Log; Complete

[thunderwitch.livejournal.com]

When; March 26th, early evening
Rating; PG
Characters; Cirucci {thunderwitch} & Alfons {opfern}
Summary; Alfons comes over to play Arrancar Nanny with Cirucci, but they get a tad side-tracked, well... more like Cirucci side-tracks them. Note, right before this log.
Log;

He could tell from her post that Cirucci hadn't been all that thrilled with how the curse hade made her act, even if Alfons wasn't quite sure what it had done to her. There had been too much going on, and he hadn't been able to find all of his friends to take those pictures... But he certainly had taken a lot, and had made several copies that afternoon.

With one stack of copies in an envelope and a couple magazines gathered in one arm, and a small yellow-haired tabby kitten gathered in the other, he spent about a minute outside Cirucci's door in the first building just trying to find a way to knock without dropping anything.

In the end, Alfons had to settle for letting Tony rest on the magazines so that he could rap his knuckles against the door, and he smiled when the kitten yowled pitifully in response to being woken from his nap.

Cirucci gave a small sigh, opening her eyes and glancing about the room. She’d been lazing about the couch, but hauled herself up and to the door, anticipating the human’s arrival. After all, what was she supposed to do, cook for herself? As she opened it the Arrancar bent at the hip, adept fingers adjusting one of her garters.

“Come in, dear.” She said absently, holding the door open and black hair tumbling in waves about her face. The presence of Il Forte Grantz, usually there, was gone, mainly do to the fact that he had stormed out after another one of their tumultuous and rather violent fights caused by curse day events, as evidenced by a general disarray in the apartment in the form of pillows strewn about, (she kept far too many pillows), overturned items, and splash of what may or may not have been blood on the hardwood floor.

"Thank you," he murmured as he stepped in, reaching back to shut the door for her. He was just crouching down to let the kitten out of his arms when he noticed the mess, and quickly straightened up.

He wanted to ask what happened, but considering how much Cirucci had told him about her relationship with the other arrancar, it was fairly easy to guess. His urge to organize was almost painful, but first thing's first.

Glancing over to her, he tilted his head and tried not to look as worried as he actually was. "Are you injured?"

Cirucci finally straightened, tossing her hair back behind her head with a flick of her white-gloved wrist. She looked confused for a moment before her eyes found the bloodstain.

“Oh,” she blinked. “No, sweet, I’m not.” She smirked, a cruel face. Serve him right, daring to claim her like that, call her his caged bird, his captive. It was necessary to sometimes remind who was more powerful. Not a bad wound at all, just one where one bled profusely, no matter injuries size. She decided not to mention her own cut hidden by her skirt.

Alfons headed over to the coffee table to set the magazines and envelope down, then crouched to pick up a lamp that had knocked over. The light bulb had been broken, meaning he needed a broom...

"Are you sure? I'm used to people lying about their injuries." Both Grimmjow and Edward were terrible patients, really. "If he hurt you, you should make sure the injury is tended to, arrancar or not."

One eyebrow arced skeptically. A finger rose to press against her lips in thought. How to explain this, the human boy embarrassed so easily… stocking foot tapped against the floor for a moment as the Privaron took a second.

“We had sex.” She finally said. “It happens.” It was the easiest way to explain blood she could come up with, and it made perfect sense to her.

That comment made him nearly drop the lamp all over again. He had grown used to her saying things like that so bluntly, but it still made him feel nervous, and especially since...it sounded like a blatant lie.

So despite his flushed cheeks and startled gaze, he looked quite serious as he turned to face her and waved his arm. "Miss Cirucci, I can understand maybe knocking over a chair...once or twice..." Speaking from personal experience, anyway. "But this place looks like a crime scene! There's even blood! Do you really expect me to believe that excuse?"

Ugh, blood. That was going to be a pain to clean up. Coughing lightly into his hand, he wandered into her kitchen, hoping a person like her might have some cleaning supplies under the sink. And a broom, he needed a broom...

She had those things of course, not that she normally knew what to do with them. Blood was such a hassle, another reason she avoided carpet. Shrugging, the Arrancar plopped down onto the couch, stretching out on her stomach and kicking her legs lazily. Waiting for him to reappear back in her vision, Cirucci spoke in his direction.

