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thunderwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2007-03-13 06:51 pm
thunderwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-03-13 06:51 pm
Log; Complete
When; March 12th, late afternoon
Rating; PG language
Characters; Cirucci {![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thunderwitch} & Crowley {saunturing_down}
Summary; Cirucci and Crowley meet by happenstance out in the City, and, as usual with these two, exchange some rather rude words in their game of cat and mouse, (or as Crowley says, snake and bird). Note: right before this log.
Log;
It had been a long day, she supposed. Complete with the fourth re-opening of her side wound. Il Forte first, at his apartment, Zaera-Polo next, at his, (though she had to admit surprise that the side wound was all he’d bled from her, really), and then Il Forte showing up in the middle of the night for the third, that nasty little simultaneous ripping and healing thing he liked for the fourth. Annoying, really. So she’d taken off, albeit the ticking annoyed her too, but she was able to loose it in the trash of mortality in the City, though she couldn’t stand that for long and ended up in a less crowded part of town, meandering, if only for the sake of doing so.
The demon had merely gone out for some fresh air, and to give the Angel a small break. The tattoo was causing far more problems than he could have ever anticipated, and he was really feeling the need to work off some steam. So it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing when he spotted Cirucci wandering around in a less-populated area of town. He cocked his head to the side in curiosity before he wandered towards her, coming up behind her, though he had a feeling she could hear his approach just fine. “The bird does not want to be home tonight?” he drawled in an amused tone, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
Her eyes narrowed immediately, turning to meet the man, the demon, she referred to as the preacher. There was no love lost there. But that thought brought her to love, which connected her back to him and his constant talk of it, which only served irritate her. And here she had just started to relax, too. “Preacher.” She crooned, a normal tone for her voice, sarcastic and sickly sweet. “That apple you gave me last time we spoke was bad.”
The demon smirked in return, raising an eyebrow over his dark sunglasses. “It was perfectly fine before...perhaps it’s jussst you.” he stated, with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Just me?” The Privaron had stopped walking, hands on hips. “And how can I rot apples, preacher, with my mere glance, I suppose?” There was always a bite in her voice underlying everything when she spoke to him, constantly aggravated by his mere appearance, pretense, and words. And his words were what she hated most.
The corner of his lip curled upwards, noting the irritation in her voice. “Never know, Ssswallow…if the perssssson’s soul is rotten enough~~”
Cirucci paused, a smirk suddenly coming to her features. "Compliments, now, preacher~”
Crowley smirks in return, showing off a sharp fang. "I do try, Swallow. Trying not to let this sssserpant's tongue get dull, after all.
"Or the swallow could cut it out? Save you the trouble." The Arrancar retorted sharply, tiring of that nickname. She only hoped he tired of hers. Probably not, knowing how he acted. And that only served aggravate further.
"Ah, but I rather enjoy keeping it sharp, you sssssee~~" His smirk widened as he leaned back against the wall, arms folded, one ankle crossed over the other. He lifted a hand and examined his claws in a leasurely manner. "Especially when there are ssssssuch amusing birds to keep it ssssharp upon~"
"I do so try to be amusing for you, preacher." She hopped up onto the wall top, kicking her legs slowly, giving a picture of leisure, being unruffled. "After all, I should be nice, since your dear angel likes me well enough, hmm?~"
He arched one dark eyebrow over his sunglasses at that. "Oh~~ About that. He won't be going near you without me, jusssssst so you know~~ A trusssssst issue; you undersssstand?"
"Oh, but preacher~" She turned to the side, showing uniform stained brown with clotted blood. "It just won't stay closed, and it does so hurt~"
His smirk widened into a grin. "Next, you can asssssssk me if I care~~"
"He does~" She crooned in return, amusement in her eyes. "And that's all that matters to me."
Crowley shrugged, nonchalantly. "Of courssssssse he does. He's an angel. It'sssssss his job. He caresssss about everyone."
"Then why begrudge me my job, preacher?" Her legs kicked a bit faster, idly. "Why can't I be so bad, if it's my job?~"
Just as idly, he pulled off his sunglasses, tucking them into a pocket in his coat before resting his forearms on the wall ledge behind him. "Feel free to be bad. I never sssaid I blamed you for it. But then, I'm jussssst doing my job, too, you know~"
"Blame me for my supposed hypocrisy, then, do you, preacher?" She leaned forward a bit, propping chin on palm and eyeing him with a smirk. "My supposed love?"
"Blame~? Nooo, Ssssswallow, you missssunderstand." He returned the smirk, arching an eyebrow at her. "I merely sssssee what people feel, what they think, how they act and react...and then ussssse it to my advantage." His yellow eyes glint slightly, obviously relishing the game he talks about. "It's a game of words and phrases and emotions and truth and liessss...and I would be dishonessssst to say I don't enjoy it~~" His snake-like smirk widened. "And I we both know how horrid it would be for me to be dissssssshonest."
"Absolutely horrid." She drawled, crossed her legs and adjusting a garter as she spoke, voice lilting. "And trying to convince me I have emotions I don't is to your advantage how?~"
Crowley stretched a bit, arching his back, hissing slightly. When he returned to his leisurely position, his smirk had widened just the slightest fraction, and he looked amused. "Becausssssse, Swallow, it's all part of the game. And you're a particular challenge that I relish because there are so many hypocritical openings and things that would put a human to shame in their simple complexity~"
"Now, dear, that sounds like an insult." A slight pout came to her lips, moving to adjust the other garter, taking care in making sure they were symmetrical. When she had, she flipped a bit, stretching out on her stomach across the wall top, kicking her legs once more, small booted feet swishing merrily. "And, preacher, this begs a question. You say I love Il Forte, when he tried to put a cero in my face last night, now, why would I love him for that?"
