Wandering..

This man... He was a strange adult. Most adults get mad unnecessarily. Simply stepping a manner that wasn't adult like was enough to spark an adult's rage. This adult... no... this... Aramand fellow... He did no such thing. Instead, from somewhere, he drew an odd smelling herb from wherever adults store things, lighting a small fire and inhaling fumes.

...A faceless woman used to cover his nose and mouth when they passed by those kinds of people... She said something... her touch was soothing...

He jerked back from the touch and was back in the desert. The man was talking about something... about how his kind was supposed to be uncommon... but he's seen plenty of them. He called himself Aramand. Called him kid. Asked for a reason for a reason to be here. What an adult-like thing to say, really! It was typical of an adult, to wonder why to everything insignificant and avoid all the important questions of why. Like why was the sky blue? Why did people wear clothes? No, it was something as insignificant as 'why are you here'... If he were capable of disdain he would show it. Of course, disdain was not in his vocabulary od expressions. Only joy.

Desalmado began to follow the man, not minding the sweltering heat on his flesh. Nothing's wrong with a bit of sun, after all. Oh, that name!

"Named Desalmado. Des short. No reason to be anywhere. Just feeling the sun and the sand and everything!" He smiled up at the man, his constant, constant smile reflected off the rays of the day.

A chest full of this herbs smoke is exhaled through his nostrils all the while peering down from his lofty stature down to the youth at his side. "Des it is..." So he knew what to call him now besides kid. He could feel it from Des, he was a free spirit. Easy going, not worrying about to much of anything, go with the flow---a typical child. Aramand could appreciate this. Children didn't have the judgemental tendencies adults had. Children were pure for the most part, all instinct, no predisposed notions and whatnot. It was better he ran into a kid then an adult with something to prove.

With that, the least Aramand could do was try his hand at being "Social". Sharing a personal tidbit of information, "This is my first time seeing a desert, let alone walking in one...figured there'd be alot more going on. Just a sea of Sand..". His Face (if it could be seen) would transition into features of discontent and perhaps disapproval. Expectations not being met mean that Des was the changing factor that perhaps made this trip worth while.

So out of sheer curiosity he'd ask, "You come to the world of the living often?" Saying it didn't really make sense to him. Technically, Shinigami, Vizards, Arrancar, all of them...they live as well. Albeit different lives in a different realm and plane of existence but living nonetheless. It's the understanding that this is the Humans domain that brings it all back to scope and those apprehensions never even made it to the surface of his fascia even during or after the question.

The truth stated is that Aramand is never off-guard. It may appear so, it's not in his nature to be. His nature is that of a weapon, a tool, an instrument for the purpose of conflict and so he's wired for it. Especially when you have a kid as active and busy as Des walking beside you. After all, given how he appeared, it wasn't far-fetched to be expecting something like this to happen. So when the kids amazing speed came into fruition, Aramands own sought to meet it head on.

An audible -FAP- sound could be heard as Aramand caught, and viced the Wrist of Des mere inches from his spliff. It would be at this very moment that the "Suppression" on Aramands Spirit Pressure would be slightly lifted--and with it a Tidal Wave of Psychological Effect could possibly be felt by the Arrancar. It was dark and mammoth. It would be as if Aramand grew to 300' tall in one instant and stared him down cold.---In fact, it would be quite similar to what Former Head Captain Yama would do to those who spoke out of turn to him. That INSANE...psychological weight bearing down.


In truth Aramand would have just held the kid there while reaching inside yet again to this seemingly infinite place called an "inner pocket", and withdraw another spliff from it. "Rule Number 1 of the Cipher....respect the spliff and the man smoking it.." He'd push the spliff forward to be placed into the kids lips to be held, and would lower him down and toss him a lighter. Aramand wasn't one vaunted for his "Parental" ethics or his general outlook on children. Arrancar his age are usually warriors, and quite formidable ones at that.


"Your an interesting kid des.....and sure you can join me for a smoke.." He commended the kids forward nature by giving him an entire spliff rather then just 1 puff off of his. IF it would sate his interest and curiosity at all, Aramand was all the more pleased to have helped. This was starting to feel like the beginning of some weird friendship, Arrancar and Vizard Youth, smoking herb in the desert beneath the sun. How comical.

