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tampered2007-04-08 04:46 pm
sciencedaughter.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-04-08 04:46 pm
Log; Complete
When; April 6th, evening, Ghost Day
Rating; PG
Characters; Nemu {![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sciencedaughter} & Ulquiorra {eyezen_sama}
Summary; Curious as to why someone he considers reasonably logical is acting so different, Ulquiorra interrupts Nemu's haunting by her creator.
Log;
She had only been able to escape him once that day. But after Hinamori she had been forced to return. No, not forced by anything physical, he did not grab her by the braid and haul her back to him as he had done before. He couldn't. Mayuri-sama was a ghost. But she returned to him anyway, not because she was brought, but because she was... her mind, it was her mind. He owned her, he was everything to her. And though she had managed to forget in the City, in her time apart from him, it had all come crashing down. Her worthlessness, her disuses, her flaws, her utter subjugation. And his utter power over her.
And now things had quieted in her apartment. Earlier in the day there had been protests, thuds and bumps from toppling furniture and Nemu's weak excuses and explanations for her behavior, answering someone only she could hear or see. And now she was merely slumped against a wall, crumpled on the floor and head hanging limp, one eye shut and bruised from trying to avoid her creator before she had realized he could not touch her, only offering agreement as the ghost ranted at her, cursed her, berated her, and wore her down.
... Maybe someone would come. Maybe he would come. But then Mayuri looked at her and smiled. And her hopes sank.
Even as he walked the distance, which used to seem much shorter, between his own apartment and that of Nemu's, Ulquiorra could not quite understand what he was doing. His interest in the woman--the creation--was not something that usually brought up a great deal of concern in him. She would handle herself according to her thoughts and if she somehow found herself in trouble, he had little to say about it. It had little to do with him.
And yet, this affliction--that seemed to be another gift from the city--piqued his curiosity, as well as mildly annoyance. She had spoke often of the man who had created her, the man who owned her. It was a form of hierarchy that Ulquiorra obviously understood. And yet something about it bothered him, left him unable to concentrate. He did not worry for her well being, per say. He did not worry at all. But he did find himself feeling that this was something he should investigate. Her cries for help had been pitiful and unfitting to her normal behavior. But he was walking, marching up the stairs, coming to see her ghost, if only just to observe.
Not pausing to knock, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
At the sound of the door, the reiatsu, Nemu's head snapped to the side, eyes widening and her mouth falling open slightly as she struggled for words other than "Yes, Mayuri-sama", "Of course, Mayuri-sama", or "I am sorry, Mayuri-sama" To him, she supposed it would look pitiful, look silly, even, she, cowed and cornered by something that, well, she didn't know if Mayuri would be invisible to him, but to her... he was real, far too real.
"Ulquiorra-" She finally mouthed, brow furrowing and bruised eye focusing. The ghost that owned her turned and almost snarled. "Worthless piece of- NEMU, what are you staring at, LOOK AT ME." Unwillingly her gaze began shifting, meeting the eyes of one she was glad to see and one she wasn't, unmoving, afraid to even breathe.
Ulquiorra watched her quietly, eyes widening only a fraction at the blood and bruises. He had never seen her so. Blinking slowly, he realized this meant she had inflicted the wounds upon herself in her delirium over this 'Mayuri', which did not seem too likely but was still a possibility. Or, at least to her, the apparition of her former master was as real as living flesh. Which was perhaps the more surprising of the two explanations.
Tracking her vision, he looked toward the estimated place where the Shinigami must be standing, in her mind. He could see nothing there. Moving his eyes back to Nemu, he raised a brow slightly, not yet ready to speak.
Her fingers tightened into a fist against her leg, aggravating bruises. She could see by his expression that he could not see the 12th division captain, who was now crouched in front of her, furious. Nemu, you worthless slut, PAY ATTENTION. Her gaze wavered, eyes wide in fear and a state of panic that she'd been in ever since he'd arrived during the curse day.
