#;hello!!

@penetrantswiftweaver asked: ‘  if something makes you happy then you are never too old for it.  ’

In comparison to the surrounding area of squad zero, which carries an uplifted level of grace, similar to when she enters a formal meeting of nobles, possessing an air above which she could ever feel like achieving, her hobby feels far from sophisticated, or maybe the embarrassment of the earlier measurements are still in the corners of her heart. Her head hangs low as she tucks the marker in her sleeve and holds her sketchpad close to her chest. Among the members of squad zero, her respect is absolute, but Rukia feels like she’s walking on hot coals, or maybe that is just the aftermath of her previous fall, which makes her want to put up her defenses and guard herself. “I was just doing some small sketches– I’ve done them since I was young.” She justifies herself. 

But Shutara finds a smooth way to get past that wall with some warm words that perk Rukia up, easing her, and Rukia can't help but eagerly nods in agreement. “Right! You’d be surprised by the number of fools who don't know art when it's right in their face.”  Quickly her enthusiasm takes over, and she flips a few pages back on her notepad, and extends it out to the other to peer through. On the displayed page there are a few rabbit-shinigami, surrounded by basic trees, seemingly distressed, colored with bold colors, accompanied by a beaming smile on her face all the while. All of her recent pages have dog eared corners, which remain as traces of her recent unease, and she's used flipped through the pages often enough that the flat pages have some dimension to them that somehow makes them more packs and bigger than when she first started it. “You should see my other sketches!"

—- ] 𝓌𝒶𝓎𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇       The Reaper, a symbol of death. Cloaked in black, they stuck to the shadows, awaiting everyone’s time to pass on into the next life. A journal to the world beyond the vial that is hidden from that of the living world. It was a mystery, the Grim Reaper was a mystery. Normally, a symbol of death, brought with different ways to lead them to the next life. A kiss, a scythe, or a simple touch; they brought death.

      To be named after such a creature, it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Such a title brought destruction and danger. She couldn’t let that fear take over her person, the uncertainty had her ready for anything that may come her way from the other.

       Her azure hue gazed at that of the man who stood before her. Her stance guarded, ready for an attack. She had to be ready for even the slightly lurch in her direction, as she wasn’t ready to be Reaped by that of the other’s scythe. Ten years within the darkness, she had fought for her life, and if need be… she would fight ten more.

“Merlin, please --,” Arthur begged, his throatconstricting as he spoke, voice shrinking backinto the bottom of his chest, almost disappearingfrom existence, “That’s not what I meant. Please,just... Believe me.” The sovereign watched hismanservant with wide, shimmering eyes, one handtrembling at his side, the other reached out towardhis cohort in desperation, as he looked at the eyesof a man who was so clearly hurt by what had beensaid.

          ' she's different '                         is all rosie can think as she leans                       against the brick wall, a cigarette                       hanging from her mouth. there's  a  power  to  her,  rosie  can feel it from across the street. more interestingly, there's an even more powerful emptiness to the girl        a gaping hole where the other's soul should be.