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thunderwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2007-05-30 07:10 pm
thunderwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-05-30 07:10 pm
Log; Complete
When; May 29th, evening
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Cirucci {![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thunderwitch} & Alfons {opfern}
Summary; A Privaron with an identity crisis brought on by one too many curse days that induce emotion and a rather rational young man whose logic is only making things worse. Alternatively: 'Alfons goes to Cirucci's with cake, and leaves looking like a mug victim.'
Log;
Cirucci could not identify many things she felt. She recognized very few emotions. Lonliness, she knew that, knew it in her cold bed and wishing for companionship. Anger, she knew that, knew it when she looked on shinigami, when it swelled in her heartless breast. Lust, she knew that, knew it well.
Things like love, sympathy, awkwardness, and shame were emotions she could not comprehend or even begin to understand. Which is why she didn’t know why she was fiddling with odds and ends around her apartment, rearranging the same pile of pillows over and over, and constantly checking the door. Because Alfons was coming and it was the first time he’d come since that curse day and she was… something. Something. Something irritating.
It was hard not to be in a good mood. Even if Edward didn't seem to enjoy being around his father especially, and claimed that woman wasn't his real mother, they had still looked like a real family to him the day before at the picnic. The puppy had only completed the picture, although that jacket she had decided to make her latest toy would be mourned respectfully.
While being around such an amazing family had brought back some of his own painful memories, it gave him a warm feeling, and it looked like Noah had enjoyed herself too. Add to that the possibility that today he was actually doing something useful, as in keeping Cirucci from mutilating some poor helpless victim, and he was all smiles.
He had promised strawberry shortcake, and fortunately those were easy to make. But the box with the treat wasn't the only thing he was carrying. Noah was out, and he didn't want to leave Tony alone with the new kitten just yet. He was far too afraid of the territorial spat that might come of it, so in his other hand he had a large cat carrier with the both of him.
With no hands left, the best he could do was knock the side of his shoe against the door politely.
She jumped.
Cirucci Thunderwitch jumped. She was tempted to stab herself right then and there. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. She’d just been caught off guard that was all, that was all.
The Arrancar stood, brushed her skirt down. It wasn’t her uniform she was wearing, it was something she’d been given by that stupid human girl, Orihime. A present. A simple white dress, small straps against slim shoulders, reaching down to her knees. She’d never worn it before, because honestly, why would she want to wear anything but her uniform? But… she thought perhaps that shouldn’t be what she should be wearing the first time he saw her again without being upset with her.
“Alfons-” Cirucci opened the door and smiled a bit; looking so much smaller without the flamboyant garment she usually wore, without long gloves and stockings covering her limbs, reaching out on instrinct in teasing touch but yanking her fingers back at the last moment. “Come in.”
"Oh--" It was surprising to see her wear something so different. He was so used to the frills and a tiny skirt...but it was so simple. It reminded him more of the types of clothes Noah would wear when she was just sitting around the apartment.
With a smile, he took another glance at her before stepping in and moving over to the side where he could set the cat carrier down. "You look very pretty like that."
Once the box with the dessert inside was set on the coffee table, Alfons crouched down to behin opening it up. "I hope you don't mind that I brought them... Hansel and Gretel got me a new kitten, and he's just so young. I don't want Tony to bully him."
“… Ah.” Cirucci closed the door behind him, flopping down on the sofa in front of the small table, pulling a large purple pillow to her chest and hugging it to her, propping her chin on the top. She didn’t thank him for the compliment. She looked pretty all the time, didn’t she?
Small hands tangled absently in her hair, another thing different, down and loose about her shoulders in thick curls as she watched the kitten. Animals… had always intrigued her in the same manner that some mortal devices had. Fun to poke at. She didn’t think Alfons would appreciate her poking it.
“It’s fine.”
He wanted to ask what the differences were all about... She was dressed so differently. More...human, in his opinion. It actually made him worry and wonder if something had happened to her in the stretch of time that they hadn't seen each other.
"Well, I admit I wasn't really expecting an addition to the family quite so soon... But he's grown on me. Hansel said they got him for his blue eyes." After gently stroking his hand along Tony's back, Alfons picked up the younger kitten to carry it over to the couch, where he set him down next to Cirucci.
"Why don't you try to think of a name while I serve the cake?"
Cirucci blinked.
“Oh.” She poked the kitten, even though she thought Alfons might get mad. It made a noise. She did it again, and it made another.
“… Noisy.” The Arrancar murmured to herself, reaching over with two slim fingers to lift one of the kitten’s back legs. A boy. Was this significant, naming something? Cirucci had never named anything before. Her eyes strayed to her blade, laid neatly on the coffee table near the cake. Golondrina… she’d just always known that name, just as she’d known her own. Just as she knew other words and names that made no sense to her, but sounded like hers and couldn’t be explained because she didn’t know where they’d come from. A pang passed through her and she shivered, remembering that curse day… when she’d- Her life-
“… Ciro.”
He'd just finished opening the box and pulling the cake out when he heard her speak again, and he glanced over his shoulder to her curiously. "Ciro?"
That was a strange name... He'd never heard it before.
Contemplating that, he disappeared into the kitchen to get the plates and silverware. When he walked back out, he only looked even more curious as he set the table and began to cut thin slices. "What does it mean?"
The Arrancar held her hands out, palms up, for a slice, kicking her feet childishly, bare feet swinging.
“Cirucci doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what her name means, or is, or Golondrina’s name, or anything like that.” It had never bothered her before, come to think of it. … So many things had never bothered her before, had always been so much simpler in Hueco Mundo. Fighting, hating, fucking, sleeping, following orders. That had been it. None of this… complicated stuff.
“It’s just… there.” She tapped the side of her head lightly.
Well, he could probably look up the meaning of it somewhere, if there was a meaning. Until then, though, the name itself didn't sound bad at all. "Ciro. I like it."
Eyeing Cirucci almost like a parent might eye a child for a moment, he carefully handed the small plate over. He didn't think she was clumsy or anything...in fact she was normally rather graceful. But the fear of messing up the couch was still present in his mind as he handed her extra napkins and a fork.
Then Alfons leaned over to pick up the newly christened kitten and sat down in it's place, leaning back and holding him up to look at his face. "What do you think, Ciro? Do you like it?"
The tiny kitten's shriek was a good enough response for him, and he chuckled before setting it down in his lap.
“… Good.” Cirucci murmured softly, something twitching in the corner of her mouth, a half-hearted attempt at an expression that wasn’t a smirk, spreading the napkin over her pillow and looking at the dessert. Alfons’ desserts were always so pretty.
“The book on the table is the one Cirucci mentioned earlier.” She finally said, gesturing with her fork before viciously stabbing down onto a strawberry and popping into her mouth, eyes closing a moment. Sweet.
She liked them sweet.
He had spotted it earlier, but he hadn't wanted to presume anything. It did make more sense, though, for that sort of book to be for him. Ciro was carefully set on the ground so that Alfons could stand and move over to the table to get it.
There, he leaned against the table's edge and flipped through it. There were an awful lot of dessert recipes in the cook book. Casting an amused glance to Cirucci, he shook his head a bit with a smile. "Why thank you. I'll treasure it."
