Re: A Short Escapade to the Human World

Wed Dec 19, 2012 1:41 pm

Giriko had rather raggedly dragged himself back to his feet, shaking the proverbial cobwebs loose as it were as he desperately tried to reassess his surroundings. The feedback wasn’t especially good. The four dopplegangers surrounding him were no worse for the wear at all it would seem and even the one that he had concussively jammed through the ground was steadily rising to her feet, not especially worse for the wear. He couldn’t amp up the power of his attacks much more than that, even when Ikarutori finally got truly going, and keep it a reliable form of pressure. He could put more strength in to them, but he couldn’t fire all that many more if he did that and he had no idea how many times this woman could just…generate versions of herself. He also didn’t see her do anything special to circumvent his attack and there wasn’t a hollow mask to denote her being an arrancar and consequently surviving with Hierro. The only other explanation was that her reiatsu just eclipsed his so completely that it didn’t matter what he did. On top of that, the body he struck wasn’t the only one coming out of the hole he had put her in. Another, also relatively unharmed, duplicate was climbing out with her and an exasperated and annoyed sigh escaped from the shaken boy’s throat at the site.

Giriko gave a gentle tug on the reishi cord between him and his weapon, causing the weapon to jerk out of the ground and fly straight back in to his hand, another chance to show that Giriko was even puny looking in comparison to his own Zanpakutō, the giant axe standing a good ten inches taller than him, forcing Giriko to wear it somewhat diagonally across his back and pretty much completely preventing him from holding it vertically. Giriko stood still for a moment, fury still painted across his face as the girl retaliated with words, before strapping his Zanpakutō across his back, the axe still seeming proportionally ridiculously sized as his fists returned to his sides, clenched tightly. Giriko felt the reiatsu she was pumping out, trying to overwhelm him with spiritual pressure, but by that point Giriko was too worked up and his powers reacted proportionally to how much momentum he had accumulated, Giriko was, at this point, too strong to be stymied by her simply upping her spiritual pressure. Was this girl or whatever she was serious? Why was he fighting her? Was she blind? Was she stupid? Did she really think a shinigami would ever ally themselves with a hollow? The last insult was more than Giriko was willing to tolerate however. This woman was found at the scene of the crime, having butchers his fellow Shinigami, and now had the audacity to assume he was allied with a hollow of all things? Giriko didn’t care about efficiency any more. He was going to utterly destroy the creature in front of him, no exceptions would be made.

“Why…you dare…ask why…? YOU WERE SURROUNDED BY THE CORPSES OF MY FELLOW SHINIGAMI AND YOU DARE ASK WHY!?”

Giriko, with as much speed as he accumulated during this encounter, quickly thrust his hands forward toward the pair of women who had emerged from the ground. It was a Furious Action, Giriko putting all the hate and anger and rage he had accumulated over the course of their fight in to one massive Sho, the immense concussive force coming from his hands was enough to not only obliterate them, additional spiritual pressure regardless, but a good ten meters on either side of them. The magnitude of the blast tearing up the very earth beneath them as well as it cleaved through the air. Even the trees outside the area of the attack bowed down at the pressure. As the boy turned to try and repeat the process, something that had gone unnoticed before was quickly starting to become pertinent. Giriko was so worked up that he didn’t notice the steady drain on his energy and now that he did not have Ikarutori’s rage to counteract it, he was fully feeling the effects. Combined with the amount of energy he put out, and Giriko was quickly losing the energy to remain conscious. The boy stumbled on the deteriorating Earth as his world seemed to blink in and out of focus before he fell, in a heap, on the ground, finally succumbing to the exhaustion from the constant drain and his uncontrolled outburst of power.

