Background
Considering Stark wasn’t much one for war anyway, he walked away from the battlefield in his usual tired manner. Some days or nights he’ll lay back to sleep and only find himself staring at the ceiling, thinking of the man he almost fought. He was glad not to have participated in battle, at least not as severely as he may have. Violence put a distaste in his mouth as he drifted off to sleep. Stark frequented in naps; it was all he had to do most days. If he wasn’t sleeping he was (probably) being disturbed by his subordinate; a girl he adored without ever saying so. After a few days of recuperation he got to his feet from time-to-time, taking long and slow walks around the compound. Las Noches was not so terrible. A little bland in color and perhaps a bit too much sand, but not so bad overall.
Over time, Stark began to do less and less. He was not needed for anything but conferences that bored him. The man slept. Sometimes he could sleep for a full 24 hours before waking up to go out for a snack. If he was luckily he’d run across young Arrancar in the halls, the likes of which gave him something to do for a few minutes. Really, he lived a boring life in the midst of the desert. Two years to Stark didn’t feel that long, if only because he had a screwed up sense of time due to always being in dream land. Nonetheless, it was a long time to do little to nothing.
Over time, Stark began to do less and less. He was not needed for anything but conferences that bored him. The man slept. Sometimes he could sleep for a full 24 hours before waking up to go out for a snack. If he was luckily he’d run across young Arrancar in the halls, the likes of which gave him something to do for a few minutes. Really, he lived a boring life in the midst of the desert. Two years to Stark didn’t feel that long, if only because he had a screwed up sense of time due to always being in dream land. Nonetheless, it was a long time to do little to nothing.