ext_265180 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
thunderwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2007-05-15 11:35 pm
thunderwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-05-15 11:35 pm
Log; Complete
When; May 12th, evening
Rating; PG for nekked ladies?
Characters; Cirucci {![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thunderwitch} & Rori {sister_servant}
Summary; They talk, seriously. And file their nails and wash their hair.
Log;
Cirucci puttered aimlessly about her apartment, gathering a few items to place on the white porcelein edge of her large bathtub. She did so love baths, a luxury not often afforded nor needed in Hueco Mundo, but they were warm, hot, something she rarely felt deep in her bones, and they were relaxing. Nice things. Small fingers found a comb, a small bottle of salts, bubbles, sponges, and several other rather silly things she'd collected in her days in the City, personal items that Arrancar were not used to owning. But she shrugged it off, adjusting easily to some aspects of the domestic lifestyle, waiting for the Numeros to arrive. Rori had been off of late, most likely due to not only her injury at shinigami hands, but also at her insight into Aizen Sousuke's true motives. And Cirucci supposed they would have to have a talk.
Rori padded down the halls silently, not looking at anyone or anything she might pass. Her mood had been sour ever since she’d awoken Underground almost in pieces. Her fight with the constantly ill captain hadn’t gone well, and she was loathe to talk about it. The chill had settled over her as well, but no one knew that except, perhaps, the damnable healer the Octava carried her to see.
Arriving at Cirucci’s , she had the manners to knock, but little patience. With a grumble, she rubbed at her arm, and waited for the Privaron to answer.
Cirucci looked up from where she'd flopped down onto one of the many piles of pillows she kept lying about her residence, stood and smoothed her skirt as she came to the door, caution tempering her enough that she checked the reiatsu, sensing the familiar signature of the only other female Arrancar before she opened it. "Rori." Her voice affected a croon as it was apt to do in some situations. But she smiled somewhat, stepped back and held the door open, casting a glance down the hall in another caution as she admitted the younger girl. "Well enough?"
Rori didn’t say anything until she was in the room and the door was shut behind her. “Why so worried, Cirucci? No one cares the comings and goings of a Numeros like me. I’m fine.” Her voice was soft and slightly sullen. As always, she took care to look around the room. It was what Aizen-sama had trained her to do; look for information that doesn’t seem important. “The bitch healed me quite well.”
“Obviously.” The Privaron shook her head a bit and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Pouting, she was. Cirucci sauntered back into the apartment and past the younger, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment as the muted sound of water running accompanied her coming back into view, leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom, arms crossed under her chest. “Cirucci cares about Rori’s comings and goings.” In Hueco Mundo she probably couldn’t have cared less. But here? Oh, things were quite different. “Don’t pout because Aizen doesn’t care.”
“I don’t care if he cares or not.” Her tone said otherwise, but she still offered her sister that blandly calm gaze she usually wore. She knew she was a bit freer to speak her mind right now, since her lord and master was nowhere in sight. That didn’t mean the Privaron wouldn’t tell him, but again, she didn’t really care either way. The sound of running water soothed her mood a little, knowing she’d be warm again soon.
“Why so cautious when you opened the door? Did you irritate someone else off to the point they want your head?”
“Don’t lie to me, dear.” Cirucci smirked a bit, flipping back her thick hair. “No need to mince words with a Privaron, we know all about how much Aizen cares for us.” She’d nursed a grudge against the man ever since the tattoo had been stripped from her flesh, though she’d still been loyal, still followed him, desired his favor. Most of them had desired that.
“As for that,” She frowned, “The Quincy’s here, and since he’s been hiding hid reiatsu from me, it’s never bad to be cautious. Besides,” Her lips quirked back up into a smirk. “Too many people in this City want my head for me to count, I try not to bother with most of them.” The Arrancar turned to cast a glance at the tub, waiting for it to fill, the temperature far hotter than most were comfortable with, because the hotter the water was the more warmth would actually seep into her bones.
“Ah. So your nemesis is here, is he? You best be done with him quick.” Without any sign of the modesty she used to have, she started peeling down the unattached sleeves of her uniform, and once those were littering the floor, the tall boots were next. “I hate this city. I hate everyone in it, other than family. If they’re not arrancar, they’re not worth our time or trouble.”