Thu Dec 20, 2012 1:31 pm

Template By: [THEFROST]

At her questions, everything seemed to come to a climax: His rage peaked, warping his face into something that resembled something more than human, something inhuman. His spiritual power skyrocketed so high up that even Fantasia's absolute tragic sensory of soul power was able to detect it. And the fight itself Fantasia could feel was coming to an end, as the assailant hung up his axe weapon and screamed at her. That's when all the puzzle pieces came together for her, when the words hit her; the woman's eyes shocked wide open, realizing the misunderstanding. He had thought her the killer of those two younglings... Shinigami? Was he a Shinigami too? Oh, shit, this was just a horrible mix-up. Fantasia held no bad will toward the Shinigami whatsoever, but rather exalted their existence—one had saved her life, after all! And why did he think her to be the murderer? Weren't the Shinigami able to tell when and where a Hollow would be on Earth? And just like he thought it so unbelievable for a Shinigami to murder other Shinigami, why would he think a human would do such a thing when the Death Gods were their protectors? Whatever the case, this needed to stop now, neither here were each other's enemies, and she was about to go lax.

But the enraged Shinigami did not quite go through the same revelation that Fantasia had, and was lunging his body forward with his hands outstretched. She barely had a split-second to realize that it was that same kinetic blast he had been using throughout the entire fight, just without the chant. Her arm twitched and her blade was flying out of its scabbard with a ring of metal, before it was swung in a downward arc in front of her. As the invisible force propelled forward, tearing up the streets and warping the light that passed through it, it seemed nothing short of an unstoppable force. And yet, as it met Fantasia's blade the weapon would cry in protest as it sliced right through it, splitting the entire wave right down the middle and on either side of her body. The clones disintegrated into their base energy, while Fantasia's cloak whipped up into the air like a cape being blown back, and the girl herself was sent skidding several meters back while she contested the force. The asphalt she stood upon gave way and broke up into a multitude of shards and grain. When the full brunt of the shockwave blasted past, Nothing but destruction followed its wake, save for the spearhead of preserved land with Fantasia at the tip. Her pants were now tattered and shredded into pieces below the knee, with deep purple and red bruises clear across the shins. Her cloak now lie on the patch of sidewalk several dozen feet behind her, ripped from the sleeves that still remained on her arms. And the focal point of it all was the blonde's Anima Stone, letting a sapphire glow emanate from the cross-guard of her blade.

She was breathing hard, still holding her argent blade in front of her and still in a stance for fighting, just in case any more rash attacks were made by the infuriated Shinigami. But, none would come. He seemed to be standing still, silent, statuesque in quality. And then the semblance gave way as his body crumpled to the ground with a dull thump. Fantasia stood there absently for the longest time, unsure if this event had actually ended. Her ability to feel the rain splashing upon her skin slowly returned, as well as her ability to hear it—both of which she had been largely ignorant of during the assault. Her arms were heavy, but she would not give in to such weakness, as they were still needed. The Edge of the Legion was replaced within its sheathe, as her injured legs lithely carried her body toward the defeated Shinigami. She realized as she looked at him that he was still alive, not because she could see him breathing, but because she could see the fire of his soul still flickering, albeit weakly. Without thinking, she bent down to pick his body up and throw him over her shoulder. Not even her agonizing body would protest to the right thing, as she began her trudge to her own home, which thankfully had not been close enough to the crossfire of their fight.

She didn't care that she tracked in a lofty amount of moisture into her house with each step, or the grime that would smear all over her new couch when she gently placed the young man's body on it. She would do such things without hesitation, laying the Shinigami flat on his back and placing a pillow under his head. She dampened a small blue towel she found in the kitchen with hot water, and brought it back to him to neatly fold and lie atop his forehead. Warily, she'd take his Soul Slayer from him, which had returned into its original tanto form, and placed it upon the kitchen counter which was far out of his reach. And finally, she borrowed a wooden chair from the kitchen table and dragged it into the living room where she would sit not a meter away from him. Her sword and scabbard was untethered from her back and laid sideways across her lap while she leaned her elbows on it, and her chin upon her hands. From that point, she just watched... and watched... and thought of what she would say when he woke. Her eyelids would droop halfway down, but anyone who knew Fantasia knew better than to expect her to fall prey to exhaustion. This determined young girl was willing to see it through to the end.

