Post by Consequence on Oct 27, 2014 5:04:03 GMT -5
Hot sun bleaching away your worries. Sand between your toes. Sounds like a pretty great time, no?
I fucking hate Las Noches.
The air was dry and it always smelled ever so faintly of iron, like someone had just had their arteriole spray showered over the cracked earth and the broiling, sun-parched, hungry ground drank it all up. This land had certainly seen its fair share of blood to drink.
The rice hat helped with the sun but nothing could spare him entirely. Maybe it was the tension as he focused on all this new information around him that allowed the discomfort to tug at his senses. The wind was driving and full of little bits of sand that stung his skin, the glare from the false sun was overbearing and ever present, and the towers and castle of Las Noches loomed before him like some impossible monolith.
Tokiyo and Shun had gone their separate ways; their mission was one in the same but the chance of success was far greater if they were apart rather than to invite the sort of attention that the gleaming beacon of both them next to one another would draw. Opposition was virtually assured, and almost mandatory. Shun went off towards the South, draw by an energy signature he wanted to investigate, and Tokiyo split to the North to follow the same.
The power was familiar to him yet it felt different. Tasted funny. Tingled his senses in a different way. Here it was...unrefined. Unrestrained.
Takua. Unmistakably Takua.
And this must be his tower. The large double door dwarfed the Shinigami as he approached its simple construction. The Arrancar, or at least their architect, was not into complex design and opulent exterior; a simple assembly of stone and style that protected the innards from the harsh world outside. He had never actually seen an Espada’s Tower or the inside of the Castle, both of which were sites he had nothing at all to do with during the Occupation. For all he knew, their chambers might be filled with beautiful works of art, glorious libraries, gilded baths, luxurious spas, and any other number creature comforts that would be both completely shocking and entirely predictable. However his gut told him that, even if the speculation were somehow true, Takua was the sort to have no part in it. An Arrancar that made a career out of defying Arrancar.
The door yielded easily. Quietly. Tokiyo slipped in without a protest or detectable alarm.
“Bakudo number twenty-six. Kyokko.”, a spell he knew well, especially in his line of work. The Lieutenant extended a clawed hand and gripped at some unknowable and unseeable fabric and twisted it around himself, veiling his physical presence in a dense Kido. None would be able to see him, unless Tokiyo wished it, and when combined with the energy he was focusing on suppressing his reiatsu, no one should be able to detect him either.
Carefully, slowly, he stalked the halls of the tower. Doors were ajar, statuary dotted walls and alcoves. It wasn’t the lush palace of Hedonism he prognosticated but it was certainly...something.
The silence was pervasive. Almost oppressive. Occasionally a bloop or a beep or a drip would echo out from one of the rooms along his path but they only made the silence that followed all the more stark.
And the darkness.
Certainly, Takua was blind but all the sconces were empty. The torches were out and many looked as if they had never been lit in the first place. No braziers, no fireplaces, no candles. Just the cold, mute, darkness of a curiously empty tower.
He pressed on, climbing flight after flight of stairs, drawn upward by the growing hum of energy he was feeling from the being further above him. No doubt locked inside his personal chamber in the penthouse of the tower, Tokiyo would surely find the Master there doing...whatever it is blind Arrancar do in their free time.
As the last landing met his steps the confusion quickly rose. An elevator. It was the only way up. And if he took this open cage up to the penthouse, or roof, or whatever it’s topmost destination might be, there was virtually no chance its grinding and winching wouldn’t tip off his ascent.
Better go with the flow, I suppose.
He flipped the lever from left to right as a small arc of electricity completed the circuit and the whirl of gears and whir of machinery began to lift the platform.
Since a true ambush is impossible, I will have a limited window to make use of whatever element of surprise I can scrape together. He’s sharp. Impossibly sharp. His confusion must be my ally if I am to press my terms.
As the platform continued its ascent, a rectangular set of doors pulled open and left a shaft of light down into the tower; his ultimate stop would be the roof. Tokiyo closed his eyes and focused on filled out the Kyokko, pushing it further from his body, creating a ‘wall’ of bent light to conceal as much as possible. If it were not possible for him to hide behind his curtain, then perhaps he could buy himself some time, concealed in the mists. Just enough to-
The platform came to a halt as he felt the Kyokko billow out to cover several meters. He had already begun to approach Takua, who was on the far end of the flat top roof, when he felt the Arrancar’s senses shift and his head turn slightly.
Even without the ability to see, Tokiyo knew the Master of this tower could already see him. Feel him. Pierce the veil of his simple spell.
And so begins the closest thing Arrancar and Shinigami have to diplomacy.