Crowley smugly waged his finger at the Arrancar. "Not an insult, just a statement of fact. You'll find that much of what I say is truthful, and that's the delightfully ironic part~" He watched as she flipped over to lie onto her stomach on the top of the wall. "And as for your question?" He let a smirk drift back onto his lips. "Love is a very, very complex emotion, Swallow. Believe me, I've dealt with several forms over it over the many years, and even now it is unpredictable. However, there is one thing love always seems to sssssstay true to form to. No matter how much one or both parties are injured by the other, love still flourishes and stays, like a thorn in the person's side." He sent an amused look towards the wound at her side.
At the sight, Cirucci looked down with a grimace, idly reaching back to press it gently, make sure it hadn't started bleeding again. "Oh, but, preacher, that's Il Forte." She smirked. "Then his brother. Then him again. Ah, brothers, more alike than they think sometimes." Her hands came away slightly crimson, and she licked the blood from her fingers, eyeing the demon once more. "I may allow him in my bed, preacher, but it's impossible for me to allow him in my heart." She sat up slightly, fingers finding the hollow hole just between and beneath her breasts and pressing sharply, the fabric bending straight into the empty space.
Crowley waved a hand idly. "You Arrancar. So focused on the physicality of the heart. It's just an organ. The heart that matters and holds all emotion is mental. It's not a physical entity."
"Focused on it because it's what gives up power." She lay reclined again, wiping a fleck of blood from her lower lip. "Is that so hard to understand?"
"I meant emotion wise." He raised an eyebrow. "Emotional wise, you're so convinced that without the physical organ, you can't have the emotion." He smirked slightly.
"We're convinced because it just doesn't happen." Cirucci replied with a flick of her gloved hand, dismissively. "Grimmjow tried it, look what happened to him~"
Crowley shrugged. "He made a choice to erase his memories. It's hard for one to make choices, to feel the pain of love if they don't have a heart."
"Ah~ But the heart doesn't have anything to do with it, I thought?" Cirucci crooned, lazily letting her arm hang down the wall and trace lazy circles on the brick. "Make up your mind, preacher."
Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me; I must have phrased it wrong. What I meant was that one is unable to make choices; to feel the pain that causes them to make choices if they do not have the emotional heart."
"So sad." A pout, before she laughed lightly, almost a giggle. "After all... sometimes Cirucci wonders, if we had hearts, would we be able to kill as much as we do, how we do?~" She sighed, a content noise, at the very thought of such things. "Some humans do it, but then they feel so bad sometimes..."
Crowley looked amused. "Yessssss, but then there are those humans that don't feel any regret at all. That don’t' see why they're being told they're doing something wrong. And therein lays the difference between the emotional heart and the physssssical."
"So what this all comes down to, preacher..." The Privaron murmured, eyes lidded. "Is what? And we, of course, know you should be perfectly honest."
Crowley smirked in return. "It comes down to several thingsssssss, Swallow." he stated, though he didnt elaborate.
"Listening~" Cirucci snapped, rotating her wrist in a motion to get on with it.
The demon only looked amused. "I've been stating it this whole time. I guess you weren't listening when it mattered~~~"
"You talk about your job and my hypocrisy and how fun it is, all my lies and personal excuses. A game~" She smiled. "But I don't think this is just a mere game anymore, is it." A nearly trimmed nail broke on the brick. "This has become a tad personal, perhaps, since I killed Kitty?"
Crowley only raised an eyebrow. "Zaheela makes her own choices and makes due with her decisions. And a game is a game, and one that I enjoy playing that I will not give up so readily." He waved his hand lazily, rotating his wrist in a graceful gesture. "A simple game of cat and moussssssse...or snake and bird, if you prefer."
"And if the swallow tires of playing?~" Cirucci had no such intentions, she hardly ever backed out of things, only fights if she didn't feel in the mood and some shinigami felt like revenge. "What would the snake do?"
The demon shrugged languidly. "You make it sssssssound like I allow that~~"
"Oh?~" The Privaron looked down at her broken nail, turning wrist to file it against the brick wall. "What would the preacher do to make me play?"
Crowley laughed. "Not sure. Haven't had anyone truly back out before. Though I'm sure I can think of something~~"
"Now you make me want to, just to be a bitch about it." The last line had a snarl to it, frustration and aggravation apparent. She was easily roused emotionally, had never been cool and calm by nature.
Crowley raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning smug. "Oh, pleassssse do~~ That will provide a new challenge~"
"Then I'm not playing." Cirucci snapped, hopping off the low wall, pausing to adjust her garters, before making as if to simply walk away, casual, though she didn't know what to expect.
Crowley's smug look widened, and he pushed off the wall. "Oh~~?" he asked. "Does that mean I win, then~~? You admit I'm right~~?"
Her step faltered, but she kept going, not fast, but not slow. "You're not right." She waved dismissively. "I'm just tired of playing."