Thu Dec 20, 2012 3:35 pm

The boy was a rather heavy sleeper it would seem as he would go oblivious to the girl picking him up and traveling a far bit of distance to her home. It was probably healthy that way too. If Giriko knew a human girl who was but an inch at most taller than him actually picked him up and carried him off to her house, the boy’s already rather fragile sense of masculine pride would be shattered. Considering how wet and muddy the ground had become while he was lying on it however, the amount of dirt, mud, and grime that he was tracking with him was rather impressive, not to mention how soaking wet his clothes would be by the time they got there. In a different situation, he would feel rather ashamed of how he would be presenting himself as a guest in someone’s home. Of course, he had plenty of sources for shame right about now. He had been effectively beaten by a human, if anyone heard about that he’d be a pretty notorious laughing stock, not to mention he managed to over-exert himself in his anger and throw away enough reishi to actually render him unconscious in order to lose the fight was the best insult of them all.

When Giriko finally came to, a good thirty or so minutes after losing consciousness, he found himself on a couch, thoroughly soaking it with his wet and soggy clothes and giving it a fresh coat of mud. The boy’s eyes fluttered in to consciousness, trying to gauge his surroundings. He was in a house, not shabby but not especially spacious and regal either. The boy blinked cautiously, turning his head to the rest of his surroundings. He confirmed that he was, in fact, on a couch, so somehow had moved him from the scene of the crime and his first instinct was to get back out there and find his fellow Shinigami’s bodies at the very absolute least. When his head finally turned to find the girl, sitting a few feet away from him, he blinked numbly at her for a few seconds, somewhat shocked and confused that there was a girl there. The shock and confusing quickly turned to anger and hatred when his brain finally caught up with the rest of him however.

Reacting instinctively, Giriko spun off the couch in to a crouched, fighting stance with his fist cocked at his side, the rag on his forehead flying off his head on to the ground a few feet to the side. The boy, torqueing his hips in the process, through a vicious strike through the air toward the girl’s face. Of course, his body hadn’t quite recovered from the drain of spirit energy as quickly as his brain had. Absolutely nothing left his fist, leaving him awkwardly shadow boxing the air as his legs quickly gave out on him and he once more fell on the ground in a heap, his cheek awkwardly smushed against her floor. A loud groan of pain and misery escaped him as his eyes tried to scan the room for the one thing he didn’t feel at his side, Ikarutori. He saw the sword on the other side of the room, resting on the kitchen counter. Giriko, gripping his fingers in to the floor, agonizingly slowly dragged himself along the floor like a worm, his eyes zeroed in on his Zanpakutō as he tried to drag himself toward it, all the while shouting muffled curses and insults in to the carpet as he crawled, leaving a trail of mud and grime in his wake.

“Donf fu dur turch Ikarufurry you bitf…”

A good deal more escaped his mouth after that point, but holding his head sideways enough to even sort of communicate sounds akin to English apparently became too difficult and everything that came out of his mouth past that point sounded like he was just choking on the carpet, which was probably for the best as well. None of it was especially polite.

Thu Dec 20, 2012 4:47 pm

Template By: [THEFROST]

It took at least a half hour for the body to stir any further than an inch, but it was something Fantasia was incapable of telling without a clock right in front of her eyes, which unfortunately was not the case. However long, the wait would come to an end as his brows rose to reveal his amber eyes. The dilated pupils would shrink as his head turned to take in his surroundings, and as if coming out of a sleep herself Fantasia would suddenly raise her head and raise her eyebrows. When the hues fell upon her, she met his blinking gaze in curiosity, wondering exactly how he would react to the current situation, and was completely expecting a hostile response, funnily enough. When his fist was thrown out in what Fantasia thought would transition into a punch, her own hand moved to catch it with ease, creating the sound of a light tap as they met. Fantasia was firm in her glare towards the Shinigami, but her grip was utterly lax, allowing his hand to escape her palm as his body rolled unceremoniously off the couch and onto the soft carpeted floor. After coming to terms with the fact that he could no longer combat her, he seemed to utterly lose interest and look for another means of attention.

