[Log] 14 - Another Time
Date: 08-18-08
Characters: Ulquiorra, Yammy
Summary: Yammy's return from the assault on Seireitei.
His duty has been to, as always, watch. He watched their leaving, and he would watch their arrival. Someone has to watch the fortress in the absence of the master. It is not a duty he complains of, but nor is it one he will admit complete satisfaction. All of Aizen's children have their love for bloodshed.
Green eyes lift, gazing out past the endless white sands that chase an equally un-ending night. What he sees is not anything visible in this realm. The half-helmeted Espada shifts in his place but slightly, barely stirring the sand beneath his feet. His hands remain in his hakama pockets, his head lifted, perked as if listening. This would not be the first return from Soul Society, but it is definitely one presence he is more familiar with, even as he waits for Garganta to make its connection.
The odd echoing ripping sound indeed fills the air yet again, several seconds after it was due. With a zipper-like effect the mouth opens into a black void. And due to his slow walking pace and grumbling, it actually takes another few seconds for Yammy to enter view and step out of the gateway as it seals back shut behind him.
His shoulder and arm have shallow wounds, bleeding a bit. A deeper wound is present in his chest and stomach, the stomach most likely the worst of the two given the copious amount of blood dribbling off of the gigantic Espada.
Still he's not even paying attention to his wounds. A rather annoyed look is present on his face. Not the constant bored and still-can't-navigate-this-damn-fortress look he was wearing up until the orders came down, but a look Ulquiorra would remember present on the Tenspada's face when he had to withdraw before he could kill Ichigo, Urahara, or Yoruichi.
The look of a monster deprived of its prey.
Yammy eyes the fortress and begins to shuffle idly towards it in no real hurry to enter. He knows his wounds will be just fine regenerating, and all that entering means is getting lost again and boredom. He's, perhaps unsurprisingly, unaware of Ulquiorra's presence. He may be better able to identify Ulquiorra or Aizen's presence, compared to even identifying reiatsu levels for anyone else, but he's still bad enough at it that he has to be trying on some level.
It's as he thought. No amusement dances upon the pale-skinned arrancar's face, those ever unblinking green eyes watching as Yammy finally emerges from Garganta's maw. If he's shocked at the large Espada's condition, he certainly knows how to hide it. When it becomes apparent that Yammy will likely pass him right by, Ulquiorra finally breaks his silence.
"Yammy." He lets a considerable handful of seconds tick by before continuing. "Is that the face of a warrior victorious?" While no smirk outright touches his lips, the hint of one seems present all the same.
The giant arrancar stops, glancing immediately to his minute companion, a slight begrudging grin appearing on his face for a few moments before it fades.
"I was so close. The damn bald pest could barely stand, then I felt Lord Aizen withdraw and had to follow suit. But it was so close..." Apparently he doesn't consider it a victory unless his opponent's a pile of red goo.
It was nice to get some exercise, Yammy'd admit. But right now he's too busy being angsty about losing his chance to finish it. Even now he wondered how many Baras it would've taken to finish the guy off, if Lord Aizen would have forgiven him for taking just another minute or two.
Such a response is typical of Yammy; Ulquiorra expected as much. "Fair enough." The raven-haired Espada closes his eyes, turning halfways before he opens them again to glance at the larger one. "The objective of the mission was more to give the shinigami a scare than to outrightly defeat them, although there certainly would have been no problems for us if some were permanently taken care of."
He begins to walk back towards the gatehouse that leads into the depths of the white-walled fortress. "Your wounds? At least you managed to keep your arm this time," he says.
The big brute follows, casting a glance down his body past his ruined vest of a shirt irritably, "He was a smallfry, even this was embarassing. He was a odd one though. He even took one of my punches directly just to stab me."
He doesn't bother to report the destruction to Rukongai. Slaughtering weaklings and smashing buildings was hardly noteworthy. Indeed, at the moment with the interrupted fight on his mind, he barely even remembers it.
"I can regenerate the rest, like you did your eye. Its nothing serious." Actually given how bad the stomach wound looks there's probably some internal damage.
"You may as well have it looked over, regardless," Ulquiorra replies. There's hardly a change in the sound of his steps once he crosses the threshold between sand and stone. He continues at a leisurely pace to accomodate for Yammy's injuries; it's not like they have anywhere to go in a hurry- except for the medical ward to stop Yammy from leaking blood all over the place. There's probably a trail following the behemoth's every step.