Crowley laughed, smugly, noting the faltering of her step. "Of coursssssssse...tired..." He pushed into the air gently, dropping down upside down directly in front of Cirucci so he was hanging upside down in the air, eye to eye with her, snake-like smirk curling the corners of his mouth. "Or just not able to come up with any more retorts~~"
"Tired of you." The Privaron snapped, reaching out to snatch at his dangling hair. "Tired of you making me question myself-" She had meant to say trying to make me.
The demon laughed smugly, moving out of the way of her snatching at his hair, and his yellow eyes only gleamed in triumph as his smirk widened as he flipped over, landing on his feet in front of her. "Quesssssstion yoursssself~~? But dearessssst Swallow, that'ssssss what this City is all about~~"
"This City is about making me hate mortals and shinigami more than I already do, that's what it's about." She wanted to silence that laugh, eyes cold against his yellow ones. Her hand twitched, fingers arching, remembering the feel of her true form's talons.
Crowley laughed again, noting the irritation that it seemed to inspire in her. He watched her anger boil slowly, his smug grin widening. Truthfully, he was rather curious as to how this bird fought...As it was, he wasn’t overly concerned about fighting her, as she didn’t have holy magic and he had Zaheela’s beads, just in case. “Ah~~ But it’s inspiring different feelings within you~ It’s causing you to question yourself; to see truths you might not want to ssssssssee...I just put those truths out in front of you~”
"To aggravate me." The Privaron snarled, reiatsu particles gathering so she herself floated, so to speak, though it was more like standing on the air. She hated this thing. Hated. "To bother me, to hurt me, to annoy me."
The demon watched I amusement as the Privaron began to float. This should prove rather interesting. His wings unfurled, propelling him up into the air, keeping him parallel with her, a few feet away. “Or, perhaps it’s just the fact that you can’t handle it. You’re not ssssstrong enough to handle the truth; you can’t comprehend it. Realizing the truth is oh so scary, and the Swallow just can’t handle the fear, the uncertainty~~” His smirk widened to a full smug grin, showing off sharp fangs.
Her hand gravitated to Golondrina's hilt. She should show him, what had killed Zaheela, crushed her heart, her true form, what coming home felt like, heartless, bone, metal, Hollow... "I am strong." She snarled, patience stretched thin over days spent bleeding at her brother's hands, spent in pain, and confusion. "He may have taken my number, demoted me, but I am." She probably would not have mentioned her troubles with her rank if Il Forte had not brought it up earlier, damn him.
Crowley’s eyebrows rose. Oh, now this was interesting~~ He hadn’t heard about this~~ His smug look widened, condescending. “Oh~~? The Swallow was demoted? How very…unfortunate.” It was a drawl, mocking. “Ssssstrong? I’m not sssso sure~~”
She never had known when to shut up. "Just because he stripped the Privaron rank doesn't mean we're weak." That was a grudge long simmering, banked on the back fire, waiting to be rekindled. And her hand not on her sword hilt rose to her breast, where, beneath fabric, was the faint imprint, if one was able to look closely, of the number 5, ripped from her when the new Espada had been formed.
Crowley threw back his head and laughed, the mocking sound filling the air. “Of course it doesn’t~.” he drawled, smugly. “Which is why you haven’t gotten your old posssssssition back yet, right~?”
"Because I'll never be better!" She was trying not to shout. "They'll always be more powerful than me, better than me, abouve me." It sounded like a mantra, that she'd repeated many times, her blade hilt emitting small metallic clicks as her hand shook on the hilt, itching to draw.
The demon’s lips stayed in their mocking smile. “Oh~? And you still have the nerve to say you’re strong. And yet you can’t even handle the ssssssssimple truth. Poor Swallow~~ She’s so fragile. Maybe ssssshe needs someone to take care of her~?” His sharp hearing picked up the clicks of metal upon metal, and his mocking grin widened. He did not allow his body to tense up, though he was quite thoroughly expecting her to attack soon. Crowley had never fought her before; best to see her style first before attacking himself.
"I'm strong, they're just stronger." More excuses. And that was why she hated Crowley, hated him with everything she had, because no matter what she denied or how she played thing of, everything he said did hit home, did make her think, make her face things she never wanted to, ever. But she did not draw her blade yet, though, in the palm clutched in a fist at her breast, she was gathering reiatsu, only the faintest of glows. "And who would take care of me, hmm, preacher? A worn out slut, the flower in bloom too long?"
His eyes flickered once to the glow at her chest before they quickly returned to her face, mocking smirk still fully in place. “Excussssssssses, excussssssses...deny, deny, deny. I’m ssssssssensing a pattern, here. Assss for who would take care of you~~? Well, you might have to rely on the good will of othersssssss...though I’m not sure any of your brotherssss and sisters cares enough. You might even have to ssssssink to the level of allowing a Shinigami to care for your or, forbid, a human.” Yellow eyes mocked her fate and her weakness. “You can’t faccccce the truth.” A smug laugh. “If you can’t even face that, how do you ever expect to be ssssssstrong at all~~?”
"Poor flower~~ in bloom far too long, and now she'ssssss beginning to whither~~"
A facial expression that belied words, of absolute fury twisted her face, and her hand spasmed at her chest, just one moment, one more moment as her mouth opened to speak but was speechless, she was so angry. But then it didn't matter, because her fist was spread palm out and facing the demon, the blinding flash and burn of a cero lighting out from her, pure reiatsu in a firing burst.
