ikoroseh

[ikoroseh]

@sayafushi​

THERE WAS AN IMMENSE SADNESS, A LOSS HE COULD NOT SPEAK OF. Something was drained from him and in its place an emptiness, an aimless hunger, gnashing teeth, a stomach forever unfulfilled -- what was he but a beast, this past century especially? What had he become but a writhing thing in the shadows, yearning, and for all his cunning deadliness he had rotted in that hate, in that yearning, till he became simple-minded and feral. Lips curled to a snarl, fingernails biting to palms, a throbbing headache, burning eyes, waiting, waiting, waiting!

 A SOLID ROCK SAT IN HIS THROAT.

And these beings which sought to welcome him, clothe him, take him in... somehow, they sought to bring such comforts, but such reassurances of ‘you’re not dead’ missed the mark entirely. Shinso’s despair, thick in his chest, did not drown him due to any dark waters of death, no, he feared no death. HE CARRIED DEATH AROUND WITH HIM, in his mouth, always waiting, always ready, since Gin had been a mere boy who called out his name. ( THIS PERSON SPOKE HIS NAME NOW, AND HE DID SO WITH WARMTH THE SERPENTINE MADE MAN WAS UNACCUSTOMED TO RECEIVING, BUT ALL SHINSO COULD HEAR WAS GIN ) The distressing... distraught feeling which clawed at his stomach was in remorse; he had failed, he had failed so utterly and completely and after twisting himself so terribly, so coldly, their warmth could not reach him. Kind words, welcoming auras, so bittersweet it ached, no, Shinso was not so easily reached and consoled.

The offered hand the spirit felt compelled to take, to reach halfway to meet it -- albeit hesitantly -- was warm. Shinso found it felt odd, despite the man, the gesture, also seeming so familiar; when was the last time he had held another’s hand? Such a simple thing, a compassionate thing. Silly, now, to dwell upon its weight, as though so deprived -- as though so neglected.

No, Gin had not neglected him. He did not resent Gin. Shinso knew the boy crafted himself from nothing, twigs on the dirt grounds, dry and dead crops, moldy bread -- Gin could offer him very little in the beginning, a mere boy at the altar made of stone and snow before a grand serpent stretching for miles beyond, mountainous coils, sleek scales -- a boy, he had thought, with a meager desire, a childish thing. No, Gin had proven otherwise; a mighty purpose, this, to become a being capable of devouring gods.

But here, and now, perhaps he had been deprived. The clothes were soft. This air felt plentiful, not dry, not chilling. But familiar; like a sunny day in the Rukongai. But the only Rukongai Shinso knew of intimately was of the wintery world locked within his wielder, his home. But this wasn’t that. This wasn’t home.

Shinso wanted to cry. Maybe he already was, he didn’t know, he couldn’t have declared himself weeping in silence unless a mirror was placed in front of him and the trails of tears specifically acknowledged. Had he ever wept before? He couldn’t remember. And he didn’t know why he was, if he was. Ah, he probably was. All Shinso knew was that the entirety of him was hurting but in such a way that he felt, ashamedly, relief. How dare he feel relieved, feel soothed by this, so achingly. Home away from home? No, stop, this wasn’t home. No, this wasn’t a desolate land, barren, stripped bare in brilliant whites, smooth snow and an icy lake, cold, bitterly cold at times when the winds ran high through the mountain pass beyond, howling, and the blizzards of conflict twisted flakes into bites, into a stinging caress upon cheek, face, hands -- no, it was all wrong here.

Numbly, ashamed, embarrassed, he wiped at his face with the heel of his hand, his sleeve, swallowing down whatever despairing turmoil brought him to choke on such feelings.

THIS WAS ALL WRONG...

It was so warm here, after all. So warm... it felt like spring, the sky was so blue. He hadn’t ever seen it so blue before, the graying clouds oft ate away the sun till only pale light bled through the cloaking mist of silver. He wanted to leave. He wanted to stay.

“Can’t I go back?” A croaked voice, hoarse, strained; tell me ‘no’, it pleaded. But tell me ‘yes’, too.

CONTINUED FROM HERE.