“Even blood?” She asked. “I’d be more surprised if there wasn’t any.” A small laugh escaped her, she truly didn’t see anything wrong with it. It was the way things were, always would be. Of course, of late, Il Forte had taken to trying to draw tears of confusion with his talk of love, but… nn, bad thought.

“You’ve not even seen me after Il Forte’s brother.” She mentioned, drawing her mind back to blood. Crimson, beautiful.

Considering the blood hadn't even dried yet, he doubted it would stain the floor, but it still made him horribly unhappy to clean up. The broom was set aside so that he could sink down onto his knees, letting some paper towels soak up what they could. He made a point of shooing Tony away and over in Cirucci's direction before he began spraying the floor cleaner.

He wished she would stop talking about things that made him blush so easily, but regardless, he kept his eyes on the mess that he was letting soak up the cleaner before he started scrubbing. "I'd really rather not see it. I'm not interested in watching abuse, or the aftermath of abuse. I try not to question your ways, so unless you actually want to confide in me about something, I'd appreciate you not rubbing them in my face just to upset me."

Alfons scrubbed a bit more vigorously, brow furrowing. He was normally a bit more lenient, really, but he was already in such a foul mood today, and this wasn't making it any better.

"I don't care what the cause is; I don't like you getting injured."

“It’s not abuse.” Cirucci drawled, smiling slightly all the while. She raised a brow again at the kitten, dangling a gloved arm and tracing lazy patterns on the floor with a finely trimmed nail, watching the animal’s eyes follow her finger with mild amusement.

“But,” She protested in a hurt tone, “You’re so cute when you blush, sweet.” Her feet kicked a bit faster. Oh, but she did so love to tease. The mention of not liking to see her injured, however, did not sit well. But she could come up with no retort, and merely let that part lie.

Her retort merely got an irritated frown from him before he returned to cleaning. It took staining two rags, but that little mess was at least cleaned up, and then he disappeared into the kitchen to wash the rags in ice cold water and soap. For the next minute he just tried not to get upset about this, occasionally coughing as he washed them as best as he could before draping them over the sink's edge. They would need to be washed in bleach, but he would get to laundry last.

After wiping his hands off on a dish towel, Alfons shuffled back out into the living room stepping over the kitten as it scampered by to attack a strewn pillow. Leaning over, he tried to tug the pillows free.

"Since becoming an arrancar, have you ever had a relationship that isn't violent?"

“Hmm?” Cirucci blinked a few times, propping her chin on one palm. She had to think about that one. Frowning in concentration, she used her free hand to start counting off on her fingers. Zaera-Polo? Violent. Il Forte? Violent. Usually. Grimmjow? Violent. Noitora? Not really. Those were the one she lay most often with, here at least, but she supposed there were others home, too.

“Noitora isn’t really.” She finally said. “Di Roy’s too clumsy to be violent.” Ah, the little 16th. “And… Il Forte can be gentle sometimes.” No harm in being honest to a human. Not like he mattered.

"Sometimes isn't good enough," he replied, dumping the couch pillows right on top of Cirucci in passing. He didn't even want to look at how bad the bedroom might be.

Nudging the dust pan into position with his foot, he carefully swept up the bits of light bulb that had shattered when the lamp had fallen. "Why do you prefer it rough? There can be passion without violence, you know."

The Privaron let out a huff of indignation at having her own pillows dumped on her, vaguely entertaining the idea of striking the human, cocky little thing, but decided she just didn’t feel like it. Not worth the effort. Plus, watching him putter about was entertaining. She pushed them to the floor beside the sofa, keeping one clutching between her arms to prop her chest on.

“I don’t know.” She looked up at the ceiling idly, feet still idly swishing in the air. “It’s not about passion, anyway. Not really.”

Her feet constantly kicking back and forth was driving him up the wall. Why did girls like to do that? To draw attention to their legs? In terms of idle habits, it was one of the most annoying and attention-seeking in his opinion.

But maybe his irritation was clouding his judgment.

Taking a deep breath, as deep as his pained lungs would let him anyway, he counted backwards from ten while he swept before replying. "What is it about, then, if I may ask?"

“Just doing it.” Cirucci answered promptly. “It’s not like there’s anything involved.” She made a face.

“Not like you human types, always love this, love that.” Her irritation concerning her own situation involving that word was sinking into her voice, twisting it to a slightly more dangerous tone, as if one should tread carefully around such a topic.

