[ If it wasn’t for Ritsuki periodically noising at and flopping against her, Hibiki might not have gotten up at all. While there were times in the week or so after the horrific Ritual gone wrong that the blonde tried to conduct her unlife as usual, the events leading up to that bloody event clung to her. While not quite reaching the fever pitch that it had while she was stalking through the Oakwoods, her shadow had found a way to worm its way deep into her self-consciousness. At first, she would only disappear for a day or two, retreating to the world behind her Door and losing track of time. She could pull herself out of it, but the breaks away from her fellow Restless became longer and longer.
Until she seemed to disappear altogether. Scheduled to perform a few songs at one of the local dives in Mirth, she simply never showed up.
She isn’t even sure what day it is when she finally comes to, waking up curled up at the foot of a great big tree like a lost child, petals falling slowly toward her before winking from existence once they land. It feels almost nostalgic–if it wasn’t immediately apparent that this wasn’t Shizuoka. This wasn’t her tree; that place that felt like it was hers. Her shadow’s voice, normally warm and comforting, feels like television static in her head, as her mind focuses on the fact that this isn’t really Her Place. That isn’t even her own voice in her head, but something else trying to take that from her as well.
(...Wait, where the hell did that thought come from?)
Getting up, Hibiki finds her way to her Door, standing there for a moment as the voice that’s hers but not quite hers hums quietly in her head a melody she’s known her whole life, but hasn’t heard since arriving here. But it isn’t quite right–isn’t her voice, isn’t quite that song–and for some reason this sets her off. Her hand turning the handle, she steps outside into the Shadowlands. Takes one step, then another, until she starts briskly walking away from the line of Doors deeper into the expanse.
That’s not her home behind that Door, that isn’t her voice in her head; and while Hibiki knows she will probably never return to her own world, there is still something that is hers (and will always be hers) that she keeps in this gods-forsaken place.
Her voice. Her pace slowing before she stops, Hibiki takes a deep breath. She has no clue whether the calming effect it’s had on others will work on her, but it doesn’t matter. Standing still with a hand to her chest, she slowly starts to sing, doing everything she can to focus on the sound of her own voice in her head. ]
@nagano
Until she seemed to disappear altogether. Scheduled to perform a few songs at one of the local dives in Mirth, she simply never showed up.
She isn’t even sure what day it is when she finally comes to, waking up curled up at the foot of a great big tree like a lost child, petals falling slowly toward her before winking from existence once they land. It feels almost nostalgic–if it wasn’t immediately apparent that this wasn’t Shizuoka. This wasn’t her tree; that place that felt like it was hers. Her shadow’s voice, normally warm and comforting, feels like television static in her head, as her mind focuses on the fact that this isn’t really Her Place. That isn’t even her own voice in her head, but something else trying to take that from her as well.
(...Wait, where the hell did that thought come from?)
Getting up, Hibiki finds her way to her Door, standing there for a moment as the voice that’s hers but not quite hers hums quietly in her head a melody she’s known her whole life, but hasn’t heard since arriving here. But it isn’t quite right–isn’t her voice, isn’t quite that song–and for some reason this sets her off. Her hand turning the handle, she steps outside into the Shadowlands. Takes one step, then another, until she starts briskly walking away from the line of Doors deeper into the expanse.
That’s not her home behind that Door, that isn’t her voice in her head; and while Hibiki knows she will probably never return to her own world, there is still something that is hers (and will always be hers) that she keeps in this gods-forsaken place.
Her voice. Her pace slowing before she stops, Hibiki takes a deep breath. She has no clue whether the calming effect it’s had on others will work on her, but it doesn’t matter. Standing still with a hand to her chest, she slowly starts to sing, doing everything she can to focus on the sound of her own voice in her head. ]