Show me your inner self... [Closed]
Characters: Gin, Shinjiro, and later Cirucci.
Content: The drugs are starting to lose their effect, so Gin has offered to help Shinji find other ways of keeping his Persona under control; namely giving it an outlet of violence.
Setting: In a clearing, a reasonable hike from the fairgrounds.
Time: Mid- to late-afternoon.
Warnings: Sparring and ( Read more... )
Content: The drugs are starting to lose their effect, so Gin has offered to help Shinji find other ways of keeping his Persona under control; namely giving it an outlet of violence.
Setting: In a clearing, a reasonable hike from the fairgrounds.
Time: Mid- to late-afternoon.
Warnings: Sparring and ( Read more... )
Which was more or less what Gin had done, stumbling through the huddles of makeshift tents in a haze of false drunkeness and boldly inviting himself to a seat at the first likely looking campfire. They hadn't liked his intrusion, but Gin had cheerfully let them share from his bottle - something he'd filched from the ship's stores that that a real nice kick to it - and had gleefully shared his entirely exaggerated stories about the poor merchants he'd been robbing blind on the outskirts of town. He'd made them promise to keep his secret as he told them which road, and showed them the gold in his pockets as proof, and then later politely pretended not to notice as they took advantage of his pretended incapacitation and stole it from him before he'd staggered away. The weight and sound and feel of coin had been enough to lure to right where he wanted them. He'd made sure of it before slipping quietly away for his appointed meeting with Shinji.
So their return path wasn't the same one Shinji had used to find him. Gin struck out from the clearing in a straight path until they'd hit the main road, and then set a deliberately slow pace to give Cirucci time to reach her destination. It was an order he'd felt downright gleeful about giving. Seeing her bruised and bloodied at the hands of mere humans was going to be decidedly enjoyable, although he was consciously maintaining an innocent outward face...as much as he ever did, anyway. The smile stayed, as always.
They came to a sharp bend in the path, one Gin had praised highly when weaving his tale for the bandits because it made this part of the road a perfect ambush point. It also made it quite easy to sneak up on, because the thick trees obscured the view, but if you happened to know what to listen for the sounds of a scuffle and Cirucci's muted gasps of pain weren't hard to hear.
Perfect timing. Gin mentally patted himself on the back.
He let his gait slow even further, tilting his head towards Shinji. "Do you hear that?"
Reply
"Shit..." he husked out, his steps quickening again but having almost no sound. Now that he was out of his thick clothing and heavy boots he moved rather smoothly. He had to: Shadows hunted by sight and sound. And getting caught off guard was a death sentence... and getting the sneak attack was the only strategy he knew. There was almost no sound at all.
He slunk around the corner just enough to see Cirucci and her attackers, and his face twisted in anger and shock. He didn't like the woman, per say, but she had at least tried to be social with him. She didn't deserve this. He didn't bother turning back to see if Gin was following or cared at all. He didn't expect the older man to. Instead he simply dashed forward, cracking one of the men in the back of the head with the butt of his axe. No warnings, no posturing. Only quick and brutal attack. Guys like these were just as bad as the slimy yellow eyed things that stalked about at night. Things he still saw on full moon nights but was too scared to fight. Normal men though... not so much.
Reply
Cirucci's head whipped around as she heard a groan, standing slowly as her eyes adjusted to the panicked scene playing in front of her. One of the cronies had collapsed to the ground, hands covering his head for a reason Cirucci quickly calculated: a gleam of sunlight bouncing off metal, something large, heavy--
She squinted, trying to decipher the weapon despite the obscuring flash of white that left strains of color dancing over her vision. A tilt of her head was a change of perspective enough: it was an axe, she realized, and then, cynically, a rescuer has arrived. She shifted her glance upwards. The scene couldn't have been more perfect: the late afternoon sun still poked through the trees, spilling past the foliage and clinging to the intruder's frame in a most inconsistent kind of illumination.
