Sousuke Aizen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theedgeofreason) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
spira_rp2013-01-15 11:11 pm
theedgeofreason) wrote in spira_rp2013-01-15 11:11 pm
In spite of everything I have, I've no debt to those who don't.
The mission had been successful.
Sōsuke Aizen and his Arrancar had achieved the near-impossible and successfully forged a Philosopher's Stone. It had gone off without a hitch. The cost had been great, but it had not been charged to him. Now the entire city of Midgar, Bancour's capital, lay in ruins. Once one of the largest centres of life in Ivalice, it was now disturbed only by the scant few Pyreflies of those who had perished when sections of the plate had dropped due to the massive overload of power that had hit the Mako Reactors of each Sector all at once.
It had been easier than he had ever imagined.
Following the activation of the Transmutation Circle that was Midgar's Plate, those in the city not within the activation-area had expired. The vast majority of those dead had been drawn into the stone that Aizen held in his hands instead of being allowed to return to the Lifestream. He had challenged the natural order of the world and he had come out victorious. The stone itself, ruby red and vaguely warm to the touch, was large, irregularly shaped and was, to him at least, silent. It was a prize, a commodity, a source of power, both literal and figurative. The lives that had gone into its construction were meaningless to him.
He, of course, had not activated the Transmutation Circle himself. He was many things, but he was no Alchemist. That unpleasant duty had fallen to Zexion, the Ryoka, who had been the one to see the similarity between the plate itself and the Circles that he had studied as part of his ongoing apprenticeship of the Alchemical Arts in the first place. That detail had been the last piece of a puzzle that Aizen had spent years trying to solve. Zexion's understandable reluctance had been ignored. It was too important and too secret a task to give to hired help and their time had been limited. A Khamja Alchemist had been a requirement of the mission and Zexion was the only one they had. As such, he had been forced to commit the crime of genocide at the threat of his own life.
Selfishness born of self-preservation had won out and it would cost him significantly more than Aizen could ever fathom.
The destruction of Midgar had taken place in minutes. Zexion, exhausted, had collapsed upon its completion. The magical exertion, the complexity of the Alchemy and the control required had been enough to drain him beyond what he was able to stand.
Following their victory, Aizen and his subordinates had split into three groups; they were to make their escapes separately, and by different routes. They needed to do this before news of the 'tragedy' became too widespread. With no survivors, that would not be instant, but it would not go unnoticed for long. Aizen's own group consisted of himself and his highest ranked Espada, Coyote Stark, carrying the Ryoka in his arms. They had gone the direct route, through a Garganta opened up by the Arrancar.
Aizen had no desire to linger. Midgar's numerous security cameras would have picked up their presence in the wake of the disaster and he didn't want his face to be seen should the footage leak before L could wipe it from their failing systems. And so, he had swept away into the darkness.
The curiously windless void of the Garganta gave Aizen little time to reflect upon what he had done or, rather, caused. It had been decided before he and his second stepped in that they would make the journey on the swift feet of those with mastery over speed -- Stark using Sonido and he himself making use of Shunpo. He wanted to spend not a moment too long in the open -- any kind of open, be it in the Visible World or in the void between that and the Unseen one -- with the treasure he held. Unnecessary risks where not to be taken.
When Stark drew open the Garganta within the treacherous confines of the Zertinan Caverns, mere hours had passed since Midgar's fall. The two men stepped out, Stark carrying the still limp and unconscious Ryoka in his grasp.
"We made good time," Aizen said, all traces of warmth absent from his voice.
He stepped out onto the solid, yet sandy ground of the caverns. There was nothing unusual in the vicinity. No unusual Chakra, not even any creatures save the subjugated Elder Wyrm that Kuja had set to guard Khamja's base of operations. Aizen's scent and those of his subordinates were well known to it, so not a single growl was uttered at their arrival. Indeed, the caverns were silent save for the distant hissing of a sandfall.
He walked into the magical paling set around the vicinity of the door and closed his eyes for the briefest of moments as the paling's field of enchantment, a complex Genjutsu not of his own design, melted away before him. Where plain rock once stood, there were now two closed doors, ornately carved and ostentatious enough to befit the Desert Palace that once belonged to Dalmascan royalty of the Galtea line. Aizen placed a hand on the glowing, multi-hued Glyph that glittered across the centre join of the doors and they opened at his touch.