"Ulquiorra-" She spoke his name again as if that was all she could bear to say, the only rebellion she could offer against her master. Her eyes, however, begged. And she hated to beg him for anything, she was usually... he had never seen this side of her, the side beneath Mayuri, who served, only served and nothing else.
Stepping closer, Ulquiorra's brows lowered slightly. He felt distinctly uncomfortable in the position, having little to no idea of how to proceed. Her imploring eyes and obvious state of distress was also something he did not know how to process--that she relied on him, an Arrancar, for something seemed foreign and abstract.
But despite the lack of knowledge, he knew the dangers of hesitation. Still silent, he reached down and grasped her arm, pulling her to her feet, supporting her effortlessly.
She winced, long legs having long numbed beneath her body, crouched as she had been against the wall, not having moved for several hours. She could only balance awkwardly until feeling was regained in the limbs, one hand hesitantly latching onto his shoulder to try and steady herself, eyes downcast, though she tried to raise them.
NEMU! She could hear him behind her, almost feel his touch, a vicious tug of her braid, though he could not physically harm her, touch her, it almost seemed real. Don't you DARE. You DARE defy me, Nemu, the man who created you, gave you LIFE? Her eyes squeezed shut.
"... I apologize." She finally murmured, hand spasming in a light grip against him, legs trembling as the numbness turned to tiny pricking sensations.
Ulquiorra merely sighed, taking hold of her arm more steadily as he drew her to the door. He did not entirely have a plan, but he was almost certain that the apparition would not leave until the stroke of midnight. So there was little to be done to alleviate Nemu's distress. Leaving, however, seemed the best course of action.
"No need." he murmured, aware that she was not speaking to him.
She followed his lead shakily, each step seeming like some sort of horrible aberration, something so terribly wrong that she could not even begin to describe it. Like wrenching at part of her, the part of her that was the creation, only the servant created to serve her master, stripped that away and leaving it behind even as the feeling clawed guiltily at her heart.
The ghost followed, his anger rising, insults gaining volume, threats becoming more dire, and Nemu just wanted to cover her ears and...
"... Thank you." She whispered in a broken tone, grip tightening ever so slightly though she still could not bear look him in the eyes.
Ulquiorra shrugged his shoulders slightly, opening the door to lead her carefully down the steps. Her weakness, her terror--it surrounded him, pressed into his perception as if it were a physical fog. Feeling annoyed, and rather at a loss, he continued to walk without destination. Surely it was painful for her, but he did not stop to rest. They merely walked slowly, wherever their feet took them.
... He was following them. Breathing down her neck, fairly shouting now, spittle flying from his mouth in a pure and unbridled rage. ... She hadn't... it had been so long since she'd seen him like that... even if it wasn't him. And a shameful floor of relief hit her at that thought, because she knew if it really was him she would be sporting more than bruises she'd caused in her own panic, her own loss of control.
Slowly, her hand had released it's grip on the Arrancar's shoulders as she'd regained feeling in her legs, but she was unwilling to let go of him, anchoring herself on one thing she knew was real, even though it shouldn't be. Her hand dropped, insinuating into his own, and gripping weakly, her defenses worn and ragged, still being battered, by the ghost that stalked behind her.
"... I apologize." She said for the second time, but this time it was not to the ghost she spoke.
Ulquiorra nodded once, more to acknowledge her slight recovery than the apology. He took little stock in such apologies, but accepted it nevertheless. He did not pull away, leading her along, casting her a glance every once and a while. But he had confidence she would be fine--she was, after all, much more than a simple human.
"Can we-" Nemu cast a nervous look behind her, meeting her creator's gaze. She froze for a moment, trying to rip her eyes away, but it took several moments before she was able to turn her head again, to let her gaze rest on the Arrancar instead of the raging, screaming, furious master that haunted their steps. And Mayuri's face flit about the edges of her vision as his ghost hovered around them, insulting, threatening...
"I can't walk anymore." She finished softly, knees trembling a bit, spine crawling at the words being whispered in her ear now, and though she could not feel his hand, the pale white of her creator's fingers was dancing across her neck, her shoulder, whispering in her ear.