Honestly, Alfons was almost surprised she hadn't already marked which pages had the tastiest desserts to make for her.
Cirucci didn’t reply at first. She finished her slice of cake, eating slowly, savoring. It was good. His food was always good. The plate was set aside, daintily, and she reached forward as if to point something out in the book, except her hand instead flashed towards her blade and it was drawn in a mere second, just as a sonido had carried her across the table in less than a second, followed by the tell-tale reverb of the sound waves she’d disturbed, tackling the human to the ground and kneeling over him, sword pressed lightly to his throat, an indescribable emotion on her face.
“… Alfons.”
There wasn't even a chance for him to try to get out of the way or soften his fall. Instead the best he could do was make sure they didn't fall right onto one of the kittens, and once he was down, he was so very relieved to see them across the room, looking very offended at the loud clatter.
The book had slid to the side, and his ears were ringing from the thump. He was positive it was going to turn into an even worse headache later, but considering he had a blade suddenly touching against his neck, that really wasn't his biggest problem at the moment.
A little scared, but mostly confused and worried, he was sure to stay incredibly still as he stared up at her. "Cirucci?"
“…” She was silent, a gamut of emotions running across her face. Anger, that one was easily readable. Confusion, disorientation, among others. But she didn’t move, instead pressed the blade harder, not by much, just enough not to prick against the skin of his throat. Soft skin, vulnerable skin. Cirucci knew from experience how vulnerable the neck was. The jugular, the windpipe, the spine…
“Do you think I’m going to kill you?” She asked suddenly, dropping her third-person manner of speaking, a barely noticeable tremble in her voice.
He blinked a few times, taking a moment to make sure he had heard her right. "Kill me?" Well, he was already dead, but he knew that the dead could die again here. And again.
What were seriously troubling were her expressions. What could possibly be going through her head? "That hadn't...really occured to me." Perhaps it should have, considering all the warnings he got from the other Arrancar, but he had just assumed she was either teasing or acting out for some reason.
More than anything, he was worried about her. He would have been lying to say he was a little afraid, but what about, he wasn't sure. The light cut stung, but he tried not to flinch. Alfons didn't want to make it worse. "What's the matter? Were you ordered to?"
“No.” Cirucci answered softly, one hand still holding her blade in place while the other brushed uneasily against the swell of her breast, the slight discoloration in the shape of the number five peeking out from the white fabric.
She fell silent again, eyes scanning the room nervously, flitting from one object to another, mind awhirl. What was she doing? What was… what was this?
“… Why don’t I want to kill you Alfons?” The Arrancar finally asked brokenly, her eyes dull and deep. Confused. Unsure.
The pressure was starting to get more and more uncomfortable, and he shifted just the slightest bit beneath her. It was certainly a blessing in a way that he wasn't sick anymore. He couldn't have been able to handle this before. But now that his lungs felt clear, his breathing was only slightly erratic due to confusion and concern.
"I don't...know. You like the food I make, don't you? You've said that before. And you have no reason to kill me?" Reaching up, he gently gripped the blade and tried to push it away. The smile he offered was just about as helpless as his position was. "It wouldn't accomplish much."
“No, no-“ Her voice was rushed as she pulled away as if burned, scooting back and almost caressing the blade against her chest, knees pulled up.
“That’s not it, Alfons,” Cirucci murmured quickly, shaking her head enough that her hair was tossed about, catching in the spike of a bone mask across her skull and hanging in her face.
“That’s not it.” She whispered again, grip tightening against her blade, against the sharp edge of metal hard enough to break through her hierro, only an Arrancar blade could break the iron skin so easily, bleeding lightly. Blood… she looked down and smiled softly. Blood.
Once she pulled away, he struggled to sit up and regain his breath, rubbing at his throat a bit. He didn't have much time to recover, though, because the next thing he knew, she was cowering and muttering and...cutting...!
"Cirucci! Stop it!" He nudged Tony away, who had come over to sniff at his knee, before he leaned over and moved to her side as quickly as he could. Really, he was no match for her strength, but he still had to try. She was bleeding, and it was getting all over her white dress...
Almost in a panic now, Alfons tried to pull the weapon away while standing up and yanking on her hand to try to pull her towards the bathroom. "And you said if I came over, you wouldn't do anything that ends in bloodshed!"
She refused to stand, dug her heels in and sat back, though she relinquished the weapon, let the psychotic murmuring and beckonings of the Iron Wheeled Swallow leave her along with the physical contact between the blade and herself. But it only reminded her that those beckonings, those murmurs, were hers. She was her blade, and her blade was her, her form sealed away so she could imitate humanity. Imitate.
“I did.” She smiled a bit. “I’m a liar, Alfons, see?” The Arrancar cradled her hands lightly on her knees. They weren’t deep cuts, didn’t even hardly register as painful to a being like herself. And she liked the blood. She’d always liked blood.
“I’m a liar.” Cirucci repeated again, though it sounded more like she was trying to reassure herself more than anything. “A murderer.” She smiled softly again, almost warmly, but never so. “And a whore.”
Trying to pull an Arrancar anywhere they didn't want to go was pretty much a lost cause, but at least he had managed to pull the blade away. It was quickly set down, and he crouched back down in front of Cirucci, staring at her incredulously.
What was the matter with her?
The bleeding might not have been considered bad to her, but he still didn't want her bleeding all over the place, and he didn't really trust her to be by herself at the moment, so he would have to use what was in their immediate vicinity. His shirt currently seemed to be the best option.
So, shaking his head a bit, he sat back and shrugged off the suspenders before unbuttoning the white shirt and pulling it off so that he could shred a few thin strips. Then, he took her hand again and tugged it closer, allowing him to bind the cut.
"You're Cirucci. That's who you are. What you are is an Arrancar...but that's just a title. Those other things... I've never thought of you that way. When I saw you as a human, it was strange really... You aren't very different from then, at least from what I can see. Who you are inside... I think it's still there."
Cirucci allowed him her hands, but flinched visibly at the mention of that curse day, the curse day…
There had been so many that had tormented her, made her question everything about herself, made her want and need and miss and realize everything she’d lacked and never wanted before she came to know she didn’t have it.
She could still remember them all. She could remember the love that had filled the hole in her chest, her heart, on the curse day when she’d loved Il Forte, loved him like humans loved, with that passion and that selfless affection. She could remember fretting after Wonderwyce truly, not her acting and sham of guardianship but true maternal warmth. She could remember crying, could remember someone whispering love in her ear until she cried for them to stop, to stop punishing her and saying such things. And she could remember what it felt like to be human.
“… I loved him.” Cirucci finally spoke, eyes downcast and something quivering at the corner of her lips, not clarifying what she spoke about.
Glancing back up to her face, he wondered who she was talking about. Her husband? Il Forte? Did it really matter? She had loved someone, and it hadn't worked out at all.
And most important then, was that she was in pain, whether she would admit it or not.
At a loss for words, Alfons finished the light bandaging and reached out to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. His own heart hurt for her sake, and he wished he could just help her. Why did everything have to be so complicated?