“Exactly.” Cirucci shrugged, checked the water level again and gestured for the Numeros to follow her as she disappeared around the doorframe, through a bedroom that always felt cold to her, and into the bathroom. She tested the water with one finger, nodding to herself. “Grimmjow and I have a plan to rid ourselves of our respective… interests.” She mentioned, idly slinking off her long gloves, the skin beneath pale and unblemished, unlike the gray and rotting skin that had been there just a week previous, courtesy the Red God. “As for the City, well, if only we were back in Los Noches, but, we aren’t.” Cirucci had never, in her entire remembering, ever possessed shame, let alone in front of another female, and her uniform was neatly unsnapped and tossed aside, followed by boots and garters before she slipped into the large tub with a long, content sigh as her skin warmed, the heat creeping in and making her wriggle a bit happily.
Rori was close to follow her elder’s example as she unwound the odd twists of her own uniform. Hers covered a bit less than Cirucci’s, and as functional as it was, it still didn’t take too long. Her hair was next, brushing dark and heavy against the middle of her back. She dipped a hand into the steaming water, and then climbed into the tub, sinking neck deep into the water until her hair was pooled around her. “Sexta’s issue… the false shinigami. He’s strong, but the Sexta’s stronger.”
Cirucci kept her hair up for now, one arm over the tub edge, the scarred discoloration on her breast in the shape of a 5 barely visible above the hot water. “I’ve full confidance the Sexta will have little difficulty handling the substitute once I get him there and switch opponents with him, rather rude of the Quincy to want to challenge Grimmjow and not me, don’t you think?” The Privaron’s voice affected a slightly offended tone, reaching to pour a small bottle of sweet smelling salts.
“Humans are rude, stupid little animals…” Her head tipped back until her hair was soaked, and then she looked back over at Cirucci. “He isn’t worth your time, Cirucci… he just isn’t.” She understood the Privaron’s reasons for wanting to kill the Quincy, but she didn’t wish spending time on such filth to her elder sister. Her eyes scanned the various bottles and such surrounding the tub, and then settled on one. Nosy, she picked it up and flipped it around in her hand, watching the liquid inside. “I suppose they’re handy for a few things…”
“A few humans have specific uses.” Cirucci didn’t comment on whether the Quincy was worth her time. Because she knew he was, he… was worth everything she was, and she couldn’t quite explain it any way that sounded right. “Goodness, Alfons cooks, so Cirucci doesn’t have to make do with some of the nastier human foods.” That they were discouraged from eating souls was frustrating in both mind and body. “Some are good for information, for services, but on their own…” She sighed, smiling a bit at Rori’s curiosity. She had several random things about, shampoos, perfumes, salts, and bubbles, things she’d collected out of her own curiosity. “… worthless.”
“Lucky. I have yet to find even one worth anything.” The bottle in her hands was popped open and tipped, letting some of the liquid spill into her opposite hand. A slim black eyebrow rose as she caught the scent from her milky pool in her hand. “What is this? It smells so… good.” Bathing in Las Noches had usually consisted of nothing more than soap and water to her. Soaking was a rare thing to her and had become a tasted she’d grown used to in her time in the city.
“It’s hard to find them.” The Privaron admitted, nodding sagely. At the question she laughed lightly. “Shampoo, dear.” She scooted closer, water rippling and dissolving the smelling salts even faster, turning the younger Arrancar and scooping the liquid from her hands, taking her longer hair in her small hands and beginning to run her fingers through it, lathering. “Humans are good for certain things, and inventing things is one. Good for getting rid of the scent of the Octava’s bitch, at least.”
She let Cirucci move her, as she had what seemed so long ago, during her “lessons”. The hands in her hair made her shift closer, unconsciously missing such simple contact. “I think I might like this… shampoo.” Her voice trailed off to silence, sure in the fact that Cirucci was possibly the one of her family that wouldn’t hurt her if they wished it.
“I hated having her touch me. How can the Octava stand to be in her presence?”
