Log; Complete

[sciencedaughter.livejournal.com]

When; March 7th, early morning
Rating; G
Characters; Nemu {sciencedaughter} & Zaheela {henkonasuisho}
Summary; A random encounter in the cafe leads to a deep and, on both women's part, confusing conversation. Plus, there's coffee.
Log;

It was a cozy little corner of the Cafe, away from the windows and the sunshine that hung on the tables and chairs, in which Zaheela had herself. Forgoing the usual perch on top of the Academy library's bookcases, she had settled herself into the comforts of the Cafe. Her ears would flick back and forth as they caught onto various noises, but none of the other patrons settled around her. They preferred the sun-warmed tables and Zaheela was perfectly fine in her darkened corner, next to the fake fireplace.

Curled up next in one of the leather seats, Zaheela peered over her book, a look of concentration on her face. Her hand turned the page as her fingers absentmindedly trailed over the handle of her half drunken cup of Coffee. Next to her cup was a open leather bound journal, the off white pages dotted with outlandish looking seals, notes, and cute creatures of all sorts. One corner was stained with something red, but overall, it was a simple journal. The runes on the page were old, older then she imagined her entire family tree to be, and difficult to understand, but that was what made it so fun. Decrypting old spells, translating them, it was her comfort zone, her preferred research. It certainly kept her mind off of less desirable topics.

Nemu was walking. She did that sometimes. Well, she walked frequently, most people did, but walking aimlessly, with no purpose. And it was not often she did anything without purpose. But she would sometimes be so consumed with the sounds of the ticking and her empty apartment that she would just start walking. And it was now she found herself doing just that, until something familiar caught her eye.

The shinigami paused, stopped, and decided whether or not to approach. Since she was being adventurous and without purpose, she supposed there was no reason to the contrary. With a small shrug and soft steps, she approached the mithra, standing slightly to the side, not yet speaking, but cocking her head to the side and waiting for her presence to be acknowledged.

Her ear twitched as footsteps caught her attention, but she ignored them until they got closer. She snuggled in further into the seat, thinking the person would just walk by, but when the footsteps had settled beside her, she paused. Her nose caught onto the scent, slightly airy and somewhat reminding her of the scent of powdered medicine and Poppy flowers. She sighed as she settled the book down into her lap and straightened.

“How can I help you today Miss Nemu?” She asked, her eyes catching onto the voluptuous form of the Shinigami and her hand gracefully picking up her cup of coffee and taking a sip of the near lukewarm liquid. She grimaced as she realized just how long she had been sitting there.

“I am not in need of assistance.” The shinigami answered promptly, ducking into a small bow of greeting. “I am in no such situation.” She remained standing, a reflex, really, to stand until being told to sit, even around people not her superiors. Keen eyes took in the half empty drink, idly nothing that her mind called it half-empty, and also taking in the study materials, something she did herself, though not in public. “I was passing by, and decided it might be courteous to say hello.”

Zaheela blinked before closing the book and taking yet another sip, using the moment to think of a proper response to such a straight forward answer.

“That's very nice of you.” She had had passing conversations with the young woman, most which left her questioning if she truly understood emotions. She didn't close her journal or her book however.

“Is there anything you'd like for me to answer then?” She asked, remembering vaguely the questions she had asked before.

Nemu stared for a moment, thinking. After a long pause, she liked to think things through… rather fully, she opened her mouth to speak, reconsidered, paused again, and began. “I have many things I would like answered.” Her gaze was softer than normal, considerate, perhaps.

“And I realize many of my questions are blunt, shameless, invasive, personal, and perhaps downright insensitive.” She smiled a little, a twitch in the corner of her lips, proud that she had covered all possibilities. “So I will not ask them unless allowed.”

Zaheela shrugged as she motioned for the woman to sit down in the empty chair beside her. She had shut her book at this point and looked distastefully at her cup of coffee. It wasn't hot enough to drink anymore, the acidic tang of the Sumatra roast shifting to a sour bite.

“I don't mind answering anything you would like to know really. If I have problems, I'd tell you.” She answered truthfully before standing up herself and grabbing the cup of lukewarm coffee. She walked around her chair before pausing and looking at Nemu.

