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White Sands, Pale Moon. Wet Blood, Red Hands [RP Thread - Graded]

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Unicorn

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As Nyarle neared the energy signature, it began to split up into three distinct presences.

Two were her peers and fellow espada.
One was... unknown, yet incredibly strong. The owner of that presence was also making many loud statements, including about not telling anyone anything.

Well, well, well. It seemed that the Sexta found something very interesting in their realm, and he didn't share that knowledge with her. The kitty's lips curled into a slight pout. It was lucky then that she found out this interesting thing all on her own.

Slowing down as she approached the group, Nyarle eventually adopted a languid hip-rolling stroll as she walked over to stand her colleagues and face the stranger.

"Greetings." The tigress hailed the unknown woman, watching her through lowered eyelashes. "I see you have made an acquaintance with my fellows."
 
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Unbelievable, and completely insufferable….’

Irises of deepest emerald glissaded to the corners of the Arrancar stripling’s half-lidded, disinterested eyes as Rem spared an infinitesimal glance in Ryukei’s direction, a thought tumbling about inside his head.

Just as their sociopathic Quatra Espada was currently engaged with his self-prompted task of annihilating anyone or anything within the desert of Hueco Mundo that was not a staunch ally to the Espada or those within Las Noches, the younger Sexta Espada wondered if it would be in poor taste to purge their realm of overconfident, blithering idiots like the girl who had given him little more than the most useless tidbits of information; a positively cringe-inducing pose and her name, neither of which he had asked for.

Then again, he supposed that he could hardly blame her for her paranoid skepticism, believing that he had asked solely so that he could then cart the information back to his 'assumed' superiors, one of whom was actually standing just yards away, listening to every single word that was uttered in silence. But that was simply not the case. If Ryukei wanted to do that, then more power to him, and good luck trying to stop him. For his part, Rem had only asked because he was bored and figured that the girl’s story might have been somewhat interesting.

It would be inaccurate to say that he was disappointed. He hadn’t really cared much either way, though he very well could have done without so much of Roneve’s ceaseless prattle, and the smug expression she wore now ultimately made him pinch the bridge of his nose and exhale silently from between his lips in weary vexation.

Praise be to whatever indifferent gods still existed somewhere within the bounds of their miserable universe--he was almost relieved when Nyarle arrived and greeted their ‘guest’.

“Evening, Nyarle,” Rem’s voice was soft, quiet, like a whispering night breeze that gently caressed the ivory-silver sand beneath his boots. He slowly raised his head, only to offer the Tigress a brief nod.

“This girl, she’s been here for awhile now,” he explained, lacing his slender porcelain fingers together as he extended his arms straight out in front of him, pressing his hands forward in an arc, digits interlocked with their naked palms facing towards Roneve--he honestly couldn’t be bothered to care about this encounter anymore. “She said her name is Roneve LaFart, and that this is her territory, which makes us trespassers.”

LaFart was a not-so-subtle, barbed insult in exchange for the bratty lass aspersing him as “Pencil”, although he regretted the ridiculous name the moment it left his mouth--but it was already too late to recall it, so he would let it go, the consequences be damned.

“However, when I asked her, she refused to explain the ‘how’ and ‘why’ this is her territory. Perhaps someone else can endeavor to learn her secrets. Bribery, coercion, submitting to her childish, avaricious whims and conceding that she is, by her own account, great and wise and the Queen,” Rem trailed off, untangling his hands and swaying his arms back down to his sides, his eyes lightless as he flexed and cracked his knuckles once, apical clawed fingernails glossy and shining in the dull illumination provided by the wandering moon.

Preferably someone who isn’t me.

He thought briefly of merely spinning on his heel and departing back towards the Palace, leaving the matter entirely to the Quatra and Octava Espada and letting them handle it however they deemed necessary, but he knew that such a decision might put him on Ryukei’s radar as a potential candidate for the Black Wolf’s ‘extermination campaign', and the last thing he wanted was more hassle, more useless fighting and interactions. At the very least, he could remain just long enough to witness what unfolded--perhaps it would be worth the effort?

Rem already felt tired. A fracas with the bice-tressed lass was likely inevitable at this point. He saw little to no possibility that either Ryukei or Nyarle would allow Roneve to escape now that they were already involved, and that meant that he would be 'expected' to assist them, whether he so desired it or not. Otherwise, he would come under suspicion, and that was something that he ardently did not care to risk at this time.

'I've had my fill now. I want to go back to the Crypt.'
 
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Seraphina

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Roneve's bluster diminished somewhat as yet another Arrancar appeared on the scene. Her eyes widening to the size of saucers, the girls lower lip briefly trembled as she began to look frantically back and forth between the two intruders. Her face began to slowly change colour – her rosy cheeks deepening to an angry purple that spread across the remainder of her features, before she suddenly stomped her feet, his arms rigid by her sides.

It would have looked like nothing more than a childish outburst were the stomp of her foot not accompanied by a tremor that rattled its way through the ground. The sand shifted, the vibrations from the impact travelling poorly through the soft earth but travelling none the less; far beneath the sand, stone cracked and heaved under the force of the tiny foot, while the quartz tree upon which she had been resting only moments before trembled and cracked.

A crack snaked its way upwards from the base of the tree, dancing along the quartz in a branching pattern that reached up from the trees now fragmented roots. The once solid structure emitted a high pitched hum as the vibration from the girl's stomp shook the quartz to its very core. Although the trees slow fragment ion was to be suddenly accelerated as the girl began to gesticulate wildly – her ridiculously oversized hammer toing and froing with the random movements of her arm.