“I don’t know.” Cirucci’s voice made it quite clear what she thought of the other female, bitter and perhaps jealous. Nothing positive, at any rate. “I’ve warned her off him before, killed her for it before, and she still continues.” She made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat, lathering Rori’s scalp gently, occupying herself with such a mundane task before tapping her shoulder. “Rinse.” The Thunderwitch reached for her own bottle, finally let her hair down and began to wash it, reveling in the heady scents of the shampoos. "What is even harder to understand is others, not just the Octava and his bitch."
Dutifully, Rori ducked her head under the water until the suds were cleared away. Blinking the water from her eyes, she slicked her hair back with her hands as her lips curled into a slight frown. “I know. What could they see in them? The created one? Not even a true soul to chew on… and the broken toy? She’s not worth anyone’s attention, much less Aizen-sama’s or the Sexta’s. I’m glad I don’t have such… issues to deal with.” Facing Cirucci, her own hands absently sank into the Thunderwitch’s much thicker hair, lathering it as hers had been.
Her eyes closed and Cirucci hummed a bit, appreciatively, bending her neck to facilitate the attentions. “Ulquiorra… I don’t even know what he’s thinking, protecting the science experiment, punishing us for hurting her.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “The peach’s novelty has long since worn off, all she does is mope, anyhow.” Her fingers swirled light patterns in the bath water, warm, warm, water. “As for Aizen…” She didn’t open her eyes, though she ducked a bit further under the water, the sloshing of the liquid in her hollow hole tickled. “What does Rori think now concerning that, now she knows some things?”
Rori slid a soapy hand down the back of Cirucci’s shoulder as she thought. She had to be careful with her thoughts. Being one of the weakest Arrancar, any of the others could make her life a painful hell if she said or did something wrong. A sigh preceded her words. “It disappoints me, but… I shouldn’t be too shocked. I’ve seen how he treats some of the others. Menori and I have served him long enough to see things… I suppose I thought more of myself, though.” Sinking until the water was up to her chin, she stared at Cirucci with hooded eyes.
“I don’t like feeling like an ant.”
“And I don’t like feeling like a disgrace.” Cirucci opened her eyes to meet the younger girl’s gaze, her words slow, deliberate. “Like a Privaron Espada.” Her hand traced lightly the scar on her breast. She sighed as well, leaned back to rinse her hair, combing through it with her fingers and propping her back against the tub edge, letting one lithe leg rise to prop against it as well, reaching for another scented liquid before washing lightly, pausing to prop her chin on her knee and look at Rori once more. “But here… Aizen is dead.” She had a serious look on her face, a rarity. “His power is not what it was in Los Noches. And his rule isn’t the same either.” She left the words open, not stating what she meant by such phrases, whether she meant that she no longer followed him or that she simply took advantage of his lack of control.
Rori’s eyes followed Cirucci’s hand as it brushed over the scarred spot on her skin. In silence, she absorbed her words. One leg slid out to rest opposite along Cirucci’s, the other bent enough to break the water. “No. He’s not the same master, is he? I don’t know exactly what to think of him, sometimes… He’s become… weak” The last word was hissed, a soft whisper as if Rori thought she’d be overheard.
Cirucci wordlessly passed the, what was it humans called it… body wash, leaving her chin propped on her knee for now, trailing ripples in the water with her fingers. “Loving.” She finally murmured, letting the hot water lap against the empty space between her breasts. “He loved, and still can love, our fearless leader.” She smiled wanely. “Fearless, when loving cause the greatest fears of all.” The Privaron paused, sighed, and closed her eyes, the warmth lulling her into relaxation. “So I’ve heard.”
Rori took the body wash from Cirucci and poured a good amount into her hand, lathering up her skin absently. “I don’t like it… a god shouldn’t have such weaknesses.” The even expression shifted into a slight smile, a wicked smile that just touched the corners of her mouth. “And you’d know, wouldn’t you? About such… loving?”