Blinking at her for a moment, he nodded, veering off the path to find a low hill near the park. He eased her down so that she could rest against a small tree, settling next to her. It wasn't necessarily a private location, but he figured he would just destroy anyone who happened to see them and comment. It did not bother him if she leaned against him, or clung to his arm. He merely would sit, and think, and wonder over her state of mind.
She was exhausted. And the ghost wouldn't leave. Sinking gratefully to the ground she winced a bit, one hand covering her bruised face as she frowned ever so slightly. The creation refused to meet her creator's eyes anymore. ... He wasn't real, he was just a reminder of what awaited her at home, or here if he came truly. ... He wouldn't know, the real Mayuri wouldn't know if she defied him.
Nemu turned away from her haunt and gently tucked herself against the Espada, tentatively resting her head against the crook of his neck, exceedingly aware of the hole in his throat inches from her gaze. "... Please wake me when the curse day is over?" She whispered against his skin, no longer wanting to deal with her ghost, not wanting to see, to hear, to be reminded of how she was failing him.
"I will," he murmured, shifting slightly to allow for more comfort. He did not understand the tenors of sorrow in her voice, did not know why, besides being frightened, she should feel so sad. But then again, he did not understand many of her human emotions. The balance between her emotions and her rational mind had always been interesting, but now he could see the rational part of her was losing. Perhaps when the day was over, she would recover.
"I will." he repeated, as if making a promise. It seemed to be the only thing to say.
"Thank you." Nemu nestled closer, for once not as respecting of his space or general dislike of physical contact, because... she needed it, needed the comfort of the anchor he provided, a link to this City, to the fact that Mayuri-sama wasn't here. She didn't even shoot her master one last look, knowing the look on his face at the sight of the one he occasionally called his daughter with an Arrancar, with anyone, with anything he didn't allow her would be horrendously infuriated. ... She could risk it with a curse. Her dark eyes closed slowly, breathing regulated as she blocked out the noise, commanding her built body to enter sleep, content that Ulquiorra would wake her... and Mayuri would be gone.
Rating; PG
Characters; Nemu {
sciencedaughter} & Ulquiorra {eyezen_sama} Summary; Curious as to why someone he considers reasonably logical is acting so different, Ulquiorra interrupts Nemu's haunting by her creator.
Log;
She had only been able to escape him once that day. But after Hinamori she had been forced to return. No, not forced by anything physical, he did not grab her by the braid and haul her back to him as he had done before. He couldn't. Mayuri-sama was a ghost. But she returned to him anyway, not because she was brought, but because she was... her mind, it was her mind. He owned her, he was everything to her. And though she had managed to forget in the City, in her time apart from him, it had all come crashing down. Her worthlessness, her disuses, her flaws, her utter subjugation. And his utter power over her.
And now things had quieted in her apartment. Earlier in the day there had been protests, thuds and bumps from toppling furniture and Nemu's weak excuses and explanations for her behavior, answering someone only she could hear or see. And now she was merely slumped against a wall, crumpled on the floor and head hanging limp, one eye shut and bruised from trying to avoid her creator before she had realized he could not touch her, only offering agreement as the ghost ranted at her, cursed her, berated her, and wore her down.
... Maybe someone would come. Maybe he would come. But then Mayuri looked at her and smiled. And her hopes sank.
Even as he walked the distance, which used to seem much shorter, between his own apartment and that of Nemu's, Ulquiorra could not quite understand what he was doing. His interest in the woman--the creation--was not something that usually brought up a great deal of concern in him. She would handle herself according to her thoughts and if she somehow found herself in trouble, he had little to say about it. It had little to do with him.
And yet, this affliction--that seemed to be another gift from the city--piqued his curiosity, as well as mildly annoyance. She had spoke often of the man who had created her, the man who owned her. It was a form of hierarchy that Ulquiorra obviously understood. And yet something about it bothered him, left him unable to concentrate. He did not worry for her well being, per say. He did not worry at all. But he did find himself feeling that this was something he should investigate. Her cries for help had been pitiful and unfitting to her normal behavior. But he was walking, marching up the stairs, coming to see her ghost, if only just to observe.
