don't stop, don't stop, don't stop giving me things

[unburden]

The thing about trying to root out spirits before they become Hollows is that it's akin to combing through sand. The world is a place that looks calm from a distance, the actions of any given person most likely falling into a regular pattern that never varies by much. Ghosts tend to be earth-bound, tend to cling to those parts of their lives which remained constant before, and the ability to blend in is as seamless as the chains are strong. Sometimes, Rukia has to literally walk through a building before a ghost rears its head.

Naturally, scanning across the whole of Darrow becomes a near impossibility, and the howls of Hollows are starting to surface with greater frequency, each feeling like a failure to Rukia. Each spirit that falls prey to its inner emptiness is a spirit in pain, and every spirit in pain becomes a danger to the living.

Rukia does her best to quickly find them all, but it isn't always easy, nor is it always perfect. And that's what has her by the beach tonight, having chased a Hollow to the ocean in hopes of avoiding damage done to private property. The Hollow is no great threat, taking up the shape of a snake with an almost reptilian bone-like mask covering its face, but the streams of poison that it shoots from its teeth are enough to wear through her robes, Rukia hissing in pain as she raises her sword, preparing to try and strike again.

Comments

[theprodigalson]

"Friend?" Sam asks, frowning in confusion for a moment before he remembers. Oh. Ruby. His stomach twists uncomfortably then, too many warring emotions rising up inside him before he can shove them aside with a shake of his head, lips pressed in a thin line. "No, she's gone."

For whatever reason, he doesn't argue the friend comment. Maybe because there's no point in doing so. Maybe because it might only damn him further, impossible as that may seem.

Maybe because, at one point, Sam had really thought it to be true.

Clearing his throat a little, he pulls himself up straighter and adds, as though in challenge, "She's dead. But she's not... one of those," he adds, gesturing vaguely at the air between them where moments ago some being had exploded before his eyes. "I don't think."

[unburden]

The particular type of recognition which flickers across his face tells Rukia that the connection to that other woman has since been severed. A good thing, to be sure — while Rukia had held her tongue on things she ultimately couldn't be sure of, and things she didn't want to dive into so soon after arriving, it had seemed pretty clear that the brunette was nothing good. Not for this man, not for the city.

Rukia just hasn't been watching closely enough to know exactly what happened.

"She felt... empty," Rukia says, brow knitting as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, wondering how that woman might have fed on this man. She tries to get a better reading of his energy, of the color of his soul. It's difficult at the moment, no doubt made harder by the fact that her senses are slightly muffled by this false body. "In a way that's similar to the Hollows. A hole in the soul that they seek some way to fill."

[theprodigalson]

"She was a demon," Sam says bluntly. His stomach twists yet again with that uncomfortable feeling of betrayal, the sensation laced with a humiliation Sam is almost positive he'll never really be able to shake.

But it's curiosity now that at least keeps his mind distracted, focusing intently on the woman before him. That's the second time now she's said that word and, though Sam thinks he maybe has an idea of what it might be, he's still not entirely sure. Not even close.

Sam has done a lot of research on nearly every kind of demon and spirit and monster known around the world, but he's fairly sure he's never heard of a Hollow.

"What are they?" he asks, lips curled in an inquisitive frown. "Just angry spirits? Ghosts?"

[unburden]

"Ghosts that have gone too long without passing over," Rukia says, eyes carefully searching his expression for any reaction that comes, gaze carefully brushing along the thin and even press of his lips. He's had experience with ghosts, clearly, in the way that Don Kanonji's had experience, not necessarily knowing what's best for them.

But at least he seems open to learning, which is more than Rukia could ever say for Kanonji, whose enthusiasm was only exceeded by his lack of sense.

"All people become spirits when they die, but they can't stay forever in the living world. If a reaper does not take them to the next place quickly enough." She glances over her shoulder, even though the dust of the Hollow's long since settled. "Then that happens. They need to consume other people's souls to try and replace the one they lost."