Her eyes cracked open again, settling coldly on the other Arrancar. She didn’t say anything for a long pause of a moment, as if torn between laughing it off or hurting her counterpart. Finally she smirked, choosing the former option, and reacher down to splash some of the hot water at Rori’s face. “You shouldn’t joke like that, sister~ Cirucci loves on curse days, but no other days, come now~” Her voice was light, uncaring, though her mind was certainly not. “There’s no one for Cirucci to love anyway.”
Rori sputtered for a moment, blinking the still steaming water from her eyes, before sending some back in retaliation. “You find my words funny? I wasn’t joking. Arrancar love. We’ve seen it happen before.” Hooded eyes watched Cirucci’s face carefully, ready to bolt if the elder came after her for her mouth.
“One cares for family, yes?”
She meant to flick water back, but ended up sinking further, past her nose and leaving only her eyes and the top of her head exposed. It wasn’t a problem, she simply ceased breathing, something she had no problem doing, considering she was dead. She was quiet for a full moment, eyes closing, one hand tracing the scar on her breast.
“More than most.” She finally said. “Sleeping with them gets you a little attached, enough to care about what happens to them a bit.” Her lips twisted into a smirk. “Though I’ve killed my share of lovers, there’s no mistake I’ll always work in my interest before anyone else’s.” Her hand paused, reaching down to touch the rim of the hole in her chest. “We can love. Yes.” She finally admitted, though it pained her. “But we shouldn’t.”
Rori watched her sink almost under the water, but wasn’t alarmed. Far be it from a Numeros to question something a Privaron was doing. “Mmmm… I always cared for Menori. I always will.” She stretched out, laying her head back along the edge of the tub, the rest of her settling in alongside the body of her sister. “… It’s a weakness we have to learn to use.”
“Ah.” Cirucci gave a noncomittal noise, sighing and letting her body relax. Speaking of the males reminded her how long it had been since she’d last lain with one, last known that warmth, the warmth not of a tub of water, but another being. A week? Far too long.
“It’s got only one use.” She commented, crossing her legs and idly reaching for a file, splaying her hand across her knee and examining her nails. “It’s the easiest thing to use to manipulate shinigami and humans.” The Privaron squinted a bit and began filing. “Kill a loved one, incite them to rage, kidnap one and manipulate them, threaten one to get what you want.” She had no compassion for it, no sympathy, for even with the one she had been closest to loving, had he died the only thing she’d felt would have been anger, not sadness for his loss or empathy for his pain.
“They’re all too easy sometimes.” She envied the Privaron all her pretty things, but didn’t make mention of it. Pettiness wasn’t an attractive quality, even in an arrancar. “He should wipe them out. All at once.” Her voice was a little drowsy; relaxation showed in the boneless sprawl. “Irritating insects should be swatted.” For one, she wanted to see the third-seat under her blade again. The thought made a lazy smile cross her lips.
“As long as he continues in this vein, he won’t.” Cirucci frowned, finishing and passing the file in limp fingers. “He speaks of wanting to transition peacefully, of love being such a positive thing…” Her lips twisted into a sneer, but she couldn’t bring herself to hold it long, much more content with letting her head lull back, eyes closing. “He’s changed.”
“He has. Not for the better, either. He was strong back in Hueco Mundo. The whore changed him…” Idly, her hand trailed in the water, back and forth. The sensation was enjoyable to Rori, since it meant nothing more than letting it float along. Until it brushed against Cirucci’s leg. Indolent eyes cracked open to see what she’d made contact with. “It’s a good thing Yammi doesn’t take baths. He wouldn’t fit, now would he?”
The Privaron chuckled dryly, crossing her legs to move them out of Rori’s hand’s path. “Yammi is too big for anything.” She laughed again, making it quite clear how she meant that statement. “Several of the Espada aren’t good for anything.” Cirucci mentioned snidely, still laughing lightly.
Rori laughed a little, privately glad the mentioned arrancar wasn't there. She seen him stare at her and Menori before, but he had that same look for all the female arrancar, barring Halibel. She'd kill him if he looked at her that way. Her eyes slid closed again as she hummed under her breath for a moment. "I need to remember to do this more often. It's so relaxing..."
“One of the few luxuries we’re allowed to indulge in now.” Cirucci nodded, letting her body sink deeper under the water. She supposed she’d get out when the water turned as cold as her dead bones.