She followed his trajectory of focus to the kitchen counter, noting that he was most likely zeroing in on that blade of his, and not the roll of paper towels on one side nor the keys to the home on the other. He began dragging his lifeless body across the floor in its general direction, while simultaneously muttering something unintelligible into the rug. If Fantasia wasn't such a kind soul, she would feel pity for his current actions, and question whether or not he would even be able to pull himself up to his feet long enough to retrieve the tanto. Fantasia put her sword aside on the now mud-encrusted sofa, stood from her seat and stepped over the Shinigami's crawling form to walk ahead to the counter, and most assuredly would just break her foot out of his grip if he tried to capture it with his hand. Clearly oblivious of his wishes, the blond took the sheathed weapon into her possession and turned back around to face the owner. She knelt and placed it upon the floor for him, but was still a couple meters off from his position. Whatever time it took for him to reach this point, Fantasia would be the one to begin building the necessary bridge between them.

"We did not kill your friends," she stated frankly, her hand still resting on the blade as he crawled to it. "A Hollow did, and it had attacked us, but escaped after failing. We... did not sense where it went... neither did you, but we witnessed it." She lowered herself even more, bending her body forward far enough that her eyes could meet his underneath his currently-mopped hair. She felt the need to repeat herself, stern in her declaration: "We did not kill your friends. We are not your enemies, but your allies." And then she rolled the weapon across the floor where it would settle right in front of his grasp. She did not want him to immediately be endowed with such a dangerous tool, not until her position was at least made clear to him. In good faith she reciprocated his blade back to him, hoping he would not try to start a fight again. It was the nature of the girl, and as soon as the young man had revealed his being a Shinigami, Fantasia's animosity of him became nothing but respect and good will.

Thu Dec 20, 2012 11:30 pm

Giriko’s powers were not completely absent; he could still feel the disturbances through the air as things moved around so even while his eyes were glued to his sword, he could still feel the girl moving around, picking herself up off her seat after she effortlessly halted his rather pathetic punch and watched him squirm along the ground like a slug, leaving a similar trail behind him. As he felt, the vibrations of her steps on the floor included, the girl get up and walk toward his sword, Giriko forced his head forward and craned his head up to look at her, a strange mixture of anger and anguish in his eyes. He had never gotten along well with his Zanpakutō, in fact, it wouldn’t be unfair to say that they hated one another. Not even sort of unfair. Giriko knew for a fact that his Zanpakutō wasn’t especially fond of him and Giriko himself was always pretty annoyed with that obnoxious, bird-brained monstrosity, but it wasn’t until right then that he realized just how attached he was to that asshole. Unfortunately, that realization just made Giriko hate the jackass that much more. What made him hate him even further was when the girl picked up his Zanpakutō and set it down in front of him before backing away.

Giriko had only been barely listening to her words as she spoke them, his focus being almost solely on his Zanpakutō, but as his hand reached forward and his fingers closed around the small blade, his brain slowly began processing the words she was sharing with him. A hollow would make a lot more logical sense, especially since the blade marks really only matched the size and nothing else with the big claymore(s) the girl wielded. Not to mention that if she was really out to kill Shinigami, she gained nothing from keeping him alive and returning his weapon to him. Giriko’s eyes steadily scanned over his body, looking for any kind of marking to be found, something she might have tagged him with. That was the only incentive he could think of for her to keep him alive if genuinely meaning him harm. Giriko’s head readjusted forward once more, the muscles in his neck screaming in agony at having to move so much in their current state and his eyes settled upon the girl’s shins. They weren’t pretty, it would seem his Furious Action Sho did more damage than it had seemed it did, Giriko had initially figured he hadn’t even hurt her when he first saw her. Still, being able to withstand that with only bruised and bloodied shins was pretty impressive; a lot of reishi was thrown in to that. To take it head on like that and come out unscathed was…well…frightening. Giriko was convinced anything but a captain level entity would have been obliterated by that.

Giriko dragged Ikarutori to his chest before gently rotating his wrist, positioning the Zanpakutō vertically and pressing it against the ground. Using his sword as a crutch, Giriko pushed himself up in to a sitting position and leaned against the nearby wall, every muscle and bone in his body creaking in the process. He never tore his eyes away from the girl in the process though, determined to watch her for anything suspicious despite all logical reasoning telling him that if she wished ill upon him, he’d already be dead. Once he was situated in a more comfortable and upright position, Giriko loosely turned his eyes to meet hers, much of the aggression and hate having left the boy’s eyes.