[theprodigalson]

He listens carefully, comparing her explanation to everything Sam's ever known about supernatural forces. Though the terminology isn't all the same, he thinks he has a pretty good idea now of what's going on. Not that it makes him entirely comfortable yet.

"So that's what you are. You're a reaper," he says, still eying her warily. Sam's only had a couple run-ins with reapers in his life, but neither one of them had looked anything like the woman standing in front of him now. For one, she's actually corporeal.

[unburden]

There's a strange and inexplicable desire on Rukia's part to make light of Sam's reaction, the unease clear in his eyes that almost feels ridiculous for a moment, with him towering far above Rukia herself. She knows, of course, that height is very little indication of anything between them. If anything, her abilities are likely to give her an edge.

Or so she'd assume, if not for the fact that his very soul also feels different somehow.

"I'm a reaper," she confirms, pulling her stance together and more sure. "And you sound like you have experience with the word."

[theprodigalson]

"Some," Sam admits, still watching her carefully. "You're a lot better looking than the others I've met."

It's odd, he thinks, the vibe he's getting from her. She's powerful, for sure. But she doesn't seem particularly harmful and certainly not volatile or angry like so many other spirits. But then, she isn't a spirit, Sam's pretty sure. Maybe something in between or something wholly unrelated.

Not for the first time, Sam finds himself desperately wishing Bobby were here.

[unburden]

"I... thank you?" Rukia says, brows furrowing momentarily, although her smile remains on her lips nonetheless. It must take a pretty clueless shinigami, she thinks, not to notice that a living human's actually been able to catch sight of them. Or perhaps there's more to this man than his reaction gives away, perhaps even a desire within to put an end to reapers — there's certainly been no shortage of persecution over the years.

In the end, speculation seems to do Rukia little good. She's never been the most intuitive, she supposes, awkwardly stepping while trying to get a better look at the young man.

"What exactly were you doing for you to have run into reapers before?" she asks, quirking her lips to the side.

[theprodigalson]

Though she's a good deal smaller than him, Sam is under no illusions that her powers couldn't turn him to dust if she so chose and he hesitates accordingly. There seems little reason to lie to her though.

"My brother," he says with a shrug. "He was sick. Both times." That isn't entirely accurate, of course, and Sam is purposefully choosing to leave out quite a lot detail. "He got better, but uh... they were pretty close calls. Got a little too close to the other side of the veil."

[unburden]

"That's... that's interesting," Rukia replies, eyes narrowed in confusion. Why would a shinigami decide to stick around a sick person? They had their hands full already with those who had already passed. Then again, she supposed that the man's brother probably exhibited some similar qualities as he did — namely, a soul that didn't seem quite human. A part of her wanted to ask outright exactly what he was, but if the man indeed had so little knowledge about reapers, it didn't seem too likely that he would know how to answer that question.

"Was he being haunted by a ghost or spirit? Or... is there something different about him?" she tried instead, the tone of her voice laced purely with intellectual curiosity.

Any clue that could help to get her out of the city was welcome.

[theprodigalson]

Sam frowns at the question, not entirely sure he knows what she means.

"What do you mean different?" he asks. "He's human. He wasn't..." He trails off for a second, pausing to take a breath. These are memories Sam doesn't like remembering too often, memories he'd almost rather forget entirely. "No, he wasn't being haunted. It was just- Look, I'm a hunter, okay? We both are, me and my brother. But we don't hunt reapers; we hunt bad things. Evil things."

[unburden]

"Different like you're different," Rukia says quietly, glancing over at Sam and keeping her voice measured and quiet. While it doesn't look like he's about to react too strongly to her words or assessment, there's something to be said for remaining cautious nonetheless. People don't particularly enjoy being singled out.

It might come off like a threat.

Taking a slight step closer, she squints in his direction, rubbing briefly at her forehead. "Wait, when you say your brother's also a hunter, is he someone who would shoot his gun at ghosts? About this tall?" Rukia reached up well over a foot above her own head.