ext_265180 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
thunderwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2007-02-19 07:41 pm
thunderwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-02-19 07:41 pm
(no subject)
When; Feb. 19th, Pride Day
Rating; PG-13 - R for violence
Characters; Cirucci {![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thunderwitch} & Fakir {sword_and_quill}
Summary; Fakir, affected by the Pride curse, challenges Cirucci Thunderwitch to a rematch even though she beat him badly a few days previous. What she doesn't know if that this human she underestimates has a power she can't begin to fathom. And he's already written how this fight will end.
Log;
Fakir stood confidently outside the weathered Opera House, Lohengrin's sword sheathed securely at his side. The smallest of smirks rested on his lips as he stared straight ahead, waiting for the arrancar to arrive.
This time he would win. There was no fault to his short story and thus he maintained a solid assurance for the outcome he desired of this rematch. He'd been very hesitant to write since he'd arrived to City. The fear that something would go wrong always lurked in the corner of his mind - a warning. But today, there was no such sinking feeling. Everything would be perfect.
And how he longed to finally see her fall at his feet. Certainly she couldn't continue to taunt and threaten if she was effectively silenced.
It was in a rush of wind that sent leaves and foliage quaking that the Privaron Espada arrived, slamming into the ground with the metallic clang from her wing's downdraft echoing in the air. She didn't know why, but she wanted a nice flashy entrance. The hilt of her blade materialized in her hand as she stood, the wings and boned fixtures sealing back into the metal shape of a zanpakutou as she sealed her power away once again. Their last fight had been ended far too quickly in Hollow form, it would be so much more fun to draw it out this time, make him dance at Golondrina's beck and call. And she was sure that was how it would turn out.
"In a rush to get your bones broken, are you, little one?" She taunted, lips curling into a sarcastic pout. "And the bones of your little friends... particularly the female, what was her name..."
The ex-knight was clearly unimpressed, his hint of amusement fading to a small frown. What was it with women and trying to be flamboyant and attention-grabbing, anyway? As much as he didn't want to compare them, Cirucci was like Rue in some ways - when she had her full heart, anyway.
"Oh, no rush at all," he corrected, smoothly removing his sword and letting the sheath drop carelessly to the ground. "I'd like to take my time to give you plenty of reason to mess with me or anyone any of my friends again." Fakir took a casual fighting stance, swinging his sword in one clear and fluid arc before pointing the weapon straight at the dark-haired arrancar, the haughty smirk turning the corner of his lip once more. "And don't worry, you need not know her name. You'll never lay a hand, or anything else on her."
"Oh, I wont, will I?" Cirucci smirked, casually reaching down to adjust a garter. "How about when I finish with you here I march into that little Opera and throttle her? I'm sure the sight of her writhing and breathless would be terribly exciting." Straightening, the Privaron leveled her own sword at the human before her, smiling wider. But her blade did not remain the straight steel, instead, she suddenly swung her arm down, the motion accompanied by what sounded like a whip-crack as she went to her first release, the metal turning instead to the large wheel on wire, the catch held between the fingers of her other hand. Something that may have been a laugh escaped her lips as she snapped her arm forward again, the large blade spinning through the air towards Fakir.
"That would mean you'd have to get by me first," he supplied in quick response just before launching himself into the air diagonally to perform a back flip in order to neatly avoid the flying metal wheel. Upon touching down with years of practiced ease, he didn't waste a single moment in rushing her. An overwhelming sense of confidence ran through his veins as he approached rapidly, blade raised to strike. "And I can guarantee that's not going to happen!"
"Can you really?~" A flick of her gloved wrist had Golondrina flying back to its mistress's hand, the whirring wheel of metal fairly screaming through the air as the taught wires ran along the steel. The weapon was coming up behind the boy, and would catch up with him if he did not change his course. As for the strike he aimed now? The Arrancar's hand rose to fire a bala quickly from her palm, the reiatsu forced from her like a bullet and aimed at the human's face.