"Besides, Aizen-sama will likely wish to have everyone reconvene so that he may go over the results." He glances over his shoulder at Yammy. "...may as well get cleaned up before that, unless you care to give your comrades anything as fodder for berating."
Yammy snorts at this. He is indeed leaving a broken trail of red splatters on the ground. "I don't care what the others say. Lord Aizen's all that matters. Unless the words are from him, Tousen-sama, or you they can stuff it or I'll do it for them." Given his mood he just might be willing to throw a punch. He's certainly not afraid of picking a fight. If not for fear of repraisal from Aizen or Ulquiorra he probably would've attacked Grimmjow by now.
"I was disappointed though. I was hoping it'd be that orange haired bastard or the dark woman or the weird looking guy with a hat that I'd fight. Instead it was some bald regular Shinigami. Not even a Captain. All he did was release his Zanpakutou once." He has no way of knowing that he COULDN'T have encountered Urahara there and had low odds of meeting Yoruichi.
In turn, Ulquiorra offers a snort to that- as much of a laugh as one might get from him. "Idiot. You were assaulting Seireitei. Kurosaki Ichigo, Kisuke Urahara, and Shihouin Yoruichi are all in the earthly realm, unless your brain was severed with your arm from that last encounter that you'd forgotten." He says this as he turns his head frontwards again, leading the way down the impossibly white halls until they reach a branching of paths. Unlike his larger companion, the Cuarta Espada seems to have a very good grasp on his sense of directions within this place.
"...if anything, you should have kept in mind anything you learned from your opponent while you fought him. Or were you too busy trying to beat upon him with fists that you didn't pay that too much attention?"
"Apparently the guy I fought was the one that killed Grimmjow's big minion." He's either forgotten the name of Volcanica's wielder or doesn't see fit to bother to name him.
"I don't see how. Most of the wounds he gave me he took far worse for. He was tough for a weakling, but still just a small fry."
Yammy still sounds a bit disgruntled as he walks along, dribbling blood intermittently on the pristine floors.
"What am I supposed to learn from that? To rush through a Cero to smash a wimpy meaty Shinigami head into a Hierro-reinforced Espada's head?" Hearing Yammy insult someone's stupid tactics is probably somewhat amusing.
He continues to walk, somehow or another managing not to shake his head at Yammy's words. "Third Seat of the Eleventh Division, Ikkaku Madarame, I believe the name is," Ulquiorra says, as if having quickly skimmed through his memory before plucking the name out. "There's plenty to learn when you face an opponent, such as how they fight- in that if you are to ever encounter them again or need to offer advice to someone who will, you are familiar with their methods in battle. ...not that I think you would care to give advice to anyone, I'm sure," he says with that hint of a smirk again as he turns his head just enough that his eye can glance back at the bleeding fool. Not that anyone would likely ask Yammy for advice either, but Ulquiorra does not mention such. The other Espada is already in a sour mood as it is.
Probably. Unless directly ordered to, Yammy'd have issues helping anyone other then Ulquiorra. Even less likely though would be someone seeking Yammy's thoughts and assistance for tactical matters.
"I think thats what he called himself. Confusing name. Bald psycho." Yammy's mind was churning. Never a fast process. But he continues to walk on, still showing no sign of caring about his injuries. He always was hard to put down, at least for more then a few seconds.
"He fought kind of like I do I guess." Yammy decides at length. It wasn't quite right, but it was the closest he could get to a description.
"Would you have said it was an even match then? You did say it had been close," Ulquiorra prompts, turning down another hall. The medical ward is just down this way, although the hall looks no different from the one before it.
He's probably the only one with considerably enough patience aside from the ex-shinigami captains that would hold patience enough to deal with the ponderous thought processes of Yammy. The end of the hall is in sight, although the half-helmed wouldn't be surprised if the caretakers would be wary about treating the large Espada again, given what he did to the last one.
"No. The fighting style was the same, but his power was nothing. He was barely standing. He quit using a arm. He'd taken several punches, part of a Cero, a Baras, and a light blow from my Zanpakutou." Yammy replied, a hint of pride in his voice.
"Had he been able to amass more power, it could've been a even fight. But he was just another lowly Shinigami with only one release.