“Would you like anything to drink? I'll grab it while I'm up there.” She asked. May as well get comfortable.

The creation smiled and nodded, taking the seat motioned to. It was preferable to standing sometimes. She sat straight on the edge of the seat, ankles crossed and hands folded in her lap. At the mention of drinks, she blinked.

“I… am afraid I have never eaten here, I do not know what there is…” Nemu admitted, ducking her head a bit at the admission.

Zaheela blinked and leaned against the back of the seat.

“Mostly they serve small, chemical loaded treats, but most people come here for the drinks. Lattes, Mochas, teas, and of course Coffee.” She said, her ear swiveling for a moment. It was her second preferred place to be after all, she knew the selection quite well, as well as what she did and did not like. The French roast could have been darker, but the Sumatra was very nice.

“Are you the coffee or Tea type?” She questioned, a safe place to start.

Nemu knew what coffee was of course, but… her expression shifted briefly. A slight gathering between her brows, a movement in her eyes, and a fidget in her folded hands.

“I have never had coffee.”

Zaheela fidgeted for a moment as her tail twitched slightly.
“Would you like to try some or would you prefer Tea then?” She asked, unsure if the coffee would have some adverse effect on the shinigami.

“You seem… knowledgeable.” As always, the shinigami’s voice was soft, low-pitched, and even. “You could, perhaps… select something favorable, in the matter of these coffee drinks?”

Hoboy. This was going to be hard. Normally she'd offer the person a good strong brew, one that'd wake the person up, but she wasn't too sure of what to offer this one. She supposed something light would work. Coffee would be too strong, but a Latte? Hmm, she never could take the stuff herself, the damn lactose always a killer for her system, but it WAS gentle enough for beginners.

“Right. I'll be right back then.” She said before striding towards the counter and dropping off her cup and placing another order for a cup of coffee, light roast, no milk but plenty of sugar, and a regular Latte, all for here. She waited a few minutes, timing it silently. The drinks were handed off and she walked back to her corner, the cups easily balanced in her hands. She placed the latte cup beside Nemu, manners instructing her to turn the cup and plate so that the handle faced the woman before placing her own coffee down and sitting down.

“So, your first question?” She asked, taking a sip of the scalding hot brew.

Nemu sat patiently, mind a quiet hum of activity, observing those around her, her surroundings, even checking her blood pressure in a spare moment. Idle things. She nodded in thanks when the cup was placed by her, small, delicately fingered hands grasping the cup firmly between her palms and placing it in her lap, looking it over cautiously.

First question? “… What is it?”

“A Latte. It's roughly... 2 ounces of espresso, a concentrated type of coffee, with steamed milk. While the size is the same as my own, it possess less caffeine then an actual cup of coffee and is much softer on the tongue. Coffee in itself is very strong, especially the way I take it, but this should be lighter. I'm not quite sure of what you'd like.” Zaheela answered, eyes focusing on the deep brown of her cup. She held it in her hands for a moment before taking another sip.

“Next question?”

She stared at the latte for a moment, lifting her hands to examine it this way in that in the cup before raising it to her lips, smelling briefly, it was a rich scent, and taking a small sip. A creamy taste, with a slight snip to it she could only describe as sharp, acidic. On the whole, not unpleasant. Worth a continue investigation, at the least.

“What were you studying?” Nemu was making a conscious effort to be sporadic, asking what came to mind at the time, the coffee mug returning to her lap.

Zaheela motioned for the woman to take a look at her journal. It wasn't like she was shy about it.

“Currently? Ways to increase the output of my shielding spells. Lately they've been weakening.” Zaheela purposely forgot to mention also the way for the shell spell to at least reflect a small portion of spirit energy, but that wasn't revealing itself at all. Actually, the more she looked for it, the more impossible it seemed to get.

Nemu did look, dark eyes flying across the text and notes, scanning, perusing, filing away information in her mind. She finished after taking a few quiet sips of her latte, savoring the taste. Something had caught her eye, and she re-examined the research, just to be sure.

“You’re compensating specifically for reiatsu reflection?” She asked curiously, bangs obscuring the view of her eyes for the moment, looking up at an angle at the woman beside her.

Zaheela swore mentally, her ears going flat. She had forgotten she hadn't written out those notes in runic.