She stiffened further, couldn’t even think of how to respond, frozen for a moment before she struggled free, turning her back and covering her face in her bloodstained hands. Contact, sweet, warm, affectionate contact that wasn’t because someone wanted her, wanted to revel in the carnal passions Arrancar loved, scared her. Scared her more than most things, scared her almost as much as the idea that she could be loved scared her.
“I did.” Cirucci whispered again. This had been catching up with her for a long time now. The curse days, the frustration, unable to vent as much in her usual manner, the lack of Arrancar beneath her in rank to belittle to off set the abuse from Espada, and the remnants of feelings she hadn’t been created to be able to handle. She’d known it would come, it would catch up to her. And perhaps that was why she’d wanted Alfons around. Because… Alfons wouldn’t tell. Alfons wouldn’t do that to her.
Alfons held his hands back when she pulled away. He wasn't going to force a hug on anyone, let alone a vulnerable woman. It was strange to think of Cirucci in that way, but he knew that everyone, no matter how strong, had their moments. And he had seen plenty of times that Cirucci had appeared vulnerable...
He wished she didn't try to ignore that so much.
"Cirucci..." Carefully, he leaned around to try to peer at her face, resting a hand on her shoulder. "What you felt then and what you feel now... That's all part of who you are. You need to learn to embrace it, not run from it."
“It’s not!” She protested, nails clutching at her hairline to hide her face further, hide the anguished look on her face, the confusion, denial, sorrow.
“I’m the 105th Privaron Espada,” She spat, voice turning cold and violent, moods changing quicker than she could adjust to them. “I was the 5th Espada.” One hand left her face to spasm at the scar on her breast, the hole in her torso.
“I’ve killed shinigami, and humans, and other Hollows, other Arrancar, lovers, enemies,” Her voice now affected a desperate quality, proving, needing to prove something, anything, to hold on to what she’d always known herself to be… only it wasn’t. It wasn’t.
“It… I’m…” Cirucci trailed off, the hand at the hole between her breasts clenching against the empty space. “… I’m missing something.”
Biting his lip, Alfons just didn't know what to say. He couldn't really empathize with her. After all, he had only everbeen a human. The pressures of his school and then work were far different from the pressures of her status as an Arrancar, obviously, and she... she was missing a heart. And yet she was feeling.
Scientifically, he could have been able to explain that, but it was obvious that things worked differently in her world.
Leaning into his hand a bit more, he moved his other hand to try and pull her hair away from his face. "Cirucci, don't hide from me. You never have to do that."
“… It hurts, Alfons.” She whispered, letting him brush dark curls from her pale face, fingers digging harshly into the hole in her chest, probing, as if should she look hard enough, there might be something there.
“Grimmjow, he, he loved.” The Arrancar didn’t know if she was trying to justify her own confusion, or not. “And, and, Ulquiorra is fucking that shinigami.” Her gaze shifted, unable to rest on anything long. “Szayel-Aporro has that damned pet of his.” She laughed, bitterly, stood abruptly and began pacing about the room, always treading around the felines.
“And… And Aizen-sama, he, he loved, and he’s our leader! Our fearless, cold-hearted, vicious, ambitious…” She trailed off, and just as abruptly as she’d stood she flopped down onto the sofa and clutched another pillow to her.
“… My bed is cold.”
Alfons sighed and watched her as she stood and paced, and then fell to the couch. Was that what this was all about? Because her bed was cold? And it was wrong to love, when it really wasn't? If her 'family' could break the rules, then why couldn't she?
Pushing against his knee, he stood and looked down at the mess. The blood had smeared on him, and his neck still stung a bit, but his urge to clean was certainly secondary. Now he just wanted to help, but he wasn't sure how. What would Edward do? Well, maybe he wasn't the best example. He hated Cirucci. What would Noah do?
"Um..." Rubbing at the back of his neck, he picked up his shredded shirt and eyed it a bit before shrugging it back on to hang loosely. It was a lost cause, but it was better than being totally shirtless. "It sounds like this place is changing you, Cirucci. Maybe back to what you once were... I don't think that's a bad thing. You just need to be whole again."
Her grip on the pillow tightened and she shook her head emphatically.
“No. I can’t.” She protested again. “If… If I had a heart, I’d be powerless.” And that scared her, too, just like being worthless. Privaron.
“Worthless, Alfons.” Her hands clenched and unclenched against the pillow, and she wondered if she would cry. The Octava had mocked her only recently, she knew all about crying, he’d said. Pathetic. His poor, poor, Privaron. Cried during curse days that made her feel, cried when the Corinthian had made her dream, dream of being loved, woken to crying in Grimmjow’s bed and earn her a quick toss out of his sight, cried when Il Forte had said he loved her.
No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
“I want the shinigami dead.” She hissed into the soft decoration in her hands, eyes narrowed. “I want my rank back. I want him back.”
Well, he certainly couldn't condone killing all the shinigami. He didn't really seem to get along with some of them, but that didn't matter. Looking again to the kittens to make sure they were doing all right and not getting into trouble, he moved over to the couch to kneel down beside it.
He had never approved of Cirucci's way of life, but he had done his best not to pass judgment...even when she hurt others. The most he had ever really been able to do was try to distract her and keep her from doing that, but in the end, he supposed that wasn't enough. Now all that was happening was that she was feeling divided.
"I have a heart. Am I worthless?"
“… Alfons doesn’t have reiatsu like I do.” She shook her head. “Alfons doesn’t lose anything because he has a heart. … With a heart, I’m nothing.”
And she was already almost nothing. Privaron Espada, disgraced Espada, natural Espada, fallen Espada. She knew the whispers, the snickers, even from Numeros she put back in their place. Those that had once been hightest, thrown to Tres Cifras.
“… Alfons is valuable to Cirucci.”
"No, I don't have that... I admit I can't really understand...but I'm trying to." Draping his arms across his knees, he looked over to her, then back at the kittens.
"In the end, it's about what you think of yourself. You're important to me, and I know Noah seems to like you just fine. Even Tony likes you." Alfons smiled a bit, reaching out to tug at the pillow.
"You're not happy like this. Is it worth it to you? Your rank, and all that? Is it worth this anguish?"
“…” She pulled back at the pillow, reaching over to snag a smaller one and stuff it in his hands, since it appeared he wanted one.
“Cirucci will never be happy.” She stated severely, frowning, as if repeating something she’d been told.
“Cirucci is Arrancar, and Arrancar are not to be happy. We serve Aizen-sama, and we follow orders. I follow the Espada’s orders, they do with me as they like, as I do with the Numeros as I like. Rank is the most important thing.” The Privaron laughed again, her eyes no longer dull, but that look may have been preferable to the half-crazed one she’d been developing.
“Cirucci will never rise in rank again. The 105th Privaron Espada.” She spat out her rank, once something she’d been able to say with pride, now only a sense of shame.
“… I don’t even know what I want anymore, Alfons.” Cirucci tried to laugh again but it died in her throat, leaving her lips to mouth wordlessly and fall silent.
The small pillow was quickly discarded, and he stood up with a frown. Reaching over, he took hold of the pillow she was clutching and gave a good yank. Even if she wouldn't let go, fabric tore. Once he had hold of it, he was sure to give her a good bop in the face with it.
