The surrounding simmers. The fire retains it youthful vibrancy after being fed with books. A.H was back to her spot, but this time her back was turned from re-composed Crowe. Cross legged and the shotgun resting against her right shoulder with the blade sticking upwards. She refused to glance back at Crowe and for a good reason.
She was angry. Her face twisted with disgust and hatred. Not towards her fellow Arrancar, but herself. She hated how it turned out to be. He was supposed to be dead, she supposed to have her face stained with his blood, his entrails smeared across the floor, even against the ruins. She wants the memory of Crowe to be minimal as possible. Just another face with a name that eventually fade away into the pit of many others who were consumed. She wanted to heckle, relish at the wonderous feast she had. Let her rotten off-key tune reach to others and let them despair! But instead, there were silence. The only ambience was flicker of fire and the pop of ember escaping to explore the fleeting life before it fizzled. Is that her existence going to be? A fragrance warring beast wandered off from the warmth, only to snuffed out by nothing? Her own fear gazed back at her and bared fangs. She felt its warmth and as its warmth was slowly fading, further papers were tossed to brighten her exposure.
Her anger dims. All this was unknown to her. Her recent actions though fresh, felt nostalgic, but where? His voice finally picked up from the ambience. That meek Arrancar squeaked more like a mouse than a bird, but there was a small spark, a flint connecting against the rock like spark of determination. His touch grasped against her shoulder briefly before retreating to his spot against the wall. She responded with a consolation prize: a bittersweet smile, an abomination of her devilish grin and distain. Of course, it’s not a prize if Crowe didn’t see it!
‘Aye,’ The Scot chimed in, the tone in her voice was calm, defeated. ‘If you can stand back up. You haven’t failed anything.’ Another piece of worthless knowledge fed to the fire for the sake of comfort. She refused to look back to Bird, ‘but you may as well be dead if ya’ did fuck all. Came here to change things‘. She revealed days before during their travels, but this time she stressed this even further. Her gaze intensifies, not even the smoke could sting her eye. ‘Rebuild this place, get rid of them dead-beat squatters, replace them with those who want to live. We’ll make Las Noches have value again.’
Finally she let out a deflated sigh. For once she conceded defeat by a union of fire and smoke and averted her eye away from the bonfire. She then finally added a question she been waiting to say.
Pitiful. Those were her words regarding the state of the residents in Las Noches. Not a single fang flashed in anger and many cowered at a sight of the unknown. Their balls were affected, castrated by the lone Shinigami who hounded down their Queen and her Primera. Surely, they must’ve shriveled up permanently when they laid eyes on the messy corpse of a once pompous queen.
And Levi. Less said about that waste of space, the better she declared. With the army of Arrancar housing in Las Noches, none seem to have the capability of commanding or even spared the strength to defend themselves, she felt they were domesticated, like cats. To them, life was given to them like platter.
‘don’t worry, you’re safe here. she can just imagine the words spewed from their mouth and their comforting gesture as if though the world is cruel and barren, though she had concluded that there’s value in friendship, but gifting them to whoever they see in view cheapens it. She saw it in Las Colonias. Those foul miscreants who run the place chose to sully that value by befriending with Shinigami. To her, such actions is like salting a virile earth, denying the right of growth.
The familiar air stirred her nostrils. The decay and the unique musk of Hollow lingered from where she walked. Today the lack of wind allowed the stench to float. Perfect for the hunt, fatal for the prey. She pressed the excited nostrils with her thumb and index, eye darting about to seek its prey.
The ground of Hueco Mundo was a hard and brutal. Even with the boot, she still imagined the rugged terrain delivering discomfort in spades. As though her footing was light, the ground assuring the surrounding with a shuffled scrape of her sole. She felt in the distance that something was watching her, observing her. ’good’ For she had observed this strange creature for days.
“Kalos,” her name given to this sack like hollow. Its appearance was defined by its unique shifting mask. Much like her rugged accent of the Highlands was her defining feature. She hovered over her revolver holster, unclicking the binds that keeps it in place, but something was not right. She had an inkling that she felt lighter than before. It dawned on her that she had given her revolver to someone, a memento of her plans. Though she decided on this, she felt angry, frustrated that she had given away her valuable tool. The sneer grew, bearing her natural white dental fixtures. “Where are ye ya sack of Harlequin shite!” Her violate hiss leapt from the bottom of her vocal cords. Cruelty always get a reaction from the strong, even more so as the aggressive tone was earnest. She believed that this hollow got what she wanted and deserved to be groomed to become an Arrancar.