Shinjiro Aragaki, Cirucci decided, would make for a good lesson in contrast for artists. He had the lighting made for a prince, right at that very moment, but that sulky, sullen hunch of his back skewed it off course, left a shadow strewn messily on his face, like a splatter of paint. Ratty looking as ever, every bit of him.
But the remaining four bandits seemed in disarray: the two who had yet to act backed away from Shinjiro, shoulders hunched, hands held up in a sad parody of innocence. The leader worked his mouth, opening and closing it in an attempt to form words, with no success except for the click of his jaw. It wasn't until he swallowed that he managed to sputter coherently. "Who the hell's this bastard? He can't get all four of us at once!" He sneered towards Aragaki, now, walking closer and gesturing to the other two men. He reached into his pocket--probably to grab his own weapon, Cirucci reasoned, surreptitiously keeping an eye on the man who had bound her hands prior. He wasn't near the other three, oh no; instead, he was nearing her, little by little--
"Tear him apart!"
"Wait!"
Cirucci faked a shriek as she felt cold metal against her neck: the fourth remaining bandit had pulled a knife on her, the bastard. The other three men, previously ready to lunge at their intruder, came to abrupt, clumsy halts: their knees had been bent, prepared for attack, but now they could barely step over their own feet, turning around to face their comrade. The leader appeared nothing less than baffled. "The hell?"
"It's simple." The man behind her pressed the knife closer to her neck; Cirucci, although hating every second of this pretend play, squirmed appropriately. He smirked as he turned his eyes to Aragaki. "He fucks with us, we slit her throat." He hollered louder, a cocky laugh punctuating his sentence. "Run back to your mother, kid."
If Cirucci could've turned her head to locate Gin, he probably would have swelled with glee on earning a glare with such ill, deadly intent from the unruly Privaron.
Reply
There was a little rise on one side of the road, at the outer edge of the curve - a perfect vantage point and hiding place. Gin knew they knew about it because he'd been very careful to tell them all about it, and as expected they had someone stationed there. One last bandit with a bow in hand, an arrow already knocked but the string only half-pulled in indecision. He was so utterly focused on the brawl below that he didn't notice Gin coming up behind him until a hand closed abruptly over his drawing hand, preventing the arrow from releasing in his shock. "Wha-!"
"You're not doing it right, you know," Gin told him frankly, obscurely. He saw the flash of recognition, and then fear - not surprising, considering they'd robbed Gin of both his ambush point and his coin the night before - but Gin grinned at him in a way that was equal parts friendly and predatory.
"Here, like this," he continued, gripping the man's bow with a strength that demanded no argument. Not that the bandit was putting up much resistance anyway, still reeling in surprise and not entirely sure what to expect. Probably not for Gin to carefully line up the bow in Shinji's direction, but low, aiming for his legs. He didn't pose a very difficult target, caught in hesitation as the knife went to Cirucci's throat. It was the sort of tenuous moment right before all hell broke loose, and Gin rather liked to be the instigator of such things. He pulled back the bandit's arm, drawing the string and the bow tight, and then stepped back just far enough to watch even though he was still figuratively breathing down the man's neck. "There you are. Now let it go."
The bandit glanced at him uneasily, but he seemed painfully aware that a drawn bow was too unwieldy a weapon to be used in close quarters, and Gin's hand rested on Shinsou's hilt suggestively. Making up his mind he swallowed visibly and then released the arrow. It made a whistling sound as it darted neatly through the small gap in the foliage, towards its target.
"Like that?" he asked uncertainly, absurdly looking for some sign of approval in Gin's eyes. Unfortunately it wasn't so easy to catch his gaze, heavily narrowed and half-hidden by silver strands of hair.
But though his eyes were unreadable, Gin's smile said plenty. "Perfect."
And then he drew his zanpakuto in the space of an eye blink and slotted it neatly through the man's ribs, right into his lung.
Reply
"Come on Cirucci... I thought you were a harder bitch than that." He taunted, though the tone of his voice and expression was somewhere between true mocking and harsh encouragement. As he spoke he was working out what to do next. If he dropped his axe he might be able to cover the distance in time...