He entered, Stark behind him, and the doors sealed themselves back up once they were safely inside.
Sōsuke Aizen and his Arrancar had achieved the near-impossible and successfully forged a Philosopher's Stone. It had gone off without a hitch. The cost had been great, but it had not been charged to him. Now the entire city of Midgar, Bancour's capital, lay in ruins. Once one of the largest centres of life in Ivalice, it was now disturbed only by the scant few Pyreflies of those who had perished when sections of the plate had dropped due to the massive overload of power that had hit the Mako Reactors of each Sector all at once.
It had been easier than he had ever imagined.
Following the activation of the Transmutation Circle that was Midgar's Plate, those in the city not within the activation-area had expired. The vast majority of those dead had been drawn into the stone that Aizen held in his hands instead of being allowed to return to the Lifestream. He had challenged the natural order of the world and he had come out victorious. The stone itself, ruby red and vaguely warm to the touch, was large, irregularly shaped and was, to him at least, silent. It was a prize, a commodity, a source of power, both literal and figurative. The lives that had gone into its construction were meaningless to him.
He, of course, had not activated the Transmutation Circle himself. He was many things, but he was no Alchemist. That unpleasant duty had fallen to Zexion, the Ryoka, who had been the one to see the similarity between the plate itself and the Circles that he had studied as part of his ongoing apprenticeship of the Alchemical Arts in the first place. That detail had been the last piece of a puzzle that Aizen had spent years trying to solve. Zexion's understandable reluctance had been ignored. It was too important and too secret a task to give to hired help and their time had been limited. A Khamja Alchemist had been a requirement of the mission and Zexion was the only one they had. As such, he had been forced to commit the crime of genocide at the threat of his own life.
Selfishness born of self-preservation had won out and it would cost him significantly more than Aizen could ever fathom.
The destruction of Midgar had taken place in minutes. Zexion, exhausted, had collapsed upon its completion. The magical exertion, the complexity of the Alchemy and the control required had been enough to drain him beyond what he was able to stand.
Following their victory, Aizen and his subordinates had split into three groups; they were to make their escapes separately, and by different routes. They needed to do this before news of the 'tragedy' became too widespread. With no survivors, that would not be instant, but it would not go unnoticed for long. Aizen's own group consisted of himself and his highest ranked Espada, Coyote Stark, carrying the Ryoka in his arms. They had gone the direct route, through a Garganta opened up by the Arrancar.
Aizen had no desire to linger. Midgar's numerous security cameras would have picked up their presence in the wake of the disaster and he didn't want his face to be seen should the footage leak before L could wipe it from their failing systems. And so, he had swept away into the darkness.
The curiously windless void of the Garganta gave Aizen little time to reflect upon what he had done or, rather, caused. It had been decided before he and his second stepped in that they would make the journey on the swift feet of those with mastery over speed -- Stark using Sonido and he himself making use of Shunpo. He wanted to spend not a moment too long in the open -- any kind of open, be it in the Visible World or in the void between that and the Unseen one -- with the treasure he held. Unnecessary risks where not to be taken.
When Stark drew open the Garganta within the treacherous confines of the Zertinan Caverns, mere hours had passed since Midgar's fall. The two men stepped out, Stark carrying the still limp and unconscious Ryoka in his grasp.
"We made good time," Aizen said, all traces of warmth absent from his voice.
He stepped out onto the solid, yet sandy ground of the caverns. There was nothing unusual in the vicinity. No unusual Chakra, not even any creatures save the subjugated Elder Wyrm that Kuja had set to guard Khamja's base of operations. Aizen's scent and those of his subordinates were well known to it, so not a single growl was uttered at their arrival. Indeed, the caverns were silent save for the distant hissing of a sandfall.
He walked into the magical paling set around the vicinity of the door and closed his eyes for the briefest of moments as the paling's field of enchantment, a complex Genjutsu not of his own design, melted away before him. Where plain rock once stood, there were now two closed doors, ornately carved and ostentatious enough to befit the Desert Palace that once belonged to Dalmascan royalty of the Galtea line. Aizen placed a hand on the glowing, multi-hued Glyph that glittered across the centre join of the doors and they opened at his touch.
He entered, Stark behind him, and the doors sealed themselves back up once they were safely inside.