"He was faster, but I nearly killed him." Just another minute or two... Yammy again thought, his face still scowling.
The caretakers would be right to be wary. Yammy is in a mood, much as he was when he lost his arm. Hardly safe to treat.
"Nearly." The word is like a prodding finger, an underline to the previously stated. "It says something enough that he had been able to take such hits and still remain standing at all." Not that Ulquiorra is going to say that Yammy's opponent seems formidable in that aspect, although there are few enough shinigami that can still stand after encountering an arrancar, let alone an Espada.
Two steps to the doorway now. "Stop scowling like that- you'll scare them all away without even daring to treat you," the smaller arrancar suggests, even though he's turned his face away by then. Their reiatsu if not their voices carrying down the empty corridor would have been warning enough for those within the room to prepare.
Yammy just keeps following. He half expects when the door opens that they find it abandoned. He's used to the smallfry fleeing before him. He wasn't quite as recklessly destructive as Nnoitra, due to having his respect for Lord Aizen as well as the slight discomfort that Ulquiorra's displeasure gives him.
He tries to change his face, but the disgruntled look prevails. Then again, Yammy's usually grouchy about something.
"What's the point in continuing to stand without power behind it? All he did was waste my time. I wanted to get a good tough opponent or at least kill and eat him. He had to have been better then the regular ones I tasted before he arrived."
Ulquiorra does not respond. Such is a subject he's certain they've touched on before, and Yammy's grumblings are beginning to border whining. At least Nnoitra doesn't whine, but then the Quinta Espada's attitude is another thing to deal with. The half-helmed Espada stops at the entryway, stepping to the side for Yammy to enter first. He's the patient, after all.
"See to his injuries," he informs the brave (or foolish) souls that are within. It's not like they have much choice- this place is what they have been specialized for.
The Tenspada simply nods, before he enters, falling silent as he gazes at the healers, still dripping blood intermittently on the floor.
He considers saying something but instead opts to stroll over to a bench, sitting down upon it, ignoring the bench's straining sounds of protests at his monstrous bulk being applied to it. If it breaks it'll just give him an excuse to berate-or more likely, bash, whomever's tending to him at the moment.
Characters: Ulquiorra, Yammy
Summary: Yammy's return from the assault on Seireitei.
His duty has been to, as always, watch. He watched their leaving, and he would watch their arrival. Someone has to watch the fortress in the absence of the master. It is not a duty he complains of, but nor is it one he will admit complete satisfaction. All of Aizen's children have their love for bloodshed.
Green eyes lift, gazing out past the endless white sands that chase an equally un-ending night. What he sees is not anything visible in this realm. The half-helmeted Espada shifts in his place but slightly, barely stirring the sand beneath his feet. His hands remain in his hakama pockets, his head lifted, perked as if listening. This would not be the first return from Soul Society, but it is definitely one presence he is more familiar with, even as he waits for Garganta to make its connection.
The odd echoing ripping sound indeed fills the air yet again, several seconds after it was due. With a zipper-like effect the mouth opens into a black void. And due to his slow walking pace and grumbling, it actually takes another few seconds for Yammy to enter view and step out of the gateway as it seals back shut behind him.
His shoulder and arm have shallow wounds, bleeding a bit. A deeper wound is present in his chest and stomach, the stomach most likely the worst of the two given the copious amount of blood dribbling off of the gigantic Espada.
Still he's not even paying attention to his wounds. A rather annoyed look is present on his face. Not the constant bored and still-can't-navigate-this-damn-fortress look he was wearing up until the orders came down, but a look Ulquiorra would remember present on the Tenspada's face when he had to withdraw before he could kill Ichigo, Urahara, or Yoruichi.
The look of a monster deprived of its prey.
Yammy eyes the fortress and begins to shuffle idly towards it in no real hurry to enter. He knows his wounds will be just fine regenerating, and all that entering means is getting lost again and boredom. He's, perhaps unsurprisingly, unaware of Ulquiorra's presence. He may be better able to identify Ulquiorra or Aizen's presence, compared to even identifying reiatsu levels for anyone else, but he's still bad enough at it that he has to be trying on some level.