Crowley’s yellow eyes proclaimed victory, proclaimed that he had won as he watched her furiously open her mouth but utter no words. His eyes caught on her hand the millisecond before she reached out to fire at him. He threw up a wall of fire, lasting long enough for his wings to propel him just out of reach before it disintegrated as he flipped himself over her head to hover about two feet behind her. Though his face stayed smug and confident, he was mentally measuring her up as an opponent. Dangerous. Very dangerous. He had felt the heat, the power from that blast. Surely not something to be trifled with. “Issssss that it? Really?” he asked, in a lazy drawl. “Sssssurly, with how strong you claim to be, you can do better than that?”
"Do you know... preacher..." She had found her words again, though her voice was low, dark, dangerous, like hidden blades, suddenly calm, or, appearing it, for now. "... what I did, to Zaheela's heart?" Her shoulders shook, a slight tremble, and she did not move of yet, merely stood, hand gripping the hilt of her blade so tightly she thought it would begin to bleed.
Crowley almost snarled, but he forced it down, keeping the smug look on his face. “Of coursssssse I do.” he stated. “She told me.” It was a lie, but his face didn’t show it. He was a good liar, unlike his Angel, what with being a demon and all. “Why~?”
"Because it's what I want to do to you." Smooth voiced calm, level. She slowly drew her blade, finally turning to face he demon. "I'm not going to, though." Her reasons were confused, even to her. "But I'm going to show you what did it to her, what my true shape is, out of courtesy, preacher."
“Want does not translate into being able to~~” Crowley drawled, amused, watching carefully as she drew her blade. “Oh, pleassssssse do. And if you’re nice, I might show you my own~~”
Her mouth pursed into a straight line, eyes, cold, almost numbed at this point, reflecting in the steel as she whispered the trip phrase to her blade, almost as one would murmur to a lover. "Behead him, Goldondrina." And there was the familiar sense of coming home, of being complete, the bone mask on her skull shifting to the beaked headdress that flowed in feathers down her back and split to reveal the long tail tipped in a snapping mouth that glowed with reiatsu output, the armored shoulders and elongated, and taloned arms, thin wings armed with metal blades for feathers, all in the ivory of parched bone and the gleam of metal.
Crowley cocked his head to the side in curiosity as she seemed to transform, becoming something different, something new. This is where things got interesting, it seemed. However, being a demon caused him to be reckless and occasionally stupid. Like now. “Hnn…interesssssting.” he drawled. “It will be interesting to sssssee if I need my form in thissss~~ But we shall see, we sssssshall sssssee.”
"We won't." Cirucci answered flatly, already her hand up and the form receding, a sad feeling, the sealing back into blade form, becoming her normal appearance once more and resheathing her blade. "That was a warning. You're got me in a foul mood, and I'm going to go home and see a healer, maybe your angel friend. Awful achy, you see." Her sarcasm had come back. "Then I'll see if anyone of my brothers is interested in a wilting flower, maybe terrorize a few humans, and wait for you to push me too far." She frowned. He'd come awfully close, several times, including now. "Then, perhaps, we'll see."
Crowley watched with a minor sense of disappointment. It was odd...why hadn’t she struck out against him? However, he wasn’t overly concerned about her reasons right now and ended up only mildly arching one dark eyebrow. “Well, if you’re going to go ssssssee Az, we may as well go together, sssseeing as I’m not leaving him alone with you, even if he can defend himself quite well.” The demon hooked his hands behind his head, chuckling at her sarcasm. “Perhaps the wilted flower will bloom again? Who knows? But the truth, ah, the truth, well...I suppossssse we’re done for today.”
She hadn't struck because she figured it would be a disappointment. Because she hated Crowley, didn't know if she could best him, and settled for the next best thing. Disappointment. Golondrina hung quiet now, though, with a slight sigh, the Privaron covered her side. Damn thing had started bleeding more. "Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of white fabric?" She asked out of nowhere, other hand fixing her hair.
The corner of Crowley’s lip curled upwards. “Yesssss, in fact, I do. Haven’t we had thisssss conversation?” It was more amusement now, then mocking. “Bleach works best, in my opinion. Though there’sssss this product from my world called OxyClean that does wonderssssss.” Definitely amused now.
"... OxyClean?" The woman's brow furrowed and she made a vague gesture for Crowley to 'lead the way' so to speak, not accepting in words his statement that they should both go to see the angel, but accepting nonetheless, if only to see if her interacting with the other would cause this one discomfort. "How does it work?"
“Pretty handy, actually.” he responded, as he slowly floated to the ground, wings retracting and disappearing as soon as his feet touched the pavement beneath his feet. “You just sprinkle some on the clothes and stick them into the washer, and twenty minutes later, the stain is out.” He started off towards the apartments at a leisurly pace, half expecting her to fall, half expecting her not to.
... To be perfectly honest, Cirucci had not touched most of the technology in her apartment. She didn't know how to work at least half of it, and there was no way in hell she was going to ask, certainly not. She knew the washer was the box next to the dryer. But she hadn't bothered touching them. She usually just got the Arrancar pet, Orihime, to reject the situation surrounding whatever had bloodied her clothes in the first place, leaving them spotless and white as usual. So she fell silent rather than admit ignorance to OxyClean and a washer, and merely followed, letting booted feet return to the ground. ... This should be interesting.