So it seemed, the one thing they could possibly have in common-brought them to a mutual understanding. His own demeanor would have shifted well before the kid was given the spliff, but now they both were calm. No spiritual pressures to speak of, enjoying something as crude as smoke together, happily chugging a trail of it as they walked. Des complimented Aramand in a sense. He was quiet, serious, dark, uninteresting, while the the kid was the personality of the two by far.


Aramand did take note of the kids features, although none of it mattered at all to him. Race or affiliation---On his off time. Didn't matter much in how he went about his ways or life, his decisions were his own at the end of the day. The Spliff in his lips would suddenly be held sternly, and Aramands steps would pause to give some dialogue. "So....where to kid, worlds a big place and i'm not gonna be kicking around sand all day."

He'd take a long drag on the spliff, the cherry going wild and finishing it out completely. Spitting it free and discarding another one from the confines of that infinite vessel of a pocket. He'd extend his hand, gesturing for Des to throw his lighter back to him, and hopefully have an answer for him by the time he did get this one started.

It was a fairly dual sided request. Odd because they were obviously not anywhere near a food source. Understandable because the kid had smoked for the first time and was undergoing a very traditional, very expected consequence of that action. He only chuckled, catching the lighter and igniting the tip of his own, inhaling the second spliff into life and releasing a thick plume of smoke downward through his nostrils. Scrunching his nose seemed to further amplify the flow, and his index and thumb would pull down the brim of the hat on his head.

Before that pawing could even commence, Aramand would have already confirmed what was there, "Never reach for another mans pocket kid. Never know when there something in there that's not intended for you to have..." Smiling and patting the kids palm once with his own finger tips before turning and walking off. The forces that would have it, eventually give The Vizard lift, and he'd begin sailing upwards and away from the ground, "Let's go find some food and something to do..."

All things considered, Aramand accepted Des for the anomoly that he was. Something original, not like anything else that Aramand knew---traits often used to describe himself, now reflected in this kid. Their being--would be an odd situation most wouldn't understand, still Aramand prided himself on not going with the flow or following the grain. Or being obedient to trends. He wasn't judgemental, so this Arrancar, Des a figure of his own personal concern, and firmly outside of the realm of any "Duty" he may have had in reference to it....

(Your post can end the thread...)

That was such like an adult would do. Stop children from finding the many mysteries of life. Prevent them from discovering the magical things in the universe. He didn't ponder the idea that adults themselves were not magical, despite knowing all these magical things. It didn't occur to him that perhaps what was most magical is that he didn't know, for once magic has been wholly understood, it no longer becomes magic. His state as an arrancar and his friend's state as a shinigami, they were both considered magical beings by humans and yet because they understood themselves they didn't see each other as magic. In that same way, if he knew fully the 'mystery behind the infinite plane underneath clothes' it would no longer contain its magical unknown. Desalmado, probably in some shape or form, already knew this unconsciously. He didn't argue against the man, although he blew a childish raspberry in retaliation.

When Aramand decided to fly a bit, Desalmado stayed on the ground for a moment. He swept the area with his perquisa once more, seeking any more sources of fun. People to invite to join their little troup of happiness. There was no one he thought was interesting. Aramand's reiatsu tasted to him, interesting. His hollow instincts demanded him to consume the vizard. He looked up at his friend with a gaze that was almost predatory. For a moment he could almost feel his teeth piercing flesh and blood splashing onto his face... tasty. When he followed his friend into the air however, he didn't attack him. With the reiatsu that he felt from Aramand before, it would probably too much of a fight to be worth the meal. They'd eat candy instead- an appropriate substitute for now.

"Yay! Food! Food! Race ya!"Desalmado grinned, already having 'something to do'. Though he didn't know their destination and he didn't know where he was headed, a race would be entertaining enough. Even if he couldn't keep up, Desalmado would trot back, an obedient dog so long as the master kept his needs fulfilled. Luckily, this puppy's only requirement was a source of entertainment. He laughed into the air and with a beat of static he was gone to run in the direction of the nearest town.