[Log] 18.5
Characters: Aizen, Alyon
The 'day' had been a long one, for Alyon in any respect. Having finally wrapped the large box and the two smaller ones into a cloth for easier carrying, she set out to find Aizen. It isn't incredibly difficult, in truth. The man's reiatsu was incredible and unless he's hiding himself, she'd follow it easily enough. The kimono is draped over her form, as always, but her hair has been pulled back from her face and the makeup has been applied in softer tones today.
Reaching up to knock twice, as is courteous, she opens the door and stands to one side. It's not as if Aizen would not be able to recognize her own spirit signature standing there. She holds the strange gifts in her hand lightly. Her voice soft and serene, "I do not wish to interrupt you, Aizen-sama...but I've brought you a gift." Well, gifts, in fact. Her head bowed as she waits for him to allow her entrance or to dismiss her.
The air in Aizen's throne room was heavy. It made those most nervous of his children tremble easily in his presence. Shadows seemed to dance in the darkened corners of the room, almost as if they had minds of their own. And high above the main floor upon his throne sat the Lord himself.
Aizen's mood was not its most pleasant at the moment and the throne room stood empty save for the overwhelming presence of the Lord who was quite effectively glaring at the dancing shadows. The interruption, however, was met with indifference, or perhaps boredom. Whatever the case, Aizen seemed utterly uninterested in any gift this woman might bring him. He did not trust gifts that came unasked for.
The Lord's posture shifted, his right elbow propped upon the arm of his chair so that he might lean his chin against his knuckles. "Proceed."
Slipping inside is the painted face of the geisha that has come to roam his halls. Her eyes straying about the room, a glimmer of memory before she approaches before coming to a respectable distance. Kneeling with a sweep of her arm to ensure her kimono doesn't get in her way before bowing forward. Her fingertips touching the ground right in front of her forehead.
Straightening after a moment as she, without word or grand gesture, unwraps the larger of the two carefully crafted boxes and reveals a hardened clay plate. "The clay holds heat well and if placed over a fire..." She takes similar clay cups that have been painstakingly shaped to perfection with small designs he may not be able to see from there. "Will keep your tea warm for longer. I've also prepared for you a black root tea and a cherry root tea for your enjoyment, Aizen-sama." She bows forward again slightly.
This was an unexpected development and the Lord was not pleased to have been caught by surprise. Delicate situations such as this were the type he had hoped to leave behind in Soul Society. His children did not bring him gifts; they followed his orders and earned favor through conquest and prowess on the battlefield. They did not bring him tea.
Dark eyes narrowed sharply as he examined her in silence from on high. He showed no signs of pleasure, though the gift itself might have captured his interest under other circumstances. "Tell me," he finally spoke, his voice dull and cold. "How did you come to find such a thing in Hueco Mundo?"
"The clay was gathered long before you came to us, Aizen-sama. It is what allowed me to grow the blossom tree on my rise that Ulquiorra found me at. I merely harvested it to fashion this for you. As for the roots, I've long kept them, I still enjoy making teas. Since you held an appreciation for it, unlike my brethren. I thought you would enjoy the flavors they offered." She glances up, seeing the suspicion on his face and she smiles a bit. "If the gifts do not please you, I can remove them. My brothers and sisters oft forget that you are not we."
She remains bowed, the large clay plate and cups set in front of her. The geisha wearing white silk with a blood red coloring at the base and fading up. Those pale eyes remain mostly closed.
There was no warmth in the Lord's eyes as he listened to her explanation. He still gave no indication of pleasure at these unexpected gifts, but also gave no order to remove them. He simply continued to study his newest tool with an expression of mild disdain.
"Your brothers and sisters do not present me with such things." There were no traces of emotion in those words. It was simple fact; all else was hidden behind the Lord's sharp eyes. "They present me with accomplishments in battle or promises of glory. Why do you choose to present me with such a gift?"
She considers for a moment, "Because I cannot give you either of those things. It is my fate to defend those who can achieve greatness and never achieve it myself. I will never grow in power, Aizen-sama. I've long accepted this, but I can offer my fans to others who are able to. It is why I was not bitter when I my Espada rank was taken from me. Mine is the hand that extends to help others rise higher...a stepping stone." She doesn't sound bitter or sad, it's the simple truth of things. A child is more powerful than her with a weapon in hand.