"And so?!" He had lost his patience, but he looked far from angry. More like slightly disappointed...and even that was overshadowed by his concern. "You're at a stage in life where you're feeling conflicted, and you don't know what you want? Everyone goes through that! It isn't the end of the world!"
The pillow was dropped on the floor, and he reached out to push her hair from her face. "Look at me. Cirucci, what you're going through might be new to you...but it's something humans feel all the time. That's just something you're going to have to deal with. Where you're standing now, it means something obviously needs to change. You can't live like this. You can't go back to how you once were...as a human or an Arrancar. But you can step forward, and that step's going to take some time, and some support. And I'm here to support you."
Her eyes widened and she released the pillow limply, unable to even blink as she pressed her back into the couch, scrambling backwards as if she could get away from him, as if he intimidated her, scared her. His words did. If she wasn’t Arrancar… what was she?
She struggled for words, turned her head, and fell silent again until her shoulders began to shake weakly, body trembling. If he hadn’t been able to see her face, it could have been mistaken for sobs. But she was laughing.
“Support?” Cirucci smiled vacantly. “They’ll kill me.” She had no doubt several of the Espada would like nothing more than to shove their blades through the spot her heart should be. Knew one in particular that had to want it, considering hours she’d spent pinned to his wall by his blade, been forced to beg and plead while he watched with a smile.
“Cirucci can’t change.” She clutched Alfons shoulders, hard, a desperation and plea hidden beneath her maniacal gaze. “Alfons is the only one Cirucci can tell these things to, anyone else, one hint of weakness is all it takes…”
She released him as quickly as she’d snatched at him, stood and brushed past him, grabbed her discarded blade and caressed it gently.
“Cirucci’s a monster, Alfons.”
What was he supposed to do now? Trying to comfort Edward about certain things was one thing... Sure they were from different worlds, but they were both still human. And Cirucci might not have been a human anymore, but...
"You're not a monster." He watched her, not wanting to get close this time. Hopefully she had enough sense to not start cutting into herself again, but considering her unstable mindset, he wasn't so sure...
"I understand... I understand not wanting to die." Was there anybody who could protect her? Granted, the only person he knew personally with strong powers, aside from Cirucci, was...Alphonse and his alchemy, and he didn't want to put Alphonse in danger. "But I think...if...if the only thing keeping you from abandoning that way of life is because you're afraid that they'll kill you, then they aren't worth it. I suppose it's an evaluation of what's...worth dying for."
He really couldn't tell her what he had sacrificed, and why...twice. She already knew, and the two of them were just far too different in that way.
“I am!” She insisted, murmuring to her blade the trip-phrase that released her true form, not caring she was indoors. Her wings, bright and shining metal and ivory curled and bent backwards at the joint, awkward against the ceiling, tail curved tight against her body and the mouth on its end snapping at Alfons irritably, feathers that cascaded from her beaked headdress, taloned and elongated arms, one reaching forward to brush gently across the humans cheek.
“See?” Cirucci smiled again. “Arrancar.”
Her gaze traveled upwards and she soothingly arranged her feathers with the boned hands, the maw of her tail still emitting snaps of irritation.
“If I abandon this…” She flopped down on the floor as if the weight was too much for her, the feathers rustling again as they arranged, wings splayed across the floor with the grating of metal on bone, hanging heavy and limp from her shoulders, eyes downcast. “I abandon everything. And even if they killed me, I’d go back to them. Still go back. Because I want it.”
The transformation was truly awe-inspiring, and he was left speechless to watch, only moving to flinch away from the snapping. There was nowhere to go but back, and that just forced him to abruptly sit on the couch behind him.
Tony had gone into hiding, but he watched as Ciro bravely went up to poke it's nose at Cirucci's knee.
"Cirucci... You would have to abandon everything you know, it's true. But you wouldn't abandon everything. There's a lot more to live for...to even die for. You're obviously going through changes...emotionally. You can't just stop that. You can't keep working for them if you're this conflicted. I would...very much like to help you with this, but I'm not quite sure how. The only thing I can think of is having you stay with me and Noah, but with that would be a lot more change. But change isn't always bad. I think you only want it because it's what you know."
Cirucci didn’t answer at first, awkwardly bent her spindly bone arms to pluck the kitten into the three fingered hand, and for a moment, her face contorted in something like disgust, or rage, and it appeared she might harm the animal, but she finally let out a breath and set it down as far as she could reach.
“I can’t, Alfons.” She finally murmured, voice hitching lightly, just once. “I love it.” She closed her eyes, head tilted up, white bone mask contrasting starkly in her dark hair.
“I love killing.” One hand, bloodied shirt bandaged, clutched again at the hole in her chest. “I love letting them hurt me, break me…” Her other hand covered them upper part of her face, painted lips moving slowly, speaking deliberately. “I loved him. And I love all of them. I hate all of them. And I hate loving them, love hating them…” She laughed bitterly, tripping on her own words.
“… I can’t give up hurting.”
He knew not to blindly trust Cirucci with certain things, so for just a moment he was terrified that Ciro's life was quite possibly going to end right there. When she set him down, Alfons let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding in, and quickly stood to go retrieve the kitten. Along the way, he spotted Tony crouching under the table and hissing in Cirucci's direction.
"Well, then..." He swallowed, but it was dry. Maybe it was too much to hope for a better future for Cirucci...but he certainly had tried. "If this is the life you want, then there's no problem, is there?"
“… No.” Cirucci did not remove her hand from her eyes, her lips curling into a trembling smile. “There’s no problem, you’re right, Alfons.”
Her voice dropped to barely audible, her mind clouded. Human, she’d been human, and had loved, and hurt, and she’d cried, and someone had said they loved her, touched her gently, and she’d smiled and been happy and truly, truly, happy, but it wasn’t real, none of it was, and she was worthless, poor, poor Privaron. His… poor, poor, Privaron.
“… No problem.” She murmured again.
Alfons' instincts told him to run, really. To go and grab Tony by the collar and just ditch Cirucci as quickly as possible...but he wouldn't. The only thing he maybe regretted was bringing the kittens when she was obviously this unstable.
Carefully, he leaned over to set Ciro down, nudging him away before straightening back up and glancing to the Arrancar. He rubbed at his arm, looking incredibly uncomfortable, but not many could blame him given the way Cirucci looked right then.
Really, he thought there were plenty of problems, but he wasn't sure now was the right time to push that subject. "...So, then...if there's no problem...maybe we should get you cleaned up and change, and we can...have some more cake?"
“I’m… I’m not hungry anymore, Alfons. Not for human food.” Cirucci tried to laugh again but her lip quivered. She wasn’t really listening to him anymore, she was remembering.
Remembering memories she shouldn’t have and reasons and motivations. Voices and people and lovers and losses. They always left her, didn’t they? They’d all leave her, Il Forte, Grimmjow, soon the others would leave too, and she’d be the only one stuck here, the only one… who understood, understood that rush of releasing the blade and reverting to her true form, the rush of happiness when she watched shinigami die, the rush of bodies and the holes in their torsos and the masks on their faces.
“… I can’t eat like I want to. But it’s no problem.” She clawed at the hole in her chest, as if she could rip something out of it, eyes still hidden and head tipped back, tipped back like it had been when Il Forte had wrapped his hands around her throat and snapped it.