That thing was near, and she want to beat it up not for growth, but because of her stupidity of giving away her own tool.
This Shinigami was a fool to think that they can reside in the lands that only Hollow resides. Soon hollow will smelt that blood coursing from the cut against his cheek. Even he was licking his own blood. What folly it suddenly became. This Las Colonias, whatever it intentions are it’s all pointless. The town itself and its ‘people’ will eventually degrade themselves into food for the deserving.
Oh look! what felt as forever, her opponent decided to make his attack with a toss of his kunai. Joy, she thought. She fired another shot and then another, aiming at the approaching Kunai till the force of the bullet knocked it out from its trajectory. Then he made his movement. The kunai was a ploy to distract him, but A.H was not one to be distracted. She revealed her Zanpakuto, the riot gun up at an angle pointing upwards to block the oncoming attack. The force was enough to launch herself back further away from the Shinigami with a refrain.
“I don’t even need to fight, but if I see you roaming in this lands,” she let out a wicked grin as she followed those words. “I’ll make sure you’ll stay alive while the hollow feast on you.”
The place is not a den of wolves, but a herd of cattle in a fragile and rotten wooden fence. And so, she departs with a flicker, gifting all who witness her with a speck of dust.
“Nonsense,” the old fellow flashed a smile at his visitor, “You must’ve travelled far to get here. Allow me to play host!” He was surprised at first to see a neatly dressed gentleman this far from his natural habitat. Often people who strayed as from the urban land were those who are seeking for someone or simply lost. He waved him over closer to the log beside the bonfire with a spit waiting for hog to be skewered but instead, it was a large pot hanging with a lid half closed to allow the piping hot steam.
“You must be cold wearing those clothes,” He was familiar with the attire. The standard Shihakusho, it had been what, two centuries since he last saw the two. They promised that they will return one day, but he does not blame them if father time had made them forget about their promise. “You’re no bother, friend. Come take a seat.” Maybe he’ll ask him later. He felt the importance of keeping the guest entertained and the first line of his defence was his smile and he never let that smile drop.
Don't worry too much about grammar at first. The most important thing is that make sure that you feel at home before you start doing posts. If you ask your thread partner I'm sure they will try and help you with the posts and again they will help you with the app as well. We did have to have Big sibling program but I think that may be inactive at the moment.
“The gun hardly loaded, but guess ya didn’t know that. Sorry.” revealing the greatest spoiler of all, her shotgun was never loaded. Unlike her revolver, the metal and plastic pieces to hold whatever nefarious munitions were hard to come by and even if she did find some she was spoilt for choice: Metal, rock, glass, even used a small hollow once. Only made a splatter all over the target. However, it was nice to see Crowe showing aggressive emotion from her over the top candour. A refreshing chance for his timid behaviour as she thought. The new comer came beside her to give the growing popular boy a squeeze on his shoulder which left the Scot with an unbearable grin. It only took the newcomer to fritter away with a hush wave.
Finally, she thought. Soon she’ll be in the heart of Las Noches and thus begin her plan, but just how far did she think of it? Just when she could, the young woman finally starts to make her movement. Of course, there’s always a little further ahead, but it never really further at all? The demon gunwoman looked over the doll with a neutral expression. She wasn’t so sure if she was listening or understood her. She knew her accent was a roadblock to many, but it can’t be that bad, right?
“Aye, I know right?”
Followed by outburst and ambition, walking. Lots of them, according to the doll there still some ways which didn’t bother her at all. What does bother her was there are still Arrancar living there. She wondered why didn’t they do something rather than hiding in shame or maybe out of fear? She looked back to the Doll and then back at Crowe, wondering if he’s still following.
“Say, do you know how to fight?” The throwaway remark was mostly aimed at both of them. She didn’t know Crowe too well enough to display physical prowess, but she was sure that he coped somehow. But what about the woman? She assumed that the stranger Arrancar does have some capability considering of the corpse littered all around her, but what if she’s just a carrion? A lowly beast who feasts on decaying, unfinished corpses. She doesn’t know which are worse: A beast who doesn’t finish their spoil or a beast who gorged on half finished, riddled in strangers’ saliva. Ugh! She shuddered at the thought of it.
“Because, you won’t ally with you if you don’t know how to fight,” she huffed. “I don’t carry others, ya know?”
