Of two minds

OOC: What I was going for he was insanity. Seeing as how that’s the aspect of death he embodies. Hopefully that came across.

The sky was dark and clearly in turmoil as it released it’s torrents down upon him, rain and wind buffeted him in a seemingly collaborative effort of the elements to make their distaste of his ungodly self known... They hate us... Tear them...Kill them all...

Pressure, like the weight of the sea upon him. If forced him to his knees and made his head feel like it was going to explode...Why do we hesitate...Why...Kill them...Tear...

His world swam, and the air took a hazy quality. As if he was looking through a screen of static. Why was the world swimming so? He couldn’t fathom it...Release us...Let us tear the sky asunder...

It was him, his reiatsu. His spirit was leaking into the atmosphere, uncontrollable and without distinction. It turned on him even and was chocking him, like a sea...We have been drowning for too long...

He wanted to just give in, let them take over...Yes...We know what is best...Trust us...

The urge to destroy anything and everything, it was so strong; so strong. A tantalising darkness that offered him an escape from the hell, and all it required was a surrender. To fade.

Reaching out he extended his hand...That’s it... And gathered his energy...Yes... Thick and strong...Yes...Pure black and ready to and ready to rend...YES...

‘‘Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!’’

Pure agony to defy this urge. To let the collected energy dissipate. He needed to move, get away. Reaching out he tore the fabric of this reality, a Garganta to move through space, worlds, realities. The sands of Hueco Mundo offered safety, here he could destroy and wreck as he would without fear of reprisal somewhat safe in the knowledge his power would keep the predators of these plains away.

His fingers dug deep into the white sand...White sands...White sands, why did they run red. It was horrific, sanguine and rich the fetid carcasses of his victims stained the sands. He dry retched, nothing in him to come out though. A hollow shell, a vessel of corruption and insanity the work of a sadistic evolutionary progress that wanted to tip the balance of power in the favour of the bastards of this world and the next.

‘‘Why do you persist?’’ He heard his own voice, but it was not he that spoke.

‘‘Tell me, why do you fight me. I would give you all that you want, I would give a release from the pain the misery; from the monster you are. And you spit in face. Tell me why do you persist!’’

The pressure in his head swelled until he felt that his head was physically expanding, he didn’t open his eyes for fear they would pop out of his head.

All around him he could hear and feel hollows gathering, and army of them. Drawn by the reiatsu that was leaking wildly out of him. He would be swarmed and killed, eaten by some lowly hollow that would receive his grand power.

He tried to force himself up, to stand on his own two feet and fight. If he could do that he could survive, he’d faced odds like and worse than this before. But it was impossible, he had no strength left to call his own. His faculties were incapacitated and it was all he could do to halt the progression of whatever it was that was assaulting his mind so violently.

...give in, I’d rather let us die than go back to that cesspit breeding ground of horrors you call a mind you bastard...

It was die, or fade away. And he was a survivor before he was anything else. So he gave in, quit, relinquished, simply he dissolved from reality.

He swam, or floated. It was the hardest feeling to describe. He felt as he did usually, but somehow different as if he were normal but yet strange. Complete, yet hollow.

He could hear voices, so many. A horde of shadows, wraiths of himself all waiting for their opportunity to take the limelight. He could feel their hatred radiating out from all corners of this abyss, they knew he had suppressed them for so long...

In a sea of limitless dark how did these voices find a way to break through to him, there had to be a way to surface.
It was presented to him after not too long, a crack of light in the dark sea. It was as if looking through the crack into the eyes of his body.

There was a rush, and unmistakeable urge of a mass body to get to the crack and break through. He wasted no time in pushing through, mercilessly and without hesitation bursting through into a physical consciousness.

It was a battle, a fight of will to gain control of the body. Before he had been on the receiving side of the pressure, now he was dealing out and winning.

‘‘I won’t go back... I won’t go back!’’

The left hand rose, shaking under two differing forces trying to control it. It turned palm upwards and slowly a cero formed. Point blank. It fired. And his mask shattered.

Yummei collapsed.

Fading...