Rating; PG for nekked ladies?
Characters; Cirucci {
thunderwitch} & Rori {sister_servant}Summary; They talk, seriously. And file their nails and wash their hair.
Log;
Cirucci puttered aimlessly about her apartment, gathering a few items to place on the white porcelein edge of her large bathtub. She did so love baths, a luxury not often afforded nor needed in Hueco Mundo, but they were warm, hot, something she rarely felt deep in her bones, and they were relaxing. Nice things. Small fingers found a comb, a small bottle of salts, bubbles, sponges, and several other rather silly things she'd collected in her days in the City, personal items that Arrancar were not used to owning. But she shrugged it off, adjusting easily to some aspects of the domestic lifestyle, waiting for the Numeros to arrive. Rori had been off of late, most likely due to not only her injury at shinigami hands, but also at her insight into Aizen Sousuke's true motives. And Cirucci supposed they would have to have a talk.
Rori padded down the halls silently, not looking at anyone or anything she might pass. Her mood had been sour ever since she’d awoken Underground almost in pieces. Her fight with the constantly ill captain hadn’t gone well, and she was loathe to talk about it. The chill had settled over her as well, but no one knew that except, perhaps, the damnable healer the Octava carried her to see.
Arriving at Cirucci’s , she had the manners to knock, but little patience. With a grumble, she rubbed at her arm, and waited for the Privaron to answer.
Cirucci looked up from where she'd flopped down onto one of the many piles of pillows she kept lying about her residence, stood and smoothed her skirt as she came to the door, caution tempering her enough that she checked the reiatsu, sensing the familiar signature of the only other female Arrancar before she opened it. "Rori." Her voice affected a croon as it was apt to do in some situations. But she smiled somewhat, stepped back and held the door open, casting a glance down the hall in another caution as she admitted the younger girl. "Well enough?"
Rori didn’t say anything until she was in the room and the door was shut behind her. “Why so worried, Cirucci? No one cares the comings and goings of a Numeros like me. I’m fine.” Her voice was soft and slightly sullen. As always, she took care to look around the room. It was what Aizen-sama had trained her to do; look for information that doesn’t seem important. “The bitch healed me quite well.”
“Obviously.” The Privaron shook her head a bit and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Pouting, she was. Cirucci sauntered back into the apartment and past the younger, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment as the muted sound of water running accompanied her coming back into view, leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom, arms crossed under her chest. “Cirucci cares about Rori’s comings and goings.” In Hueco Mundo she probably couldn’t have cared less. But here? Oh, things were quite different. “Don’t pout because Aizen doesn’t care.”
“I don’t care if he cares or not.” Her tone said otherwise, but she still offered her sister that blandly calm gaze she usually wore. She knew she was a bit freer to speak her mind right now, since her lord and master was nowhere in sight. That didn’t mean the Privaron wouldn’t tell him, but again, she didn’t really care either way. The sound of running water soothed her mood a little, knowing she’d be warm again soon.
“Why so cautious when you opened the door? Did you irritate someone else off to the point they want your head?”
“Don’t lie to me, dear.” Cirucci smirked a bit, flipping back her thick hair. “No need to mince words with a Privaron, we know all about how much Aizen cares for us.” She’d nursed a grudge against the man ever since the tattoo had been stripped from her flesh, though she’d still been loyal, still followed him, desired his favor. Most of them had desired that.
“As for that,” She frowned, “The Quincy’s here, and since he’s been hiding hid reiatsu from me, it’s never bad to be cautious. Besides,” Her lips quirked back up into a smirk. “Too many people in this City want my head for me to count, I try not to bother with most of them.” The Arrancar turned to cast a glance at the tub, waiting for it to fill, the temperature far hotter than most were comfortable with, because the hotter the water was the more warmth would actually seep into her bones.
“Ah. So your nemesis is here, is he? You best be done with him quick.” Without any sign of the modesty she used to have, she started peeling down the unattached sleeves of her uniform, and once those were littering the floor, the tall boots were next. “I hate this city. I hate everyone in it, other than family. If they’re not arrancar, they’re not worth our time or trouble.”