He watched her, troubled, as she clawed at her lack of a heart, and carefully stepped a little closer. "That's fine. But..." Slowly, Alfons reached out to touch her shoulder. She was rather intimidating in this form, but he just had to remember that Grimmjow had been far more intimidating at times, and Alfons had still squirted him right in the face with water.
"We should still clean you up, and put some proper bandaged on your hands."
“Don’t touch me.” She muttered hoarsely, able to feel his hand even through the cold bones on her shoulders. Cold, like her dead body, like the sullen sluggishness in her blood, only alleviated for moments at a time in the beds of others.
Her hands still didn’t move, her grip on her face, over her eyes, even tightened, spasmed. She smiled. A favourite you might have, Privaron. Lovers, too. But you will only ever be company for the night, regardless of who you bed.". Who’d said that-Oh… yes. He had. And he was right. But she couldn’t stop that anymore than she could suddenly gain, though the ticking of the clock, absent now, had begun more and more to remind her of the beating of a heart.
“… Am I insane?” She suddenly asked, still not removing her hand from her eyes.
The question itself was loaded, but Alfons didn't have to think very long to answer. He did try to word things carefully, though. Insane or not, at the very least she was unstable. "I think you're just as insane as the rest of us here. That's what this place likes to do, after all... To drive us out of our minds by throwing us in situations we're uncomfortable with."
Like she had requested, he now kept his hands at his sides, standing still. It felt like he might as well have been tight-rope walking, though. "If you want to retain your old life, I guess you'll...have to fight it. Things that make it hard, and things that change it...just try to fight them."
"That's a yes?" Her clawed hand twitched against her face, almost drawing blood, but not quite.
"Good..." Cirucci crooned, voice warbling between cold and warm, between low and loud. Unstable was one word for it. Even back in Hueco Mundo she had been known as wildly unpredictable, hard to control, harder to understand than most. Her motives and her thoughts were never anything that could be considered logical, and added in combination with the City curses? The Privaron hadn't been anything resembling sane in a long, long, while. The clicking of metal against bone as her wings moved, slinking closer to her body, a few drops of sweat visible against her brow.
"... Why are you here?"
Maybe he had given the wrong answer, but what would have been right? He wasn't a doctor... He couldn't tell someone if they were sane or not, but he was pretty sure that completely insane people didn't wonder about their own sanity.
"Huh? Why am I... Because you asked me to come over. Did you want me to leave?" He doubted leaving her alone right then was very smart, but was staying any smarter?
"... I think you'd better go." The Arrancar's voice dipped dangerously and her talons shifted against her face again, as if trying to hide something, strain evident. Her release took much more reiatsu than some others, the price she paid for ripping off her own mask and not having help, but it was usually fine for a while as long as she was stable, as long as she focused, concentrated. But she couldn't settle on any one thing, whirling from one bad thought to another, from abandonment, worthlessness, being powerless, being hurt, left, feeling...
Alfons rubbed at his arm nervously, pausing to dig his fingers into the sleeve. It was hard to look like he had much composure right then... There was blood smeared here and there, his shirt was torn, and being thrown to the ground often left people looking disheveled. But really, the last thing he wanted to do then was to go home and change...
"Cirucci..." He watched her carefully, gaze trailing on the living weapon that was her body right then. "I'd like to stay... You're obviously upset. Can't I help?"
Her bones snapped together audibly and the hand at her chest clenched hard, blood rising beneath the talons as she dug them into the hole between her breasts, the hole that made her what she was, heartless, heartless, heartless. Arrancar. Privaron. ... A worthless, worthless, soul that couldn't even-
"Go-" She hissed, grounding her mind in the pain, the sensitive inner skin tearing easily beneath her sword made ivory flesh. "You can't help me, you can't, I don't want you to-"
This wasn't fair. She was probably right, and he couldn't help her. But he was standing there and looking at her, and she just expected him to leave her like that?
She expected him to leave her. Everyone left her... Wasn't that what she believed?
It clicked, then, and though it couldn't beat any longer, Alfons felt his heart clench. His breath was shaky, and it was nearly impossible to hold back the tears right then. Lifting his hand, he started to reach towards her, but then pulled back at the last second to rub at his eyes.
"I'm not leaving you, Cirucci. I'm not going anywhere. I don't care what you do or how you look."
"Stop it-" She snarled, wanting to reach out, grab him, squeeze until she heard something break, snap, scream, but unwilling to uncover her face and unwilling to unhook sharp talons from her own skin.
“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” The tail whipped and cracked sharply, the maw screeching and a glow beginning to gather, lashing out with anger the only thing she could comprehend would help anything, violence… it always solved things, didn’t it? It always-
Cirucci felt the sweat on her brow and let out a shaky breath that she didn’t have to take, talons spasming and trying to focus. What was she doing. Hurting. That was right, that was familiar.
"I--I can't!" He took a step back, furiously rubbing at his eyes. It wasn't like he normally cried over things. The last time he could remember, he was delirious and bleeding to death in Nill's lap. But to him, it was like he was staring at a tragedy now.
If Cirucci wouldn’t cry for herself, then someone had to. “Just… Whatever it is you’re doing, just calm down! We don’t have to…talk if you don’t want to, but I’m not going anywhere!”
She wouldn’t show it, but she would, for herself. There was a reason she wouldn’t uncover her face. No one… only two had seen her cry, and it wouldn’t happen again. It wouldn’t.
“You don’t get it!” Cirucci snarled, the tail’s maw snapping closer and closer to the human, the glow growing.
“You have to go, or I’ll kill you.”
At that, Alfons did take another few steps back, and he used his sleeve to wipe at his eyes. The shock of that idea was enough to stop the tears, but his voice still trembled.
"If I go..." He looked to the kittens. They were both under the table, now. At least they were...getting along?
"If I go, are you going to kill someone else?"
"I want to be alone." The tail lay limp now, the the glow still pulsed erratically in between the beaked mouth, something like steam coming off of it, burning, caustic, reiatsu, the heat evident even at a distance. The Arrancar wouldn't answer whether she would or not, because she didn't even know what she was going to the next moment, let alone two moments, three moments in the future.
It was obvious that he wasn't doing any good by staying. If anything, he seemed to just be making it worse. So, it was very tentatively that he stepped back again and turned to grab the cat carrier. Quietly, he moved over to the table and crouched down, tapping the floor to get Tony to come to him, and Ciro seemed to follow...at least just enough for him to grab them and put them inside.
With the small door locked, he glanced over and spotted the book she had got him lying nearby. Straining to reach under the table, he snatched it up and stood back up.
"Just...let me know if you...need anything. You know where I live. And I'm only...leaving because you want me to. Not because I want to."
“Bye~bye~” Her voice switched sing-song, waiting until he’d fully left to remove her hand from her face. She stared at the pure white bones, stared at the faint shimmer of liquid on it, still on her eyes.
“… Ah.” She smiled, touched her tongue to it tentatively. Salty.
Her other hand removed itself from the hole in her chest and she leisurely licked one talon clean. Copper.
Then her eyes fell on the cake still on the table.
… At least he’d left the cake.
