He could see most of her story in her eyes; it was written in the blood caked into her fur.
Maybe it was the white, or the red; he couldn't tell what drew her to kill. It was probably this hunger, so familiar a pain that she almost enjoyed how exquisite it was; a hole being torn into her stomach, a hole that was going to eat her if she didn't feed it. So she fed it.
At first it had been hard. Her battles were bloody, and left her in as many broken pieces as her meals. But she grew stronger, and her form responded to her wishes; lithe and agile, clawed and powerful. Her teeth grew to razors, and her claws sunk into neck after neck, into heartless chest after chest, into white mask after white fucking mask.
Then had come the great step forward, the plunge into the sea of voices all yammering for control. She had never heard such noises. The desperation was familiar, because she too was crying out, furious and intent and louder than all of them.
She had awoken like from a long sleep to more power and an empty stomach. Maybe she sensed it, the fact that she had accomplished what few hollows ever had. A look in her golden feline eyes told him some version of yes.
She wasn't happy, or sad really; the hunger was all she knew.
"What if I told you there was more?"
He spoke like the sand, coarse and softly his vowels caught in the endless winds. She tensed, her hackles rising. Her eyes, gold like he'd read the sun was; maybe that what had drawn him to her. He tried to smile at her. It was a terrible smile (he hadn't had much practice) that felt out of place on his face.
"More to everything. More than just that damned hunger."
Silence and sand. She looked warily to her left and right. She knows that he's much stronger than her.
"We maybe heartless, but hunger ain't the only thing we can feel. See this?" He gestured to his fleshy face, and his fleshy body, "That mask doesn't own you. I went and tore mine off, a damn long time ago, too."
She lunged at him, her claws extended. She probably knew she couldn't hit him, because as soon as she landed she vanished in a buzz, quickly reaching the periphery of his senses then beyond. He sighed, and tried to put his haphazard grin back on his face. She wasn't the first to reject his offer and she wouldn't be the last.
To be fair, he had lied to her; he wasn't heartless, and if she followed him she wouldn't be either.
Maybe that was scary to her. Maybe the heart was what had scared all those he'd tried to talk to before. He admitted, sometimes it was easier to hide behind a mask; he'd had some damned scary thoughts. He smiled. What hollow smiled? He liked to think his choice was out of courage, but that wouldn't be the entire truth. The whole truth was that he was more scared of the hunger, and heartless white masks than he was of that pulse in his chest making him bleed.
Maybe he was wrong for thinking that everyone else should think like him, but if he found one other, it would be worth it. Probably. This entire quest was something he suspected had been conceived in his new heart.
So on he walked, through the dunes and sandstorms, his ragged cloak his only shield. He walked a long time before he felt her again, staying just out of his perception. So naturally he stopped and found a comfortable dune and sound. It took even longer for him to realize she was behind him, her sun gold eyes boring into him.
His first instinct was to speak, but he realized he'd said all he could to her. If anything was to occur, she needed to break the silence.
Her voice was hoarse from a lack of use, but beneath it he could tell it was almost melodic. He looked over his shoulder, giving her his lopsided grin and a single blue eye.
"What more is there?"
I like this one-shotty thing.