it been that way for a long time?]
[His gaze slipped away from Alucard's, growing unfocused again, and his head fell forward.]
no subject
[Sad, disgusting, lonely, lost things. They could barely grasp unto death, the place that which they were lead to go yet foolishly ran astray. And for what? To beguile and torment the living? Out of hate? Out of bitterness? Out of jealousy? Alucard held no sympathy for these things. Accepting their death would have brought peace upon their souls here and there and within themselves.]
They only feed from your own conviction.
Do not turn away!
[Silken gloved hands fanned out, long fingertips tracing his cheeks, and upon grasping Tsuzuki's cheeks, the occult sigils written on them seemed to pulse like a deep flame at the brush of his flesh. He cupped his face almost gingerly, cold clothed palms against skin that was far too warm for what he was. And with that an unseen force brushed the crumpled youth's back, pushing him forward as those hands drew up him to his feet till he was near dangling in his grasp like a marionette.]
They know nothing.
They are nothing.
[He refused it, balked it at it. He would not drop down to this creature's level, curled on the floor like a wounded hound. He would have him stand. As weak and broken as he was, he would force him to stand and face him, not like a man, yet certainly nothing like a dog. Such a position would not suit him in his eyes.]
no subject
[Hadn't Alucard named Tsuzuki in the same words the last time they met? Not human. Not meant to be.]
[You will never be human, and where was Hisoka, what had they done with him-- Tsuzuki's hands flew up to close over the vampire's cool wrists, pressing hard enough that he would have felt the pulse if it were there to feel. They were both dead. Like the ghosts of Discedo. What right did either of them have to speak?]
They're dead. How are they any different from us?
[His hands tightened, helping his weak knees support his weight, occupying fingers that twitched with the temptation to turn in against his face, to claw out his eyes, let his blood flow. To escape the never that pounded in his head from every wall. He didn't let go.]
no subject
They are figments of what once was.
Phantoms of a wretched past they helplessly grasp unto.
[Turning his own grasp, he laced and fixed his fingertips with Tsuzuki's, drawing his grip from a dead pulse, from a dead heart, yet not as far gone as those things. Those pitiful spirits who clung to a world they no longer belonged to. The back of the youth's palm would find itself flattened against the wall behind him, smearing the bloodied words as the vampire loomed over him to take up the entire frame of his visage.
Look here, I am the only message you need.]
Unlike them, you are not bound by the rules they subjected themselves to.
We...
Dead... yet not dead.
Who chose the night, born in the night, walk forward in the night.
Whilst they, aimless, pitiful, confused, wander circles, searching forever for a life that has already left them.
no subject
[He didn't want to be a doll in hands as bloodstained as his own.]
[And yet... as the red eyes fixed him in place as securely as a pin in a half-chloroformed butterfly, his struggle ebbed. He listened, confusion growing. That, then, was what Alucard's kind of vampire was? Self-chosen, not called from the grave like poor Maria. It was some other kind of bond, then, that he shared with the master he'd spoken of.]
[Hesitant, after Alucard's last words had fallen into the silence, he spoke.]
...I'm a Shinigami. Not a vampire.
[It was true, though, that he had chosen. He chose again every time he killed rather than dying, every time he collected a soul. Not cutting his scarred wrist open again, here, where it wouldn't heal... that, too, was choosing the night.]
[Suddenly, the irony choked him, and he made a sound. Laugh, sob; even he wasn't sure which.]
I should be collecting them.
[No wonder they hated him.]
no subject
God of death.
[He knew one once back in his own world. But that one had still been human, one he felt had made himself worthy to walk the night with him. And Tsuzuki too, through all his pangs and plethora of regrets, who fought them till he was on the edge and shattering, he felt him worthy of it as well. And now even more-so as those flames erupted in his struggle against the iron force that was the vampire. And while he did not smile, his eyes held a strange kind of warmth that pulsed approval.]
Unlife.
No Life.
A No Life King.
[His grip curled and fisted with Tsuzuki's scratching away the words behind them. Words that should hold no more meaning here. True they were not of the same species of undead, yet their equal lack of life... He paused to trace the digits of his other hand from the crook of the Shinigamu's neck to the underside of his jawline, feeling a pulse, a feign, a mockery of life. Such things his own body could often pretend to be.