“In a way yes, or at least a way to lessen the strain one experiences when faced with a large amount of it. In THEORY, it's possible, but the actual magic just doesn't seem to want to line up. There is also the fact of actually using it in battle since it requires an substantial amount of mana to even plausibly cast. Most often times, the magic just... snaps in half.” She answered truthfully. She had her reasons, but it wouldn't do her any good to state them.

“I see…” Nemu murmured, the tip of one finger scanning along the page. “Of course, the problem can be purely cross-world powers unable to mix…” Her voice was quiet, as if she were proposing theories to herself, though she was open with the thoughts. “But…” She tapped the part of the notes in question. “If possible you could shift focus from a flat catch and reflection to a more slice and divert tactic, with this energy you manipulate? Only a theory of course…” The creation took another sip of coffee. “Anticipating a fight with one of my world?”

Zaheela pondered this as she sipped her coffee and running over her notes mentally. If she took that into account, it could work, but the actual shielding spell didn't work that way. It'd require a major revamp as well as an alternate way to channel the power.

“Mana is picky, but maybe.” She answered before considering the other question. She wasn't too sure what she was expecting, only that she'd have to defend herself at some point. “Maybe. It really depends on how the current situation turns out. It also is partially because I'm curious about what makes the two energies so different. There is something there that is conflicting.”

The shinigami made a small noise to let her company know she was listening, taking another sip of her drink, eyes closing for a moment, committing the aroma and taste to memory.

“Cirucci Thunderwitch or Zaera-Polo Grantz?” Nemu asked, eyes still closed. Those two Arrancar she knew the woman beside her had dealings and conflict with, so it made logical sense that it would be those she wished to be able to defend herself from.

“Thunderwitch.” She muttered automatically, though her ear twitched at the thought of defending herself against the other named person. She sighed and placed the cup down, closing her eyes. She really had no idea of what to do with the latter of the two. She figured she could take on the first of the two with some training and observation, but the male example was definitely one she had a disadvantage against.

“She is a constant pain in the tail for one, and she has shown aggression towards my student.” She continued, eyes not looking at her companion.

Though she did not comment on it, Nemu made a note to look up ear movements as indicators of emotion. She knew it was indicative in animals, and the ears were beastial. It was worth looking into, at any rate, so for now she merely made notice of motions at particular statements. The sudden avoidance of eye contact was cause for note as well.

“Masaki Andoh.” The creation murmured, nodding to herself. “She is… one of the main aggressors.”

Her ears flattened at that.

“It's not like he's asking for it, but he's still my student, I have to watch out for him until he's mastered all he wants to learn.” She muttered, hand fluttering to rub her side. Her mind quickly scanned over the fight and she remembered the woman's words clearly. "Be thankful the only thing keeping me from killing you is an Espada's order!" It was clear she was important, but it was also clear he wanted to study her. Damn it, why did it have to be all confusing.

“Besides, all the pinked haired bastard and I do is talk anyways.”

Nemu watched carefully, as she would a lab rat in a cage. Every motion, every wording, she recorded for further study. Because this woman confused her, multi-faceted, seemingly so stalwart in something one moment then seeming flightly the next… it confused the vice captain.

“Are you a masochist?”

Her cup came down hard onto the platter as she tried control her tail fluffing up.

“NO!” She almost shouted, barely strangling it to a loud statement. “I am not! What makes you think that anyways?!?”

“Simple.” Another sip of her coffee and the creation settled a bit in her seat. Allowing her shoulders to lower a bit from the stiff, straight, position, she waited a moment before continuing. “Masochists enjoy pain, whether it is physical or emotional. And you admit to continuing, willingly, in something that brings you pain.”

“I DON'T Like the pain alright? Sometimes we can't avoid it, that's all!” She ground out, tail twitching in agitation and her ears flattened against her skull. Her hand darted out to grab the handle of the cup and took another sip of her coffee. She felt the warmth streak through her and she wrapped her hands around it.

“I became a healer so I could stop the pain.” She muttered.

“If you mean to stop your own pain you aren’t doing a good job.” Nemu was blunt, not considerate at times, and she was aware of this. “Because you can, in fact, avoid this. You stated you do not, because you are unsure of your own feelings. That means it is still reliant on choice. There are measures, easy ones, you could take to avoid him, if you truly wished it. Hence, masochism.”

