BY : Felix_McKraken
Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 1872
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters. This was made purely for entertainment purposes and no profit is made off of it.

Nowhere: .seventeeN .17

Left, right, left, right, for figuratively ad infinitum. This simple action occupied the dead time - the span between this now and the now of the future.

His breath was a mist in the air. Behind the white puffs exhaled, the landscape altered, but slowly, languidly, almost imperceptibly. Stretching across the plane were sporadic rows of stone columns surrounded by scarce and scattered patches of dry, dead grass as brown as caramel.

The further he walked the less invasive his breath became until the air matched its hue. A wave of vast disorientation hit him. It caused him to pause and hold his head. When he righted himself he was taken aback by a sudden apparition. The cessation of lung movement and the nip of frostbite went unnoticed as all attention was directed towards an uncomfortable object.

A structure vastly ornate stood proudly, outlined by a haze of muted clouds looking dank and yellow. The promise of precipitation loomed in the blotchy depths and cast strange shadows on the tremendous, Gothic construction. It could have been a monument to the glory of civilization. It reminded him of a cathedral, yet it seemed much more like a house of mourning than a house of praise.

The atrocity beckoned him, almost frightening him with the erosion of willpower. He shifted to pivot, but one foot jutted forward, and, not to be outdone, the other foot copied. Pitifully, he ignored the risk he placed himself in by pressing forward to explore the bowels of this building.

Tendrils of fog crept and curled across the ground, weaving around his legs like some fluid creature. Portentousness gripped him – terrorised him. His head tilted back to gaze upward. The towers shrank into the distance of the sky until the clouds ate them. Merely trying to fathom the summit nearly made him swoon. He caught his balance while recovering from the dizzy spell.

There were no birds, nor scavengers of any kind.

Since leaving the city – and Kakarot – behind, he hadn't encountered another life form. The solitude was taking its toll, and he strode quickly to compensate for the thought.

Its monumental size had misguided his optics and it took longer than the brunet had estimated to arrive.

He stood before it, finally.

Hands lifted and extended towards the stone wall. Forcibly, he broke a layer of resilient, silken thread filled with dirt and debris. An unseen pressure weighed upon him as he located a door behind the tacky substance. The enormity of the threshold was staggering, yet he saw no handles to gain entrance. Pushing hard, Vegeta found his efforts fruitless. Inspecting further he noticed exactly why he could not open the door.

It was so simple.

It was not a door.

It was a facsimile. The engravings of which seemed to mock him as if it was his fault he could no decipher them. Bizarre and faint as it was, he experienced a sense of rejection. The sensation was bitter and made him feel as if some judgment had been sentenced on his behalf and without his knowledge.

A feeling manifested itself transforming into a burning, angry desire. He had to rid himself of this facade. He wanted it in ruins. He wanted it burnt and demolished. He wanted to revel in destruction. The feeling was altogether familiar which both perplexed him and allowed him a type of respite.

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