05-12-2018, 08:46 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-12-2018, 08:47 PM by Serraph Quarrere.)
Shantotto’s determination to the task at hand was admirable, amazing even. The night seemed to be nearly at its end and yet this little lady has shown not one indicator of fatigue. On the other hand, the Arrancar was suffering heavily from it. His muscles ached and screamed, his head throbbed and burned from within, and his wound grew numb. The gravity of his exhaustion had began to take hold. Although Shantotto’s presence was reassuring, he couldn’t help but feel separated from the situation, as if he were far away just looking on warily the events that unfolded before him. His eyes of silver flickered, training its vision upon Shantotto’s water spell.
He lagged behind his arm raising the staff aiming it towards the base of the flames, but no spell came forth. He was being held back. By what he couldn’t say. He’d feel a pleasant warmth wash over him as slender phantom arms wrapped beneath his arms and over his wound. He’d feel a presence press behind him, but when his eyes turned to glance behind nothing was there, and yet he could feel this presence and its hot breath wash over the papery flesh of his neck. Something soft would brush over the edge of his ear, freezing the small Arrancar in his tracks.
Serraph’s eyes narrowed at the invisible presence, his hand tightening around the darkened shaft of his rod.
“Rest, my Serraphim~”, a voice whispered directly into his ear, the pleasant sound ringing softly into his mind. The familiar voice forced his body to relax, his arms falling to his side. His body would slouch down and stumble forward, his arm outreaching to plant his staff into the dusty road beneath him. The Arrancar’s form leaned its weight against the ebon staff, his head rising to level with the flaming buildings before him. Shantotto had already dealt with one of the buildings, her torrent of raging water washing over its burning construction.
The light of the Arrancar’s eyes faded out, a deep green glow replacing its predecessor. His rigid, papery hair seemed to soften and flow much more easily against the wind. The color itself would shift from a pale, aged white to a silky silver stricken with messy streaks of blood red locks. Upon his head a tiara of bloodstained bone, adorned with ten jagged spikes. Serraph would let the staff rest upon the neighboring wall, his hand moving for his blade. Pulling it from its pale sheath one could notice the lacking stains from his skirmishes a day prior. Gone were the blood that had dried and cached over the rapier’s edge. Gone was the ink that had once drenched its velvet grip.
Something was different about him, not just the slight physical changes, but the way he carried himself. As he walked forward his walk was that of a predator, his steps light as if he were approaching his prey. His hand would raise, leveling with the burning buildings. The verdant glow of his eye peered through the valleys of his outstretched fingers as a crimson mist coalesced around his form. The blood red mist stuck to his body, swarming over him to concentrate into the palm of his hand. A crimson orb of sporadic spiritual energy grew from his palm with sparks of crimson static rolling over his outstretched digits.
Wordlessly he’d let the power grow and grow, the light of which illuminating the Tarutaru ahead of him. The small lady would pause, the light from her staff halting as she looked behind her. She’d dive into the dust, the burst of crimson energy bursting forth only moments later. The beam of energy would surge towards the next building, the jagged beam of scarlet light slamming into its foundation. The impact shattered the foundation, hindering its ability to hold the delicate balance the burning building relied upon.
Stone walls would shatter without the presence of its support, and the whole building began to tumble down into the ground, smothering most of the flames that plagued it. As tired as the Arrancar felt, the presence that had overcame him couldn’t help but feel a wave of euphoria ebbing throughout his body after witnessing such... art. The manner in which the wall crumbled apart, unable to sustain itself, the way the cloud of dust and ash flowed from the site, and the way the embers fluttered upwards into the night just made his body feel just right.
He didn't realize how strange he was acting or that he was behaving any differently than normal. The pleasure of watching something crumple lifeless to the ground always seemed to be there, even if he hadn't expressed this desire before. His body would begin to glow yet again, the familiar orb of blood red light centering over his navel. He'd smile manically, his eye shifting toward the plant in the distance, his body shifting to aim the Cero at its burning corpse of a structure. Once again he'd fire, the jagged beam of light hitting just right to cause it to lose its remaining support. The metal stairs and frames would scream as the weight of its concrete structure stressed the steel to tipping point, the building slowly crumpling in on itself. The remaining steel supports screamed and squealed as they bent and ground against each other until they finally, and quite audibly, snapped, sending the entire structure plummeting to the ground. The wave of dust rolled just to the pair's feet, a plume of dust and embers carried off into the distant by the gentle breeze. Serraph's free hand would cover his lips, suppressing a soft giggle that built in his throat.
The beautiful embers were like stars in the night, the wind itself carrying them all into the heavens. It was a beautiful sight to behold. For the first time in forever, he could feel his cheeks warm with delight, but only for a brief moment as his overwhelming exhaustion came down upon him again. The verdant glow would return to silver, and the blooded strands of hair would fall away, his hair regaining its papery texture. His tiara remained, but would topple as the Espada fell to his knee, his rapier embedded into the dust to keep him from completely collapsing. He hadn't any words. His mind was yet still asleep.