"Absolutely," he returned through grit teeth, hearing the shrill noise of the dodged object approaching quickly from behind. But his sharp green gaze was focused straight forward at the blast issued from her hand. Changing the intended path of his weapon, he abruptly jammed the sword tip to the ground, using his momentum and the hilt of his blade as leverage to lift his body high into the air and over the arrancar's head, pulling the blade to follow after him. Landing down behind her, he attempted a swift strike from behind.
Impressive acrobatics, this one. Golondrina snapped back to hilt with a loud click, but the Privaron did not attempt to begin movement, merely narrowing her gaze as she let reiatsu flow from her. The force of it was enough to knock a human back, especially one with no spiritual powers like her world possessed, would be enough, if she released all of it, to flatten him to the ground, and she relied on this. But… her eyes widened as she suddenly began to try and dodge- her- her reiatsu, this wasn’t right! The force, it was all wrong, there should be more power there, there should, where did it go, what was wrong?
As his blade kept on it's intended path for a vicious slash against her back, Fakir's lips curled in a menancing smile that Cirucci couldn't see. The signs were starting to show, he could feel it. And he knew it would work. The story-spinners were feared for a good reason and he wouldn't let his ancestors down, even if that bastard Drosselmeyer was amongst them. And such an advantage as this would finally give him the upper hand and the opportunity to strike her down for ever daring to get involved with anyone he cared about.
He'd show her just what an seemingly-ordinary human "boy" could do when provoked.
The blade in her back elicited a hiss from the woman as she flinched, crimson beginning to stain the white fabric of her uniform even as she raged internally, ducking away and using sonido to increase the distance between them. WrongWrongWrongWrong- She didn’t know why her reiatsu had weakened so suddenly, it had been fine before she’d come here, what had- Fury was evident on Cirucci’s face as she locked eyes with Fakir. Him. He’d done this, somehow, some way… it was his fault, this measly little human boy… her hatred almost emanated as she snapped. “Behead him, Golondrina!” The cry for her sword’s release was answered with her Hollow form, the wings, tail, and bones returning in place as she awaited his next attack, muttering what appeared to be, by the movement of her lips, the word ‘hate’.
Before he tore his gaze from Cirucci's eyes, Fakir spied something unnatural flicker within them. Coupled with the word formed from her mouth, he was almost certain she had one of Rue's heart shards - and obviously one of the nastier, negative emotions. Not that he didn't believe this woman could be quite hateful on her own, but something about the way she snapped and took her hollow form rashly was off. And normally he would dread the thought of anyone catching on to the fact that he had a way to twist things to his fancy through a hidden power, but right now he felt an incredible surge of haughty glee at the prospect of her discovering that her sudden lack of power was somehow connected to him. "Oh? Awfully angry all of a sudden, aren't you? Whatever happened to taking things slow?” Fakir swung his sword around in one full rotation, like a baton. "Eager to get your wings clipped?"
“Whatever happened to my power?” Cirucci screeched, as usual when she took Hollow form, her more… avian qualities took to light. She didn’t care for the human’s fancy sword tricks, she only cared for her anger, her seething, pulsing hatred. With a bound in her legs, she moved to take to the air. … And dropped back to the ground, stumbling as she regained balance, thick tail lashing frantically to match the sudden panic, the fear, that welled up in her throat. Her wings- Her mouth opened in a soundless noise of rage and confusion, momentarily stunned as she simply stared at her shoulders, at the boned wings hanging limply from the joint. … They didn’t… she couldn’t feel them… they didn’t work…
He grinned widely. As visibly handicapped as she was now, the arrancar didn't stand a chance against him. Maybe he should have been a little more lenient on her. But that thought quickly vanished from existance - she'd threatened Ahiru openly. No one did that and got away with it. "Absolutely nothing wrong with using one's own abilities in a confrontation, now is there?" he supplied in an amused fashion, eyebrows drawing together as he prepared to charge. "Never underestimate your opponent!" And with that cry he rushed foward, sword trailing in his rapid approach from its diagonal angle to the ground to a strike-ready position. Just before reaching her immediate vicinity, he made an abrupt leap to left, intending to bury the blade into her right shoulder.
