storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2008-12-12 10:27 am
storypaint) wrote2008-12-12 10:27 am
Entry tags:
Emblazoned (Nnoitra/Nel)
Title: Emblazoned
Prompt: Christmas 2008 theme: Christmas is for lovers; Nnoitra/Nel for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scrawled
Series: Bleach
Character/Pairing: Nnoitra/Nel
Rating: PG for offscreen character death
Wordcount: 246 words
Excerpt: Sometimes she dreamed of Nnoitra. In the dream, she always knew who he was, even though he didn't look the same as he had-- his eyes wide, not creased by hate, his smile true, not mocking.
It was stupid to think about, so Nel didn't think about it. Her greatest problem was dead. There was nothing else to say about it. She had a duty to complete, a leader to follow. She had her memories, she had her sword. She needed nothing else.
The problem was, dreams were immensely impractical. Why an Arrancar had need to sleep or dream... well, it was always night here. When she remembered to, Nel slept.
Sometimes she dreamed of Nnoitra. In the dream, she always knew who he was, even though he didn't look the same as he had-- his eyes wide, not creased by hate, his smile true, not mocking.
"Nel!" he would say, pulling on her hand, and there was no heavy skull on her head when she followed him down the path. There was no scar. There was a little boy-- and she a little girl again-- and a long summer afternoon, and the sun in their hair.
When she woke, she frowned and went upon her business. The idea-- the dream-- was utterly ridiculous. Perhaps he had found peace when he had gone on-- to a place where violence was not life, where one's duty was not emblazoned on one's body, where the sun rose in the morning.
But she was here, and she had none of these things, and Nnoitra didn't matter here, so she didn't think about her dreams. Very often, anyway.
Prompt: Christmas 2008 theme: Christmas is for lovers; Nnoitra/Nel for
scrawledSeries: Bleach
Character/Pairing: Nnoitra/Nel
Rating: PG for offscreen character death
Wordcount: 246 words
Excerpt: Sometimes she dreamed of Nnoitra. In the dream, she always knew who he was, even though he didn't look the same as he had-- his eyes wide, not creased by hate, his smile true, not mocking.
It was stupid to think about, so Nel didn't think about it. Her greatest problem was dead. There was nothing else to say about it. She had a duty to complete, a leader to follow. She had her memories, she had her sword. She needed nothing else.
The problem was, dreams were immensely impractical. Why an Arrancar had need to sleep or dream... well, it was always night here. When she remembered to, Nel slept.
Sometimes she dreamed of Nnoitra. In the dream, she always knew who he was, even though he didn't look the same as he had-- his eyes wide, not creased by hate, his smile true, not mocking.
"Nel!" he would say, pulling on her hand, and there was no heavy skull on her head when she followed him down the path. There was no scar. There was a little boy-- and she a little girl again-- and a long summer afternoon, and the sun in their hair.
When she woke, she frowned and went upon her business. The idea-- the dream-- was utterly ridiculous. Perhaps he had found peace when he had gone on-- to a place where violence was not life, where one's duty was not emblazoned on one's body, where the sun rose in the morning.
But she was here, and she had none of these things, and Nnoitra didn't matter here, so she didn't think about her dreams. Very often, anyway.
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