"Consider it an offering of thanks for what you've done for the Arrancar. You've taught us to live without fear and seek our own power. If even if it's for your own ends." Her brows knit, perhaps the first true break in that carefully painted mask, "I am aware of your distrust of me, I expect it. I am not one of your creations and I can live without your presence as they cannot. But still I offer you thanks." With that she looks up at him with those ice pale eyes for a moment before rising.
The Lord listened in silence, offering no indication of his feelings until the last word had been spoken. Boredom faded and Aizen rose from his throne, though he remained atop the grand stair, gazing down upon her with narrowed eyes. How little she really understood.
"A Hollow is born from fear. I can no more separate the two than banish the chill from the white sands." Aizen's gaze was piercing, the intensity of it all that much greater for the sudden, oppressive weight of his reiatsu. However, this was not the weight he might use to crush a subordinate that spoke against him or put a rebellious child in its place. It was simple and subtle and perhaps even beyond her notice. It was simply weight added to the Lord's gaze.
"My children feel their fear as keenly as a blade and they fight to tear that pain free from their flesh. They loathe it, yet it is as much a part of them as the countless souls they devour in the vain hope that just one more soul might give them the power to escape what they are." The Lord began to slowly descend, his steps measured and echoing .
"And I see your fear, Seika Alyon. I see you crumble beneath its weight and cower before its strength. Yet you do nothing." Finally his footsteps stopped, only a few more strides before he would have trampled her. "That is why you are of no use to me."
He bent to retrieve her gifts, lifting them carefully as he shifted into motion once more, stepping past her as if she were not there. "I will accept your gift."
The geisha listened in silence, the tremor in her hands visible before she clasps them and she bears the weight of his eyes. Not easily, either. That almost soothing reiatsu from her fading as she calls it to her to steady herself. Her eyes remain lowered from him...leaving her to wonder if she'd be able to meet such a gaze. She bows as he moves past, "Then, if you've no use of me, I shall not trouble these halls with my presence." Perhaps he couldn't do what she'd hoped. What she told Ulquiorra but the night before.
With as much grace as she entered Las Noches with, she turns and exits. She has no belongings and simply turns down the familiar paths to the White Desert itself. Not a word spoken or a twitch of that painted mask of her once occupation.
The 'day' had been a long one, for Alyon in any respect. Having finally wrapped the large box and the two smaller ones into a cloth for easier carrying, she set out to find Aizen. It isn't incredibly difficult, in truth. The man's reiatsu was incredible and unless he's hiding himself, she'd follow it easily enough. The kimono is draped over her form, as always, but her hair has been pulled back from her face and the makeup has been applied in softer tones today.
Reaching up to knock twice, as is courteous, she opens the door and stands to one side. It's not as if Aizen would not be able to recognize her own spirit signature standing there. She holds the strange gifts in her hand lightly. Her voice soft and serene, "I do not wish to interrupt you, Aizen-sama...but I've brought you a gift." Well, gifts, in fact. Her head bowed as she waits for him to allow her entrance or to dismiss her.
The air in Aizen's throne room was heavy. It made those most nervous of his children tremble easily in his presence. Shadows seemed to dance in the darkened corners of the room, almost as if they had minds of their own. And high above the main floor upon his throne sat the Lord himself.
Aizen's mood was not its most pleasant at the moment and the throne room stood empty save for the overwhelming presence of the Lord who was quite effectively glaring at the dancing shadows. The interruption, however, was met with indifference, or perhaps boredom. Whatever the case, Aizen seemed utterly uninterested in any gift this woman might bring him. He did not trust gifts that came unasked for.
The Lord's posture shifted, his right elbow propped upon the arm of his chair so that he might lean his chin against his knuckles. "Proceed."
Slipping inside is the painted face of the geisha that has come to roam his halls. Her eyes straying about the room, a glimmer of memory before she approaches before coming to a respectable distance. Kneeling with a sweep of her arm to ensure her kimono doesn't get in her way before bowing forward. Her fingertips touching the ground right in front of her forehead.
Straightening after a moment as she, without word or grand gesture, unwraps the larger of the two carefully crafted boxes and reveals a hardened clay plate. "The clay holds heat well and if placed over a fire..." She takes similar clay cups that have been painstakingly shaped to perfection with small designs he may not be able to see from there. "Will keep your tea warm for longer. I've also prepared for you a black root tea and a cherry root tea for your enjoyment, Aizen-sama." She bows forward again slightly.