#[ devour divinity & death - in character ] #i'm here specifically to hurt you a little. #maybe just a little. #otherwise i don't fuckin know my lads!!! AAAAA

[ikoroseh]

pour one out, shinso sees themselves as a tool for gin, consumed by wrath and the hunger for revenge, and in the end he couldn’t even live up to his namesake for gin,

#ooc. #r i fuckin' p.

[ikoroseh]

DO NOT, and I cannot stress this enough, DRAG ME INTO THIS. 

#[ dash com ] #she's YOUR child #i am a weapon not a babysitter.

[ikoroseh]

#[ a beast in human skin - self ] #snakes tw

[ikoroseh]

#imagine letting some abandoned zanpakuto get between you and the loyalty you've sworn to your wielder. #i certainly couldn't. maybe you're all weak-willed and devotion's just a word to you. #(FILES NAILS) #snedmrf

[ikoroseh]

Anne Carson, from “The Glass Essay”, Glass, Irony, and God

#[ in this endless winter - musing ]

[ikoroseh]

instagram

#[ from this mouth that devours - aesthetic ] #gin's inner world's weather can change the landscape pretty drastically but there's usually almost always snow and the lake's never fully #thawed --

[ikoroseh]

out of character.  My faceclaim for this blog has a twin brother, and the twin brother’s character is voiced by Gin’s Japanese voice actor because oh y’know, easter eggs.

#[ beyond the blade - out of character ]

[ikoroseh]

Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home

#[ in this endless winter - musing ]

[ikoroseh]

mindinmuken​:

          DESPITE THE ARGUABLE HINT OF HONEY THAT WAS SHINSŌ’S PROPER DICTION, Kyōka Suigetsu was not a fool to ever disregard the venom of a seemingly silver tongue, sharpened akin to the edge of a divine blade honed by battle and by bloodlust. Having bore witness to the development of both the zanpakutō spirit and his prodigious wielder for over a century now, she could not recollect a day where Shinsō was not seamless — A CLOAK AND DAGGER TO HER SMOKE AND MIRRORS.

          It would be hubris should she fully neglect that, an insult to her own observations collected for the sake of power and in pursuit of its inevitable heights. Her pride as a ZANPAKUTŌ and her pride as a SPIRIT alike made it so that she would consider the subtle severity that was the other’s cunning before it twisted itself into blatant violence — and he would be wise to acknowledge the same.

          How often had Kyōka Suigetsu and Shinsō clashed during sparring sessions between their respective masters, their powers always restrained in some form despite the grating of heated steel against steel, acutely tuned to match the shrieking pitch that was the clamor for blood? — THEY HAD ENGAGED IN FAR TOO MANY ILLUSIONS OF WAR FOR THE REALITY OF ITS POTENTIAL TO BE DISMISSED BY EITHER OF THEM.

          — And such was why she regarded him.

          Be it as an ACCOMPLICE or ADVERSARY, it made no noteworthy difference.

          (Not when such titles were merely illusions.)             (Not when the extent of one’s power served as a greater indicator.)

          In a laughably minimal demonstration of her capabilities, Kyōka Suigetsu weaved an illusion into the corridor so that its tiles would appear to dip like currents of the ocean as its corners and walls melted to shift about: movement that Shinsō’s senses would not be able to comfortably ignore. Her projection remained suspended in the air, immune to the behavior of the floor as she initiated yet another dance. 

          Make no mistake now: This was not a threat nor was it a taunt — He would know by now if it was. No, this was simply a game. (For now.) He would be wise to share the same perspective.

          “You are certain I am in a corner,” she stated coyly, as if it were a rhetorical question (and as if he had not intended to insult her), simultaneously casting an illusion that placed him into the corner. “You have sought me out. Do state your reason before I assume the worst, Shinsō.”