“What do you mean,we? Your energy signature doesn’t match a hollow or any other known supernatural races…I’ve never seen a human fight like that…”

Giriko’s eyes finally left her as the words finished coming out of his mouth and instead trailed down to the damage and inconvenience he managed to cause this person in her own home. He had effectively ruined her couch and carpet, nice little line of dirt and mud trailing away from the muddy blob monster that was now her couch. If he left that in his wake there, it was pretty far to assume he was equally dirtying the wall in which he was now leaning on. Giriko, not one for observing social grace periods, such as the ones where you go from mercilessly trying to erase someone from existence to asking them favors, displayed no shame whatsoever with the following question.

“Wouldn’t happen to have a bath, would ya?”

Fri Dec 21, 2012 2:00 pm

Template By: [THEFROST]

To watch the Shinigami struggle in both physical might and spiritual determination was a show indeed, and as he rose into a seated position, Fantasia would as well. Her eyes watched him in keen interest as he overpowered the weight of exhaustion after such a tough battle and not so much rest to recover. As mentioned previously, Fantasia held nothing but respect and awe for this young man before her, the moment she figured out what exactly he was. Anything slightly impressive was a note of great interest to the blonde, a feat to be beheld. The very moment he truly looked into her eyes, not with unfocused sleepy eyes or tunnel vision zeroed in on his blade, but with true cynosure, there was not a trace of of the hatred or rage from before among those green hues, just a little bit of darkness. Fantasia crafted a small smile with her elfin lips to display her contentedness with that single look. She wanted to know that by the end of the day the two would be on friendly terms, with no barrier of animosity left between them on the complete account of a misunderstanding. It was in those eyes that Fantasia saw that he had accepted her words as truth, at least for the most part. Had he not, then she was assured that from what he had displayed to her, he would try to fight her still despite his aching bones and exhausted muscles. He struck her as the willful type.

Of course the first words out of his mouth were formulated into an all too common question; why we? We is what she referred to as herself as opposed to 'I', for she did not see herself as one being but many. After all, what counted was what was perceived in her mind, and despite it not being apparent to any onlookers, her mind was as split as her soul. From the traumatic experiences in her past, her existence had been redefined by the shattering of her being and the creation of her Anima Stone. But it seemed that for the universe's convenience, Fantasia would appear as a singular being by default. "You saw us in battle, you should understand. Right now you see only one of us, but truly there are more than you can count, just up here"—she tapped the side of her windblown head—"and within here"—and then placed her hand over her heart, believing there to be where her soul was contained. "We've been... getting stronger, so that we can protect all from the Hollows, and defeat them. We're just humans, fighting back against their evil." And her smile would widen for some inexplicable reason maybe to him, but Fantasia would feel the instant and overwhelming appraisal from the many shards of her self, inside her mind.

"A bath?" she stated more out of surprise than an actual question. As if just realizing the abominable mess created in not only his wake, but her own, she would raise her eyebrows as she traced the track of mud to the couch. Her mouth formed an Oh shape as she came to terms with this knowledge and would nod her head slowly. "Yeah, upstairs and downstairs, though you'll probably want the downstairs one. Just head down the hall there and it should be the nearest door on the left." Fantasia would stand, realizing she herself was not in any modest appearance herself. She just also realized the dark marks encompassing the front of her legs, making her frown. She figured it best to also wash herself down and dry up, if only to get rid of this feel of grime and dampness all over her body. But compassionate thoughts of her guest's well-being took the forefront as she returned her attention to him and off of her unsightly injuries. "We can carry you there, Shinigami-san, if you need help. We know how tired you must be."