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Cirucci {
thunderwitch} & Alfons {opfern}Summary; A Privaron with an identity crisis brought on by one too many curse days that induce emotion and a rather rational young man whose logic is only making things worse. Alternatively: 'Alfons goes to Cirucci's with cake, and leaves looking like a mug victim.'
Log;
Cirucci could not identify many things she felt. She recognized very few emotions. Lonliness, she knew that, knew it in her cold bed and wishing for companionship. Anger, she knew that, knew it when she looked on shinigami, when it swelled in her heartless breast. Lust, she knew that, knew it well.
Things like love, sympathy, awkwardness, and shame were emotions she could not comprehend or even begin to understand. Which is why she didn’t know why she was fiddling with odds and ends around her apartment, rearranging the same pile of pillows over and over, and constantly checking the door. Because Alfons was coming and it was the first time he’d come since that curse day and she was… something. Something. Something irritating.
It was hard not to be in a good mood. Even if Edward didn't seem to enjoy being around his father especially, and claimed that woman wasn't his real mother, they had still looked like a real family to him the day before at the picnic. The puppy had only completed the picture, although that jacket she had decided to make her latest toy would be mourned respectfully.
While being around such an amazing family had brought back some of his own painful memories, it gave him a warm feeling, and it looked like Noah had enjoyed herself too. Add to that the possibility that today he was actually doing something useful, as in keeping Cirucci from mutilating some poor helpless victim, and he was all smiles.
He had promised strawberry shortcake, and fortunately those were easy to make. But the box with the treat wasn't the only thing he was carrying. Noah was out, and he didn't want to leave Tony alone with the new kitten just yet. He was far too afraid of the territorial spat that might come of it, so in his other hand he had a large cat carrier with the both of him.
With no hands left, the best he could do was knock the side of his shoe against the door politely.
She jumped.
Cirucci Thunderwitch jumped. She was tempted to stab herself right then and there. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. She’d just been caught off guard that was all, that was all.
The Arrancar stood, brushed her skirt down. It wasn’t her uniform she was wearing, it was something she’d been given by that stupid human girl, Orihime. A present. A simple white dress, small straps against slim shoulders, reaching down to her knees. She’d never worn it before, because honestly, why would she want to wear anything but her uniform? But… she thought perhaps that shouldn’t be what she should be wearing the first time he saw her again without being upset with her.
“Alfons-” Cirucci opened the door and smiled a bit; looking so much smaller without the flamboyant garment she usually wore, without long gloves and stockings covering her limbs, reaching out on instrinct in teasing touch but yanking her fingers back at the last moment. “Come in.”
"Oh--" It was surprising to see her wear something so different. He was so used to the frills and a tiny skirt...but it was so simple. It reminded him more of the types of clothes Noah would wear when she was just sitting around the apartment.
With a smile, he took another glance at her before stepping in and moving over to the side where he could set the cat carrier down. "You look very pretty like that."
Once the box with the dessert inside was set on the coffee table, Alfons crouched down to behin opening it up. "I hope you don't mind that I brought them... Hansel and Gretel got me a new kitten, and he's just so young. I don't want Tony to bully him."
“… Ah.” Cirucci closed the door behind him, flopping down on the sofa in front of the small table, pulling a large purple pillow to her chest and hugging it to her, propping her chin on the top. She didn’t thank him for the compliment. She looked pretty all the time, didn’t she?
Small hands tangled absently in her hair, another thing different, down and loose about her shoulders in thick curls as she watched the kitten. Animals… had always intrigued her in the same manner that some mortal devices had. Fun to poke at. She didn’t think Alfons would appreciate her poking it.
“It’s fine.”
He wanted to ask what the differences were all about... She was dressed so differently. More...human, in his opinion. It actually made him worry and wonder if something had happened to her in the stretch of time that they hadn't seen each other.
"Well, I admit I wasn't really expecting an addition to the family quite so soon... But he's grown on me. Hansel said they got him for his blue eyes." After gently stroking his hand along Tony's back, Alfons picked up the younger kitten to carry it over to the couch, where he set him down next to Cirucci.
"Why don't you try to think of a name while I serve the cake?"
Cirucci blinked.
“Oh.” She poked the kitten, even though she thought Alfons might get mad. It made a noise. She did it again, and it made another.
“… Noisy.” The Arrancar murmured to herself, reaching over with two slim fingers to lift one of the kitten’s back legs. A boy. Was this significant, naming something? Cirucci had never named anything before. Her eyes strayed to her blade, laid neatly on the coffee table near the cake. Golondrina… she’d just always known that name, just as she’d known her own. Just as she knew other words and names that made no sense to her, but sounded like hers and couldn’t be explained because she didn’t know where they’d come from. A pang passed through her and she shivered, remembering that curse day… when she’d- Her life-
“… Ciro.”
He'd just finished opening the box and pulling the cake out when he heard her speak again, and he glanced over his shoulder to her curiously. "Ciro?"
That was a strange name... He'd never heard it before.
Contemplating that, he disappeared into the kitchen to get the plates and silverware. When he walked back out, he only looked even more curious as he set the table and began to cut thin slices. "What does it mean?"
The Arrancar held her hands out, palms up, for a slice, kicking her feet childishly, bare feet swinging.
“Cirucci doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what her name means, or is, or Golondrina’s name, or anything like that.” It had never bothered her before, come to think of it. … So many things had never bothered her before, had always been so much simpler in Hueco Mundo. Fighting, hating, fucking, sleeping, following orders. That had been it. None of this… complicated stuff.
“It’s just… there.” She tapped the side of her head lightly.
Well, he could probably look up the meaning of it somewhere, if there was a meaning. Until then, though, the name itself didn't sound bad at all. "Ciro. I like it."
Eyeing Cirucci almost like a parent might eye a child for a moment, he carefully handed the small plate over. He didn't think she was clumsy or anything...in fact she was normally rather graceful. But the fear of messing up the couch was still present in his mind as he handed her extra napkins and a fork.
Then Alfons leaned over to pick up the newly christened kitten and sat down in it's place, leaning back and holding him up to look at his face. "What do you think, Ciro? Do you like it?"
The tiny kitten's shriek was a good enough response for him, and he chuckled before setting it down in his lap.
“… Good.” Cirucci murmured softly, something twitching in the corner of her mouth, a half-hearted attempt at an expression that wasn’t a smirk, spreading the napkin over her pillow and looking at the dessert. Alfons’ desserts were always so pretty.
“The book on the table is the one Cirucci mentioned earlier.” She finally said, gesturing with her fork before viciously stabbing down onto a strawberry and popping into her mouth, eyes closing a moment. Sweet.
She liked them sweet.
He had spotted it earlier, but he hadn't wanted to presume anything. It did make more sense, though, for that sort of book to be for him. Ciro was carefully set on the ground so that Alfons could stand and move over to the table to get it.
There, he leaned against the table's edge and flipped through it. There were an awful lot of dessert recipes in the cook book. Casting an amused glance to Cirucci, he shook his head a bit with a smile. "Why thank you. I'll treasure it."
Honestly, Alfons was almost surprised she hadn't already marked which pages had the tastiest desserts to make for her.