Not pausing to knock, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
At the sound of the door, the reiatsu, Nemu's head snapped to the side, eyes widening and her mouth falling open slightly as she struggled for words other than "Yes, Mayuri-sama", "Of course, Mayuri-sama", or "I am sorry, Mayuri-sama" To him, she supposed it would look pitiful, look silly, even, she, cowed and cornered by something that, well, she didn't know if Mayuri would be invisible to him, but to her... he was real, far too real.
"Ulquiorra-" She finally mouthed, brow furrowing and bruised eye focusing. The ghost that owned her turned and almost snarled. "Worthless piece of- NEMU, what are you staring at, LOOK AT ME." Unwillingly her gaze began shifting, meeting the eyes of one she was glad to see and one she wasn't, unmoving, afraid to even breathe.
Ulquiorra watched her quietly, eyes widening only a fraction at the blood and bruises. He had never seen her so. Blinking slowly, he realized this meant she had inflicted the wounds upon herself in her delirium over this 'Mayuri', which did not seem too likely but was still a possibility. Or, at least to her, the apparition of her former master was as real as living flesh. Which was perhaps the more surprising of the two explanations.
Tracking her vision, he looked toward the estimated place where the Shinigami must be standing, in her mind. He could see nothing there. Moving his eyes back to Nemu, he raised a brow slightly, not yet ready to speak.
Her fingers tightened into a fist against her leg, aggravating bruises. She could see by his expression that he could not see the 12th division captain, who was now crouched in front of her, furious. Nemu, you worthless slut, PAY ATTENTION. Her gaze wavered, eyes wide in fear and a state of panic that she'd been in ever since he'd arrived during the curse day.
"Ulquiorra-" She spoke his name again as if that was all she could bear to say, the only rebellion she could offer against her master. Her eyes, however, begged. And she hated to beg him for anything, she was usually... he had never seen this side of her, the side beneath Mayuri, who served, only served and nothing else.
Stepping closer, Ulquiorra's brows lowered slightly. He felt distinctly uncomfortable in the position, having little to no idea of how to proceed. Her imploring eyes and obvious state of distress was also something he did not know how to process--that she relied on him, an Arrancar, for something seemed foreign and abstract.
But despite the lack of knowledge, he knew the dangers of hesitation. Still silent, he reached down and grasped her arm, pulling her to her feet, supporting her effortlessly.
She winced, long legs having long numbed beneath her body, crouched as she had been against the wall, not having moved for several hours. She could only balance awkwardly until feeling was regained in the limbs, one hand hesitantly latching onto his shoulder to try and steady herself, eyes downcast, though she tried to raise them.
NEMU! She could hear him behind her, almost feel his touch, a vicious tug of her braid, though he could not physically harm her, touch her, it almost seemed real. Don't you DARE. You DARE defy me, Nemu, the man who created you, gave you LIFE? Her eyes squeezed shut.
"... I apologize." She finally murmured, hand spasming in a light grip against him, legs trembling as the numbness turned to tiny pricking sensations.
Ulquiorra merely sighed, taking hold of her arm more steadily as he drew her to the door. He did not entirely have a plan, but he was almost certain that the apparition would not leave until the stroke of midnight. So there was little to be done to alleviate Nemu's distress. Leaving, however, seemed the best course of action.
"No need." he murmured, aware that she was not speaking to him.
She followed his lead shakily, each step seeming like some sort of horrible aberration, something so terribly wrong that she could not even begin to describe it. Like wrenching at part of her, the part of her that was the creation, only the servant created to serve her master, stripped that away and leaving it behind even as the feeling clawed guiltily at her heart.
The ghost followed, his anger rising, insults gaining volume, threats becoming more dire, and Nemu just wanted to cover her ears and...
"... Thank you." She whispered in a broken tone, grip tightening ever so slightly though she still could not bear look him in the eyes.
