[OPEN] Waiting On the Edge of the Unknown
Who: sombras_blancas & OPEN
When: September 30th, evening
Where:Edge of the Ruins
Format: Whichever is your preference~
What: The Cuarta Espada decides some things need rethinking. And I suck at summaries.
Warnings: TBA
Clouds had already been stretched across the darkened skies, a gray canopy that hung over the city, the scent of rain hinted in the cool night air. Day was chased away by night, time's passing could be counted here, and it had been one hundred and ten days since he had first found himself in this foreign city, this foreign world.
The breeze picked up, dragging through his coattails to send them flapping in a mad flicker of white and black. The half-helmeted Arrancar stood on the remnants of a wall, all that remained of what might have been a larger building. The rest of Anatole lay behind him, and his unblinking eyes watched in the waning light as the wind stirred the mists beyond. Those mists, and the ruins they concealed; what secrets did this place hold? Eyes narrowing, he turned his gaze back towards the city proper.
He found his thoughts going back to those words one of the pale-haired women had spoken. Reason. Why did they fight, why did they go on? He was no protector. It had always been about survival back in the endless sands of Hueco Mundo, about who was stronger. Even here, though not as brutal... or perhaps even more so. The game was played differently, but the rules when one stripped away the fancy embellishments were the same.
When Ulquiorra first came to Anatole, he thought he understood where his place here was. Now he wondered if it was for mere convenience.
Slowly, he drew a hand from his pocket, staring down at his pale palm, curling black-nailed fingers towards it in thoughtful silence.
When: September 30th, evening
Where:Edge of the Ruins
Format: Whichever is your preference~
What: The Cuarta Espada decides some things need rethinking. And I suck at summaries.
Warnings: TBA
Clouds had already been stretched across the darkened skies, a gray canopy that hung over the city, the scent of rain hinted in the cool night air. Day was chased away by night, time's passing could be counted here, and it had been one hundred and ten days since he had first found himself in this foreign city, this foreign world.
The breeze picked up, dragging through his coattails to send them flapping in a mad flicker of white and black. The half-helmeted Arrancar stood on the remnants of a wall, all that remained of what might have been a larger building. The rest of Anatole lay behind him, and his unblinking eyes watched in the waning light as the wind stirred the mists beyond. Those mists, and the ruins they concealed; what secrets did this place hold? Eyes narrowing, he turned his gaze back towards the city proper.
He found his thoughts going back to those words one of the pale-haired women had spoken. Reason. Why did they fight, why did they go on? He was no protector. It had always been about survival back in the endless sands of Hueco Mundo, about who was stronger. Even here, though not as brutal... or perhaps even more so. The game was played differently, but the rules when one stripped away the fancy embellishments were the same.
When Ulquiorra first came to Anatole, he thought he understood where his place here was. Now he wondered if it was for mere convenience.
Slowly, he drew a hand from his pocket, staring down at his pale palm, curling black-nailed fingers towards it in thoughtful silence.