Cirucci didn’t reply at first. She finished her slice of cake, eating slowly, savoring. It was good. His food was always good. The plate was set aside, daintily, and she reached forward as if to point something out in the book, except her hand instead flashed towards her blade and it was drawn in a mere second, just as a sonido had carried her across the table in less than a second, followed by the tell-tale reverb of the sound waves she’d disturbed, tackling the human to the ground and kneeling over him, sword pressed lightly to his throat, an indescribable emotion on her face.
“… Alfons.”
There wasn't even a chance for him to try to get out of the way or soften his fall. Instead the best he could do was make sure they didn't fall right onto one of the kittens, and once he was down, he was so very relieved to see them across the room, looking very offended at the loud clatter.
The book had slid to the side, and his ears were ringing from the thump. He was positive it was going to turn into an even worse headache later, but considering he had a blade suddenly touching against his neck, that really wasn't his biggest problem at the moment.
A little scared, but mostly confused and worried, he was sure to stay incredibly still as he stared up at her. "Cirucci?"
“…” She was silent, a gamut of emotions running across her face. Anger, that one was easily readable. Confusion, disorientation, among others. But she didn’t move, instead pressed the blade harder, not by much, just enough not to prick against the skin of his throat. Soft skin, vulnerable skin. Cirucci knew from experience how vulnerable the neck was. The jugular, the windpipe, the spine…
“Do you think I’m going to kill you?” She asked suddenly, dropping her third-person manner of speaking, a barely noticeable tremble in her voice.
He blinked a few times, taking a moment to make sure he had heard her right. "Kill me?" Well, he was already dead, but he knew that the dead could die again here. And again.
What were seriously troubling were her expressions. What could possibly be going through her head? "That hadn't...really occured to me." Perhaps it should have, considering all the warnings he got from the other Arrancar, but he had just assumed she was either teasing or acting out for some reason.
More than anything, he was worried about her. He would have been lying to say he was a little afraid, but what about, he wasn't sure. The light cut stung, but he tried not to flinch. Alfons didn't want to make it worse. "What's the matter? Were you ordered to?"
“No.” Cirucci answered softly, one hand still holding her blade in place while the other brushed uneasily against the swell of her breast, the slight discoloration in the shape of the number five peeking out from the white fabric.
She fell silent again, eyes scanning the room nervously, flitting from one object to another, mind awhirl. What was she doing? What was… what was this?
“… Why don’t I want to kill you Alfons?” The Arrancar finally asked brokenly, her eyes dull and deep. Confused. Unsure.
The pressure was starting to get more and more uncomfortable, and he shifted just the slightest bit beneath her. It was certainly a blessing in a way that he wasn't sick anymore. He couldn't have been able to handle this before. But now that his lungs felt clear, his breathing was only slightly erratic due to confusion and concern.
"I don't...know. You like the food I make, don't you? You've said that before. And you have no reason to kill me?" Reaching up, he gently gripped the blade and tried to push it away. The smile he offered was just about as helpless as his position was. "It wouldn't accomplish much."
“No, no-“ Her voice was rushed as she pulled away as if burned, scooting back and almost caressing the blade against her chest, knees pulled up.
“That’s not it, Alfons,” Cirucci murmured quickly, shaking her head enough that her hair was tossed about, catching in the spike of a bone mask across her skull and hanging in her face.
“That’s not it.” She whispered again, grip tightening against her blade, against the sharp edge of metal hard enough to break through her hierro, only an Arrancar blade could break the iron skin so easily, bleeding lightly. Blood… she looked down and smiled softly. Blood.
Once she pulled away, he struggled to sit up and regain his breath, rubbing at his throat a bit. He didn't have much time to recover, though, because the next thing he knew, she was cowering and muttering and...cutting...!
"Cirucci! Stop it!" He nudged Tony away, who had come over to sniff at his knee, before he leaned over and moved to her side as quickly as he could. Really, he was no match for her strength, but he still had to try. She was bleeding, and it was getting all over her white dress...
Almost in a panic now, Alfons tried to pull the weapon away while standing up and yanking on her hand to try to pull her towards the bathroom. "And you said if I came over, you wouldn't do anything that ends in bloodshed!"
She refused to stand, dug her heels in and sat back, though she relinquished the weapon, let the psychotic murmuring and beckonings of the Iron Wheeled Swallow leave her along with the physical contact between the blade and herself. But it only reminded her that those beckonings, those murmurs, were hers. She was her blade, and her blade was her, her form sealed away so she could imitate humanity. Imitate.
“I did.” She smiled a bit. “I’m a liar, Alfons, see?” The Arrancar cradled her hands lightly on her knees. They weren’t deep cuts, didn’t even hardly register as painful to a being like herself. And she liked the blood. She’d always liked blood.
“I’m a liar.” Cirucci repeated again, though it sounded more like she was trying to reassure herself more than anything. “A murderer.” She smiled softly again, almost warmly, but never so. “And a whore.”
Trying to pull an Arrancar anywhere they didn't want to go was pretty much a lost cause, but at least he had managed to pull the blade away. It was quickly set down, and he crouched back down in front of Cirucci, staring at her incredulously.
What was the matter with her?
The bleeding might not have been considered bad to her, but he still didn't want her bleeding all over the place, and he didn't really trust her to be by herself at the moment, so he would have to use what was in their immediate vicinity. His shirt currently seemed to be the best option.
So, shaking his head a bit, he sat back and shrugged off the suspenders before unbuttoning the white shirt and pulling it off so that he could shred a few thin strips. Then, he took her hand again and tugged it closer, allowing him to bind the cut.
"You're Cirucci. That's who you are. What you are is an Arrancar...but that's just a title. Those other things... I've never thought of you that way. When I saw you as a human, it was strange really... You aren't very different from then, at least from what I can see. Who you are inside... I think it's still there."
Cirucci allowed him her hands, but flinched visibly at the mention of that curse day, the curse day…
There had been so many that had tormented her, made her question everything about herself, made her want and need and miss and realize everything she’d lacked and never wanted before she came to know she didn’t have it.
She could still remember them all. She could remember the love that had filled the hole in her chest, her heart, on the curse day when she’d loved Il Forte, loved him like humans loved, with that passion and that selfless affection. She could remember fretting after Wonderwyce truly, not her acting and sham of guardianship but true maternal warmth. She could remember crying, could remember someone whispering love in her ear until she cried for them to stop, to stop punishing her and saying such things. And she could remember what it felt like to be human.
“… I loved him.” Cirucci finally spoke, eyes downcast and something quivering at the corner of her lips, not clarifying what she spoke about.
Glancing back up to her face, he wondered who she was talking about. Her husband? Il Forte? Did it really matter? She had loved someone, and it hadn't worked out at all.
And most important then, was that she was in pain, whether she would admit it or not.
At a loss for words, Alfons finished the light bandaging and reached out to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. His own heart hurt for her sake, and he wished he could just help her. Why did everything have to be so complicated?
She stiffened further, couldn’t even think of how to respond, frozen for a moment before she struggled free, turning her back and covering her face in her bloodstained hands. Contact, sweet, warm, affectionate contact that wasn’t because someone wanted her, wanted to revel in the carnal passions Arrancar loved, scared her. Scared her more than most things, scared her almost as much as the idea that she could be loved scared her.