Rating; PG language
Characters; Cirucci {
thunderwitch} & Crowley {saunturing_down}Summary; Cirucci and Crowley meet by happenstance out in the City, and, as usual with these two, exchange some rather rude words in their game of cat and mouse, (or as Crowley says, snake and bird). Note: right before this log.
Log;
It had been a long day, she supposed. Complete with the fourth re-opening of her side wound. Il Forte first, at his apartment, Zaera-Polo next, at his, (though she had to admit surprise that the side wound was all he’d bled from her, really), and then Il Forte showing up in the middle of the night for the third, that nasty little simultaneous ripping and healing thing he liked for the fourth. Annoying, really. So she’d taken off, albeit the ticking annoyed her too, but she was able to loose it in the trash of mortality in the City, though she couldn’t stand that for long and ended up in a less crowded part of town, meandering, if only for the sake of doing so.
The demon had merely gone out for some fresh air, and to give the Angel a small break. The tattoo was causing far more problems than he could have ever anticipated, and he was really feeling the need to work off some steam. So it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing when he spotted Cirucci wandering around in a less-populated area of town. He cocked his head to the side in curiosity before he wandered towards her, coming up behind her, though he had a feeling she could hear his approach just fine. “The bird does not want to be home tonight?” he drawled in an amused tone, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
Her eyes narrowed immediately, turning to meet the man, the demon, she referred to as the preacher. There was no love lost there. But that thought brought her to love, which connected her back to him and his constant talk of it, which only served irritate her. And here she had just started to relax, too. “Preacher.” She crooned, a normal tone for her voice, sarcastic and sickly sweet. “That apple you gave me last time we spoke was bad.”
The demon smirked in return, raising an eyebrow over his dark sunglasses. “It was perfectly fine before...perhaps it’s jussst you.” he stated, with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Just me?” The Privaron had stopped walking, hands on hips. “And how can I rot apples, preacher, with my mere glance, I suppose?” There was always a bite in her voice underlying everything when she spoke to him, constantly aggravated by his mere appearance, pretense, and words. And his words were what she hated most.
The corner of his lip curled upwards, noting the irritation in her voice. “Never know, Ssswallow…if the perssssson’s soul is rotten enough~~”
Cirucci paused, a smirk suddenly coming to her features. "Compliments, now, preacher~”
Crowley smirks in return, showing off a sharp fang. "I do try, Swallow. Trying not to let this sssserpant's tongue get dull, after all.
"Or the swallow could cut it out? Save you the trouble." The Arrancar retorted sharply, tiring of that nickname. She only hoped he tired of hers. Probably not, knowing how he acted. And that only served aggravate further.
"Ah, but I rather enjoy keeping it sharp, you sssssee~~" His smirk widened as he leaned back against the wall, arms folded, one ankle crossed over the other. He lifted a hand and examined his claws in a leasurely manner. "Especially when there are ssssssuch amusing birds to keep it ssssharp upon~"
"I do so try to be amusing for you, preacher." She hopped up onto the wall top, kicking her legs slowly, giving a picture of leisure, being unruffled. "After all, I should be nice, since your dear angel likes me well enough, hmm?~"
He arched one dark eyebrow over his sunglasses at that. "Oh~~ About that. He won't be going near you without me, jusssssst so you know~~ A trusssssst issue; you undersssstand?"
"Oh, but preacher~" She turned to the side, showing uniform stained brown with clotted blood. "It just won't stay closed, and it does so hurt~"
His smirk widened into a grin. "Next, you can asssssssk me if I care~~"
"He does~" She crooned in return, amusement in her eyes. "And that's all that matters to me."
Crowley shrugged, nonchalantly. "Of courssssssse he does. He's an angel. It'sssssss his job. He caresssss about everyone."
"Then why begrudge me my job, preacher?" Her legs kicked a bit faster, idly. "Why can't I be so bad, if it's my job?~"
Just as idly, he pulled off his sunglasses, tucking them into a pocket in his coat before resting his forearms on the wall ledge behind him. "Feel free to be bad. I never sssaid I blamed you for it. But then, I'm jussssst doing my job, too, you know~"
"Blame me for my supposed hypocrisy, then, do you, preacher?" She leaned forward a bit, propping chin on palm and eyeing him with a smirk. "My supposed love?"
"Blame~? Nooo, Ssssswallow, you missssunderstand." He returned the smirk, arching an eyebrow at her. "I merely sssssee what people feel, what they think, how they act and react...and then ussssse it to my advantage." His yellow eyes glint slightly, obviously relishing the game he talks about. "It's a game of words and phrases and emotions and truth and liessss...and I would be dishonessssst to say I don't enjoy it~~" His snake-like smirk widened. "And I we both know how horrid it would be for me to be dissssssshonest."
"Absolutely horrid." She drawled, crossed her legs and adjusting a garter as she spoke, voice lilting. "And trying to convince me I have emotions I don't is to your advantage how?~"
Crowley stretched a bit, arching his back, hissing slightly. When he returned to his leisurely position, his smirk had widened just the slightest fraction, and he looked amused. "Becausssssse, Swallow, it's all part of the game. And you're a particular challenge that I relish because there are so many hypocritical openings and things that would put a human to shame in their simple complexity~"
"Now, dear, that sounds like an insult." A slight pout came to her lips, moving to adjust the other garter, taking care in making sure they were symmetrical. When she had, she flipped a bit, stretching out on her stomach across the wall top, kicking her legs once more, small booted feet swishing merrily. "And, preacher, this begs a question. You say I love Il Forte, when he tried to put a cero in my face last night, now, why would I love him for that?"