The hammer did not directly touch the tree, but as the girl swung it the massive weapon passed within a few inches of the quartz formation. This was, apparently, all it took; as though it had been struck by a cannonball, the quartz shattered like glass under the sheer force of the passing object – exploding into a cloud of glittering shards that burst into the atmosphere like sparkling dust.

“What is going on!?” Roneve demanded, appearing quite oblivious to the casual destruction she had caused. “This is meant to be my territory! Why are there so many people just wandering in like they own the place!?”

Where before she had been indignant, it was clear that the girl was now building towards hysterics. Tears brimmed on the corners of her eyes as she once again levelled the hammer towards Rem – using the gargantuan weapon as a pointer that she wagged in his direction.

“And you!” she accused him. “You messed up my name on purpose! I know you did! You're trying my patience, pencil! I think that maybe I should trash you, just to teach you a lesson!”

Her mouth still open, Roneve instantly rounded upon Nyarle, appearing as though she had more to say. However her rage – just as suddenly as it had bubbled to the surface – vanished into confusion as she squinted at the newcomer in undisguised curiosity.

Tilting her head first one way, then the other, she shoulder her hammer while bringing up her empty hand to thoughtfully stroke her chin. Her eyes narrowing in what appeared to be concentration, she took her full measure of Nyarle for the first time.

From the cat-ear shaped hollow mask to her golden eyes with their slit-shaped pupils, Roneve gave Nyarle a much more through examination than she had Rem. Her expression growing increasingly perplexed as her perusal went on, the girl finally removed her hand from her chin to aim a finger in Nyarle's direction.

“Are you supposed to be a dog?” she queried.
 
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Where before the Sexta Espada had been ready to depart and absolve himself of all further involvement with the strange, singing, rose-crafting, hammer-swinging, tantrum-throwing girl with lengthy bice hair and matching eyes, who’d wandered in from gods only knew where and claimed a plot of bereft sand--she had just destroyed the quartz tree that had been supplying the stone for her crafting, after all--he suddenly seemed to find an ounce humor in the unmistakably genuine outburst she experienced at Nyarle’s arrival, and at the glaring fact that she had just insulted the Tigress right to her face.

Rem laughed. A single sharp, almost quiet barking noise that flung off the flat of his tongue without care, as his dark emerald eyes were presently hidden behind the ragged curtain of his disheveled raven bangs, his glinting ivory canines peeking from behind pale fuschia lips that were twisted in an almost unsettling grin. Roneve had threatened to crush his skull in with her mighty Hammer of Justice, and he laughed.

Then, as if a single frame from the reel of reality had been cut out, he was instantaneously gone from where he had been standing in the shifting piles of sand, leaving only a faint, disintegrating ring of dust in his wake.

Had he left, as he’d wanted to?

...No. Not yet.

The slithering hiss of a sword as it was slid free of its sheath sounded from over Roneve’s shoulder, the same shoulder on which she balanced her comically oversized warhammer.

“Word of advice,” Rem’s voice, diaphanous, like the passing night breeze.

The youthful, emerald-eyed Espada was perched on the head of the lass’s hammer, crouched down in a posture reminiscent to that of a looming gargoyle hovering above its potential prey, so that she could look up and peer into his eyes beneath the shadow of his chaotically disarrayed hair.

Just as she had brandished her weapon at him, he now held his zanpakutou--a length of solid black steel that shone dully beneath the light of the moon--so that its apical tip was poised nary an inch above the end of the girl’s nose. A dark liquid oozed from the blade’s surface, and the heavy, cloying scent of copper hung in the air around the weapon--that of blood. Yet he had not cut Roneve, nor any flesh, his own, or otherwise. Sangre was a blade that simply bled perpetually, whenever it was not encased inside its sheath.

A single ruby bead of blood dripped and ‘plip!’-ed on the end of Roneve’s nose.

“Death doesn’t care if you’re a Queen or a worm. In the end, we all die, and the only difference is in how,” he said, though there was neither amusement nor compassion in his voice. Empty. His voice sounded painfully empty, and his expression was unreadable.

Glowing silver eyes simpered across his mind’s inner eye, summoned unbidden from the depths of memory.
Where are you? Will I ever find you again…?

Rem moved his sword to point at the Quatra Espada; Ryukei.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a girl, a child, or a Queen. Or an insufferable spoiled brat,” he explained. “If he suspects that you’re an enemy, then he won’t hesitate to exterminate you on the spot and be done with it. And she,” here, he swung his sword to point it in Nyarle’s direction, “she loves to hunt, and if she catches you, she’ll take you back to her den and eat you.”

Rem stood up, perfectly balanced atop of the hammer, and he sheathed his weapon in a smooth motion.

“There’s a chance that they might let you live, if only to drag you before the Primera so that they can then rip whatever useful information you might have out of you. But the manner in which you’ll die will depend entirely upon you” he finished, shrugging a shoulder.

“I don’t really care either way.”

That was the last thing he said before he vanished from his perch, materializing several yards away from Roneve, Ryukei, and Nyarle, already crunching his boots across the sand as he left them all behind and departed, specifically in a direction that was away from the White Palace. They could accuse him of running with his cottontail between his legs if it so pleased them--but he was walking. Walking away, having said and done all that he had to say and do. The girl, whoever she was, was their problem now.

Rem tossed up a hand in a mock wave, and was gone in a burst of shuddering Sonido.


[Note: Just trying to separate Rem from the group, so that he has a chance of encountering Alter Kimaris on his own, and their fight can begin.]
 
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