He shook his head and carried the broken glass over to the trash can to dump. "You really assume a lot about humans... They don't all do it for love. They can be just as violent and cruel as any monster, that's for sure. Just because we're capable of feeling love doesn't mean that's all there is to us."

The broom and dust pan were put away before he found something else to put up right. "And perhaps I'm not the most experienced human to talk to about it, but I think love...does make it wonderful." Alfons smiled a bit, almost absently, as he stared down at the chair his hand rested on. "Passionate. Memorable. It isn't just some way to pass the time... It's like it stops time, really...and...creates a little world just for the two of you to be, and nobody else. Just a moment that lasts..."

Finally realizing he was rambling, he snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat nervously. "B-but, ah, to each his own."

Another blink. Slowly, the Arrancar sat cross-legged on the couch, entirely shameless, head cocked curiously.

“Keep going.” She prompted. She didn’t want to hear a shinigami try and tell her about love, not Crowley either, but maybe a human could do it better. After all… if Il Forte was going to whisper such things in her ear, make her say she loved him, then she had better know what exactly this was supposed to be like. For, for all her disgust for the word and its implications, it had… never been properly explained, nor felt, nor given reason to be hated. She just… did.

He started to object, considering how embarrassed he already was, but she didn't sound particularly snide while asking. Biting his lip, he pulled the chair out so that he could sit in it sideways. He was facing her, but not really looking at her. The ground was more interesting while he tried to formulate words.

"I don't know how it is for other people... But I didn't even know it was love at first. It isn't the same for...them, but to me they're the most important person in my life. I know because no matter what it is I'm doing, I'd rather be doing it with them. Solitude isn't a gift anymore... It's a curse. It's like I don't want to share, but my needs seem secondary..."

The more he spoke, the easier it was to get lost in his words, and Alfons draped his arms across his knees while he closed his eyes and smiled again. "To see that smile... Just that smile...makes everything better. It's another one of those time stopping moments. The smile that I can see in their eyes, and not just on their lips, it's so gratifying. I can never sleep very long," because his chest pains usually got too bad, "so I'm awake before dawn. But that's just fine, because if they're over, it means I can watch the sunrise reflect off of their hair."

A soft cough interrupted his ramblings, and he sat back a bit to rest his hand against his chest. "Like gold..." he whispered, voice raspy, and features strained now. "And everybody wants gold. It's a bit hard to share, really. But it's worth living like this for. It's worth dying for."

She didn’t really grasp the gold metaphor; she’d never really had a need for that particular avarice. Cirucci’s face slowly shifted from curiosity to something akin to disdain. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

“… That sounds horrifically sappy, sweet.” She finally said, draping one arm over the couch back and watching him now as if he were quite insane to say such things. “You almost succeeded in making it sound selfless.”

Alfons finally glanced up to her, and his hand moved to rub at the back of his neck, his voice a bit hoarse, though if that was due to embarrassment or his cough was left up to the imagination. "Selfless? Hardly... I suppose some aspects are selfless, but at the same time it's very selfish. It can hurt and yet bring such joy..."

His laugh was short, and he shook his head before standing back up. "It's full of contradictions, just like any human. But I'm afraid I didn't get much choice in the matter."

Walking over, he picked up the magazines and held them out to her. "Decide what you want?"

Civil conversation was not something Cirucci Thunderwitch indulged in often. For a reason. But she hadn’t had one in quite some time, she supposed it would alright as long as she didn’t make a habit of it. Besides, she got something out of it, after all.

She opened the first magazine and began flipping through, sometimes pausing to tag a page by folding a corner. She’d never read in Hueco Mundo, never really handled papers. There were some things they just remembered from being human, other things more important like memories, emotions… forgotten. Idly, as if disinterested, she refused to let the other topic die.

“It is selfish, through and through.” She murmured. “Hardly selfless, this love thing. It’s all about making yourself feel better, isn’t it?”

Alfons sighed and shrugged, tugging the chair back over so he could sit beside the couch and try to pay attention to which pages she folded so he could plan ahead. It was a painful topic for him, personally, but he was always claiming to want to help some of the arrancar, so...

"Sometimes. Perhaps I'm just more selfish than others." He draped an arm over the back of the chair. "But I can remember a time or two...that I knew would turn out bad for me, and I did them anyway."