Unfortunately Nemu had a point, but it wasn't like she was purposely torturing herself.
“What does it matter anyways? Nothing will come of our partnership other then the passing of information and data.” She answered, her eyes locked on the cup in her hands. She lifted it to her lips and took a small sip, but this time not pulling it away once she had finished.

One eyebrow arched, the creation giving a small shrug of her shoulder, setting her mug down. It was empty. She had enough social knowledge to know this conversation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for the person she was engaged with. "I can’t tell you why it matters. That’s entirely subjective.” Her hands, now unoccupied, returned to folding in her lap.

“I suppose. It'd help honestly if I knew what exactly he was trying to figure out.” Zaheela mumbled into the rim of her cup, ears slightly drooped. This conversation was just bringing out the emotions that she was trying to grind into oblivion anyways. She shifted a bit, her legs crossing a bit tighter. She didn't know why she was so cold at the moment, and quite honestly, she didn't want to find out.

“Why?” Nemu still didn’t understand her. At all. “What does it matter what he wants to know, if you are in pain?” Of course, if Zaheela knew her history, she would know Nemu had no room to speak about such things, the way she was treated daily by the one she called creator. But… a completely different situation in a completely different world, with a completely different man.

“Then I could answer it and work out what to do about this whole partnership.” She responded, finishing off her cup of coffee. The ceramic clinked together as she placed it down on the table. “There are no emotions or anything, but it's tiring to keep thinking of answers that are always half veiled after all. I'm just his research subject, but I get the feeling if I don't answer his questions, I'll wind up dead.” She didn't feel like getting another cup to drink, so she settled into the chair, eyes closing.

“There’s always ways to avoid that.” The shinigami idly began toying with the end of her long, dark, braid, fingers smoothing the ends and adjusting the tie. Not only because she was aware she may not be the best person to be giving… “advice”, but also because the situation somewhat paralleled her own with Ulquiorra. “You could avoid him if you made an effort. Seek refuge with one stronger. There are options.”

Avoid him, right. Ironically it was her approaching him most of the time. Not that anyone KNEW that, but still, if she really did try, she supposed she could avoid him. It was more of a question if she wanted to, and she didn't know if she did.
“A stronger one? Like who?” She asked, her tone slightly tinged with sarcasm. Who was stronger then him? She didn't know, and she wasn't the type to hide under the wing of someone anyways.

“If we wish to stick to Arrancar, several of them are stronger.” Nemu had been close enough to several of them to compare reiatsu levels, keep record of events and situations. “Ulquiorra, Grimmjow Jaggerjack, and Noitora all have stronger reiatsu levels, for example. The Numeros have lower, the Privaron’s is comparable.” The shinigami had been surprised, actually. She’d though the Espada were ranked only by fighting prowess, but Zaera-Polo made her reconsider it more as to be by use. “If we wish to include all City denizens, my list could go on.”

Zaheela stored this information away, noting that this suggested that Zaera-polo was actually lower on the ladder, but unfortunately for her, that didn't matter as much.

“I doubt it'd be a good idea for me to approach another Arrancar to be honest, and it's not my style to hide under someone if I can so help it.” She answered carefully. She frowned as she recalled her choice not to follow the black arts, which would of certainly been more useful then her current white magic.

“Then your pride puts you in a self-precipitating cycle of personal pain that you refuse to escape.” Nemu did not have many good thoughts on that particular character point. Pride, to her, was something that hardly ever did much good. “So how can you pity your situation, if you put yourself in it? Or… do you not pity, but revel in it, in which case, I repeat, masochism.”

“That's the problem with pride, it often forces us to face situations which can mean our doom simply by sticking by it. Thus why it is considered a sin.” Zaheela stated, ears twitching. She was well aware her pride was a major problem with this, but there was something else there that was also holding her back. “I just wish to find a secure way to end this without me getting stuck here. Besides, didn't you state somewhere you were also in a partnership with one of their kind?”

If that was the case, Nemu did not think she had much pride. At the mention of her own relationship, she only blinked slowly, dark eyes hooded momentarily by thick lashes, a slight smile twitching in the corner of her lips. “I get the feeling that my partnership is exceedingly different from yours.”