Crowley smugly waged his finger at the Arrancar. "Not an insult, just a statement of fact. You'll find that much of what I say is truthful, and that's the delightfully ironic part~" He watched as she flipped over to lie onto her stomach on the top of the wall. "And as for your question?" He let a smirk drift back onto his lips. "Love is a very, very complex emotion, Swallow. Believe me, I've dealt with several forms over it over the many years, and even now it is unpredictable. However, there is one thing love always seems to sssssstay true to form to. No matter how much one or both parties are injured by the other, love still flourishes and stays, like a thorn in the person's side." He sent an amused look towards the wound at her side.
At the sight, Cirucci looked down with a grimace, idly reaching back to press it gently, make sure it hadn't started bleeding again. "Oh, but, preacher, that's Il Forte." She smirked. "Then his brother. Then him again. Ah, brothers, more alike than they think sometimes." Her hands came away slightly crimson, and she licked the blood from her fingers, eyeing the demon once more. "I may allow him in my bed, preacher, but it's impossible for me to allow him in my heart." She sat up slightly, fingers finding the hollow hole just between and beneath her breasts and pressing sharply, the fabric bending straight into the empty space.
Crowley waved a hand idly. "You Arrancar. So focused on the physicality of the heart. It's just an organ. The heart that matters and holds all emotion is mental. It's not a physical entity."
"Focused on it because it's what gives up power." She lay reclined again, wiping a fleck of blood from her lower lip. "Is that so hard to understand?"
"I meant emotion wise." He raised an eyebrow. "Emotional wise, you're so convinced that without the physical organ, you can't have the emotion." He smirked slightly.
"We're convinced because it just doesn't happen." Cirucci replied with a flick of her gloved hand, dismissively. "Grimmjow tried it, look what happened to him~"
Crowley shrugged. "He made a choice to erase his memories. It's hard for one to make choices, to feel the pain of love if they don't have a heart."
"Ah~ But the heart doesn't have anything to do with it, I thought?" Cirucci crooned, lazily letting her arm hang down the wall and trace lazy circles on the brick. "Make up your mind, preacher."
Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me; I must have phrased it wrong. What I meant was that one is unable to make choices; to feel the pain that causes them to make choices if they do not have the emotional heart."
"So sad." A pout, before she laughed lightly, almost a giggle. "After all... sometimes Cirucci wonders, if we had hearts, would we be able to kill as much as we do, how we do?~" She sighed, a content noise, at the very thought of such things. "Some humans do it, but then they feel so bad sometimes..."
Crowley looked amused. "Yessssss, but then there are those humans that don't feel any regret at all. That don’t' see why they're being told they're doing something wrong. And therein lays the difference between the emotional heart and the physssssical."
"So what this all comes down to, preacher..." The Privaron murmured, eyes lidded. "Is what? And we, of course, know you should be perfectly honest."
Crowley smirked in return. "It comes down to several thingsssssss, Swallow." he stated, though he didnt elaborate.
"Listening~" Cirucci snapped, rotating her wrist in a motion to get on with it.
The demon only looked amused. "I've been stating it this whole time. I guess you weren't listening when it mattered~~~"
"You talk about your job and my hypocrisy and how fun it is, all my lies and personal excuses. A game~" She smiled. "But I don't think this is just a mere game anymore, is it." A nearly trimmed nail broke on the brick. "This has become a tad personal, perhaps, since I killed Kitty?"
Crowley only raised an eyebrow. "Zaheela makes her own choices and makes due with her decisions. And a game is a game, and one that I enjoy playing that I will not give up so readily." He waved his hand lazily, rotating his wrist in a graceful gesture. "A simple game of cat and moussssssse...or snake and bird, if you prefer."
"And if the swallow tires of playing?~" Cirucci had no such intentions, she hardly ever backed out of things, only fights if she didn't feel in the mood and some shinigami felt like revenge. "What would the snake do?"
The demon shrugged languidly. "You make it sssssssound like I allow that~~"
"Oh?~" The Privaron looked down at her broken nail, turning wrist to file it against the brick wall. "What would the preacher do to make me play?"
Crowley laughed. "Not sure. Haven't had anyone truly back out before. Though I'm sure I can think of something~~"
"Now you make me want to, just to be a bitch about it." The last line had a snarl to it, frustration and aggravation apparent. She was easily roused emotionally, had never been cool and calm by nature.
Crowley raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning smug. "Oh, pleassssse do~~ That will provide a new challenge~"
"Then I'm not playing." Cirucci snapped, hopping off the low wall, pausing to adjust her garters, before making as if to simply walk away, casual, though she didn't know what to expect.
Crowley's smug look widened, and he pushed off the wall. "Oh~~?" he asked. "Does that mean I win, then~~? You admit I'm right~~?"
Her step faltered, but she kept going, not fast, but not slow. "You're not right." She waved dismissively. "I'm just tired of playing."
