Of Duties and Dangers [Closed]

For a moment, Otahu was elated that everything worked perfectly. For a moment, she allowed herself to think she could win. That moment was gone as her sword thrust...was simply ineffective against the Espada's skin. Her eyes wide as she stared at the tip of her sword pressed against his skin, unable to pierce it.

Her breath caught and her eyes went wide as she felt...coldness. The wound almost too deep to really hurt and instead left her with an icy chill in her stomach. When he shifted her, she merely looked up at him.

What did he mean? Was it over already? She looked down and saw his arm embedded to his elbow in her stomach. Panting as she tried to hold onto him, as if doing so would keep the inevitable from happening...but already weakness was stilling over her body.

She fell to the earth below them in a heap. Her chest only raising shallowly as it became difficult to breath. She could hear the sound of something, but couldn't make out the words at first. Music? She heard music clear as a bell and smiled slightly at the memory of first playing for Doragonkawa.

The dragon was raging within the inner world. Ripping up the forests and laying the entire world to waste. Only pausing when he saw the figure of his chosen Master laying on a bed of moss. Cradling her broken frame in his massive claws.

-Do you remember my words to you of strength, child? That there were two kinds of strength? You had strength of soul...I will now show you strength of being.-

Grimmjow may or may not hear the faded, echoing roar. Then he would feel it. The Once Espada would feel a chill in the air as some portion of his reiatsu seemed to be taken from him. Not enough to really effect him, but enough that he would notice.

Below, Otahu's breath was almost impossible to see. She felt the reiatsu of the Espada pulled around her like a blanket, cold and horrible. Destructive. As if every ounce of his being craved for nothing more or less. Her eyes closed and she did not breath in again.

A flash in the night...

...crimson tears on deathly wings.

"Cero"

The primal incantation, an unexpected flash of crimson waves descended upon the blue haired arrancar known only as Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. Massive as the blast was, it seemed most perfectly aimed away from the woman whom had found herself at the "mercy" of the sadistic Grimmjow. Canted in a way that angled itself most perfectly at the forty-fifth degree so as to aid in the prevention of escape from Grimmjow, the blast was indeed a formidable one, crashing against the ground and, should he not have made it from the blast, Grimmjow. The earth itself seemed to stress, cry and explode in a fountain of dust and debris, all aid enlisted to cover the approach of an unwanted guest who had found itself best to approach to aid an unexpecting shinigami. The flash of white haori and the numero 5 tattooed on the chisled chest as sonido announced the final arrival of a man whose own heart found itself seething with malcontent and sensations of rage.

Marcus, an arrancar of less that typical character, was announced in royal fashion with the aftermath of cero and sonido, explosions matched with thunderous booms as he appeared by the young shinigami who had found herself skewered in a most unceremoniously way and tossed aside like the trash she most certainly was not. A careful kneel at her side and reserved yet sympathetic pair of teal hues befell the shinigami, or rather, such was the case until the breathes were no longer drawn. Could it have been that the girl had faded into oblivion? It was, sadly possible, yet, such was not known as of yet and the time was not best to check. His mind raced and his anger welled within, a primal urge of rage and destruction, the funneled sensations of being what he was, hollow, sensations that had been channeled into his strict style of moral. Such were transgressions, that could not be forgiven, not so easily at all. Quietly the voice of his own whispered to the girl before him, a command as much as it was a wish.

"Do not fade shinigami...for I hear not a bell that tolls for you."

Slowly, he turned away from the girl, no zanpakuto at his side or in his hands, seemingly unarmed, his entire self pulsing with the reiatsu of that of a captain, his eyes aglow with an anger he had not felt for an age. Such things were not acceptable, such memories were not acceptable, visions of a kingdom his own, visions of that kingdom alight in fire and painted in blood, the blood of the helpless whose protection he had not secured as originally thought. Such had occurred once again, this bleeding shinigami testament to another failure to protect those without the power to do so themselves, regardless of race or desire. Another innocent had fallen prey to the despicable hungers and lustings for power and satisfaction of the monster that was Avarice. In reply, his hands set aglow once more, crimson cero energies alight and encompassing clenched fists, readied and brought to their full potential, their cataclysmic release reliant on the appearance of that blue haired demon they so desperately wished to rip apart. Rage filled his longs, it corrupted his tongue, and his eyes were as red as the blood shed around him, voice bellowing the words of a thousand years of hatred in not but a sentence.

"Show yourself, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques!"

Well, I think things have escalated. So, here's my intervention I mentioned to you both. ^_^