Zaheela leaned to one side, the one away from Nemu, and flicked one ear lazily to face the woman.

“Do tell?” She stated, her face calm, though her tail itself was twitching at the end.

“Foremost, I am not… conflicted.” The hands folded in her lap rearranged, her ankles crossed and re-crossed. “I accept that it is wrong, for a shinigami to have affection for an Arrancar, to be sexually involved with an Arrancar. And though I at first questioned whether my creator intended me to be capable of such emotion, I do not question that it exists, and that I am simply in what I am in. I am in no pain. When I am, I address the issue if need be.” She needed an example, she supposed. Her gaze wandered upward as she sought one. “For example, he slapped me. We spoke on it later, and resolved the issue, see?”

“That's because you are in a sexual relationship, which differs from my own.” She easily lied, her eyes not opening. “He and I are in a non-physical relationship, a game if you will. A contest of wills and wits, the end undetermined at this time. It holds no such affection, seeing that he will not allow himself to feel such mortal things.” The lie was easy, practiced, and filled with half truths, though somewhere along the way, they had crossed that line. She shifted for a moment as she shoved down the feeling of being empty, something she never felt before arriving in this city, and opened her eyes.

“Ulquiorra insists he does not feel human emotion either.” Nemu almost sighed, but it came out more like a release of breath. “They all do, you know. Insist that. It is what separates them from shinigami, from humans, and they hold that very dear.” A finger rose to her lips, thinking. “As for your… contest, once again, I do not comprehend how you allow your pride to rule you. If it pains you, just let him win, and let it die.”

“It weakens them right?” She wanted a confirmation of that. She had heard rumors, theories, but it was never confirmed.

“I've never been good at losing, and I've never seen any reason to forfeit as long as I am still able to fight. It's partially the way I was raised, as well as how I have grown over the years.” Zaheela admitted, answering the next inquiry. She could easily think back to the times where such thinking had saved her from a gruesome death. When faced with a slobbering, angry orc, it was either win and survive, or lose and perish. Such thinking was lifesaving in her world, but here? Not so much, especially when death didn't mean you stayed dead.

“Hearts.” Nemu corrected. “Hearts weaken them.” She should know, after accidentally wishing it upon them and ending up with a punctured lung from Ulquiorra’s ensuing panic. As for the issue of pride… the creation tsked softly, as if she were lecturing a small child, and, in actuality, she was probably much older than her conversation partner. “There is a point, I believe, in which pride because pointless and only serves degrade. There is no reason it should prevent a forfeit if that action is best.”

Older was most likely an understatement, but Zaheela wasn't one to give up her pride. Besides, there lay the hidden threat which came with losing this battle on her part.

“And what if it was merely for survival? I am unsure but the moment I become useless, I imagine it spells the end for me. We're all trash after all” She said, using his terminology, even saying in that same snide tone, though her eyes were rolling due to the sheer stupidity of the term. She hated that tone, the one where it clearly said that you were a plaything. Her ears were flattened and her tail fluffed. A small growl escaped her throat. Cocky bastard, why couldn't she hate him again?

“We’ve already covered that. You have options. You allow your pride, for some reason, to dictate you not rely on anyone.” To Nemu, it seemed quite foolish, and such thought was easily readable, she was hardly ever subtle when it came to such conversations. “Which means it’s either about pride, or about something else, not survival.” The comment about trash hit a chord, if only because she remembered a conversation of her own. ”They’re all beneath me, anyway.” “Then where am I?” “… Somewhere.”

Zaheela huffed and sunk deeper into the leather seat. Unknowingly, a moment flashed in her mind of similar intent. "It's a shame I mean so little to you." “You are not my flaw or connected to it. I do not know who you even are.” "Then remember, and remember whose bed you sought...If you belong to anyone at all it is to me, pet." It was from when he had wrested her from the control of Bane, but she wrote it off as his possessive nature, like a child hordes a toy. There was no more affection then one gave a doll. It was pretty and dressed up, but only worth as much as one could gain from it.

“What else could there be?” She asked, eyes half closed and focused on the fireplace they were seated in front of.