Crowley laughed, smugly, noting the faltering of her step. "Of coursssssssse...tired..." He pushed into the air gently, dropping down upside down directly in front of Cirucci so he was hanging upside down in the air, eye to eye with her, snake-like smirk curling the corners of his mouth. "Or just not able to come up with any more retorts~~"
"Tired of you." The Privaron snapped, reaching out to snatch at his dangling hair. "Tired of you making me question myself-" She had meant to say trying to make me.
The demon laughed smugly, moving out of the way of her snatching at his hair, and his yellow eyes only gleamed in triumph as his smirk widened as he flipped over, landing on his feet in front of her. "Quesssssstion yoursssself~~? But dearessssst Swallow, that'ssssss what this City is all about~~"
"This City is about making me hate mortals and shinigami more than I already do, that's what it's about." She wanted to silence that laugh, eyes cold against his yellow ones. Her hand twitched, fingers arching, remembering the feel of her true form's talons.
Crowley laughed again, noting the irritation that it seemed to inspire in her. He watched her anger boil slowly, his smug grin widening. Truthfully, he was rather curious as to how this bird fought...As it was, he wasn’t overly concerned about fighting her, as she didn’t have holy magic and he had Zaheela’s beads, just in case. “Ah~~ But it’s inspiring different feelings within you~ It’s causing you to question yourself; to see truths you might not want to ssssssssee...I just put those truths out in front of you~”
"To aggravate me." The Privaron snarled, reiatsu particles gathering so she herself floated, so to speak, though it was more like standing on the air. She hated this thing. Hated. "To bother me, to hurt me, to annoy me."
The demon watched I amusement as the Privaron began to float. This should prove rather interesting. His wings unfurled, propelling him up into the air, keeping him parallel with her, a few feet away. “Or, perhaps it’s just the fact that you can’t handle it. You’re not ssssstrong enough to handle the truth; you can’t comprehend it. Realizing the truth is oh so scary, and the Swallow just can’t handle the fear, the uncertainty~~” His smirk widened to a full smug grin, showing off sharp fangs.
Her hand gravitated to Golondrina's hilt. She should show him, what had killed Zaheela, crushed her heart, her true form, what coming home felt like, heartless, bone, metal, Hollow... "I am strong." She snarled, patience stretched thin over days spent bleeding at her brother's hands, spent in pain, and confusion. "He may have taken my number, demoted me, but I am." She probably would not have mentioned her troubles with her rank if Il Forte had not brought it up earlier, damn him.
Crowley’s eyebrows rose. Oh, now this was interesting~~ He hadn’t heard about this~~ His smug look widened, condescending. “Oh~~? The Swallow was demoted? How very…unfortunate.” It was a drawl, mocking. “Ssssstrong? I’m not sssso sure~~”
She never had known when to shut up. "Just because he stripped the Privaron rank doesn't mean we're weak." That was a grudge long simmering, banked on the back fire, waiting to be rekindled. And her hand not on her sword hilt rose to her breast, where, beneath fabric, was the faint imprint, if one was able to look closely, of the number 5, ripped from her when the new Espada had been formed.
Crowley threw back his head and laughed, the mocking sound filling the air. “Of course it doesn’t~.” he drawled, smugly. “Which is why you haven’t gotten your old posssssssition back yet, right~?”
"Because I'll never be better!" She was trying not to shout. "They'll always be more powerful than me, better than me, abouve me." It sounded like a mantra, that she'd repeated many times, her blade hilt emitting small metallic clicks as her hand shook on the hilt, itching to draw.
The demon’s lips stayed in their mocking smile. “Oh~? And you still have the nerve to say you’re strong. And yet you can’t even handle the ssssssssimple truth. Poor Swallow~~ She’s so fragile. Maybe ssssshe needs someone to take care of her~?” His sharp hearing picked up the clicks of metal upon metal, and his mocking grin widened. He did not allow his body to tense up, though he was quite thoroughly expecting her to attack soon. Crowley had never fought her before; best to see her style first before attacking himself.
"I'm strong, they're just stronger." More excuses. And that was why she hated Crowley, hated him with everything she had, because no matter what she denied or how she played thing of, everything he said did hit home, did make her think, make her face things she never wanted to, ever. But she did not draw her blade yet, though, in the palm clutched in a fist at her breast, she was gathering reiatsu, only the faintest of glows. "And who would take care of me, hmm, preacher? A worn out slut, the flower in bloom too long?"
His eyes flickered once to the glow at her chest before they quickly returned to her face, mocking smirk still fully in place. “Excussssssssses, excussssssses...deny, deny, deny. I’m ssssssssensing a pattern, here. Assss for who would take care of you~~? Well, you might have to rely on the good will of othersssssss...though I’m not sure any of your brotherssss and sisters cares enough. You might even have to ssssssink to the level of allowing a Shinigami to care for your or, forbid, a human.” Yellow eyes mocked her fate and her weakness. “You can’t faccccce the truth.” A smug laugh. “If you can’t even face that, how do you ever expect to be ssssssstrong at all~~?”
"Poor flower~~ in bloom far too long, and now she'ssssss beginning to whither~~"
A facial expression that belied words, of absolute fury twisted her face, and her hand spasmed at her chest, just one moment, one more moment as her mouth opened to speak but was speechless, she was so angry. But then it didn't matter, because her fist was spread palm out and facing the demon, the blinding flash and burn of a cero lighting out from her, pure reiatsu in a firing burst.