It's as he thought. No amusement dances upon the pale-skinned arrancar's face, those ever unblinking green eyes watching as Yammy finally emerges from Garganta's maw. If he's shocked at the large Espada's condition, he certainly knows how to hide it. When it becomes apparent that Yammy will likely pass him right by, Ulquiorra finally breaks his silence.
"Yammy." He lets a considerable handful of seconds tick by before continuing. "Is that the face of a warrior victorious?" While no smirk outright touches his lips, the hint of one seems present all the same.
The giant arrancar stops, glancing immediately to his minute companion, a slight begrudging grin appearing on his face for a few moments before it fades.
"I was so close. The damn bald pest could barely stand, then I felt Lord Aizen withdraw and had to follow suit. But it was so close..." Apparently he doesn't consider it a victory unless his opponent's a pile of red goo.
It was nice to get some exercise, Yammy'd admit. But right now he's too busy being angsty about losing his chance to finish it. Even now he wondered how many Baras it would've taken to finish the guy off, if Lord Aizen would have forgiven him for taking just another minute or two.
Such a response is typical of Yammy; Ulquiorra expected as much. "Fair enough." The raven-haired Espada closes his eyes, turning halfways before he opens them again to glance at the larger one. "The objective of the mission was more to give the shinigami a scare than to outrightly defeat them, although there certainly would have been no problems for us if some were permanently taken care of."
He begins to walk back towards the gatehouse that leads into the depths of the white-walled fortress. "Your wounds? At least you managed to keep your arm this time," he says.
The big brute follows, casting a glance down his body past his ruined vest of a shirt irritably, "He was a smallfry, even this was embarassing. He was a odd one though. He even took one of my punches directly just to stab me."
He doesn't bother to report the destruction to Rukongai. Slaughtering weaklings and smashing buildings was hardly noteworthy. Indeed, at the moment with the interrupted fight on his mind, he barely even remembers it.
"I can regenerate the rest, like you did your eye. Its nothing serious." Actually given how bad the stomach wound looks there's probably some internal damage.
"You may as well have it looked over, regardless," Ulquiorra replies. There's hardly a change in the sound of his steps once he crosses the threshold between sand and stone. He continues at a leisurely pace to accomodate for Yammy's injuries; it's not like they have anywhere to go in a hurry- except for the medical ward to stop Yammy from leaking blood all over the place. There's probably a trail following the behemoth's every step.
"Besides, Aizen-sama will likely wish to have everyone reconvene so that he may go over the results." He glances over his shoulder at Yammy. "...may as well get cleaned up before that, unless you care to give your comrades anything as fodder for berating."
Yammy snorts at this. He is indeed leaving a broken trail of red splatters on the ground. "I don't care what the others say. Lord Aizen's all that matters. Unless the words are from him, Tousen-sama, or you they can stuff it or I'll do it for them." Given his mood he just might be willing to throw a punch. He's certainly not afraid of picking a fight. If not for fear of repraisal from Aizen or Ulquiorra he probably would've attacked Grimmjow by now.
"I was disappointed though. I was hoping it'd be that orange haired bastard or the dark woman or the weird looking guy with a hat that I'd fight. Instead it was some bald regular Shinigami. Not even a Captain. All he did was release his Zanpakutou once." He has no way of knowing that he COULDN'T have encountered Urahara there and had low odds of meeting Yoruichi.
In turn, Ulquiorra offers a snort to that- as much of a laugh as one might get from him. "Idiot. You were assaulting Seireitei. Kurosaki Ichigo, Kisuke Urahara, and Shihouin Yoruichi are all in the earthly realm, unless your brain was severed with your arm from that last encounter that you'd forgotten." He says this as he turns his head frontwards again, leading the way down the impossibly white halls until they reach a branching of paths. Unlike his larger companion, the Cuarta Espada seems to have a very good grasp on his sense of directions within this place.
"...if anything, you should have kept in mind anything you learned from your opponent while you fought him. Or were you too busy trying to beat upon him with fists that you didn't pay that too much attention?"
"Apparently the guy I fought was the one that killed Grimmjow's big minion." He's either forgotten the name of Volcanica's wielder or doesn't see fit to bother to name him.
"I don't see how. Most of the wounds he gave me he took far worse for. He was tough for a weakling, but still just a small fry."
Yammy still sounds a bit disgruntled as he walks along, dribbling blood intermittently on the pristine floors.
