Durante's Elegy

[Hiraeth]

Frost

Across a wide open plain a woman walks. She is clothed in black, with wooden sandals on her feet. Long strands of grass bend as she walks past, as though a breeze follows her. Her hair floats upward, adding to her ethereal appearance. The

She nears her destination, a single tree rising from amongst the grasses. Its trunk is old and gnarled, clutching at the sky like a clawed hand. Reverently she reaches up to brush a hand against the bark. The tree rattles with the invisible breeze, and she turns as something else approaches her location, but this being is coming through the air.

At first glance it seems to be a bird, but as it lands in the lower branches of the tree, its face comes into focus. The woman’s breath catches, although she’s been here a thousand times, it is still a shock to her to see the creature that dwells within the depths of her soul.

It has wings, a tail, claws and even feathers, glinting metallically in the golden light. It is the thing’s face that is the least avian though, it is covered by an iron mask, like those worn in the theatre, and in fact the whole creature seems to be made of iron. Cruel talons cut deep into the tree branch, causing dry bark to rain onto to the ground.

The voice that issues from behind the mask rings hollowly. “We do not have much time.”

The woman bows her head, golden strands of hair still swirling around it, like a halo. “I know, and I’m sorry, I wish I was stronger, that I could somehow-”

“We will not waste our final seconds in wishing for what could not have been.”

The woman nods “Yes, you’re right, and that’s not why I came here. I came to thank you, for everything you have done, I would not have made it far without you.”

The creature is quiet for a moment, then it speaks and the voice is sad “You had a strong arm.”

The woman raises her head and smiles “You had a sharp edge.”

The light is fading now, and the grass has stilled. The remaining light reflects off it strangely, glittering slightly.

A shiver passes through the woman and the iron creature cocks its head to the side. She steps forward to lay a hand against the sharp, hard feathers. “No, I will not be afraid.”

The creature spreads forth sharp wings to embrace the woman, staring over her head with sightless eyes. This world is changing. The plane is still silent, but something is spreading, covering it, a paleness that creeps like a cancer. Blades of grass snap under the weight of a thousand tiny crystals. Slowly the world crumbles. The whiteness creeps up the trunk of the gnarled tree. In moments it has smothered the tree and begins to climb up the legs of the woman and the metal creature. They hold each other, seeking some comfort from the cold. The creature is soon unable to move, its metal joints frozen together. The flesh of the woman is similarly bound. The frost binds them together in their final embrace.

For a moment everything remains silent, then something begins moving across the edge of the landscape. It is human shaped, crunching the frost beneath its feet. As it approaches the tree it pushes silky black hair out of its eyes and is revealed to be a young man, with a broken jawbone stuck to each side of his face. He reaches out to gently stroke the mask of the metal creature. He seems enthralled by the scene before him, and his voice is reverent when he speaks.

“I came as ice.”

With that he fades from the landscape and it shatters into a million fragments.

……………………………………………………….

Blinking his eyes, Durante emerges from the mind of the shinigami woman, whose body now hangs limply from his two tails. He takes his time withdrawing them, savouring the feeling of them sliding through the tears in her flesh. Her heart no longer beats, and he realises that she is dead. Her body begins to disintegrate into spirit particles, shattering like her inner world. Soon there is nothing left of her, even her zanpaktou, the strange iron bird, is nothing but a faint sparkle in the air.

Durante seals his own zanpaktou, shedding his white armour and returning to his humanoid form. He stands for a moment, suddenly uncertain in his victory. He can feel the woman running through his veins, screaming at the cage that her consciousness is now confined to. Slowly the screams fade to whispers and seem to vanish altogether, but somehow she still lives, residing in his very being. This is the first shinigami whose life he has taken, and the result is unexpected. The hollows simply ceased to exist, the pluses he barely noticed, but this is something else. Something rises in him, a hunger like that of a hollow, something he has not felt in years, but even this is different. He know it will not be quenched merely by souls, it is a hunger for intelligence, for thoughts. He must have more of the shinigami, that his only goal must be to taste more of their dreams. And then, perhaps… Unconsciously a hand reaches up to stroke the material covering a hole in the right side of his chest, a hole in the place where his heart should be. He smiles as he turns to walk back across the desert, feet crunching upon white crystals far different to those in the shinigami woman’s inner world. Deep inside his soul he fancies he can feel her tears falling.

[Hiraeth]

He travels through the pale desert, under the ever dark sky and the sliver of a moon, a spectral figure wandering aimlessly through the perpetual night. The sands shift, like waves on an ocean, unseen forces move beneath them, and from above a chill wind strokes them. This wind is gentle, like a lover’s touch, coaxing the dunes onwards towards the endless horizon.