This was an unexpected development and the Lord was not pleased to have been caught by surprise. Delicate situations such as this were the type he had hoped to leave behind in Soul Society. His children did not bring him gifts; they followed his orders and earned favor through conquest and prowess on the battlefield. They did not bring him tea.
Dark eyes narrowed sharply as he examined her in silence from on high. He showed no signs of pleasure, though the gift itself might have captured his interest under other circumstances. "Tell me," he finally spoke, his voice dull and cold. "How did you come to find such a thing in Hueco Mundo?"
"The clay was gathered long before you came to us, Aizen-sama. It is what allowed me to grow the blossom tree on my rise that Ulquiorra found me at. I merely harvested it to fashion this for you. As for the roots, I've long kept them, I still enjoy making teas. Since you held an appreciation for it, unlike my brethren. I thought you would enjoy the flavors they offered." She glances up, seeing the suspicion on his face and she smiles a bit. "If the gifts do not please you, I can remove them. My brothers and sisters oft forget that you are not we."
She remains bowed, the large clay plate and cups set in front of her. The geisha wearing white silk with a blood red coloring at the base and fading up. Those pale eyes remain mostly closed.
There was no warmth in the Lord's eyes as he listened to her explanation. He still gave no indication of pleasure at these unexpected gifts, but also gave no order to remove them. He simply continued to study his newest tool with an expression of mild disdain.
"Your brothers and sisters do not present me with such things." There were no traces of emotion in those words. It was simple fact; all else was hidden behind the Lord's sharp eyes. "They present me with accomplishments in battle or promises of glory. Why do you choose to present me with such a gift?"
She considers for a moment, "Because I cannot give you either of those things. It is my fate to defend those who can achieve greatness and never achieve it myself. I will never grow in power, Aizen-sama. I've long accepted this, but I can offer my fans to others who are able to. It is why I was not bitter when I my Espada rank was taken from me. Mine is the hand that extends to help others rise higher...a stepping stone." She doesn't sound bitter or sad, it's the simple truth of things. A child is more powerful than her with a weapon in hand.
"Consider it an offering of thanks for what you've done for the Arrancar. You've taught us to live without fear and seek our own power. If even if it's for your own ends." Her brows knit, perhaps the first true break in that carefully painted mask, "I am aware of your distrust of me, I expect it. I am not one of your creations and I can live without your presence as they cannot. But still I offer you thanks." With that she looks up at him with those ice pale eyes for a moment before rising.
The Lord listened in silence, offering no indication of his feelings until the last word had been spoken. Boredom faded and Aizen rose from his throne, though he remained atop the grand stair, gazing down upon her with narrowed eyes. How little she really understood.
"A Hollow is born from fear. I can no more separate the two than banish the chill from the white sands." Aizen's gaze was piercing, the intensity of it all that much greater for the sudden, oppressive weight of his reiatsu. However, this was not the weight he might use to crush a subordinate that spoke against him or put a rebellious child in its place. It was simple and subtle and perhaps even beyond her notice. It was simply weight added to the Lord's gaze.
"My children feel their fear as keenly as a blade and they fight to tear that pain free from their flesh. They loathe it, yet it is as much a part of them as the countless souls they devour in the vain hope that just one more soul might give them the power to escape what they are." The Lord began to slowly descend, his steps measured and echoing .
"And I see your fear, Seika Alyon. I see you crumble beneath its weight and cower before its strength. Yet you do nothing." Finally his footsteps stopped, only a few more strides before he would have trampled her. "That is why you are of no use to me."
He bent to retrieve her gifts, lifting them carefully as he shifted into motion once more, stepping past her as if she were not there. "I will accept your gift."
The geisha listened in silence, the tremor in her hands visible before she clasps them and she bears the weight of his eyes. Not easily, either. That almost soothing reiatsu from her fading as she calls it to her to steady herself. Her eyes remain lowered from him...leaving her to wonder if she'd be able to meet such a gaze. She bows as he moves past, "Then, if you've no use of me, I shall not trouble these halls with my presence." Perhaps he couldn't do what she'd hoped. What she told Ulquiorra but the night before.
With as much grace as she entered Las Noches with, she turns and exits. She has no belongings and simply turns down the familiar paths to the White Desert itself. Not a word spoken or a twitch of that painted mask of her once occupation.