Ulquiorra shrugged his shoulders slightly, opening the door to lead her carefully down the steps. Her weakness, her terror--it surrounded him, pressed into his perception as if it were a physical fog. Feeling annoyed, and rather at a loss, he continued to walk without destination. Surely it was painful for her, but he did not stop to rest. They merely walked slowly, wherever their feet took them.
... He was following them. Breathing down her neck, fairly shouting now, spittle flying from his mouth in a pure and unbridled rage. ... She hadn't... it had been so long since she'd seen him like that... even if it wasn't him. And a shameful floor of relief hit her at that thought, because she knew if it really was him she would be sporting more than bruises she'd caused in her own panic, her own loss of control.
Slowly, her hand had released it's grip on the Arrancar's shoulders as she'd regained feeling in her legs, but she was unwilling to let go of him, anchoring herself on one thing she knew was real, even though it shouldn't be. Her hand dropped, insinuating into his own, and gripping weakly, her defenses worn and ragged, still being battered, by the ghost that stalked behind her.
"... I apologize." She said for the second time, but this time it was not to the ghost she spoke.
Ulquiorra nodded once, more to acknowledge her slight recovery than the apology. He took little stock in such apologies, but accepted it nevertheless. He did not pull away, leading her along, casting her a glance every once and a while. But he had confidence she would be fine--she was, after all, much more than a simple human.
"Can we-" Nemu cast a nervous look behind her, meeting her creator's gaze. She froze for a moment, trying to rip her eyes away, but it took several moments before she was able to turn her head again, to let her gaze rest on the Arrancar instead of the raging, screaming, furious master that haunted their steps. And Mayuri's face flit about the edges of her vision as his ghost hovered around them, insulting, threatening...
"I can't walk anymore." She finished softly, knees trembling a bit, spine crawling at the words being whispered in her ear now, and though she could not feel his hand, the pale white of her creator's fingers was dancing across her neck, her shoulder, whispering in her ear.
Blinking at her for a moment, he nodded, veering off the path to find a low hill near the park. He eased her down so that she could rest against a small tree, settling next to her. It wasn't necessarily a private location, but he figured he would just destroy anyone who happened to see them and comment. It did not bother him if she leaned against him, or clung to his arm. He merely would sit, and think, and wonder over her state of mind.
She was exhausted. And the ghost wouldn't leave. Sinking gratefully to the ground she winced a bit, one hand covering her bruised face as she frowned ever so slightly. The creation refused to meet her creator's eyes anymore. ... He wasn't real, he was just a reminder of what awaited her at home, or here if he came truly. ... He wouldn't know, the real Mayuri wouldn't know if she defied him.
Nemu turned away from her haunt and gently tucked herself against the Espada, tentatively resting her head against the crook of his neck, exceedingly aware of the hole in his throat inches from her gaze. "... Please wake me when the curse day is over?" She whispered against his skin, no longer wanting to deal with her ghost, not wanting to see, to hear, to be reminded of how she was failing him.
"I will," he murmured, shifting slightly to allow for more comfort. He did not understand the tenors of sorrow in her voice, did not know why, besides being frightened, she should feel so sad. But then again, he did not understand many of her human emotions. The balance between her emotions and her rational mind had always been interesting, but now he could see the rational part of her was losing. Perhaps when the day was over, she would recover.
"I will." he repeated, as if making a promise. It seemed to be the only thing to say.
"Thank you." Nemu nestled closer, for once not as respecting of his space or general dislike of physical contact, because... she needed it, needed the comfort of the anchor he provided, a link to this City, to the fact that Mayuri-sama wasn't here. She didn't even shoot her master one last look, knowing the look on his face at the sight of the one he occasionally called his daughter with an Arrancar, with anyone, with anything he didn't allow her would be horrendously infuriated. ... She could risk it with a curse. Her dark eyes closed slowly, breathing regulated as she blocked out the noise, commanding her built body to enter sleep, content that Ulquiorra would wake her... and Mayuri would be gone.