Fri Dec 21, 2012 7:58 pm

Giriko, for the most part, didn’t move for a good while from his perch up against the wall. How the body generates energy was always interesting. The more oxygen flowing in to the body directly correlates to how willing the muscles are to move and just by being upright, allowing easier flow of air through his body, Giriko could steadily feel his muscles and nerves regaining their sense of feeling. In turn, that reminded him of just how much pain he was in, but it was good to know they could at least still feel, it meant that he would recover, eventually. Giriki, digging the tip of his sheathed Zanpakutō in to the ground, lifted himself in to a more upright sitting position propped up against the wall, a small light coughs escaping him before the girl started speaking in response to his question. He had only assumed the duplication was some strange form of magic, humans had after all come a long way in the last couple hundred years, but it seemed to be more than that, at least to this girl. He wasn’t sure if she really was as fractured as she said and the lack of individuality was real or if it was some form of induced psychosis, but it was plain as day to Giriko that the girl actually believed it, it seemed a little too ridiculous for her to be mocking him with it. That made it as real as it really needed to be. The twelfth division would collectively wet their pants at the chance to study this girl.

Regardless, her intentions, at least the ones she displayed, were in line with his and as such, until given a reason otherwise, he would afford her a small modicum of trust, at least until he was properly bathed. He wasn’t especially knowledgeable about all the psychobabble anyway, he preferred to punch things first and ask questions while punching. So for the time being, he’d just accept her words at face value and let her maintain the biblical legion mentality. As the sound of confusion escaped her, apparently having multiple consciousnesses didn’t necessarily increase her awareness of her surroundings as she seemed to just now realize that they effectively tracked a tornado of mud and gunk through her house. A small pang of guilt rifled through Giriko once she realized it. It was one thing when she noticed the mess his misunderstanding and assault had caused, another pang of guilt shooting through him when he noticed her examine her shins, and just didn’t care, but she was apparently so oblivious to her surroundings and herself, that he could have very easily hurt her for real and her just not notice. As soon as she motioned toward the downstairs and before she got a chance to look back at him, Giriko had already begun his pathetic trek toward the shower.

As daunting and potentially traumatic going any where remotely close to stairs would be at the moment, Giriko stumbled down the hall where she indicated, using his small tanto as a mini crutch as he dragged himself to his feet and down the stairs, not bothering to really pay attention to her offer to carry him. There was a limit to how much his pride could take in terms of abuse. He successfully stumbled down the hall and found what he assumed was a bathroom before disrobing, not paying much attention to the door as he wasn’t planning to stay there long and he wasn’t expecting her to follow him anyway and if for some reason she did, she could just close the thing herself, and pushing the curtains aside, climbing in to the shower stall, and throwing the curtains back to obstruct his view. Giriko turned the water on and felt the cold water strike his soggy, miserable, and sore body as it steadily shifted toward a hotter temperature, rinsing the crap form his hair. Giriko didn’t move as the water pressure worked, instead letting his eyes fixate on a nearby nozzle, his mind wandering. If the girl didn’t kill his men, then something else did and he still needed to get out there and find it, quickly if possible. The mans balled up fist struck the shower wall at the thought, his anger steadily creeping back…his resolve joining it.

Sat Dec 22, 2012 12:22 pm

Template By: [THEFROST]

Her offer was flat-out ignored, as the beaten boy forced himself to his feet and starting creeping down the hallway as she directed the nearest restroom to be. He was interestingly using his sheathed blade as a crutch to get him all the way there, and her admiration of him would only see an increase because of it. Just before he would disappear into the indicated doorway, Fantasia would speak in a soft voice, her personal thoughts inadvertently escaping her. "You're very strong, Shi...." she trailed off, not entirely aware that her mind had betrayed her privacy. She would blink once, snapping herself out of it and turning towards the stairs on the opposite side of the room. Up there would be a shower for herself, as well as her bedroom. She could tidy up and get into a new set of clothing, so that at least she could be a decent host for the Shinigami. Without further ado, the blonde-haired teen was climbing up the stairs and heading towards the secondary bathroom. With minor difficulty, she was able to tear off all the desecrated fabrics of her cloak, and unstrap all the various buckles and clips of her underlaying suit of armor. It all clamored to the floor around her feet, and her liberated body would step out of the pile and into the shower, all too eager to turn the knobs for the hot water to high.