She’d meant it in general, but she certainly wouldn’t correct him if he wanted to take it personally. After all, she was hardly having him over to console him. Pausing, the Privaron dog-earred a page depicting a strawberry shortcake before moving on.

“But you did them to make yourself feel good about how selfless you were. Everything everyone does… there is no such thing as true selflessness, you know, sweet.” Cirucci spoke as if lecturing someone, she, the great moralist. Curious, she paused again, turning slightly to lightly grip Alfon’s chin in her small, delicate hand. No one would guess they were a killer’s hands. “Didn’t you?” She asked softly, meeting his eyes with her own.

If her words drew any dominant emotion from him, it was sadness. Despite the morose flicker in his eye, Alfons' lips twitched up into a smile as he reached up to let his hand settle over her wrist, pulling it away so that he could squeeze her smaller hand in both of his.

Were arrancar really so devoid of emotion? He wouldn't, couldn't, believe that. What did he have to do to really help them?

"I don't know, Miss Cirucci. I honestly haven't a clue what was going through my mind during my last moments on earth... It's all just blank and warm as a memory, now."

Now that was curious. Not many dared touch her, let alone softly. It was easier, if she were to be touched, to bruise or bleed. Curious. Perhaps he was just dense. But it aroused more curiosity in her, and she wanted to see just how far he would go with this. His intentions had always confused her, first with Grimmjow, now with her? It had to be seen to. So she didn’t withdraw, though she wished to, merely listened attentively to what she considered romantic drivel.

“Who’d you love?” She finally asked, appearing interested enough, if in a more morbid curiosity sort of way.

Her words made him drop her hands as if they were on fire, and Alfons was quick to draw away and stand, turning to hide his blush. "...Ah. You don't know them..."

Spotting Tony nearby, the young man sighed and sunk down to sit on the floor in front of the couch, reaching out to scratch behind the kitten's ears. It still certainly wasn't something he was open to admitting out loud...

Even if people had seen that embarrassing picture posted by that girl, it seemed that it had already been quickly forgotten. Such a thing was far too dangerous to admit where he was from, and really he didn't need said information getting back to the person he was in love with.

Sitting on the floor in front of the couch was a bad move if he wanted to avoid. Smirk hidden by his facing away, the Privaron slunk down to the floor behind him, small hands slinking up his arms and chin propped on his shoulder, bare legs splayed on either side of him.

“Why so shy, sweet?” She crooned in his ear, still curious. Humans were always interesting like this, shinigami too. And she liked to see how they dealt with her, perhaps out of some vain part of her, perhaps out of some desire of her own, she did not know. Of course, she never, well, with one exception never slept outside the family, but it was something that entertained her anyway.

She was making him incredibly nervous, now. He knew that Cirucci liked to embarrass him... That was the only reason he could think up to explain all the lewd jokes she made at his expense, but still, this was an awful lot of touching.

...It was kind of nice, though. Edward rarely instigated touch with him. Perhaps she was just expressing affection and didn't know the appropriate way to do it? After all, he was trying to teach her about human tendencies, right? Her and Grimmjow.

So, despite how awkward it was, and how much tighter it made his chest feel, he allowed it. Alfons just looked down, fingers skimming down to rub beneath the kitten's chin. "...Does it really matter to you who I love?"

“Maybe it does~” Her voice was low, almost husky, as it was inclined to go in such situations. One leg lifted, bare thigh pressed against him. Cirucci had a bit of a hobby with males, with seeing how far she could go before they either tried to take her, or push her away. A fun hobby it was, and she had to admit, she couldn’t predict Alfons’ breaking point.

“Is it a…” She paused, nipped lightly at his ear, “… secret?”

Even Alfons wasn't that dense. He could recognize the warning signs, even if he was a little late. With a strangled sounding gasp, he was quick to lean forward and scramble away, not turning to face her until he was crouched at least a few feet's distance away. "Miss Cirucci! What are you doing?!"

His cheeks burned as he coughed into his sleeve. "You don't...grope people while talking to them!" When had he given her the wrong idea? Was he that stupid? Ugh.

At least he had cleared things up before she had done anything too embarrassing for him. He did make a point of rubbing at his ear, though.

She pouted, disappointed. She had hoped he’d last a bit longer than that. But he was cute, scrambling like that.

