You only see what your eyes want to see. [Open]
Characters: Ulquiorra and absolutely anybody in the area from any ship who might get a kick out of bothering this asocial little git?
Content: Ulquiorra, after getting confirmed as a new crew member of the Fiertia, gets his bearings of the makeshift Market town that has built up around the races.
Setting: Anywhere in the market town; he'll be on ( Read more... )
Content: Ulquiorra, after getting confirmed as a new crew member of the Fiertia, gets his bearings of the makeshift Market town that has built up around the races.
Setting: Anywhere in the market town; he'll be on ( Read more... )
As she wittered on, he took one hand from his pocket and smoothed the crumpled sleeve where she'd clung to him, brushing away the evidence of her miniature assault. He didn't care to have the marks of contact on his person, so after a single swipe of his pale hand, the black fabric no longer bore the signs of it.
"Your opinion of my presence has no value." He stated, slipping his hand back into the pocket. "And my orders are none of your concern."
Really, was she working for Gin? It wouldn't come as much of a shock to have Gin leave, contact a pathetic Privaron like Cirucci and try his luck through the means of an over-dressed puppet, but this soon? That was just crass.
If she was doing it of her own accord, however, he would just chalk her forceful curiosity up to stupidity.
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"None of my concern?" She snorted, shaking her head. "That dense, are you? After all..." Cirucci spoke her next words very slowly, as if explaining the situation to a child, accompanied with an impatient tap of her foot. "If we're here for the same reason--and I regret this as much as you do, you realize--that means that your business? Is also mine, Schiffer."
She smirked, finally, tilting her head in an almost triumphant kind of coyness. "I don't expect you to divulge everything dear Aizen darling demands of you; that was wishful thinking. But don't be so eager," she continued, almost as if she were scolding him, "to ignore me completely when we're wearing the same chain." She fixed him with a hard stare, eyebrows knit together as she continued to scoff at the other arrancar.
"We all bow our head to the same man, so stop pretending your knees aren't bruised from all your kneeling." From his disinterested glance to the way he smoothed over his sleeve, really, Cirucci was tired of all his uprightness. Again, she found her lips pressed in a straight line as she regarded him. "It's not flattering."
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Hmph. She would be getting nothing from him.
"Don't make me repeat myself, Privaron." Was the sharp reply. "My orders are none of your concern."
His words came from those black lips slowly, concisely and their tone made them feel sharp-edged, like a blade. His vivid emerald eyes narrowed but a fraction, almost giving away the irritation he felt at being interrogated by the woman.
"If my orders were to be known by anybody other than myself and Him, you would have been informed. As it stands, you have not." He was insulting her. The slow tempo in which he spoke would have probably been better received by somebody simple of mind or perhaps even an individual not clear on parts of the language.
In reality, him telling her of the nature of his orders would be a waste of time and a waste of breath. Everything he was being asked to do was very Fiertia specific. He didn't even humour her with the outline like he had Gin. She was nothing to him but an annoyance, a failed experiment that wouldn't go away. He almost wanted to question why Aizen-sama bothered to keep trash like this around.
He didn't, you may note, comment at all on the kneeling remark.
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Her posture, already on the defensive, shifted as she popped a hip out, one hand falling to rest on it. "I already said I don't expect you to spill whatever orders he gave you, Schiffer. But they have everything to do with me."
The fact is, she wouldn't want to admit just how his presence shifted the already unequal plane of competition between the arrancar. Luppi waving his privileged position in her face was a minor offense compared to the lapdog Ulquiorra was. She could take pleasure in the fact that Luppi, no doubt, would bitch endlessly about this; Ulquiorra's arrival would knock him off his pedestal all too quickly. But any comfort that could be taken from the situation was scarce.
Sighing, she outstretched her arms, gesturing to the small, shaky marketplace around them. "Do you feel the need to condescend to everything?" She was, of course, referring to his first journal post, in which he declared the area to be--what was it?--oh, yes. Dismal. Truth be told, Cirucci hardly found the market town impressive, or in any way enchanting, but something about Ulquiorra stirred in her a need to be absolutely contradictory to every opinion he had.
She glanced around them, eyes scanning over the wooden stalls decked half heartedly in bright banners, as though a roll of paper strewn around could hide the shaky construction. "It's a little quaint...vaguely charming, I suppose. You shouldn't pick on something that's already so sad looking," she declared, turning her head back to face Ulquiorra. A thin smile finally turned her lips back up. "It almost suits you in that regard, I'd even say."