Fantasia was halfway intoxicated by the hypnotic sight of all the murk spiraling down the drain, and time passed quickly for her as she just seemed to stand in the shower. At some point, however, her trance was broken by the sudden yet faint thump that resonated through the foundation of her house. It sounded as though it had come from downstairs, which could only be the Shinigami. She looked at her body, and was satisfied with it enough for now; she would take the full cycle of cleanliness later. She turned the shower off and rushed herself out of the stall, and snatching a thick towel off a nearby rack as she left the bathroom. She power-walked to her room next, finding some casual apparel—all in black, of course—including the typical undergarments, a solid T-shirt, and some sweats. She didn't bother with socks or shoes, just choosing to leave it at that and make her way back down to check on her guest. Forsaking the use of stairs altogether when going downstairs was normal for Fantasia, which is exactly what she'd do. She hopped over the railing at the top, and lithely descended back to ground floor with only a light thud on the carpeted floor. She could hear the shower still running, so she would simply creep down the hallway and slide against the wall next to the open door, though not far enough to be seen or see within.

Fantasia tried to listen in for some sign that something terrible had happened, such as him slipping and falling in the shower, but there were no signs of struggle. She also didn't want to upset his modesty, hence her hesitance in looking inside of the room. Her ears could pick up the splashing of water on skin, meaning he was still in there, but she was not sure what he was doing in there. Finally, she spoke, just loud enough for him to hear. "Are you okay in there?" she inquired, still pressing her back to the wall, but turning her ear toward the open door to better hear a response. Hopefully it was a positive one, and she would not have to come in there to find him dying or something of that sort. In the case that he was doing just fine, Fantasia would tack on an after-thought that had been bothering her, forming another question with it. "And... would you mind telling us your name, Shinigami-san? Ours is Fantasia, Fantasia Nevermore."

Sat Dec 22, 2012 5:11 pm

Giriko had not sensed her approach, both due to her determination to remain hidden and considering how much walls truly inhibited the flow of air. It had always been something that Giriko loathed. Nothing was more appealing to Giriko than the open air and nothing was less appealing than being inside a building. He couldn’t feel anything in here, not with all the walls and ceilings and the ever persistent evil concept known as ventilation. The improper flow of natural air that almost every house and home possessed drove the young Shinigami absolutely crazy, he simply couldn’t handle it for extended periods of time, so much more preferring to be in the air. That was where the young boy was most at home, with nothing between him and anything else but open air. These mausoleums that people called homes were the epitome of blight upon what would otherwise be a rather joyous, airborne existence. These thoughts that whipped through his head were oddly appropriate as Giriko’s eyes finally tore away from the silvery chrome of the shower nozzles and toward the soft voice that encroached from the hall. The boy blinked cautiously in her direction before turning his eyes toward his fist still pressed up against the wall, just now realizing that he had slammed his fist off the wall. Giriko let out a small, faint sigh as he had one more thing to apologize for; this time at least it was violence against her wall rather than her. Her next question had caught him somewhat off guard as well before he regained his composure and committed her name to memory. Fantasia Nevermore…Giriko wasn’t sure who would name their kid Fantasia much less tolerate the surname Nevermore, but he wouldn’t think too hard on it for the time being. He had more important, uglier, things to track down.

“Atoshi Giriko.”

Perhaps he owed her a little more emotion than that, perhaps he owed her at least some indication that her questioning wasn’t a burden, perhaps he owed her some more consideration in general, but Giriko’s mind was not there at the moment. He was trapped in a house and even farther away from avenging his men than he was when he started the fight with her. He was bruised, battered, tired and he had absolutely nothing to go on but faint reiatsu all over the area. The chances of him identifying the hollow that needed to die were not especially high. Giriko, gently pushed the curtains aside and stepped out of the shower, turning the shower knobs off behind him as his soaking wet form stepped in to the middle of the room, not showing the same adherence to modesty that his host did. Giriko had grown up on the streets the majority of his life and while he was taught the social significance of clothing at the academy, for the most part clothes were still there just to keep warm. Especially when his mind was completely elsewhere, Giriko forgot the little things like common decency as he grabbed the towel and began ridding himself of the wetness that pervaded his skin.