Without thinking much on it, Nemu threw out the most confusing word in her vocabulary. “Love.”

How'd she figure that would be the answer?

“It's not love, and you should know that.” She responded, her eyes focusing on the person next to her.

“I do.” Finally, she had not relaxed once this entire time, Nemu allowed herself to sink into the chair, allowed her back to press against the furniture and tucked up her legs under her, hands refolding at the hem of her skirt. “But it is in fact a viable answer to ‘what else’.” She smiled softly. People had asked her the same question, if she was in love with Ulquiorra. And she could, as truly as she knew, answer no. Affection, fondness, but… love? She did not believe herself capable, anyway. “Then you tell me what it is, Zaheela. Creation’s surely know less of such things.”

“Perhaps Curiousity, or maybe even the thrill of learning of something so foreign, but certainly never love.” Zaheela retorted. She refused, utterly to even consider that. It was stated, up front that it was to be a professional relationship, one where one's wits were to be challenged. It could not, would not, ever be love. “Love is shared between two things. A child's love for a mother, a bond between two hearts, the love one gives a pet, but if one LACKS the said capability to love, then it is affection or lust.”

Nemu stopped herself from sighing again. In her opinion, Zaheela was almost… too tricky with words, with phrasing things vaguely. “And yet, my question is unanswered.” She said with a slight tilt of her head that sent her heavy braid swinging. “What is it? Definitively.”

She bit back the urge to growl, tail twitching in agitation. If she knew that, then why would she be so frustrated over it?

“Well, if I knew the definitive answer, then this whole mess would be far easier on one's nerves. If not pride, then survival, as well as one's curious nature. We ask, we question, we discover. ”

“Is the pain worth it.” The shinigami wondered, and she did, truly, wonder. “Is the pain worth curiousity, worth pride?” She had never felt so much pride as her conversation partner seemed to, and that intrigued her, somewhat, and while she had to admit an innate curiosity as a researcher, as being created for research, she also was equipped with limits.

The pains one went through for knowledge, the need to slack one's thirst. It drove her, admitingly, it had been a driving force ever since she was young. Becoming a full runic scholar at the age of 12, a master Magi of healing at 19, her passions had driven her to achieve the most she could. The pain, the torment, the seemingly endless nights, all to exist.

“If it gains me what I wish for, then yes, it was worth the pain. I am a researcher, first and foremost, and I know things in my world that would of sent me to my death in a blink of the eye.”

“And you wish…?” Nemu allowed the question to trail off, leaving it open in case it was not to be answered, taking a moment to shift in her chair, tucking long legs closer.

“To understand really. It's frustrating not knowing what really... makes your world so different. Your people survive after death, and I wonder just how different we are. Our powers are driven by emotions of all sorts, by our imaginations, but to meet a person who can exist without all emotions?” Her hesitation was apparent, but she wasn't about to admit anything that could be turned against her. Arrancar existence fascinated her; A being driven by instinct and yet, logic. They were lesser, lacking many of the emotions of mortals, and yet in return their power was mammoth. It was almost unfair, how uncomplicated their life seemed.

“Perhaps I can sympathize with that.” Nemu had to admit, it was a viable curiosity, if, she thought, misplaced. “But I’m afraid I will never understand.”

“It's complicated.” Zaheela murmured. It had started out like that, but somewhere, somehow, it had warped into something enjoyable. Meeting a man who's brains hadn't been mashed into a soupy pulp, one who wasn't used to the stereotypical categorizing of the mithra of her world (and the fact that she was, in many ways, a runt) had lured her in. Her pride refused to let her admit that she was entangled far too deeply, and yet she wasn't strong enough to also let that same pride get her out. Her eyes softened as she thought over it all. She wasn't at all sure of what to do anymore.

“That, I can see.” Nemu said as she stood, having just looked to the clock on the wall and decided she had been out long enough. Not to mention… she was already more confused than she had been when she’d walked in the door, which… bothered her. Frustrated. The creation gave a small bow to Zaheela, speaking softly while looking at the floor.

“I should go. I had a pleasant conversation, and I shall be sure to further look into this… coffee.” The shinigami looked her speaking partner over once more before she calmly left the café, waiting to shake her head until she was out of sight. So confusing.