But the cook never got the chance. He heard the sharp whistle in the air, but he couldn't move in time. No way in hell. The sudden pain made him bellow like a wounded beast and he crumped in a heap. It was bad enough that he had just been shot by an arrow, but that arrow had hit his leg, just bellow the knee. A bad place to aim for normally, being so bony... but on Shinjiro it was a weak-spot begging to be used. Those tendons and joint had finally healed enough that he could move almost 100% as well as he could before. Not now. Now that knee was a ball of agony. Anywhere else and he might have been able to keep going on pure stubborn will alone.
And the bandits were on him in an instant. Shinjiro swung his weapon in a wide arc, keeping them back, but he was outnumbered. And he wouldn't be able to keep up for very long...
Reply
"Quiet, honey." Cirucci didn't need to turn her head to picture the smirk creeping across the bandit's face. Indeed, his 'endearment' dripped with such condescension that it painted enough of a picture. She would have bitten his hand, if Gin hadn't so metaphorically tied hers.
But then, under normal circumstances, she would never have been in this situation to begin with.
She was quick to notice the arrow--it were her ears that perked first, that twitched at that sharp, piercing sound, before her eyes caught sight of a sliver of wood shooting through the sky. When Aragaki crumpled, she stifled a groan, muscles tensing in frustration. Done for already? Ichimaru shouldn't waste time on useless toys--
But the thought of Gin, ironically, lent Cirucci a feeling of relief, her hands unclenching. No--knowing Gin, he had something to do even with this. If Aragaki were truly this weak, Gin--well, he'd get bored. It was his way. Cirucci's shoulders, previously hunched, relaxed themselves; drooped, even. The bandit behind her snickered, no doubt attributing the change in posture to a shift towards docility. "That's a good girl."
The cool blade of the knife laughed against her neck, tickling her skin.
Meanwhile, the remaining bandits crept toward Aragaki like vultures, their grins wide, with yellowed teeth jammed into crooked rows. The leader gestured with his head, leering down at Shinjiro as he addressed his men. "Get him from behind. Surround 'im."
One of the other two bandits nodded, his feet kicking up dirt as he sauntered around Shinjiro, a hand reaching for his own weapon. The three started to circle Aragaki, strolling along with an air of arrogance, peering down at him with their mouths all turned upwards into smirks. "This'll teach him to mind his business," one muttered under his breath, his steps wide, heel scuffing hard against the ground.
From what Cirucci could hear, the others taunted Shinjiro similarly--but the most she could make out was a low buzz of vowels strung together, insect like. Oh, she just wished they'd shut their mouths, the crude bastards. But she soon resented her wish: the silence swarm over her skin as uncomfortably as the neurotic hum from moments before did, and she found herself subtly shifting her weight to relieve some of the anxiety of the stillness.
A shift of movement almost led her to sigh in relief.
"Go."
The three bandits circling Shinjiro, so sluggish and slow moments before, seemed to spring to life, rushing towards him in a flurry of motion--at least one from behind, from what Cirucci could tell, a spot where Aragaki couldn't easily swing his axe defensively. Her captor sniggered. "Sorry, but luck ain't on your side today."
The irony kept Cirucci entertained, if just for a minute. Luckily, this was going to climax all so nicely, if what Gin had desired came into fruition.
Oh, it had better.
Reply
Though probably not. If he ever gave the impression he was satisfied, she wouldn't have quite as much incentive to keep trying so hard. The impossible standards were good for her...and entertaining for him.
As for Shinjiro, well, perhaps the arrow to the knee was a bit much. The bandit's aim was a little better than he'd expected, or else it was just dumb luck to have hit that weak point. Gin had been reluctant to aim higher just in case the arrow pierced something too critical and ended things far sooner than he'd wanted...
Although perhaps he might have inadvertently guided the bandit's aim for that spot, and perhaps he really wasn't all that disappointed about it now. The blood on Shinji and the bruises on Cirucci; yes, he was having far too much fun at their expense, watching them struggle and endure and hurt. It gave him a twisted, smug sense of pride.