With something like a squawk the Privaron abruptly swung the long and extended bone-armored hand sported by her release, a heavy blow aimed at knocking the boy clear out of the air. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY POWER?!” She shouted in mid-swing, still trying in vain to move her wings as they dragged her down with the weight of metal and bone.
"A shame, but I can't share such information with the likes of you." A scowl replaced the smile on his features instantly, again changing course in attempt to dodge. And while managing to miss the full force of the strike, his movements were not quite fast enough to escape entirely. The blow hit his arm in passing and the anger behind it threw him backwards to the ground. He recovered from the fall in time to land on one knee, and sent a glare to Cirucci through the part in the dark bangs that shadowed over his eyes. "You're going to learn once and for all... NOT TO FUCK WITH ME OR ANYONE I CARE FOR!" His last words were accompanied by fluid leap forward as he rushed her again, aiming this time for her other shoulder.
Once again preoccupied with her wings, the Privaron dodged to late, the stinging bite into her shoulder in the crook between boned armor drawing a hiss from her painted lips. This was wrong, all wrong, and the hatred, overwhelming, brimmed in her eyes. She followed the boy's movements, however, and as his blade still bit into her she snatched at him with the snapping mouth at tail's end, it's teeth sharp and maw open wide, reiatsu creeping from the saliva. "I'll fuck with whom I please, and the next day you can't do whatever it is you've done I swear to you human, I will hunt that girl down and see her head rolling at my feet!" It was a dire promise, from a dire thing.
Her threat made him bristle with visible fury, his mouth curling into a nasty snarl. "You won't lay one goddamned hand on her!" His peripheral vision caught sight of her incoming tail and he lifted the blade from her shoulder, pulling himself into rapid spin on one foot in order to avoid the snapping end. Wanted to play the toy he hadn't broken, did she? He'd just have to put it out of commission, then. Raising his sword again, rage guided the next arched strike toward her toothed-tail as he approached it in a light-stepped zig-zag fashion. How dare she think she had any right to threaten Ahiru, influence Uzura merely for her own kicks and amusement, and taunt him and treat him like he was some bug she could squash at any whim! Fakir was sick and tired of being underestimated and looked down on by everyone as some weak boy! He was a reincarnated Knight, the descedent of a feared tale-weaver, and a formidable opponent! He'd make them all learn not to take him so lightly, starting with this arrogant arrancar!
Cirucci was still angry, the cut on her back obscured and agitated by the cascade of feathers from the bone-beaked headdress, her shoulder hurt, blood seeping down her arm from under the boned shoulders, staining pure white fabric as it went. And she was sweating now, from the strain, the exertion of trying to raise her wings only to find them unresponsive, trying to force the strange feeling of a cap on her reiatsu, this sudden barrier she could not cross, though the majority of her power was out of reach, due to him. So it was not surprising that her tail continued on its path and did not veer from the blade, merely twisting in flight to let the metal score the hardened hierro of the flesh, drawing blood but not stopping the end result, the sharp beaked maw clamped tightly around the ex-Knight’s midsection, squeezing as she exerted some effort, no, a lot of effort, to lift the boy into the air. Her Hollow form took a lot of reiatsu, and she did not have much available, thanks to this pitifully annoying human. “I’ll throttle the life of ever goddamned human in that Opera once I fix what you did to me!” Cirucci snarled, moving to slam Fakir to the ground, reiatsu leaking, burning from the maw and into his body, slowly, so weak, when what she was trying to do was fire a cero, a blast that would obliterate most anything in its path.
Fakir grunted and winced as pain erupted from his middle where the tail's end had clamped firmly onto him. He wouldn't cry out or show weakness. He'd never give her that pleasure again. Her words echoed through his head and he bit back the reply to her newest threat that was just itching to release in angry tirade - words were of no consequence now. He would see her fall at his feet if it was the last thing he did. Forcing to keep his eyes open and alert despite the burning sensations, he tried once more to aim another vicious blow to the tail that held him hostage, adrenaline and pain running rampant through his veins.
