Reunión Familiar

[prfctpotions]

WHO: prfctpotions and tauromachia
LOCATION: Starting in Szayel's room, heading out into the corridors and finally ending in the courtyard.
WEEK: 57
TIME: Saturday at midnight.
WHAT: Family reunion... with fists.
RATING: Um... PG-13-ish; lots of violence. :|b

Comments

[tauromachia]

It hadn't taken all that much coaxing as, already, several students were more than willing to share, with him, the location of Szayels' private quarters. But the information to be had wasn't an exact point so much as an area.

Ilforte let out an aggravated sigh, it figured. Szayel would, of course, hide himself away in the decrepit labyrinth that was the Hogwarts' Dungeons. It wouldn't save him though, because Ilforte could feel the faint oscillating reiatsu of that pink haired fag.

He snickered and entered the dilapidated chambers. Stalking the dimly lit path, Ilforte eventually found himself standing at a the Potions' Storeroom. He growled, albeit softly, resisting the urge to topple the overstocked shelves. "Maldita sea, Szayel."

With a deep breath, Ilforte leveled himself. He couldn't afford to give himself away, not after- not after several years of waiting and careful planning.He took one last look around, which revealed, to him, another door. He walked over to it with a renewed sense of urgency, only to find that it was

[prfctpotions]

Whatever Szayel was expecting when he walked out of his bathroom, it certainly wasn't that. His head bounced against the wall, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he gagged, desperately clawing for air. What the hell had he done to Sebastian to deserve this kind of rough treatment?

And then those words, that voice, hit his ears, and then all of Szayel's nightmares came up fresh in his mind. His eyes flung open, gaping in shock and surprise.

"Ilforte, estás vivo?!" he gasped out. Ilforte, you're alive?!

[tauromachia]

"Es esa la manera de dar la bienvenida a tu hermano." Is that any way to welcome your brother. Ilforte chided, relieving the gasping pink wreck of some pain, if only, to throw him down to the floor. He stepped after him, laying a food to the back of his neck.

He unsheathed Del Toro and, gently, pressed the blade to Szayels' cheek. ".. le vendió a todos y por lo Szayel, lo que -! Por su propia seguridad, hijo de puta traidora. Tendrá a su cabeza, Szayel." .. you sold everybody out and for what Szayel, what--! For your own safety, you traitorous bastard. He'll have your head, Szayel.

Ilforte knelt down, gliding the blade toward his neck. "y estoy para ser el uno para dárselo a él." and I'm to be the one to hand it to him.

[prfctpotions]

Szayel managed an alarmed noise as he hit the ground, though he quieted quickly once he felt Ilforte's foot on his neck. His eyes widened as he felt a blade against his skin, and he carefully craned his head enough to see his brother's precious Del Toro too close for his comfort.

"Tú has traído esa cosa aquí? ¿Estás fuera de tu mente?" You brought that thing here?! Are you out of your mind?

Szayel moved to shove himself up, though he stopped again when he felt Del Toro pressed against his neck instead. He hissed, gripping at the rug beneath him.

"Me importa un bledo lo que Él quiere. Está muerto, o que debería estar muerta, tal y como lo debe ser." I could care less what He wants. He's dead, or he should be dead, just as you should be.