Boiling: that’s what her itch was like. Her movement was fleetfooted, but never fast. Her footstep beating against the floor, but her breathing simmered. With her hand on the belt and other holding her shotgun affixed in place, she was leaping from one building to another. The closer she gets to her target, she felt the intensity and the trill of the impending battle grows. Her grin grows wider as the prey in view.
It been so long she felt this. The battle fever that she thought was lost when she shattered and casted away her fragment. Tiles quaked as she forcefully brought herself into a rumbling halt and twisted her body with her belt bound hand freed to prepare her launch. The force of her boot pressed against the roof was intense that the tiles and the support cracked and buckled. The scene overlooking the roof was busy. Traffic galore and many sour minded ignorants steaming at the idea of being late home. Her prey had better idea – good but not good enough as the Highland Arrancar prepares to hurl a Lime green energy ball, slightly bigger than the size of her fist, but not big enough to be cumbersome to wield as she threw it at ease. The only thing that struggled was her draped over officer coat as it dropped to the ground, fainting after having a fleeting waltz with gravity.
The lime green Bala tossed soared in a peaceful launch. The unsuspecting prey, a male with a lick of spiritual pressure leaking out of him like a red wine stain on carpet, sensed something was up, looking around and with a sense of danger fast approaching from above…
The pace of the Demon Gunwoman’s prey intensified faster than her grin widening. The gravity, never one to take down offer of a waltz, swirled the Bala towards the escaping prey with a screaming whistle. At first the whistle faint, but audible to awakened ears. That annoying persistent single note that only volume had changed, climbing upwards, approaching the deathly peak.
The thing about A.H Bala. She liked it as her Artillery: Roaring, persistent and endless. Its destruction and noise that bring many men quaked to the very core of their soul. It never about making a killing blow from afar. That’s what Cero are for. It’s about reducing all into a pathetic husk of soul. Separate the wheat from the chaff as she liked to say. After all, isn’t that what life as a Hollow is like in general?
The Bala deafening noise reached to a climax, but it unleased a surprise. The Bala clashed against the ground, rolling around like a dud grenade. Clack, clack, claaaack.
The noise rolled continuously until it dropped off the curb as much to the Scot annoyance. Her grin soured into a tempestuous cuss. She wanted it to be among the pavement with all the unsuspecting passengers of this cruel hunt not underneath a parked car. She began to make her move, leaping off from the edge of the roof and onto the bonnet of a long and boxy Japanese taxi. She made enough force to cave the bonnet in and ripped the engine out it supports and pressed further in like a humiliating slam dunk. Her kilt failed to have time to be lifted, nor it does so as with one single motion, A.H hopped off the irreparable vehicle and chased after her prey. The distance between her and that man had grown, but surprise reared it ugly head once more. Enough to turn the Scot cuss into a cheer.
The car underneath the Bala slowly starts to tilt towards it, rarely noticeable, but it can be felt to the driver of the car, like Andre the Giant had graced his presence at the corner with six bottle of Japanese’s finest plum wine for breakfast. The Creaking noise from the car soon followed as the Bala started to reveal its intention as its surroundings starts to be pulled towards the lime green ball, first it began with a gentle sway, but in seconds it became forceful, grabbing its passengers against their consent to a relished rancour of the Scottish’s Joy.
“Bout fucking time!” She heckled. From her eye she witnessed a pulsing force that was once contracting, now turned into violent force of concussive blast. The heavily leaned car was flipped on its side, people who were pulled was now sent flying across the pavement and against the window. The demoralising and skull splitting boom follows. Shop windows shattered and rained. The gridlock rattled and wailed as alarm startled by an invisible force. Panicked victims of A.H folly quickly parted from the pavement, allowing for the Scottish Arrancar to hound after her Prey with a smile that Hell would lust for.
Shame that Bala failed to reach her prey she thought, or it would’ve been short work, but as her Battlefever prepared its violent song. Her booming footwork and the clashing metal of her shotgun against her shall be the percussion.
Head of Public Safety Tsukimiya arrives in Hueco Mundo, intent on bringing justice to the criminals who have fled to the desert realm hoping to evade the long arm of the law. She finds what she is looking for in the throne room of Las Noches...
In an attempt to fill the vacuum left by the Queen and Primera's deaths, Segunda Espada Levi Grisha makes a play for the throne and gathers the Hollow-Breeds in order to stake his claim.
Meanwhile, a Shinigami assassin on an unsanctioned mission strikes at a hospital, aiming to rid the world of the Quincy queen's newborn children. Several Quincy rush to the queen's aid as Lieutenant Ogawa escalates the hostilites between mortals and Shinigami.