He could step in, if he had to, but if so it wouldn't be until the last minute, or perhaps even a little late. He'd told Cirucci not to dare break her role or he'd kill her himself, in a cheerfully friendly tone that he hoped haunted her even now. He didn't think he'd have to, however. Castor should be enough to deal with this, so long as Shinji didn't hesitate too long in calling him.
Reply
He didn't have time to reach for his Envoker, but right now he didn't need it. The ex-SEES member screamed harshly, clutching his head as blue-black energy billowed around him and a burst of force rippled out around him, like the Heat Wave attack he had used on Gin, though not as smooth. It was always harder when he tried to summon without his Envoker. And he was paying for it.
But so were the bandits, bodies folding and flying back as if hit with a sudden wind. Not enough to kill, but enough to hurt. A lot.
But Shinjiro wasn't done yelling, his voice cracking and lowering in volume even as he put more effort into it. Castor had just been out recently, and Shinji had just dragged it out again kicking and screaming. It wasn't going back so easily. The bruise colored energy still swirled around his body, and the yells turned to hacks as Shinjiro doubled over, sounding like his was choking to death right there on the path... only to have a glob of something black hit the ground in front of him. This... was very very bad.
Reply
Cirucci felt the knife shake at her throat. Adjusting her glance to peer behind her, she caught sight of the bandit's hand quaking with fear. He had reeled back in response to seeing his fellow men hurled backwards, his eyes widened in fear, eyebrows arched high, a bit of distance now opening between her and her captor.
The other men were groaning, trying in vain to push themselves up, falling back onto shaky arms and trembling legs as they regarded Aragaki with confusion and terror. "What--how--" One sputtered as he tried to drag himself forward by his elbows, only to collapse fully down onto the ground after a moment of struggle.
Cirucci herself was captivated by the sight, eyes tracking the energy that swirled around Shinjiro with almost an interested, studious intensity. This was a power unlike hers, unlike the arrancar in general. Just who was this buffoon? But her interest cooled to apathy mere seconds later. He obviously had a clumsy hold on his power, reigned it in only with hesitation and unease. Cirucci had no time for those who so easily disregarded their strength, who would allow themselves to be weak rather than face their inner monster--and tame it.
But Gin, apparently, did.
And the bandit behind her seemed transfixed still by this primal display, backing away from Cirucci almost in wonder. "What the--what the fuck is that?"
Cirucci scrunched her nose as the black glob hit the ground with a sick thump. This whole affair was getting out of hand. Aragaki had potential; personal opinion of him aside, Cirucci could discern that much. But the display in front of her was nothing less than pathetic. If Aragaki didn't seize authority over his inner demon, then--
She heard a quick, anxious shuffle of steps behind her.
"Cut that shit out! You hear me?" The last bandit who remained standing grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, thrusting the knife back against her throat. His hand was still shaking, Cirucci noted. "If you don't--if you don't stop, you fucking freak, I'll kill this bitch, you hear?"
For emphasis, Cirucci faked another gasp. Hopefully, this was enough urgency for Aragaki to get a hold of himself. If not, then--
Either way, Cirucci had to play her part. If Aragaki collapsed under the pressure, she'd have to depend on Gin to step in. And that was an outcome she'd rather not have to anticipate.
Reply
He watched with avid interest. It must have been just like this, he imagined, the first night Shinji had killed with his power. Gin had a feeling that very shortly, it was going to happen again, although he wasn't quite sure yet whether it would be intentional or accidental this time around. It seemed to be leaning towards the latter, although Gin did have one carefully chosen weight on his side that he hoped would tip the scales back towards the former.
Cirucci. Choosing her for this assignment wasn't simply a matter of dislike or convenience. That helped, true, but for all his digging into Shinji's past this was all meant to recreate that one, brutal night that had left it scars in Shinji's psyche. The night he had killed a woman, an innocent; a role Cirucci was now fulfilling with her convincing damsel routine. He hadn't told her the reasons why, but Gin had hoped that her presence would be enough for Shinji to take charge of his power and tame it, or risk another tragedy.