“Exactly.” Cirucci shrugged, checked the water level again and gestured for the Numeros to follow her as she disappeared around the doorframe, through a bedroom that always felt cold to her, and into the bathroom. She tested the water with one finger, nodding to herself. “Grimmjow and I have a plan to rid ourselves of our respective… interests.” She mentioned, idly slinking off her long gloves, the skin beneath pale and unblemished, unlike the gray and rotting skin that had been there just a week previous, courtesy the Red God. “As for the City, well, if only we were back in Los Noches, but, we aren’t.” Cirucci had never, in her entire remembering, ever possessed shame, let alone in front of another female, and her uniform was neatly unsnapped and tossed aside, followed by boots and garters before she slipped into the large tub with a long, content sigh as her skin warmed, the heat creeping in and making her wriggle a bit happily.
Rori was close to follow her elder’s example as she unwound the odd twists of her own uniform. Hers covered a bit less than Cirucci’s, and as functional as it was, it still didn’t take too long. Her hair was next, brushing dark and heavy against the middle of her back. She dipped a hand into the steaming water, and then climbed into the tub, sinking neck deep into the water until her hair was pooled around her. “Sexta’s issue… the false shinigami. He’s strong, but the Sexta’s stronger.”
Cirucci kept her hair up for now, one arm over the tub edge, the scarred discoloration on her breast in the shape of a 5 barely visible above the hot water. “I’ve full confidance the Sexta will have little difficulty handling the substitute once I get him there and switch opponents with him, rather rude of the Quincy to want to challenge Grimmjow and not me, don’t you think?” The Privaron’s voice affected a slightly offended tone, reaching to pour a small bottle of sweet smelling salts.
“Humans are rude, stupid little animals…” Her head tipped back until her hair was soaked, and then she looked back over at Cirucci. “He isn’t worth your time, Cirucci… he just isn’t.” She understood the Privaron’s reasons for wanting to kill the Quincy, but she didn’t wish spending time on such filth to her elder sister. Her eyes scanned the various bottles and such surrounding the tub, and then settled on one. Nosy, she picked it up and flipped it around in her hand, watching the liquid inside. “I suppose they’re handy for a few things…”
“A few humans have specific uses.” Cirucci didn’t comment on whether the Quincy was worth her time. Because she knew he was, he… was worth everything she was, and she couldn’t quite explain it any way that sounded right. “Goodness, Alfons cooks, so Cirucci doesn’t have to make do with some of the nastier human foods.” That they were discouraged from eating souls was frustrating in both mind and body. “Some are good for information, for services, but on their own…” She sighed, smiling a bit at Rori’s curiosity. She had several random things about, shampoos, perfumes, salts, and bubbles, things she’d collected out of her own curiosity. “… worthless.”
“Lucky. I have yet to find even one worth anything.” The bottle in her hands was popped open and tipped, letting some of the liquid spill into her opposite hand. A slim black eyebrow rose as she caught the scent from her milky pool in her hand. “What is this? It smells so… good.” Bathing in Las Noches had usually consisted of nothing more than soap and water to her. Soaking was a rare thing to her and had become a tasted she’d grown used to in her time in the city.
“It’s hard to find them.” The Privaron admitted, nodding sagely. At the question she laughed lightly. “Shampoo, dear.” She scooted closer, water rippling and dissolving the smelling salts even faster, turning the younger Arrancar and scooping the liquid from her hands, taking her longer hair in her small hands and beginning to run her fingers through it, lathering. “Humans are good for certain things, and inventing things is one. Good for getting rid of the scent of the Octava’s bitch, at least.”
She let Cirucci move her, as she had what seemed so long ago, during her “lessons”. The hands in her hair made her shift closer, unconsciously missing such simple contact. “I think I might like this… shampoo.” Her voice trailed off to silence, sure in the fact that Cirucci was possibly the one of her family that wouldn’t hurt her if they wished it.
“I hated having her touch me. How can the Octava stand to be in her presence?”
