(no subject)
Who: Dante Sparda (tries_too_hard) and Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (pantherking)
When: Day 13, afternoon
Where: House #266
What: Neither Dante nor Grimmjow knows when to quit
Rating: R
A day spent lying lazily on the sofa had done Grimmjow good. He wasn’t at a hundred percent yet; he was reminded of that every time he considered getting up and couldn’t quite talk himself into doing it. But he was close. Another day, maybe two, and he’d be back to normal. He hoped that he’d be back to normal, anyway.
With nothing else to do but lay there, he had had plenty of time to think. By the time the sun had set the previous day, he’d worked out that he wasn’t in any danger of losing himself or his strength to Sparda. The half-breed wasn’t a hollow. He couldn’t consume Grimmjow’s flesh and steal his soul. It had just been a bite. One that had healed itself in relatively short order and that Grimmjow had summarily dismissed as unimportant.
No, what concerned him was the strange weakness that had overcome him when he’d used the cero. He couldn’t figure out why it had happened. The lack of reishi in the atmosphere? The time away from Hueco Mundo? He’d never been gone this long before. Was it affecting him? If it was, what would happen if he didn’t go back? Would he grow weaker and weaker until he couldn’t move? Until he faded away?
Grimmjow didn’t know. And he didn’t have the first clue how to go about finding out.
Tomorrow, he decided, stretching until his joints popped before settling back down on the cushions and closing his eyes. Tomorrow he would deal with it. Today, he was going to nap.
When: Day 13, afternoon
Where: House #266
What: Neither Dante nor Grimmjow knows when to quit
Rating: R
A day spent lying lazily on the sofa had done Grimmjow good. He wasn’t at a hundred percent yet; he was reminded of that every time he considered getting up and couldn’t quite talk himself into doing it. But he was close. Another day, maybe two, and he’d be back to normal. He hoped that he’d be back to normal, anyway.
With nothing else to do but lay there, he had had plenty of time to think. By the time the sun had set the previous day, he’d worked out that he wasn’t in any danger of losing himself or his strength to Sparda. The half-breed wasn’t a hollow. He couldn’t consume Grimmjow’s flesh and steal his soul. It had just been a bite. One that had healed itself in relatively short order and that Grimmjow had summarily dismissed as unimportant.
No, what concerned him was the strange weakness that had overcome him when he’d used the cero. He couldn’t figure out why it had happened. The lack of reishi in the atmosphere? The time away from Hueco Mundo? He’d never been gone this long before. Was it affecting him? If it was, what would happen if he didn’t go back? Would he grow weaker and weaker until he couldn’t move? Until he faded away?
Grimmjow didn’t know. And he didn’t have the first clue how to go about finding out.
Tomorrow, he decided, stretching until his joints popped before settling back down on the cushions and closing his eyes. Tomorrow he would deal with it. Today, he was going to nap.