He certainly hadn't told Cirucci that there was just as much a chance that Shinjiro's power would backfire, and she might very well get caught in the path of its killing rage. She was a lot more sturdy than the late Mrs. Armada, but it was still a potentially dangerous manoeuvre. Gin was quite happy to keep his distance from the whole mess until he saw which way things were going to fall out.
Reply
He looked up to face the bandits, looking directly at the one who held Cirucci. Long trails of the black stuff was dribbling from his mouth and eyes like some kind of strange gore, always moving. And slowly, a shape rose out of the tiny puddle of the stuff that was already forming. A large horse like shape.
Shinji grinned.
Another blast, this time not just force but edging into blades, tearing up the ground... and the bandits still fighting to stand. Blood and other things kicked up into the air, catching in the sunlight along with the screams of the now dying. It happened so fast there was almost no time to react... but it would be too hopeful to say the men didn't feel a thing. They felt plenty.
If he cared about the blade at Cirucci's throat, it sure didn't show. Instead he looked practically excited, his eyes gleaming yellow.
...his foots steps as he moved closer to the head bandit were very very loud...
Reply
When the horse-like entity arose, Cirucci couldn't help but think it was all very majestic, for a a man in tatters. So my prince has a horse, does he?
It was only moments later that Cirucci's ears filled with a very loud, scratchy ripping sound, as she saw flashes of silver dig into the path. She squinted her eyes; dirt was erupting upwards yet again, obscuring her vision, but her ears told her all she needed to figure out. The screaming didn't even send a shiver down her spine. So unruffled she was that even the spurts of red whirling into the dusty scenery evoked no reaction.
She knew they were goners, that they weren't getting up after this one: blades. He had summoned something with that kind of quick-fire ability. The bandits, once so convinced they could take-down Shinjiro with no problem, now lay there with shallow breath, if they weren't already motionless. Blood trickled down their faces, but their clothes were soaked in it, blotted on their backs and chests so brightly, so messily, like ink.
When a flash of silver shot out only a few feet away from where she stood, Cirucci finally blinked in anticipation. Not good. Shinjiro's forceful display may have meant bad news for her captors, but she was still not in the clear. She was in that thing's line of sight as much as the bandit behind her was. If Aragaki lost control--
The bandit behind her trembled so much that even her chin began to shake from the unsteadiness of his hand. She wasn't entirely sure of how much damage Shinjiro had dealt to him; for all she knew, the lucky bastard merely got nicked, and would try to pull that blade on her any time. Eyes set straight on at Aragaki, Cirucci's lips were pressed in a firm line, hunching her shoulders for a more defensive, unsure display of posture. She was sure her whole appearance, dress wrinkled and creased and hair tossed astray, added to her vulnerability, thanks to all that force Shinjiro had exerted.
She could spot his excitement from a mile away. That, that was something Cirucci could understand. That was something she could relate to. But being on the receiving end of such killer intent, with a desperate man fumbling a knife at her neck, was not at all a position Cirucci ever wanted to empathize with.
The bandit's breath was ragged, voice hoarse. "What do you--what do you want?" Then, in a last, unbelievably stupid attempt at bravado, he tacked on: "huh?"
It was almost enough for Cirucci to break role.
Reply
He couldn't help but admire the deadly beauty in those blades - fatal but so terribly imprecise that there was no chance of a clean death. That probably wasn't so much intentional as much as because Castor's manifestation didn't seem terribly focused. There was a lot of heat and power simply boiling impotently in the air, going largely to waste. If he could channel that properly...
Not that Gin was probably the best person to be preaching about self-control, but here was the kind of potential he'd been taught to look out for, and to twist to his own purposes. One fatal strike was all it took, despite the difficulty required in pulling it out...it would get easier with practice. This wouldn't be the last time, that was certain. It'd be a travesty for Shinjiro to waste such a gift.
