Fair peace becomes men--
Who: Grimmjow and YOU!
When: June 10th through June 16th
Where: Throughout the city!
Summary: After this post it should be clear to some that Grimmjow has had an unfortunate run-in with a woman capable of giving or taking away time. As a result of this encounter, Grimmjow has reverted to a previous form. Because of what this form means to him ( Read more... )
When: June 10th through June 16th
Where: Throughout the city!
Summary: After this post it should be clear to some that Grimmjow has had an unfortunate run-in with a woman capable of giving or taking away time. As a result of this encounter, Grimmjow has reverted to a previous form. Because of what this form means to him ( Read more... )
Comments 185
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Love isn't quite enough, to quell Grell's fierce temper. Particularly when the object of his affections is his opposite in almost every way.
Opposites attract. And sometimes, like matter and antimatter, they annihilate each other. Combust. Which is why Grell went out for a walk this evening - to avoid total destruction. Particularly over something he knows, deep deep down, is pointless. And probably his fault, really, though he won't admit that at present.
Thus is Grell walking the streets, rather than bouncing off rooftops as is his wont. Thus his hands are in his pockets, fisted.
Thus he is spoiling for a fight. ]
Bastard. Bastard. Doesn't understand me, doesn't even try, doesn't--
Ooooh~!
[ Grell stops short. Because, before him, is a truly magnificent creature! ]
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No-!!
The bricks and concrete blur into an unrecognizable miss as he streaks past them. There are screams sometimes, rising as they near and fading as they run or as he outpaces them. Sometimes, when he roars or howls, things break - glass, asphalts, bones. He doesn't care which, either way.
The only reason he stops is because he knows that voice: shrill, excited, irritating.
His big head swings around and his lips pull back over his teeth in a viscous snarl. ]
Fuck off!
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Hunh~?
It talks?
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[But tonight was far from normal; something had even the night creatures spooked, and it put Asch on edge. He kept a tight grip on his sword as he walked down the streets, listening to every little sound as he walked...]
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Not his own, but the monster - who knew they could make a sound like that? High-pitched, grating, cut off in an abrupt gurgle when he rips its throat out. It tastes like ash and blood, thick like syrup, and he flings his head from side to side to get the ooze and gore off of him.
They've been flocking toward him since yesterday night.
But they die quick and it's...something. An outlet.
He smells someone. ]
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If it wasn't for what happened to Ulquiorra recently and seeing Grimmjow's broadcast three days ago, she might have been shocked. As is, she's more concerned than surprised. It's her first time seeing Grimmjow's hollow form, but it's unmistakably him.
Moving in a quick burst, she stops a few feet in front of him and sheathes her sword.]
Grimmjow.
[She inclines her head in greeting. She might ask how he's been, but it's obvious. This is not the time for small talk. She remembers how desperate Ulquiorra was to try to pull his own mask off at first.]
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Stronger!
The hostility that mounts in him is not entirely something he can control and on some level, he doesn’t want to. He didn’t want to be found; seeing her now, having her just walk up like all his efforts of the last two days (the last day; only today has some rational thought intruded on the mess of emotion and hunger) meant absolutely nothing.
His words are harsh, ragged at the edges. ] What?
What the hell do you want?
[ The tenseness remains, every muscle taut - ready for a fight. ]
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[Her voice is calm and matter of fact, and to emphasize her point, she takes a seat on the stairs to the nearest building. Her sword remains sheathed at her hip. Nelliel's body language is non-confrontational without being submissive. She's at ease in contrast to Grimmjow's barely restrained fury.
She glances over a moment later.]
Ms. Ripley's powers wear off after a few days to a week.
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The archer hovered on a platform of reishi outside Grimmjow's current lair, sensing the strong presence inside. It was obviously, undeniably changed. How many evolutions has this set him back? ...Will he even be useful for what I want him for?
He thought coldly on that a moment, detatched logic analyzing the scenario. ...Yes. This could be better, actually - if his form was noticeably different, it would be that much easier to convince the Arrancar he wouldn't be recognized.
And there would be his frustrations to manipulate.
Finding the nearest stairs, the Quincy walked calmly up to the occupied room.]
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There'd been drifters in this one. They're gone now and a few patches of blood gleam wetly on the dirty tile, even hours later. He'd been resting after that, perched on a broken couch shoved back against the rear wall (a better viewpoint, access to all the doors and windows).
He hears the Quincy coming and felt him far before that. He lets him.
Right up until the point when he reaches the doorway. Reiatsu snaps in the air, hot as bright sparks, powerful enough to scorch skin and hair should someone choose to cross the threshold.
It's nowhere near as strong as it had once been. ]
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But the flames are not as high as they once were. Cirucci was stronger than this, he notes with detached interest. This isn't an Arrancar's strength.
It certainly isn't an Arrancar's form, he notes soon after.
The Quincy stands just inside the doorway and watches the primal figure splayed on the couch. He's ready to fight at a moment's notice if need be - he's come fully armed - but it's sheer curiosity that occupies him first.]
...Grimmjow. [he affords the panther a cool, respectful nod.] I'm not here to fight you.
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