The tail released its grip under the new assault, but did so in a flick of the long tail, throwing the ex-Knight across the flat ground even as Cirucci advanced once more, the metal of her feathers occasionally emitting loud shrieks of metal on metal, metal on rock as they dragged behind her, eyes half-crazed with pain, with hatred, and with pure madness. … Arrancar were creature of instinct, in the end, and it was that which drove her now. Some of them were good at controlling such things, but the Privaron… natural, created of their own wills, masks ripped of their own wills… it became harder and harder to hold on to the sanity and logic that made them more clever than Hollows, better than Hollows, as they became more pained, more enraged. And Cirucci was enraged. Her reiatsu, what pitiful amount was left of it, flared, enough to give a human some pause, before the maw of the tail opened again, a flicking blade of reiatsu extending from it’s craw and swung, accompanied by the Arrancar’s pounce of extended talons, the only thing running through her mind was the hate.
The ex-Knight grit his teeth as his back grazed over the ground on impact. He ignored the continually-pulsing bite of the pain as he exerted effort and strength of will to rise back to his feet, stumbling slightly in the process. He would prove his worth as a human against this...thing. And while Fakir had always been fond of birds, such a female creature as this made him seethe with disgust. Eyes narrowing into slits, he flicked blood off the end of his blade, furious gaze focused directly on the wild arrancar. And with a very vocal cry that was filled with a mixture of rage, undying confidence, and the burning need for her to be struck down, he charged her as fast as his legs would possibly carry him, mustering all the strength he could for a solid strike against her bared and unprotected chest.
Her eyes widened as talons convulsed and tighened on air, the reiatsu blade flickering and dying as her tail began wildly thrashing, wings shuddering even limp as they were as Cirucci stared down at her chest, at the gash that started at the top of her Hollow hole and extended to her collarbone, short, but deep enough that blood had rushed from it when the metal left skin. Soundlessy her mouth opened and closed in shock even as her released form began to dissolve around her, the zanpakutou clattering to the ground followed moments later by the slumping of the Privaron to her knees. Blood on her back, blood on her shoulder, blood on her chest… her lips forced air into her, trying to get up, force her body to move, damn it, move, but it still felt as if her reiatsu was being blocked, cut off, and she was unable to call on her reserves for strength even as her eyes, wide and shot through still with that hatred, tried to find the human, that stupid, filthy, nasty, disgusting human-
Fakir had wasted no time after that slash, mercilessly pulling the re-reddened blade from her flesh and then behind him as he side-stepped her and executed a half-turn to put himself out of sight behind her. Yet again he raised Lohengrin's blade in his taught grip, the movement sending a sharp slice of pain through his injured side. He could clearly see that she had fallen partway and lost her intimidating form, but he wasn't satisfied - he didn't feel he'd yet done enough to show her just how the hell mistaken she had been to ever cross him. Releasing a sharp breath, his green eyes went wide with furious anticipation. "Don't you ever, EVER threaten her again!" He growled almost animalistically through half-clenched teeth, bringing the blade down in an arc to cleave her upper right arm and across her back just below the neck.
The Privaron bit back a keen of pain, biting neatly through part of her bottom lip in the process, even as she hunched forward, trembling from the force she was trying to shove through her body, make it move, make it go. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something abrasive along the lines of that she would threaten her again and again until she was done, but all that came was a tacky spat of blood from her throat and she choked, spitting the blood and bile out onto the ground between her hands fisted into the ground. Death was coming… it had to be coming. This thing, this stupid, stupid, human with a power… a power she didn’t understand, didn’t know how it worked, how it hurt her… Her eyes widened even more, not letting tears of pain free. … Il Forte would be most upset with her. … She’d promised he could kill her…
The ex-Knight felt he'd seen enough. Even if she'd threatened Ahiru and all of his friends, even if he wanted to kill her and was feeling driven by some unknown force to prove he could, Fakir still couldn't bring himself to finish it. He'd satisfied his pride - as a knight, writer, and protector of what he considered his own. Instead, he kicked the arracar's back, enough force exerted to send her to the ground and aggravate the newly-given wound. "Get out of here," each deep word was coated with venom as they fell from his lips. "Crawl back to your family and leave those under my capable protection alone from now on." That said, he removed his boot from her back and clutched at his bleeding side, making his way back to entrance of the Opera House and leaving the female arrancar behind without another glance. He'd done what he had to do and for now, he felt damn good about it.