Does the emptiness end? Is there a place where these sunless lands cease to be? Perhaps an impassable void encircles the desert, into which the sand simply drifts away into nothingness. Or perhaps if you walked far enough, you would find that this world is in fact round, like that of the living, and you’d reached your starting point once more? How would you even know? By the time you’d reached your point of origin it would have changed beyond recognition.

The dark haired arrancar decides that it doesn’t matter, as he continues his journey, following where the wind takes him, letting it guide his steps. Often his mind turns to the mystery of his creation. He remembers little of the time before he took human form, and of how he managed that he remembers even less. From before he only has a muddle of memories, intangible feelings of terror, hate, hunger, either these are from human souls he fed on, or the hollows that coalesced into his Gillian form. He cannot untangle them, so he does not try. All he know is that one day, an arrancar strode from the desert, mask shattered, remaining only as teeth along his jawline. This being took the name Durante Dormire. It seemed fitting.

He has no past, no kin, no ties to anyone, and as such he finds that he has only a passing interest in the affairs of others. He stops in several settlements, where he assists the hollows that live there to accomplish various tasks, fortifying their townships, fighting their enemies, harvesting their prey. When he gets bored he leaves. He also leaves if a stronger being makes itself known to him. Durante Dormire is a coward it would seem.

He walks. He was naked when he first realized his own existence. For some reason he found this bothersome. Logic told him that hollows didn’t have modesty, that clothes were secondary to eating and killing and surviving, so what need did he have of clothes? Still it made him relieved when he entered a hollow settlement and found that they had the means to clothe him. He did not ask by what means the hollows had obtained the clothes. What did it matter? All that mattered was the task he would have to complete to gain ownership of the clothes. It was mundane, they always were, and he completed it easily, taking his reward and leaving. The clothing reassured him. There was power in the cloth, the power of symbols. It told the world that this was more than a hollow, that even hollows should fear what this creature was, what it represented.

The sands beneath Durante’s feet churn, disrupting his reverie, nimbly he springs back to solid ground, as solid as ground can ever be in a world of sand. White bone glistens in the moonlight as a creature emerges from amongst the roiling grains. It is a hollow, although in this lifeless desert it is unsurprising. What is unusual is the veracity with which the creature attacks him. He is forced to weave a merry dance across the dunes to avoid its clutches.

As it sinks back into the sand he sees multiple appendages wriggling, although he had assumed it was a sandworm this is clearly not the case. His zanpaktou is unsheathed, before the other hollow can react, and he begins a counterattack. As his blade crashes down, he pauses for a fraction of a second. There is something wrong here, a hollow that small should not attack a being this much stronger than it unless- Cold bone tendrils slide around his legs, interrupting the thought process. Then with tiny mouths they latch on. The feeling is mildly uncomfortable, then his legs begin to go numb as the reiatsu drains from them.

In anger he brings his blade down to sever the tendrils of the second hollow, but they are blocked by a third, much larger hollow, rising from the sand and using its back to protect the second hollow. He strikes it, and the blow passes straight through the creature, yet the wound seals itself immediately. In consternation he strikes again and again, but the situation does not change.

“Die. Give up. Stop struggling.” The voice is young, childlike, reminding Durante of something, yet in his weakened state the memory slips from his grasp. It is the first hollow that is addressing him, having risen from the dune to approach him, mandibles clicking dangerously. It is a long burrowing insect, and actually very little like a sandworm.

“You have made a big mistake little hollow.” Durante finds himself less annoyed and more curious. These hollows are, if not intelligent, at least cunning, combining their skills to trap unwary prey.

The little hollow is not amused “You die now, or later, makes no difference, but you die. Make it easier for us.”

“Please sir, it is an easier death if you just give in.” The voice belongs to the second creature, the one draining the reaitsu from Durante’s legs. It is slightly older, more reserved and he finds that he likes it.

The large hollow blocking Durante’s blows grunts in agreement. He offers no other response.

The second hollow continues “Please sir, you cannot harm my brother, just make him uncomfortable, my sister can disable you if necessary, and when I’ve drained enough of your reiatsu to sustain myself they will take the rest from you.”

Durante smiles as he brings his blade forward under his hand “I will not be defeated by such as you little hollow. I think maybe it will be you who die, while I am left free to wander the dunes, pondering such things as it strikes me to ponder. Or perhaps I won’t let you die. Perhaps I shall nearly kill you, make you scream, make you beg for death, then bind you to me. Yes that sounds like fun.”

Durante’s smile turns feral as he reveals his true form to them.

For a time the desert is silent. Then they begin to scream, the little angry one, the polite one, and even the large quiet one. He breaks them, then he puts them back together, then he breaks them again, and he finds that he enjoys it. This is a new game, one he hasn’t played before. He wonders how long it will take for him to tire of it.





[Kudos to anyone who gets my song references in this by the way ;)]