(no subject)
Who: Grimmjow (pantherking) and Dante (tries-too-hard)
When: Around evening, day 7
Where: At the beach
What: Grimmjow meets Dante to predictably bad results
Rating: R for swearing and violence
Seven days had passed since he'd been unceremoniously dumped into the living world, and already Grimmjow had had enough of it. For one thing, it was boring. There wasn't a damn thing to do except sit around, walk around, and get rained on. He still couldn't get a Garganta open and he couldn't sense a shinigami or a Hollow anywhere. Forced inactivity had allowed his wounds time to heal, though his shoulder was still tender when he moved it and there was a large, ugly looking scab over most of his left side that he kept picking at whenever he was idle for too long.
For another thing, there was too much weather. There were no seasons in Hueco Mundo, no shift from night to day. There was no atmosphere either, the temperature changes and fickle weather patterns that accompanied such a thing just as absent as the sun. It was always cold and it was always night, the passage of time marked by the moon's path through a clear, starless sky. Until Aizen had come and forced upon Las Noches a semblance of the life he'd left behind, Grimmjow had never even seen the sun. The constant fluctuation of this place was grating on his nerves, making him edgier and more irritable than he already was.
Just when night had fallen, the goddamn sun came back up. By the time he'd started getting acclimated to that, it had started to rain, dimming the light to a sort of half-lit twilight that was neither light nor dark. Then the fog had set in, a soupy bastard of a mess that not only blinded him, but had dampened his sense of smell and disoriented him to the point where he'd just given up trying to navigate it. And the rain continued, soaking him so thoroughly that even after he'd found shelter in an old, rickety building near the lighthouse, it had taken another damn day to dry off.
But most importantly, he was bored. He knew about the town; he had come within sight of it numerous times, but it wasn't worth investigating. No place crawling with humans was. So he'd stayed away, sticking to the solitude of the land around it. No one bothered him there. The boredom wasn't alleviated, but the lack of direct irritation kept his bad temper in check. Until his patience had finally snapped and he'd decided that terrorizing people was better than sitting around on his ass, going stir-crazy.
He wasn't expecting a fight; save the obvious exception, humans were weak, worthless things incapable of giving him a challenge. But he belted Pantera to its customary place on his left hip anyway, unwilling to leave it behind in such an insecure location. Once it was settled, Grimmjow left his makeshift "home" and started off along the beach toward the town, a malicious grin already curving his mouth. Yeah, it was about time he introduced himself to these pathetic little bastards.
When: Around evening, day 7
Where: At the beach
What: Grimmjow meets Dante to predictably bad results
Rating: R for swearing and violence
Seven days had passed since he'd been unceremoniously dumped into the living world, and already Grimmjow had had enough of it. For one thing, it was boring. There wasn't a damn thing to do except sit around, walk around, and get rained on. He still couldn't get a Garganta open and he couldn't sense a shinigami or a Hollow anywhere. Forced inactivity had allowed his wounds time to heal, though his shoulder was still tender when he moved it and there was a large, ugly looking scab over most of his left side that he kept picking at whenever he was idle for too long.
For another thing, there was too much weather. There were no seasons in Hueco Mundo, no shift from night to day. There was no atmosphere either, the temperature changes and fickle weather patterns that accompanied such a thing just as absent as the sun. It was always cold and it was always night, the passage of time marked by the moon's path through a clear, starless sky. Until Aizen had come and forced upon Las Noches a semblance of the life he'd left behind, Grimmjow had never even seen the sun. The constant fluctuation of this place was grating on his nerves, making him edgier and more irritable than he already was.
Just when night had fallen, the goddamn sun came back up. By the time he'd started getting acclimated to that, it had started to rain, dimming the light to a sort of half-lit twilight that was neither light nor dark. Then the fog had set in, a soupy bastard of a mess that not only blinded him, but had dampened his sense of smell and disoriented him to the point where he'd just given up trying to navigate it. And the rain continued, soaking him so thoroughly that even after he'd found shelter in an old, rickety building near the lighthouse, it had taken another damn day to dry off.
But most importantly, he was bored. He knew about the town; he had come within sight of it numerous times, but it wasn't worth investigating. No place crawling with humans was. So he'd stayed away, sticking to the solitude of the land around it. No one bothered him there. The boredom wasn't alleviated, but the lack of direct irritation kept his bad temper in check. Until his patience had finally snapped and he'd decided that terrorizing people was better than sitting around on his ass, going stir-crazy.
He wasn't expecting a fight; save the obvious exception, humans were weak, worthless things incapable of giving him a challenge. But he belted Pantera to its customary place on his left hip anyway, unwilling to leave it behind in such an insecure location. Once it was settled, Grimmjow left his makeshift "home" and started off along the beach toward the town, a malicious grin already curving his mouth. Yeah, it was about time he introduced himself to these pathetic little bastards.