Rating; PG-13 - R for violence
Characters; Cirucci {
thunderwitch} & Fakir {sword_and_quill}Summary; Fakir, affected by the Pride curse, challenges Cirucci Thunderwitch to a rematch even though she beat him badly a few days previous. What she doesn't know if that this human she underestimates has a power she can't begin to fathom. And he's already written how this fight will end.
Log;
Fakir stood confidently outside the weathered Opera House, Lohengrin's sword sheathed securely at his side. The smallest of smirks rested on his lips as he stared straight ahead, waiting for the arrancar to arrive.
This time he would win. There was no fault to his short story and thus he maintained a solid assurance for the outcome he desired of this rematch. He'd been very hesitant to write since he'd arrived to City. The fear that something would go wrong always lurked in the corner of his mind - a warning. But today, there was no such sinking feeling. Everything would be perfect.
And how he longed to finally see her fall at his feet. Certainly she couldn't continue to taunt and threaten if she was effectively silenced.
It was in a rush of wind that sent leaves and foliage quaking that the Privaron Espada arrived, slamming into the ground with the metallic clang from her wing's downdraft echoing in the air. She didn't know why, but she wanted a nice flashy entrance. The hilt of her blade materialized in her hand as she stood, the wings and boned fixtures sealing back into the metal shape of a zanpakutou as she sealed her power away once again. Their last fight had been ended far too quickly in Hollow form, it would be so much more fun to draw it out this time, make him dance at Golondrina's beck and call. And she was sure that was how it would turn out.
"In a rush to get your bones broken, are you, little one?" She taunted, lips curling into a sarcastic pout. "And the bones of your little friends... particularly the female, what was her name..."
The ex-knight was clearly unimpressed, his hint of amusement fading to a small frown. What was it with women and trying to be flamboyant and attention-grabbing, anyway? As much as he didn't want to compare them, Cirucci was like Rue in some ways - when she had her full heart, anyway.
"Oh, no rush at all," he corrected, smoothly removing his sword and letting the sheath drop carelessly to the ground. "I'd like to take my time to give you plenty of reason to mess with me or anyone any of my friends again." Fakir took a casual fighting stance, swinging his sword in one clear and fluid arc before pointing the weapon straight at the dark-haired arrancar, the haughty smirk turning the corner of his lip once more. "And don't worry, you need not know her name. You'll never lay a hand, or anything else on her."
"Oh, I wont, will I?" Cirucci smirked, casually reaching down to adjust a garter. "How about when I finish with you here I march into that little Opera and throttle her? I'm sure the sight of her writhing and breathless would be terribly exciting." Straightening, the Privaron leveled her own sword at the human before her, smiling wider. But her blade did not remain the straight steel, instead, she suddenly swung her arm down, the motion accompanied by what sounded like a whip-crack as she went to her first release, the metal turning instead to the large wheel on wire, the catch held between the fingers of her other hand. Something that may have been a laugh escaped her lips as she snapped her arm forward again, the large blade spinning through the air towards Fakir.
"That would mean you'd have to get by me first," he supplied in quick response just before launching himself into the air diagonally to perform a back flip in order to neatly avoid the flying metal wheel. Upon touching down with years of practiced ease, he didn't waste a single moment in rushing her. An overwhelming sense of confidence ran through his veins as he approached rapidly, blade raised to strike. "And I can guarantee that's not going to happen!"
"Can you really?~" A flick of her gloved wrist had Golondrina flying back to its mistress's hand, the whirring wheel of metal fairly screaming through the air as the taught wires ran along the steel. The weapon was coming up behind the boy, and would catch up with him if he did not change his course. As for the strike he aimed now? The Arrancar's hand rose to fire a bala quickly from her palm, the reiatsu forced from her like a bullet and aimed at the human's face.
"Absolutely," he returned through grit teeth, hearing the shrill noise of the dodged object approaching quickly from behind. But his sharp green gaze was focused straight forward at the blast issued from her hand. Changing the intended path of his weapon, he abruptly jammed the sword tip to the ground, using his momentum and the hilt of his blade as leverage to lift his body high into the air and over the arrancar's head, pulling the blade to follow after him. Landing down behind her, he attempted a swift strike from behind.
