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arrancarsden-blog · 6 years

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There was only stillness between the door frames. There was no words, no sound, and absolutely no visible reaction. There was only the Espada, standing stock still before the woman, unfazed by the vicious glare and biting words.

Then comes an amused huff, as the headstrong and irrepressible brat demands respect.

“You are unruly.” the Espada points out, relentless turquoise eyes staring back.

“The past is irrelevant. What you’ve seen, what you’ve lived through, everything that’s happened up until now counts for naught.”

Ulquiorra’s voice is flat, but outright merciless.

“All of which is important to you in present is Lord Aizen and his ambitions. All else is utter trash.”

“What other option do you have, woman, other than to abide by me?”

Slowly, his eyes shift, studying her stance.

“If you wish to fight me, You’d better hope you destroy me quickly.”

It was not that Ulquiorra was willing to kill her. No, That would contradict his Lord’s orders. Rather, Cutting off her limbs would prove more ideal.

нυєςσ ѕєитι∂σ.

@arrancarsden

It didn’t matter that he was here on Aizen’s orders. It didn’t matter that he was ranked above her. It didn’t even matter that he was stronger, and could kill her in less than a hollow’s breath if he so desired.

Angarrika only bowed her head to the strongest of the strong. An arrancar marked with the number Four did not have her immediate respect, and would certainly have to try much harder than this one did to earn it.

But to speak so bluntly about her… to regard her with so little…

❝ I am not a beast, Cifer. Stop talking to me like I am. ❞

The Números stands in only her hakama, obi, tabis and zōris, but holds her haori in a grasp that threatened to shred it if she were to tense up much more. Distrust seethes in her biting glare, and sparks flit ominously from bared fangs.

Perhaps her anger came from the exposure of that number ever-engraved in her body, making her look like a Privaron. Perhaps she still maintained some semblance of human modesty, and disliked that she’d been walked in on whilst disrobed and intimately vulnerable.

Or…

❝ You think you know of emptiness? Wait until your mortal foe pulls your organs out through your mouth and leaves you literally hollow. ❞

…perhaps her former Master had rubbed off on her, and the stale rage within was fighting for a chance to escape.

❝ Do not presume that your power puts you above me, child. I have lived for eons longer than you, and every last one of them was a struggle. ❞

❝ Show some damn respect. ❞

#the sieve and the sand (Ulquiorra Cifer)#rp

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arrancarsden-blog · 6 years

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I present to you a one year old drabble I did.

—

"Actually, I just miss you..."

Tesla's words ring into an heavy silence between himself and his master. He didn't just feel his heart race, he could hear it, too.

The fraccíon's lips purse, feeling drops of sweat glide down his face as he eyes he who towered over him. He fought to hold his breath, as to attempt to hide his nerves.

Not that his apprehension wasn't visible.

Tesla knew that he was to be scolded for this; for his harrowing nature. He could see it. He could see he sheer abhorrence in his master's face. He could feel his growing irritation, too.

But did that prompt the man to look away? No.

Nnoitra wanted his eyes, that was made clear to him again and again. But even so, his neck strained to remain in place.

His master is staring, and he did not know what to expect. Was he about to be hurt, or berated for his pitiful disposition?

He was about to get his answer, after these moments of dense quietness.

A purple eye narrows with a tilt of the head. Nnoitra grimaces, his scythe being swung over his shoulder.

"You make me sick." His master spat, large teeth clenching in vexation.

And then Tesla's heart drops, along with hazel eyes.

"Right..." He responded, his voice weak, barely audible.

A large hand seizes blond hair.

"Enough, you sniveling shit! You better pray you never display such weakness in front of others!" Because there's nothing more embarrassing than a pathetic fraccíon.

Tesla almost whimpers, but he stops himself, knowing the consequence.

"Yes, master. My deepest apologies."

Tesla does not struggle, nor fight for release. Rather, waits to be unhanded.

And he is, eventually. With a scoff from his master, he's thrown to the floor before Nnoitra turns, giving a harsh farewell.

"Do not approach me with such fragility again. You will not live to regret it."

Tesla simply nods, rather than verbalizing an agreement.

Speaking would have surely revealed his lament.

#cant imagine this is completely ic but #kinda proud of it so here you go #armored tusk warrior (tesla lindocruz)#higher than the moon (nnoitra gilga)#my drabbles

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