“I don’t know.” Cirucci’s voice made it quite clear what she thought of the other female, bitter and perhaps jealous. Nothing positive, at any rate. “I’ve warned her off him before, killed her for it before, and she still continues.” She made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat, lathering Rori’s scalp gently, occupying herself with such a mundane task before tapping her shoulder. “Rinse.” The Thunderwitch reached for her own bottle, finally let her hair down and began to wash it, reveling in the heady scents of the shampoos. "What is even harder to understand is others, not just the Octava and his bitch."
Dutifully, Rori ducked her head under the water until the suds were cleared away. Blinking the water from her eyes, she slicked her hair back with her hands as her lips curled into a slight frown. “I know. What could they see in them? The created one? Not even a true soul to chew on… and the broken toy? She’s not worth anyone’s attention, much less Aizen-sama’s or the Sexta’s. I’m glad I don’t have such… issues to deal with.” Facing Cirucci, her own hands absently sank into the Thunderwitch’s much thicker hair, lathering it as hers had been.
Her eyes closed and Cirucci hummed a bit, appreciatively, bending her neck to facilitate the attentions. “Ulquiorra… I don’t even know what he’s thinking, protecting the science experiment, punishing us for hurting her.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “The peach’s novelty has long since worn off, all she does is mope, anyhow.” Her fingers swirled light patterns in the bath water, warm, warm, water. “As for Aizen…” She didn’t open her eyes, though she ducked a bit further under the water, the sloshing of the liquid in her hollow hole tickled. “What does Rori think now concerning that, now she knows some things?”
Rori slid a soapy hand down the back of Cirucci’s shoulder as she thought. She had to be careful with her thoughts. Being one of the weakest Arrancar, any of the others could make her life a painful hell if she said or did something wrong. A sigh preceded her words. “It disappoints me, but… I shouldn’t be too shocked. I’ve seen how he treats some of the others. Menori and I have served him long enough to see things… I suppose I thought more of myself, though.” Sinking until the water was up to her chin, she stared at Cirucci with hooded eyes.
“I don’t like feeling like an ant.”
“And I don’t like feeling like a disgrace.” Cirucci opened her eyes to meet the younger girl’s gaze, her words slow, deliberate. “Like a Privaron Espada.” Her hand traced lightly the scar on her breast. She sighed as well, leaned back to rinse her hair, combing through it with her fingers and propping her back against the tub edge, letting one lithe leg rise to prop against it as well, reaching for another scented liquid before washing lightly, pausing to prop her chin on her knee and look at Rori once more. “But here… Aizen is dead.” She had a serious look on her face, a rarity. “His power is not what it was in Los Noches. And his rule isn’t the same either.” She left the words open, not stating what she meant by such phrases, whether she meant that she no longer followed him or that she simply took advantage of his lack of control.
Rori’s eyes followed Cirucci’s hand as it brushed over the scarred spot on her skin. In silence, she absorbed her words. One leg slid out to rest opposite along Cirucci’s, the other bent enough to break the water. “No. He’s not the same master, is he? I don’t know exactly what to think of him, sometimes… He’s become… weak” The last word was hissed, a soft whisper as if Rori thought she’d be overheard.
Cirucci wordlessly passed the, what was it humans called it… body wash, leaving her chin propped on her knee for now, trailing ripples in the water with her fingers. “Loving.” She finally murmured, letting the hot water lap against the empty space between her breasts. “He loved, and still can love, our fearless leader.” She smiled wanely. “Fearless, when loving cause the greatest fears of all.” The Privaron paused, sighed, and closed her eyes, the warmth lulling her into relaxation. “So I’ve heard.”
Rori took the body wash from Cirucci and poured a good amount into her hand, lathering up her skin absently. “I don’t like it… a god shouldn’t have such weaknesses.” The even expression shifted into a slight smile, a wicked smile that just touched the corners of her mouth. “And you’d know, wouldn’t you? About such… loving?”
Her eyes cracked open again, settling coldly on the other Arrancar. She didn’t say anything for a long pause of a moment, as if torn between laughing it off or hurting her counterpart. Finally she smirked, choosing the former option, and reacher down to splash some of the hot water at Rori’s face. “You shouldn’t joke like that, sister~ Cirucci loves on curse days, but no other days, come now~” Her voice was light, uncaring, though her mind was certainly not. “There’s no one for Cirucci to love anyway.”