Impressive acrobatics, this one. Golondrina snapped back to hilt with a loud click, but the Privaron did not attempt to begin movement, merely narrowing her gaze as she let reiatsu flow from her. The force of it was enough to knock a human back, especially one with no spiritual powers like her world possessed, would be enough, if she released all of it, to flatten him to the ground, and she relied on this. But… her eyes widened as she suddenly began to try and dodge- her- her reiatsu, this wasn’t right! The force, it was all wrong, there should be more power there, there should, where did it go, what was wrong?
As his blade kept on it's intended path for a vicious slash against her back, Fakir's lips curled in a menancing smile that Cirucci couldn't see. The signs were starting to show, he could feel it. And he knew it would work. The story-spinners were feared for a good reason and he wouldn't let his ancestors down, even if that bastard Drosselmeyer was amongst them. And such an advantage as this would finally give him the upper hand and the opportunity to strike her down for ever daring to get involved with anyone he cared about.
He'd show her just what an seemingly-ordinary human "boy" could do when provoked.
The blade in her back elicited a hiss from the woman as she flinched, crimson beginning to stain the white fabric of her uniform even as she raged internally, ducking away and using sonido to increase the distance between them. WrongWrongWrongWrong- She didn’t know why her reiatsu had weakened so suddenly, it had been fine before she’d come here, what had- Fury was evident on Cirucci’s face as she locked eyes with Fakir. Him. He’d done this, somehow, some way… it was his fault, this measly little human boy… her hatred almost emanated as she snapped. “Behead him, Golondrina!” The cry for her sword’s release was answered with her Hollow form, the wings, tail, and bones returning in place as she awaited his next attack, muttering what appeared to be, by the movement of her lips, the word ‘hate’.
Before he tore his gaze from Cirucci's eyes, Fakir spied something unnatural flicker within them. Coupled with the word formed from her mouth, he was almost certain she had one of Rue's heart shards - and obviously one of the nastier, negative emotions. Not that he didn't believe this woman could be quite hateful on her own, but something about the way she snapped and took her hollow form rashly was off. And normally he would dread the thought of anyone catching on to the fact that he had a way to twist things to his fancy through a hidden power, but right now he felt an incredible surge of haughty glee at the prospect of her discovering that her sudden lack of power was somehow connected to him. "Oh? Awfully angry all of a sudden, aren't you? Whatever happened to taking things slow?” Fakir swung his sword around in one full rotation, like a baton. "Eager to get your wings clipped?"
“Whatever happened to my power?” Cirucci screeched, as usual when she took Hollow form, her more… avian qualities took to light. She didn’t care for the human’s fancy sword tricks, she only cared for her anger, her seething, pulsing hatred. With a bound in her legs, she moved to take to the air. … And dropped back to the ground, stumbling as she regained balance, thick tail lashing frantically to match the sudden panic, the fear, that welled up in her throat. Her wings- Her mouth opened in a soundless noise of rage and confusion, momentarily stunned as she simply stared at her shoulders, at the boned wings hanging limply from the joint. … They didn’t… she couldn’t feel them… they didn’t work…
He grinned widely. As visibly handicapped as she was now, the arrancar didn't stand a chance against him. Maybe he should have been a little more lenient on her. But that thought quickly vanished from existance - she'd threatened Ahiru openly. No one did that and got away with it. "Absolutely nothing wrong with using one's own abilities in a confrontation, now is there?" he supplied in an amused fashion, eyebrows drawing together as he prepared to charge. "Never underestimate your opponent!" And with that cry he rushed foward, sword trailing in his rapid approach from its diagonal angle to the ground to a strike-ready position. Just before reaching her immediate vicinity, he made an abrupt leap to left, intending to bury the blade into her right shoulder.
With something like a squawk the Privaron abruptly swung the long and extended bone-armored hand sported by her release, a heavy blow aimed at knocking the boy clear out of the air. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY POWER?!” She shouted in mid-swing, still trying in vain to move her wings as they dragged her down with the weight of metal and bone.