He'd watched as one of the blades had taken the last bandit right along the calf. He wouldn't be able to run fast enough to escape Shinjiro's slow advance, although he seemed to think that clinging to Cirucci might offer some sort of protection. Even from this distance, looking into Shinjiro's eyes, Gin kind of doubted it. There was nothing like recognition or comprehension in the yellow and black.
Idly, he wondered how much trouble he'd get into if Cirucci did indeed get herself skewered in the line of Shinjiro's power.
Reply
"I want you... to hold still." He husked, voice raw and warbling in an eerie echo effect. Like recording words from one journal with another. Just a tiny second of timing off, but enough to sound very very wrong. Of course, the bandit moved, tearing away from Cirucci in a desperate need to get away, causing Shinji to change his aim to try and catch him before the attack was no longer in his control. In a flash of gore the mans arm tore away, showing gleaming white bone and red meat.
But before the next attack could come the Persona user staggered, another spew of black escaping his mouth... though perhaps there was more red then black this time. His eyes, once again that dull grayish color, rolled back into his head and he crumpled, landing in his own puddle of ichor.
The bandit was howling in pure terror and pain, clutching his stump of an arm and completely forgetting the Arrancar and the Persona user
Reply
Some times you had to shed a part of yourself to survive. Cirucci knew that all too well. But what the man had lost rendered him useless, for now. The curtain had fallen on Act One--
But she was already kicking it open for her little act's continuation. Turning her head back to Shinjiro, she took a few steps towards him--slowly, as though hesitant. "Aragaki?" Yes, the tremble in her voice was perfect, the falter between syllables. She cleared her throat, calling his name louder, this time, but as a show of bravado feigned by a scared, vulnerable girl. It suited her act much better, to make it seem as though she were covering up her own unease. It was more convincing than for her to play the damsel completely.
If he could even hear her, that was. Once more, more urgently: "Aragaki?" She knelt lower, reaching her hand out, pausing only once before resting it near his temple. He didn't seem fully aware, which was to be expected. Trailing a thumb down his cheek, Cirucci sighed, faking a shaky attempt at a wry smile. "It's not polite to keep a girl waiting, you know. Besides..." She spoke quietly--almost to herself, really, because hell if she knew if he could even hear her. "The hell was that?"
It would be suspicious if she didn't show some confusion at that power of his. Couldn't let the boy know that his precious damsel could make her own inner darkness manifest at beck and call, too. But if he was too out of it to answer her now--which she figured was a given--then...
She bit her lip, inhaling sharply. "Fuck, you need help." She sounded desperate, now; not quite hysteric concern quite yet, but escalating to that level, should the situation warrant that kind of act.
Reply
It was difficult not to start humming cheerfully to himself, but he forced a slightly more reserved expression and jumped lithely down from the outcropping, ignoring the bandit still twitching on the ground. He wouldn't last long without assistance, and the only one of his companions still left wouldn't be making it very far with the way his empty arm socket was pouring blood. Gin ignored him too. Instead he focused on Cirucci, who was playing her part beautifully.
"Are you alright, Cirucci?" he asked, managing to feign a little concern. Shinjiro might not be completely aware of them now, but they couldn't afford to break their public roles even without witnesses. Or those who wouldn't live long enough to talk anyway.
"Quite the display, wasn't it?" he said, and while it was the kind of off-hand comment he would have flippantly made in these circumstances, there was an undertone there intended just for her. "Seems Shinji-kun's been hiding a few secrets from us."
He took a few steps forward, eyeing the oozing puddle around Shinjiro's body, and then Cirucci's abused neck. The knife had cut her carelessly a couple of times. He came close enough to touch her chin, lifting her eyes to his, and letting the false concern drop so she could share his vicious grin. "We'll take care of Shinji in just a moment, but first..."
He tilted his head towards the last bandit. "What would you like me to do about him?"
Gin didn't want to see her breaking her role, not to dirty her own hands, but he'd be more than happy to offer a small reward in the form of bloody retribution by his own hand if she cared to name it.
Reply
Leave a comment