And how sad looking he was! Those black lips of his always seemed etched in a frown, turned so downwards that it was probably what coaxed those bizarre tear marks out of his eyes and onto his cheeks.
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Hmph.
He looked around at the fair when she indicated the stalls, his bored countenance remaining the same. Not even a twitch of an eyebrow or a quirk of the lips altered his expression and to say that he was completely disinterested and utterly unimpressed was something of a grave understatement.
"It's all trash," he said bluntly, training his cat-like pupils back on her. "Though, I suppose this sort of place appeals to a certain type of person."
A direct insult.
Cirucci liked it? Well, he did not. Ivonian born and used to the high-life due to his rather well-off parents, a shanty town of stalls didn't appeal to him at all. He might have got the short end of the Ivonian lifestyle due to his being a Demihuman even before the Arrancar procedure, but such a grotty, transient little desert outpost wasn't something he enjoyed spending time in.
Cirucci, however. Well. It said it all, as far as he was concerned. Besides, he objected to being called sad looking. He was nothing of the sort.
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She wasn't sure where Ulquiorra was born, raised, if his snobbery was pure Ivonian condescension or bred into him by being teacher's pet. Either way, his disapproving stare was one Cirucci wanted to raise her hand to; if not to slap right off, then to smudge his precious unmarred face with her dirty Privaron hand. Wouldn't he take well to that. He'd probably scrub his cheek for days, Cirucci thought wryly to herself.
"Oh? I have such low tolerance for such dreary things, you know, but at least the town is trying. Better than what I could say for you." She gestured from his feet to his head. "Really, Ulquiorra, for someone who dresses so dull you're ever an eyesore."
Aizen can't enjoy someone so mechanical sucking him off, she almost said, but held back. While Ulquiorra didn't seem petty enough to tattle tale to Aizen, one could never tell when it came to his precious god. For someone so obnoxiously proud, he was enough of a subservient lapdog that Cirucci decided not to risk the comment.
Instead, she rolled her eyes, tone exasperated as she continued. "If you think this town is a charity case, you must not like what you see in the mirror, do you?" She really wished those tear streaks of his weren't so permanent. She would have quite enjoyed smearing the melancholic markings into clownish makeup, had it been possible.
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He was, essentially, the teacher's pet.
Fast, efficient, well trained and true to his master, he managed to irritate his contemporaries and those he didn't consider useful to Aizen any longer, simply by being there. He didn't care, though. The other Arrancar's opinions of him didn't do anything to move him and managed not to get beneath his thick skin. Their dislike for him didn't bother him; he was above it. If they hated him because he was better than him it was their problem and not his.
Cirucci, however, seemed to harbour more bitterness for his position than anybody. She fawned for Aizen-sama, she crawled for his approval and he himself got it with no more effort than completing missions perfectly. It was the difference between them. She was trash, expendable, nothing to Aizen, he was useful.
The others could talk behind his back as much as they wanted, it was not going to change anything. Nothing at all.
"Hmph. If you're trying to insult me, Privaron, you're as bad at it as you are your job." He said simply.
Insinuating that he was performing sexual favours for their boss, crass as it was, would probably be enough to make him pause and glare. Not because of the accusation, but because they assumed that he would need to sink to that level to gain Aizen's approval, rather than working on his own merit. That said, it wasn't something he hadn't heard before.
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Of course, she knew why he looked down on her (her kind) in particular. They all had, all did, the batches that arrived at the lab after hers had (it was all damn luck, fucking luck, the cocky bastards). She had thrown the lines out just as a way to annoy him, but a surge of amusement flooded her at the realization that she had a point. No; she had always known it. She wasn't dumb enough to deny she was a tool, just aware to know they all were, Ulquiorra included.
And their god chose his tools wisely. The way she saw it, Ulquiorra either denied that and contradicted precious Aizen-sama, or accept it grudgingly. He could mutter about her being a discardable object all he wanted. After all, even if she was tossed aside long before he was, he would eventually become as disposable as he claimed she was.
She sighed, waving a hand to dismiss him. "You're boring me," she complained, and she even looked tired, eyes less narrowed and more obscured by drooping lids. "The circus is going to need their clown back soon, so..." Cirucci yawned, covering her mouth almost daintily. "Run along, now."
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