"A shame, but I can't share such information with the likes of you." A scowl replaced the smile on his features instantly, again changing course in attempt to dodge. And while managing to miss the full force of the strike, his movements were not quite fast enough to escape entirely. The blow hit his arm in passing and the anger behind it threw him backwards to the ground. He recovered from the fall in time to land on one knee, and sent a glare to Cirucci through the part in the dark bangs that shadowed over his eyes. "You're going to learn once and for all... NOT TO FUCK WITH ME OR ANYONE I CARE FOR!" His last words were accompanied by fluid leap forward as he rushed her again, aiming this time for her other shoulder.
Once again preoccupied with her wings, the Privaron dodged to late, the stinging bite into her shoulder in the crook between boned armor drawing a hiss from her painted lips. This was wrong, all wrong, and the hatred, overwhelming, brimmed in her eyes. She followed the boy's movements, however, and as his blade still bit into her she snatched at him with the snapping mouth at tail's end, it's teeth sharp and maw open wide, reiatsu creeping from the saliva. "I'll fuck with whom I please, and the next day you can't do whatever it is you've done I swear to you human, I will hunt that girl down and see her head rolling at my feet!" It was a dire promise, from a dire thing.
Her threat made him bristle with visible fury, his mouth curling into a nasty snarl. "You won't lay one goddamned hand on her!" His peripheral vision caught sight of her incoming tail and he lifted the blade from her shoulder, pulling himself into rapid spin on one foot in order to avoid the snapping end. Wanted to play the toy he hadn't broken, did she? He'd just have to put it out of commission, then. Raising his sword again, rage guided the next arched strike toward her toothed-tail as he approached it in a light-stepped zig-zag fashion. How dare she think she had any right to threaten Ahiru, influence Uzura merely for her own kicks and amusement, and taunt him and treat him like he was some bug she could squash at any whim! Fakir was sick and tired of being underestimated and looked down on by everyone as some weak boy! He was a reincarnated Knight, the descedent of a feared tale-weaver, and a formidable opponent! He'd make them all learn not to take him so lightly, starting with this arrogant arrancar!
Cirucci was still angry, the cut on her back obscured and agitated by the cascade of feathers from the bone-beaked headdress, her shoulder hurt, blood seeping down her arm from under the boned shoulders, staining pure white fabric as it went. And she was sweating now, from the strain, the exertion of trying to raise her wings only to find them unresponsive, trying to force the strange feeling of a cap on her reiatsu, this sudden barrier she could not cross, though the majority of her power was out of reach, due to him. So it was not surprising that her tail continued on its path and did not veer from the blade, merely twisting in flight to let the metal score the hardened hierro of the flesh, drawing blood but not stopping the end result, the sharp beaked maw clamped tightly around the ex-Knight’s midsection, squeezing as she exerted some effort, no, a lot of effort, to lift the boy into the air. Her Hollow form took a lot of reiatsu, and she did not have much available, thanks to this pitifully annoying human. “I’ll throttle the life of ever goddamned human in that Opera once I fix what you did to me!” Cirucci snarled, moving to slam Fakir to the ground, reiatsu leaking, burning from the maw and into his body, slowly, so weak, when what she was trying to do was fire a cero, a blast that would obliterate most anything in its path.
Fakir grunted and winced as pain erupted from his middle where the tail's end had clamped firmly onto him. He wouldn't cry out or show weakness. He'd never give her that pleasure again. Her words echoed through his head and he bit back the reply to her newest threat that was just itching to release in angry tirade - words were of no consequence now. He would see her fall at his feet if it was the last thing he did. Forcing to keep his eyes open and alert despite the burning sensations, he tried once more to aim another vicious blow to the tail that held him hostage, adrenaline and pain running rampant through his veins.