Rori sputtered for a moment, blinking the still steaming water from her eyes, before sending some back in retaliation. “You find my words funny? I wasn’t joking. Arrancar love. We’ve seen it happen before.” Hooded eyes watched Cirucci’s face carefully, ready to bolt if the elder came after her for her mouth.
“One cares for family, yes?”
She meant to flick water back, but ended up sinking further, past her nose and leaving only her eyes and the top of her head exposed. It wasn’t a problem, she simply ceased breathing, something she had no problem doing, considering she was dead. She was quiet for a full moment, eyes closing, one hand tracing the scar on her breast.
“More than most.” She finally said. “Sleeping with them gets you a little attached, enough to care about what happens to them a bit.” Her lips twisted into a smirk. “Though I’ve killed my share of lovers, there’s no mistake I’ll always work in my interest before anyone else’s.” Her hand paused, reaching down to touch the rim of the hole in her chest. “We can love. Yes.” She finally admitted, though it pained her. “But we shouldn’t.”
Rori watched her sink almost under the water, but wasn’t alarmed. Far be it from a Numeros to question something a Privaron was doing. “Mmmm… I always cared for Menori. I always will.” She stretched out, laying her head back along the edge of the tub, the rest of her settling in alongside the body of her sister. “… It’s a weakness we have to learn to use.”
“Ah.” Cirucci gave a noncomittal noise, sighing and letting her body relax. Speaking of the males reminded her how long it had been since she’d last lain with one, last known that warmth, the warmth not of a tub of water, but another being. A week? Far too long.
“It’s got only one use.” She commented, crossing her legs and idly reaching for a file, splaying her hand across her knee and examining her nails. “It’s the easiest thing to use to manipulate shinigami and humans.” The Privaron squinted a bit and began filing. “Kill a loved one, incite them to rage, kidnap one and manipulate them, threaten one to get what you want.” She had no compassion for it, no sympathy, for even with the one she had been closest to loving, had he died the only thing she’d felt would have been anger, not sadness for his loss or empathy for his pain.
“They’re all too easy sometimes.” She envied the Privaron all her pretty things, but didn’t make mention of it. Pettiness wasn’t an attractive quality, even in an arrancar. “He should wipe them out. All at once.” Her voice was a little drowsy; relaxation showed in the boneless sprawl. “Irritating insects should be swatted.” For one, she wanted to see the third-seat under her blade again. The thought made a lazy smile cross her lips.
“As long as he continues in this vein, he won’t.” Cirucci frowned, finishing and passing the file in limp fingers. “He speaks of wanting to transition peacefully, of love being such a positive thing…” Her lips twisted into a sneer, but she couldn’t bring herself to hold it long, much more content with letting her head lull back, eyes closing. “He’s changed.”
“He has. Not for the better, either. He was strong back in Hueco Mundo. The whore changed him…” Idly, her hand trailed in the water, back and forth. The sensation was enjoyable to Rori, since it meant nothing more than letting it float along. Until it brushed against Cirucci’s leg. Indolent eyes cracked open to see what she’d made contact with. “It’s a good thing Yammi doesn’t take baths. He wouldn’t fit, now would he?”
The Privaron chuckled dryly, crossing her legs to move them out of Rori’s hand’s path. “Yammi is too big for anything.” She laughed again, making it quite clear how she meant that statement. “Several of the Espada aren’t good for anything.” Cirucci mentioned snidely, still laughing lightly.
Rori laughed a little, privately glad the mentioned arrancar wasn't there. She seen him stare at her and Menori before, but he had that same look for all the female arrancar, barring Halibel. She'd kill him if he looked at her that way. Her eyes slid closed again as she hummed under her breath for a moment. "I need to remember to do this more often. It's so relaxing..."
“One of the few luxuries we’re allowed to indulge in now.” Cirucci nodded, letting her body sink deeper under the water. She supposed she’d get out when the water turned as cold as her dead bones.