It was as much asleep as the voice commanded of him.
He lagged behind his arm raising the staff aiming it towards the base of the flames, but no spell came forth. He was being held back. By what he couldn’t say. He’d feel a pleasant warmth wash over him as slender phantom arms wrapped beneath his arms and over his wound. He’d feel a presence press behind him, but when his eyes turned to glance behind nothing was there, and yet he could feel this presence and its hot breath wash over the papery flesh of his neck. Something soft would brush over the edge of his ear, freezing the small Arrancar in his tracks.
Serraph’s eyes narrowed at the invisible presence, his hand tightening around the darkened shaft of his rod.
“Rest, my Serraphim~”, a voice whispered directly into his ear, the pleasant sound ringing softly into his mind. The familiar voice forced his body to relax, his arms falling to his side. His body would slouch down and stumble forward, his arm outreaching to plant his staff into the dusty road beneath him. The Arrancar’s form leaned its weight against the ebon staff, his head rising to level with the flaming buildings before him. Shantotto had already dealt with one of the buildings, her torrent of raging water washing over its burning construction.
The light of the Arrancar’s eyes faded out, a deep green glow replacing its predecessor. His rigid, papery hair seemed to soften and flow much more easily against the wind. The color itself would shift from a pale, aged white to a silky silver stricken with messy streaks of blood red locks. Upon his head a tiara of bloodstained bone, adorned with ten jagged spikes. Serraph would let the staff rest upon the neighboring wall, his hand moving for his blade. Pulling it from its pale sheath one could notice the lacking stains from his skirmishes a day prior. Gone were the blood that had dried and cached over the rapier’s edge. Gone was the ink that had once drenched its velvet grip.
Something was different about him, not just the slight physical changes, but the way he carried himself. As he walked forward his walk was that of a predator, his steps light as if he were approaching his prey. His hand would raise, leveling with the burning buildings. The verdant glow of his eye peered through the valleys of his outstretched fingers as a crimson mist coalesced around his form. The blood red mist stuck to his body, swarming over him to concentrate into the palm of his hand. A crimson orb of sporadic spiritual energy grew from his palm with sparks of crimson static rolling over his outstretched digits.
Wordlessly he’d let the power grow and grow, the light of which illuminating the Tarutaru ahead of him. The small lady would pause, the light from her staff halting as she looked behind her. She’d dive into the dust, the burst of crimson energy bursting forth only moments later. The beam of energy would surge towards the next building, the jagged beam of scarlet light slamming into its foundation. The impact shattered the foundation, hindering its ability to hold the delicate balance the burning building relied upon.
Stone walls would shatter without the presence of its support, and the whole building began to tumble down into the ground, smothering most of the flames that plagued it. As tired as the Arrancar felt, the presence that had overcame him couldn’t help but feel a wave of euphoria ebbing throughout his body after witnessing such... art. The manner in which the wall crumbled apart, unable to sustain itself, the way the cloud of dust and ash flowed from the site, and the way the embers fluttered upwards into the night just made his body feel just right.
He didn't realize how strange he was acting or that he was behaving any differently than normal. The pleasure of watching something crumple lifeless to the ground always seemed to be there, even if he hadn't expressed this desire before. His body would begin to glow yet again, the familiar orb of blood red light centering over his navel. He'd smile manically, his eye shifting toward the plant in the distance, his body shifting to aim the Cero at its burning corpse of a structure. Once again he'd fire, the jagged beam of light hitting just right to cause it to lose its remaining support. The metal stairs and frames would scream as the weight of its concrete structure stressed the steel to tipping point, the building slowly crumpling in on itself. The remaining steel supports screamed and squealed as they bent and ground against each other until they finally, and quite audibly, snapped, sending the entire structure plummeting to the ground. The wave of dust rolled just to the pair's feet, a plume of dust and embers carried off into the distant by the gentle breeze. Serraph's free hand would cover his lips, suppressing a soft giggle that built in his throat.
The beautiful embers were like stars in the night, the wind itself carrying them all into the heavens. It was a beautiful sight to behold. For the first time in forever, he could feel his cheeks warm with delight, but only for a brief moment as his overwhelming exhaustion came down upon him again. The verdant glow would return to silver, and the blooded strands of hair would fall away, his hair regaining its papery texture. His tiara remained, but would topple as the Espada fell to his knee, his rapier embedded into the dust to keep him from completely collapsing. He hadn't any words. His mind was yet still asleep.
It was as much asleep as the voice commanded of him.
"Mine eyes hath seen the glory of the presence of my Lord. He is sifting through the treasures in which his Gates of Wrath does store. He lets loose the righteous vengeance of his terrible swift swords. Gilgemesh has returned!"