          HE KNEW THAT LAS NOCHES WAS WITHIN A DESERT, DRY AND BARREN, AND HE KNEW THE CORRIDORS WELL ENOUGH, yet so deceptively did she cast the implications that the tiled floor was now liquid, flowing, dripping walls and pillars weakened from stone to swaying waters. And Shinso knew in his heart that no matter how real a thing felt, smelled, looked, sounded, tasted even... it was not to be trusted. GIN GREW UP AS A BOY BY AIZEN’S SIDE KNOWING THIS; nothing could be real within an instant. The serpent thus acknowledged this by a sole shift in his standing, a slight show of relent that even though he knew, and she knew that he knew, he’d still offer a miniscule reaction to make note that her game was received.

          He did not ignore, and he could not, but he knew better than to make a fuss about the clearly fictitious motions of their current residence. In a brief show, lips quirked towards some whisper of a smile, though soon returned to a colder expression once the moment passed. SHE MADE FOR INTERESTING COMPANY, despite her need for theatrics, something that too kept Gin from completely shutting out Aizen the moment he began his drawling monologues; charm, one could say.

          Ultimately, Shinso would respect her illusions -- he’d be foolish not to do so, no matter the insignificance of her casual gesture.

          That was the biggest difference between the two of them and how they operated, after all. Kyoka Suigetsu delighted in displays, whereas Shinso best thrived in his actions going SWIFTLY UNSEEN. No grand sight to behold, only the quick puncture of a heart, and the venomous bite to follow...

          ... Some day.

          “So I appear to be,” an observational glance to his new whereabouts kept Shinso’s tongue from cutting too sharply; amusing to be constructed into a corner, as though she believed herself incapable of ignoring such a comment in particular. THE DANGERS OF VALIDATING HIS QUIPS; HE’D ONLY VENTURE TO PICK AT THE SCAB IN LATER TALKS. Right now, he had an incredibly relevant and more potent wound to potentially pour salt into.

          “Would you have continued dwelling here, alone, instead -- had I not sought you out ?  Of course... think the worst of me all you want, I simply wished to check on how you’re doing....... seeing as your master has been BUSY ELSEWHERE with his new pet.”

#[ devour divinity & death - in character ] #shinso vc: it's a terrible thing -- becoming neglected... isn't it? #uwu #sbedhrfjmc #oh no tho 'cloak and dagger to her smoke and mirrors' is such a great line for them wtf...

[ikoroseh]

HE-YO-EYO-EYO-EYOOOooOOo (that girl looks good)

this caption has 0% relevance i just had this song in my head as i was posting

#[ a beast in human skin - self ] #the colors are so pretty in this wtf

[ikoroseh]

Shinso doesn’t get along well with any Zanpakuto, but finds these ones in particular...

The Most Detestable:

Kyoka Suigetsu Ashisogi Jizo Benihime Muramasa

Annoyances:

Hyourinmaru Katen Kyokotsu Sakanade

On Thin Ice:

Zabimaru Kazeshini

Good:

Haineko

#[ what makes us wrath - headcanon ] #swvebrfntgm #shinso ur bias is kinda showing. #okay but haineko and shinso have a lot of shared properties even just from a zanpakuto functionality standpoint #never mind the fact that their wielders are soulmates and therefore They Have Connections.

[ikoroseh]

          THOUGH HIS EYES WERE DULL AS A SERPENT’S, the guise of Kyoka Suigetsu could still -- unfortunately so -- reach him, as it also did for his master. That being said, there was something inherently amusing in how the spirit before him  ( or behind him, or to the side of him, or across the entire space from him... )  found it necessary to bloat themselves up, akin to the way prey puffed their chests and made themselves bigger than they were to goad fear, intimidation, into the approaching threat. THIS, ALONE, WAS VALIDATION THAT SHINSO POSED A DANGER. Though gapped they may be, they would never truly be parted from one another in terms of KILLING POTENTIAL. Should Kyoka ever fail, Shinso would certainly be there to reap the benefits. And likewise in reverse.

          They both knew this dance very well.

          Aizen’s ‘style’ of choice was shared knowledge between Gin and Shinso, and Kyoka hadn’t been spared from it. IN FACT, KYOKA RELIED SO HEAVILY ON THEIR SMOKE AND MIRRORS PLAY, Shinso took to bluntly addressing the crutch.