Softened to a haunting croon, his utterance continued.]
Collecting souls so that you might walk onward more and more.
For I, blood is the coin of the soul.
[Feeling the hitch in his throat from that pitiful sound, he cupped his neck, stroking a thumb over his jugular to ease away that urge to convulse. To cry. To weep.
No more, you are beyond this.]
Equally we collect our coins and redeem them for another night that we might walk.
no subject
[Alucard knew of them, then? Tsuzuki felt a vague prickle of curiosity. A foreign department? Or had the vampire encountered the Summons Division in Japan before his time? He could tell, though the sense was imprecise as smoke, that Alucard was old.]
[No Life King... he began to shake his head, uncertain, but Alucard's hand on his neck stopped the motion half-formed. Curiosity faded before a stronger impulse. Though he hated his existence, though he had been tempted to tear his own veins out, though he was tired, the hand pressing against his trapped pulse signaled him to fight.]
[This time, he didn't struggle uselessly against the iron grip; this time, the beat of grief and guilt was quieter, and he could think. The heartbeat under Alucard's fingers tripped, speeding, and the muscles tautened.]
[He remained silent, watching the other man's face, as Alucard spoke again. The softness, there... the hitch. Tsuzuki knew pain when he heard it, and he was calm enough now to know what he heard. Questioning, he looked up at Alucard's face.]
[Guilt... was that what it was? Or a shared hatred of the monster within?]
[He closed his eyes. Collecting souls, collecting blood: unwilling, more often than not. Death was inevitable in the end. As Death, he fought it as often as he allowed it; and yet... and yet.]
What right do we have to take them to prolong our own ... existence?
[The words echoed those a demon had spoken to him. But they still rang true. Alucard, at least, seemed to take joy in his unlife. Tsuzuki...]
[What right could a man who craved death, who had cheated his own end, have to steal life from the desperate grasp of the living?]
no subject
[Was this a right? To be born in darkness, was it their birthright to steal from the living? Or do monsters simply have no rights at all, and follow a path of instinct and disregard. The will, the drive to live on.]
[To make humanity their footpath.]
[The silence between them became heavy. So much so they could drown in it. The grip of their hands then dithered and squeezed. Tsuzuki's question did not just become one to him, but thousands. Drawing answers in the millions from the souls inside him that he had devoured.]
[Without an ounce of regret, without a bit of hesitation.]
[Slender black brows knit as he moldered it over, wrought with a confusion never spurned from him by another of his kind. Within the depths of his bloodstained eyes that suddenly looked centuries old, he sifted through the voices, his slaves crying out, searching for his own.]
[The one and only truth.]
[He breathed, filaments of ice curling, staking the reticence in his respite.]
None.
[His expression resigned. Once you've walked the path of darkness all rights are lost on you. Humanity rejected, the rules of their world need not apply.]
Neither inheritance or freewill are given in what must be done.
And that is just it.
That's just what it is.
[An absolute he had spoken to his fledgling as they stood in the gore, the wake of his massacre. Spoken once again to a creature of like-kind and equal misunderstanding.]
A must.
[A sudden pulse in his eyes were like the dancing of mad flames. For he knew like all monsters who craved death, the option would be denied them till man would come and threaten their existence. The dream in which they lived. Knowing only one certainty that they must carry on till that day.]
Humans gamble their souls on cards of a weak hand.
Letting their coins be taken by us.
They then come to us to take our own.
[Be it with flames and pitchforks, guns and ammunition, their own bodies and spirits, they would lash out, and meet their deaths. It must be this way.]
We cannot change their fate.
Nor ours.
[Serrated teeth clenched in the reminder of it all, the bitterness welling in the absurdity that such a creature could not grasp what they were.]
There is no footpath behind us.
No circles.
Only the straight and narrow.
[The lace of digits then loosened, his form drawing away, leaving only the frigidness on Tsuzuki's flesh as the mark that the vampire was once there.]
I cannot change that.
No one can.
That's the sole truth.
Not God, not the Devil, not me, not you.
[No. There it was. That was it exactly. He turned with a flagging of his coat, not to hear another word. Honor and resilience shaken, his very existence questioned. He would not ask him to follow him into the gloom of the night as he had asked his childer.]
[He would leave him with those words that echoed across the room, so that the ones on the walls would mean nothing to either of them.]