“Why not?” Cirucci stayed where she was, feigning a sort of ignorance, giving him the small gesture of consideration in leaning forward onto her hands, which brought her skirt down to cover her more decently. Didn’t need to give him an attack or something.

It was a little easier to breathe now that her skirt was covering more skin... But that honestly wasn't saying much with her. Fortunately, being around Faye enough times had desensitized him a bit to how lewdly some women could dress around here.

Still, he had his hand against his chest as if he'd just about had a heart attack as he tried to stand up. "You just...don't!" he croaked out weakly. "Besides, I've told you that I already love someone. I'm not interested in anyone else."

Even if that someone would rather spend time with his brother... Such a thing was to be expected.

“Oh, come now, that’s not true~” Cirucci murmured, the look on her face sweet and devoid of ulterior motives. “No one’s truly faithful.” Her gaze wavered for the briefest instant, as if perhaps she doubted herself, or someone else, but it was only for an instant. She never had mastered perfect acting. “I know that.”

Alfons shook his head at her, noticing that faint flicker in her gaze, but it was gone too quickly for him to analyze. But still, why was she even trying? For the life of him, the young man couldn't even fathom why she was interested in him at all. Was she just bored?

She was always complaining about boredom after all.

"It isn't like we made a promise or anything... But I'm simply not interested in anyone other than him," he muttered out before he could catch himself, and then he froze in place, gaze centered on a spot in the wall.

And he'd been so good about it, too!

Oh. It was hard not to let the flash of disgust cross her face. … Ick. As sexual as she was, (and she was quite), she never did like the idea of two males, for reasons unknown to the majority of the Arrancar that knew her, (though several may have sworn it was because there was no female involved, and therefore no possibility of her involved.)

“No wonder, sweet.” She muttered tragically, nodding as if in understanding. “Cirucci understands why you’re so shy now, don’t worry.” One hand waved as if to dismiss such a problem. “Forbidden love~” That hand came to rest at her hollow hole, pressing against her diaphragm so that it was evident in the fabric and fingers dipping into the cavity where flesh and blood should be. A note to self to show him that sometime and gauge that reaction.

Despite her 'sincere' tone, he would have had to be blind to miss that initial look she had delivered, and it hurt. He didn't know why it hurt... The opinions of those who didn't even understand love shouldn't have mattered to him.

"It isn't as if I don't like women!" he quipped back, on edge like any dog defending itself. "I just never had time to think about that. Work, I had so much work to do."

Alfons coughed. "He was there, and he made it easier, but then tougher. So complicated. There for me, always there for me, but not really me. Ah, we don't need to..." And again he coughed. "...talk about this. I just wish you would--" Another cough, this time deep and metallic and wet, and there was a strange ringing in his ears as he pulled his hand away to stare at it, almost in confusion.

He recognized the blood... He knew that's what it was. But it shouldn't have happened. He never had fits like this more than once a day, and it had already happened that morning.

Oh no, the blood was going to make a mess, and he had just cleaned, and he still needed to make her that dessert! She had seem so interested in that strawberry shortcake... There had been a bigger fold on that page.

Guilt flooded him as he choked on another cough, and he looked at her, just barely able to whisper out a broken apology before the ringing became too loud, his head became too light, his lungs became too pained, and he collapsed then and there.

Cirucci blinked, sort of stared, and then waited a moment to see if he would twitch. He didn’t. Strange. She had vaguely been aware that he was sickly, but not so much that he was sick. Ah, humans and their illnesses. How quaint. And now there was blood back on the floor and an unconscious human boy.

She frowned.

Heaving a sigh she scooted forward and turned him over. Pale. Hmm… what to do. In a fit of something like maternal instinct she fluffed a pillow and put it under his head. Then she sort of stared for a few minutes, idly touching his shoulder in a sort of poke to see if he was actually unconscious. … Guess he was.

Another sigh and she rummaged for a pen under the coffee table, came up with one, and wrote in a small hand on the dog-earred page in the magazine.

“Clean up the blood when you wake up, I have an errand to run. Make this one. Please. ♥ - Cirucci”

She left the magazine on his chest, (off the bloodstains of course), grabbed Golondrina, and simply walked out the door. No time for waiting around, after all, she’d given him a pillow, right? Hopefully for him Il Forte wouldn’t come home yet. But no matter. She had a shinigami to kidnap.