The shriek echoed through the secluded room. Back arched while hands covered her face in a grieving pose, she felt the liquid when it latched onto fingertips, having been moved from her cheek. No, she wasn't crying. That had been abashed a long time ago, along with her eyes and alot of other things, including Kanji's life
She'd done her part of the Blinding Ritual. It was Kirie, the opposing maiden who'd took part, that failed to present blood strong enough to keep Hell's Gate closed. She was the one who caused the Calamity. The one that released Malice, the one that doomed them all.
Doomed them all. Hadn't every ghost kept a memory of what happened that day?
Blood. It was blood of which the tips of her fingers came in contact with, blood that drained down her face, still, in delicate crimson streaks. Her eyes; scars, wounds, reminders, holes, useless.
Crimson streaks.
My eyes!
Bandages.
Bandages, soaked with blood, covered the gouged holes left by her Blinding Mask. Wrapped around her head, were these. The only thing doing so other then her long, black hair.
No sense of sight would have proven hard for any being, adding to facts that she was dead. Though her other senses were heighted, greatly so, in the process of her death. And in addition she could teleport anywhere, anytime she wished. That had come in handy a while ago, when some humans decided to come crawling into Himuro Mansion. Poking their noses around, so incredibly oblivious to the dangers of which lay in waiting behind these closed doors. Not that a door would ever stop any of them.
Kirie.
Kirie had gotten to most of them first, though.
She could still hear their screams; screams of agony as they relived Kirie's own death. Ripped apart, limb by limb, while a neuse tightened around their throat. A guessing game, that's what it was. Which rope will kill you first?
It's so... dark. Dark...
Dark, dark! Can't see...
My eyes, my eyes!
Weight dependant on her left leg, Kanji stood silently from the cold Blinding Room floor, feeling as the kimono she wore touched it's fabric against her legs. Her arms fell, going down to her sides, and she walked.
Forward, forward, forward.
Step, step, step.
Footfall was silent, steps unheard, Kanji unheard. Hell, she knew exactly what she was doing.
Blank. White. Wall!
No one is here to help you. Not any more.
The maiden's ghost did not cease in her movements, and her presence inevitably soaked right into the north facing wall.
Eerily a whisper spread white, silencing and ghostly and hardly audible throughout the surrounding rooms, leaving a hanging presence behind. It fell carefully choreographed right as her being faded into the stones, and said what was known for her to be true.
"Help left, long ago."