          “I can’t say the same for you... ah, are you lurking here, or has your cowardice mistaken for strength convinced you that hiding in the corner from me is a show of superiority, not fear ? Come now, I won’t bite you.”

          HE DID NOT LIE; IT’D BE AN ILL-SPENT MOVE WHILST CONTAINED INTO A HUMAN’S SKIN. Kamishini No Yari would much rather instill the fear of divine wrath from the mountainous form of its true thirteen kilometer silver-scaled coils, swallow the other entity whole past massive fangs into oblivion beyond its hungry maw.

@ikoroseh​

          Kyōka Suigetsu, sensing the slightest indication of movement within an unassuming corner’s shadow set at the end of merely another one of Las Noches’s unimpressive corridors, spun around on her heel at once. (It was best to move swiftly in the presence of snakes hidden within the grass — before they could STRIKE.)

          Facing the fellow zanpakutō spirit now, she levitated the projection of her form and placed herself physically higher than the other — A TANGIBLE EMBODIMENT OF THE DISTANCE.

          “Slithering about,” Kyōka Suigetsu remarked with ease, peering down from the shroud her hood offered her to regard Shinsō with an illusion of acknowledgement.

#[ devour divinity & death - in character ] #owo!!! #shinso says hello c: #he's a lil rude sometimes. #but at least he talks proper!!!

[ikoroseh]

shinso rn.

#ooc. #wbsnedrfmc

[ikoroseh]

Tomas Tranströmer, tr. by Robin Fulton, from “Postludium”, The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems

#[ in this endless winter - musing ]

[ikoroseh]

↳ Kinjou Shirasu/Fuuma Kotarou in Donten ni Warau Episode 11 End Card 

#[ faceclaim ] #[ a beast in human skin - self ]

[ikoroseh]

starblossomed​:

“I’m not avoiding her. Just the duties that come with being her sword.” Of course she didn’t hate being Rangiku’s sword, but there were times all she wanted to do was rest and not have to worry about anything else. It was selfish of her to want to say like this a while longer she knew, but she was so comfortable that it seemed a shame to ruin it now by moving and doing something that wasn’t as enjoyable

She knew and understood the dangers that came with shirking her duties and creating a wall between herself and her Shinigami, but there were times that she wished she could be her own person not tied down by responsibilities that would sooner overwhelm her.

Her ears lay flat against her head as she listened to the compliments he gave her. Of course she knew she could be stronger if she tried, but she knew that her strength would never be more than her current form. Bankai felt impossible to reach, but she couldn’t explain why.

“I think you do pretty good at protecting me when we’re fighting together.” Tongue childishly slips out passed her lips before she spoke up again. “Stronger than you Shinso? I mean, it could be nice, but then I couldn’t be your damsel in distress, huh?” She winked at him before laying back once more in her comfortable spot against his shoulder.

“That can lead to trust issues later down the line. You should be open with her about how you feel, rather than keep secrets and dance around one another. That can tire anyone out.” Nevermind his hypocrisy. 

Shinso most often spoke the bitter truth, and he held back nothing of himself when it came to that regard. Haineko earned herself whole truths from him in almost all contexts save for one, and he’d grant her that clarity one day soon, perhaps. For now, he could offer some support alongside advice; it felt better to address the issue whilst simultaneously accommodating her anxieties. She could stay with him now, he’d not chase her out, but the future was up to Haineko to mend. Rangiku deserved at least one constant in her life whom did not abandon her.

“It’s different, when I protect, it’s because I’ve slain the threat before they could issue any harm. That’s not very heroic, it’s slaughter.” His point was becoming lost, anyways; his praise for her abilities came with the fact that she was not some lethal thing, no, rather, she was capable of more. But regardless, Shinso took in the feeling of subtle pride that yes, he killed to protect at times, and the subsequent thrill that enlightened him thereafter was indescribable.

Almost like he could, in some way, do good — with the same mouth that devoured others, he could still speak love, possibly.

He sighed out, and tilted his head subtly to lean against hers. Outside, the storm swept on.

“You are a damsel and you can be distressing... but I don’t recall you ever being helpless.”

#[ devour divinity & death - in character ]