"What am I supposed to learn from that? To rush through a Cero to smash a wimpy meaty Shinigami head into a Hierro-reinforced Espada's head?" Hearing Yammy insult someone's stupid tactics is probably somewhat amusing.
He continues to walk, somehow or another managing not to shake his head at Yammy's words. "Third Seat of the Eleventh Division, Ikkaku Madarame, I believe the name is," Ulquiorra says, as if having quickly skimmed through his memory before plucking the name out. "There's plenty to learn when you face an opponent, such as how they fight- in that if you are to ever encounter them again or need to offer advice to someone who will, you are familiar with their methods in battle. ...not that I think you would care to give advice to anyone, I'm sure," he says with that hint of a smirk again as he turns his head just enough that his eye can glance back at the bleeding fool. Not that anyone would likely ask Yammy for advice either, but Ulquiorra does not mention such. The other Espada is already in a sour mood as it is.
Probably. Unless directly ordered to, Yammy'd have issues helping anyone other then Ulquiorra. Even less likely though would be someone seeking Yammy's thoughts and assistance for tactical matters.
"I think thats what he called himself. Confusing name. Bald psycho." Yammy's mind was churning. Never a fast process. But he continues to walk on, still showing no sign of caring about his injuries. He always was hard to put down, at least for more then a few seconds.
"He fought kind of like I do I guess." Yammy decides at length. It wasn't quite right, but it was the closest he could get to a description.
"Would you have said it was an even match then? You did say it had been close," Ulquiorra prompts, turning down another hall. The medical ward is just down this way, although the hall looks no different from the one before it.
He's probably the only one with considerably enough patience aside from the ex-shinigami captains that would hold patience enough to deal with the ponderous thought processes of Yammy. The end of the hall is in sight, although the half-helmed wouldn't be surprised if the caretakers would be wary about treating the large Espada again, given what he did to the last one.
"No. The fighting style was the same, but his power was nothing. He was barely standing. He quit using a arm. He'd taken several punches, part of a Cero, a Baras, and a light blow from my Zanpakutou." Yammy replied, a hint of pride in his voice.
"Had he been able to amass more power, it could've been a even fight. But he was just another lowly Shinigami with only one release.
"He was faster, but I nearly killed him." Just another minute or two... Yammy again thought, his face still scowling.
The caretakers would be right to be wary. Yammy is in a mood, much as he was when he lost his arm. Hardly safe to treat.
"Nearly." The word is like a prodding finger, an underline to the previously stated. "It says something enough that he had been able to take such hits and still remain standing at all." Not that Ulquiorra is going to say that Yammy's opponent seems formidable in that aspect, although there are few enough shinigami that can still stand after encountering an arrancar, let alone an Espada.
Two steps to the doorway now. "Stop scowling like that- you'll scare them all away without even daring to treat you," the smaller arrancar suggests, even though he's turned his face away by then. Their reiatsu if not their voices carrying down the empty corridor would have been warning enough for those within the room to prepare.
Yammy just keeps following. He half expects when the door opens that they find it abandoned. He's used to the smallfry fleeing before him. He wasn't quite as recklessly destructive as Nnoitra, due to having his respect for Lord Aizen as well as the slight discomfort that Ulquiorra's displeasure gives him.
He tries to change his face, but the disgruntled look prevails. Then again, Yammy's usually grouchy about something.
"What's the point in continuing to stand without power behind it? All he did was waste my time. I wanted to get a good tough opponent or at least kill and eat him. He had to have been better then the regular ones I tasted before he arrived."
Ulquiorra does not respond. Such is a subject he's certain they've touched on before, and Yammy's grumblings are beginning to border whining. At least Nnoitra doesn't whine, but then the Quinta Espada's attitude is another thing to deal with. The half-helmed Espada stops at the entryway, stepping to the side for Yammy to enter first. He's the patient, after all.
"See to his injuries," he informs the brave (or foolish) souls that are within. It's not like they have much choice- this place is what they have been specialized for.
The Tenspada simply nods, before he enters, falling silent as he gazes at the healers, still dripping blood intermittently on the floor.
He considers saying something but instead opts to stroll over to a bench, sitting down upon it, ignoring the bench's straining sounds of protests at his monstrous bulk being applied to it. If it breaks it'll just give him an excuse to berate-or more likely, bash, whomever's tending to him at the moment.