It would eventually catch up to him though, regardless of whether or not Fantasia dared a look, as the boy wrapped the towel around his waist and walked toward the still open door of the bathroom, warily looking down at her crouched and rather comical attempt at imitating a Mission Impossible movie. Giriko blinked a few times apprehensively before turning his head away to avoid just outright sighing at the girl. Perhaps she was more human than he gave her credit for. Despite the insane level of reiatsu for someone her age and the rather impressive psyche collapse and case of dissociative identity disorder; she did have a considerable amount in common with your garden variety human teenager, especially if this was her definition of stealth.

Sat Dec 22, 2012 6:30 pm

Template By: [THEFROST]

Apparently she was caught red-handed, as the Shinigami she now knew by the name of Atoshi Giriko would step out into the hallway in naught but one of her towels wrapped around his body. He was for the most point dried up, excepting his hair; hair was always the hardest to get dried, and generally took some time. Fantasia's head was still a mop-like mess as she hadn't paid any attention to dressing it up after coming out of the shower. But with the half-naked man not a foot in front of her, there wasn't much Fantasia's mind could comprehend at the very moment. She would slowly slide back up the wall as a scarlet heat warmed up her neck. She sheepishly smiled, but he looked away. The action confused the blonde and caused her to furrow her brow, but shrugged it off as nothing too significant. She would break the awkward silence between them by clearing her throat in discomfort, and afterward pushing herself off the wall, shifting her hues to the bottom right corner of her eyes, and releasing a heavy exhale of air. This was all before she even deigned to speak about what mattered most, for it was time. "So now that you're all cleaned up... and able to stand on your own two feet... I suppose you're going to go, Atoshi Giriko." Her tone was quiescent and reserved, not because she was reluctant to see him go, but because her mind had shifted back to the crux of it all—the entire reason this had all happened to both of them. Through her mind's eye she would recall the demonic features of the Hollow to the forefront of her thought. It reminded her very much of the fairy tail dragons from the stories her mother used to read to her, except terribly distorted. Her eyes would turn coal black as her mouth uttered the very detailing of the creature.

"Nine feet tall, thick animalistic limbs with bulging sinew, mostly encased in cobalt plates. Something between a human and a dragon, from fairy tales. It has massive blades in place of fore-arms, three demonic wings, and a tail longer than the beast is tall. The neck is extended, and the mask... the mask is worst of all." The summarization was all articulated in a deep dark voice, but her being would shift back to normal after she finished the description. Black back to gray, and unfocused to focused. She would bring her hand up to her temple and shake her head to snap out of it. "That's... what the Hollow looked like, as best as we can remember. It was able to fire a Cero, at least, and was fairly strong, and fast too. Other than that, there's not much we can tell you about it. Sorry." And then she remembered, somewhat in guilt, that Giriko's comrades were still lying in the rain out there. Her only excuse for her forgetfulness was that she was all too focused on saving the life of one who could be saved, rather than those for who it was too late.

"Oh, your friends. They're still out there. We think you should be the one to do the honors." Fantasia would be the first one to move back out of the hallway, speaking to Giriko as she did. Her destination was the frontal window of the living room, where she would grasp the furls of the curtains and draw them slightly ajar. She peered through the crack in the fabrics and back out into the desecrated streets of her block. Yes, the carriage and corpses remained within sight of her home, and were not a pretty sight. She was thankful that she had chosen one of the newer homes to live in, as there were not many who lived nearby to see such tragedies, and those who did were beings who were used to them. Though, the positive sight among all this was piercing of light through the thick layer of cloud. The rain had lightened to a simple drizzle, but it was still enough to procure a rainbow. "Since your rest, the weather has lightened up a little. That's a good sign, but for what, we do not know." Fantasia closed the curtains and once more turned to face Giriko, finality in her eyes. "If that Hollow ever comes back here, we won't let it get away again, we promise. To let it harm another soul is breaking what we stand for. So, we'll give our all to stop it.

But for now, the storm is beginning to calm. We need to clean up this mess in here, and then take some rest. We understand how busy a Shinigami can be, so, we think that it's best if we bid you goodbye now while we have the chance. Good luck, Giriko."

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