The tail released its grip under the new assault, but did so in a flick of the long tail, throwing the ex-Knight across the flat ground even as Cirucci advanced once more, the metal of her feathers occasionally emitting loud shrieks of metal on metal, metal on rock as they dragged behind her, eyes half-crazed with pain, with hatred, and with pure madness. … Arrancar were creature of instinct, in the end, and it was that which drove her now. Some of them were good at controlling such things, but the Privaron… natural, created of their own wills, masks ripped of their own wills… it became harder and harder to hold on to the sanity and logic that made them more clever than Hollows, better than Hollows, as they became more pained, more enraged. And Cirucci was enraged. Her reiatsu, what pitiful amount was left of it, flared, enough to give a human some pause, before the maw of the tail opened again, a flicking blade of reiatsu extending from it’s craw and swung, accompanied by the Arrancar’s pounce of extended talons, the only thing running through her mind was the hate.
The ex-Knight grit his teeth as his back grazed over the ground on impact. He ignored the continually-pulsing bite of the pain as he exerted effort and strength of will to rise back to his feet, stumbling slightly in the process. He would prove his worth as a human against this...thing. And while Fakir had always been fond of birds, such a female creature as this made him seethe with disgust. Eyes narrowing into slits, he flicked blood off the end of his blade, furious gaze focused directly on the wild arrancar. And with a very vocal cry that was filled with a mixture of rage, undying confidence, and the burning need for her to be struck down, he charged her as fast as his legs would possibly carry him, mustering all the strength he could for a solid strike against her bared and unprotected chest.
Her eyes widened as talons convulsed and tighened on air, the reiatsu blade flickering and dying as her tail began wildly thrashing, wings shuddering even limp as they were as Cirucci stared down at her chest, at the gash that started at the top of her Hollow hole and extended to her collarbone, short, but deep enough that blood had rushed from it when the metal left skin. Soundlessy her mouth opened and closed in shock even as her released form began to dissolve around her, the zanpakutou clattering to the ground followed moments later by the slumping of the Privaron to her knees. Blood on her back, blood on her shoulder, blood on her chest… her lips forced air into her, trying to get up, force her body to move, damn it, move, but it still felt as if her reiatsu was being blocked, cut off, and she was unable to call on her reserves for strength even as her eyes, wide and shot through still with that hatred, tried to find the human, that stupid, filthy, nasty, disgusting human-
Fakir had wasted no time after that slash, mercilessly pulling the re-reddened blade from her flesh and then behind him as he side-stepped her and executed a half-turn to put himself out of sight behind her. Yet again he raised Lohengrin's blade in his taught grip, the movement sending a sharp slice of pain through his injured side. He could clearly see that she had fallen partway and lost her intimidating form, but he wasn't satisfied - he didn't feel he'd yet done enough to show her just how the hell mistaken she had been to ever cross him. Releasing a sharp breath, his green eyes went wide with furious anticipation. "Don't you ever, EVER threaten her again!" He growled almost animalistically through half-clenched teeth, bringing the blade down in an arc to cleave her upper right arm and across her back just below the neck.
The Privaron bit back a keen of pain, biting neatly through part of her bottom lip in the process, even as she hunched forward, trembling from the force she was trying to shove through her body, make it move, make it go. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something abrasive along the lines of that she would threaten her again and again until she was done, but all that came was a tacky spat of blood from her throat and she choked, spitting the blood and bile out onto the ground between her hands fisted into the ground. Death was coming… it had to be coming. This thing, this stupid, stupid, human with a power… a power she didn’t understand, didn’t know how it worked, how it hurt her… Her eyes widened even more, not letting tears of pain free. … Il Forte would be most upset with her. … She’d promised he could kill her…
The ex-Knight felt he'd seen enough. Even if she'd threatened Ahiru and all of his friends, even if he wanted to kill her and was feeling driven by some unknown force to prove he could, Fakir still couldn't bring himself to finish it. He'd satisfied his pride - as a knight, writer, and protector of what he considered his own. Instead, he kicked the arracar's back, enough force exerted to send her to the ground and aggravate the newly-given wound. "Get out of here," each deep word was coated with venom as they fell from his lips. "Crawl back to your family and leave those under my capable protection alone from now on." That said, he removed his boot from her back and clutched at his bleeding side, making his way back to entrance of the Opera House and leaving the female arrancar behind without another glance. He'd done what he had to do and for now, he felt damn good about it.