Crowley’s yellow eyes proclaimed victory, proclaimed that he had won as he watched her furiously open her mouth but utter no words. His eyes caught on her hand the millisecond before she reached out to fire at him. He threw up a wall of fire, lasting long enough for his wings to propel him just out of reach before it disintegrated as he flipped himself over her head to hover about two feet behind her. Though his face stayed smug and confident, he was mentally measuring her up as an opponent. Dangerous. Very dangerous. He had felt the heat, the power from that blast. Surely not something to be trifled with. “Issssss that it? Really?” he asked, in a lazy drawl. “Sssssurly, with how strong you claim to be, you can do better than that?”
"Do you know... preacher..." She had found her words again, though her voice was low, dark, dangerous, like hidden blades, suddenly calm, or, appearing it, for now. "... what I did, to Zaheela's heart?" Her shoulders shook, a slight tremble, and she did not move of yet, merely stood, hand gripping the hilt of her blade so tightly she thought it would begin to bleed.
Crowley almost snarled, but he forced it down, keeping the smug look on his face. “Of coursssssse I do.” he stated. “She told me.” It was a lie, but his face didn’t show it. He was a good liar, unlike his Angel, what with being a demon and all. “Why~?”
"Because it's what I want to do to you." Smooth voiced calm, level. She slowly drew her blade, finally turning to face he demon. "I'm not going to, though." Her reasons were confused, even to her. "But I'm going to show you what did it to her, what my true shape is, out of courtesy, preacher."
“Want does not translate into being able to~~” Crowley drawled, amused, watching carefully as she drew her blade. “Oh, pleassssssse do. And if you’re nice, I might show you my own~~”
Her mouth pursed into a straight line, eyes, cold, almost numbed at this point, reflecting in the steel as she whispered the trip phrase to her blade, almost as one would murmur to a lover. "Behead him, Goldondrina." And there was the familiar sense of coming home, of being complete, the bone mask on her skull shifting to the beaked headdress that flowed in feathers down her back and split to reveal the long tail tipped in a snapping mouth that glowed with reiatsu output, the armored shoulders and elongated, and taloned arms, thin wings armed with metal blades for feathers, all in the ivory of parched bone and the gleam of metal.
Crowley cocked his head to the side in curiosity as she seemed to transform, becoming something different, something new. This is where things got interesting, it seemed. However, being a demon caused him to be reckless and occasionally stupid. Like now. “Hnn…interesssssting.” he drawled. “It will be interesting to sssssee if I need my form in thissss~~ But we shall see, we sssssshall sssssee.”
"We won't." Cirucci answered flatly, already her hand up and the form receding, a sad feeling, the sealing back into blade form, becoming her normal appearance once more and resheathing her blade. "That was a warning. You're got me in a foul mood, and I'm going to go home and see a healer, maybe your angel friend. Awful achy, you see." Her sarcasm had come back. "Then I'll see if anyone of my brothers is interested in a wilting flower, maybe terrorize a few humans, and wait for you to push me too far." She frowned. He'd come awfully close, several times, including now. "Then, perhaps, we'll see."
Crowley watched with a minor sense of disappointment. It was odd...why hadn’t she struck out against him? However, he wasn’t overly concerned about her reasons right now and ended up only mildly arching one dark eyebrow. “Well, if you’re going to go ssssssee Az, we may as well go together, sssseeing as I’m not leaving him alone with you, even if he can defend himself quite well.” The demon hooked his hands behind his head, chuckling at her sarcasm. “Perhaps the wilted flower will bloom again? Who knows? But the truth, ah, the truth, well...I suppossssse we’re done for today.”
She hadn't struck because she figured it would be a disappointment. Because she hated Crowley, didn't know if she could best him, and settled for the next best thing. Disappointment. Golondrina hung quiet now, though, with a slight sigh, the Privaron covered her side. Damn thing had started bleeding more. "Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of white fabric?" She asked out of nowhere, other hand fixing her hair.
The corner of Crowley’s lip curled upwards. “Yesssss, in fact, I do. Haven’t we had thisssss conversation?” It was more amusement now, then mocking. “Bleach works best, in my opinion. Though there’sssss this product from my world called OxyClean that does wonderssssss.” Definitely amused now.
"... OxyClean?" The woman's brow furrowed and she made a vague gesture for Crowley to 'lead the way' so to speak, not accepting in words his statement that they should both go to see the angel, but accepting nonetheless, if only to see if her interacting with the other would cause this one discomfort. "How does it work?"
“Pretty handy, actually.” he responded, as he slowly floated to the ground, wings retracting and disappearing as soon as his feet touched the pavement beneath his feet. “You just sprinkle some on the clothes and stick them into the washer, and twenty minutes later, the stain is out.” He started off towards the apartments at a leisurly pace, half expecting her to fall, half expecting her not to.
... To be perfectly honest, Cirucci had not touched most of the technology in her apartment. She didn't know how to work at least half of it, and there was no way in hell she was going to ask, certainly not. She knew the washer was the box next to the dryer. But she hadn't bothered touching them. She usually just got the Arrancar pet, Orihime, to reject the situation surrounding whatever had bloodied her clothes in the first place, leaving them spotless and white as usual. So she fell silent rather than admit ignorance to OxyClean and a washer, and merely followed, letting booted feet return to the ground. ... This should be interesting.