“I did.” Cirucci whispered again. This had been catching up with her for a long time now. The curse days, the frustration, unable to vent as much in her usual manner, the lack of Arrancar beneath her in rank to belittle to off set the abuse from Espada, and the remnants of feelings she hadn’t been created to be able to handle. She’d known it would come, it would catch up to her. And perhaps that was why she’d wanted Alfons around. Because… Alfons wouldn’t tell. Alfons wouldn’t do that to her.
Alfons held his hands back when she pulled away. He wasn't going to force a hug on anyone, let alone a vulnerable woman. It was strange to think of Cirucci in that way, but he knew that everyone, no matter how strong, had their moments. And he had seen plenty of times that Cirucci had appeared vulnerable...
He wished she didn't try to ignore that so much.
"Cirucci..." Carefully, he leaned around to try to peer at her face, resting a hand on her shoulder. "What you felt then and what you feel now... That's all part of who you are. You need to learn to embrace it, not run from it."
“It’s not!” She protested, nails clutching at her hairline to hide her face further, hide the anguished look on her face, the confusion, denial, sorrow.
“I’m the 105th Privaron Espada,” She spat, voice turning cold and violent, moods changing quicker than she could adjust to them. “I was the 5th Espada.” One hand left her face to spasm at the scar on her breast, the hole in her torso.
“I’ve killed shinigami, and humans, and other Hollows, other Arrancar, lovers, enemies,” Her voice now affected a desperate quality, proving, needing to prove something, anything, to hold on to what she’d always known herself to be… only it wasn’t. It wasn’t.
“It… I’m…” Cirucci trailed off, the hand at the hole between her breasts clenching against the empty space. “… I’m missing something.”
Biting his lip, Alfons just didn't know what to say. He couldn't really empathize with her. After all, he had only everbeen a human. The pressures of his school and then work were far different from the pressures of her status as an Arrancar, obviously, and she... she was missing a heart. And yet she was feeling.
Scientifically, he could have been able to explain that, but it was obvious that things worked differently in her world.
Leaning into his hand a bit more, he moved his other hand to try and pull her hair away from his face. "Cirucci, don't hide from me. You never have to do that."
“… It hurts, Alfons.” She whispered, letting him brush dark curls from her pale face, fingers digging harshly into the hole in her chest, probing, as if should she look hard enough, there might be something there.
“Grimmjow, he, he loved.” The Arrancar didn’t know if she was trying to justify her own confusion, or not. “And, and, Ulquiorra is fucking that shinigami.” Her gaze shifted, unable to rest on anything long. “Szayel-Aporro has that damned pet of his.” She laughed, bitterly, stood abruptly and began pacing about the room, always treading around the felines.
“And… And Aizen-sama, he, he loved, and he’s our leader! Our fearless, cold-hearted, vicious, ambitious…” She trailed off, and just as abruptly as she’d stood she flopped down onto the sofa and clutched another pillow to her.
“… My bed is cold.”
Alfons sighed and watched her as she stood and paced, and then fell to the couch. Was that what this was all about? Because her bed was cold? And it was wrong to love, when it really wasn't? If her 'family' could break the rules, then why couldn't she?
Pushing against his knee, he stood and looked down at the mess. The blood had smeared on him, and his neck still stung a bit, but his urge to clean was certainly secondary. Now he just wanted to help, but he wasn't sure how. What would Edward do? Well, maybe he wasn't the best example. He hated Cirucci. What would Noah do?
"Um..." Rubbing at the back of his neck, he picked up his shredded shirt and eyed it a bit before shrugging it back on to hang loosely. It was a lost cause, but it was better than being totally shirtless. "It sounds like this place is changing you, Cirucci. Maybe back to what you once were... I don't think that's a bad thing. You just need to be whole again."
Her grip on the pillow tightened and she shook her head emphatically.
“No. I can’t.” She protested again. “If… If I had a heart, I’d be powerless.” And that scared her, too, just like being worthless. Privaron.
“Worthless, Alfons.” Her hands clenched and unclenched against the pillow, and she wondered if she would cry. The Octava had mocked her only recently, she knew all about crying, he’d said. Pathetic. His poor, poor, Privaron. Cried during curse days that made her feel, cried when the Corinthian had made her dream, dream of being loved, woken to crying in Grimmjow’s bed and earn her a quick toss out of his sight, cried when Il Forte had said he loved her.
No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
“I want the shinigami dead.” She hissed into the soft decoration in her hands, eyes narrowed. “I want my rank back. I want him back.”
Well, he certainly couldn't condone killing all the shinigami. He didn't really seem to get along with some of them, but that didn't matter. Looking again to the kittens to make sure they were doing all right and not getting into trouble, he moved over to the couch to kneel down beside it.
He had never approved of Cirucci's way of life, but he had done his best not to pass judgment...even when she hurt others. The most he had ever really been able to do was try to distract her and keep her from doing that, but in the end, he supposed that wasn't enough. Now all that was happening was that she was feeling divided.
"I have a heart. Am I worthless?"
“… Alfons doesn’t have reiatsu like I do.” She shook her head. “Alfons doesn’t lose anything because he has a heart. … With a heart, I’m nothing.”
And she was already almost nothing. Privaron Espada, disgraced Espada, natural Espada, fallen Espada. She knew the whispers, the snickers, even from Numeros she put back in their place. Those that had once been hightest, thrown to Tres Cifras.
“… Alfons is valuable to Cirucci.”
"No, I don't have that... I admit I can't really understand...but I'm trying to." Draping his arms across his knees, he looked over to her, then back at the kittens.
"In the end, it's about what you think of yourself. You're important to me, and I know Noah seems to like you just fine. Even Tony likes you." Alfons smiled a bit, reaching out to tug at the pillow.
"You're not happy like this. Is it worth it to you? Your rank, and all that? Is it worth this anguish?"
“…” She pulled back at the pillow, reaching over to snag a smaller one and stuff it in his hands, since it appeared he wanted one.
“Cirucci will never be happy.” She stated severely, frowning, as if repeating something she’d been told.
“Cirucci is Arrancar, and Arrancar are not to be happy. We serve Aizen-sama, and we follow orders. I follow the Espada’s orders, they do with me as they like, as I do with the Numeros as I like. Rank is the most important thing.” The Privaron laughed again, her eyes no longer dull, but that look may have been preferable to the half-crazed one she’d been developing.
“Cirucci will never rise in rank again. The 105th Privaron Espada.” She spat out her rank, once something she’d been able to say with pride, now only a sense of shame.
“… I don’t even know what I want anymore, Alfons.” Cirucci tried to laugh again but it died in her throat, leaving her lips to mouth wordlessly and fall silent.
The small pillow was quickly discarded, and he stood up with a frown. Reaching over, he took hold of the pillow she was clutching and gave a good yank. Even if she wouldn't let go, fabric tore. Once he had hold of it, he was sure to give her a good bop in the face with it.
"And so?!" He had lost his patience, but he looked far from angry. More like slightly disappointed...and even that was overshadowed by his concern. "You're at a stage in life where you're feeling conflicted, and you don't know what you want? Everyone goes through that! It isn't the end of the world!"
The pillow was dropped on the floor, and he reached out to push her hair from her face. "Look at me. Cirucci, what you're going through might be new to you...but it's something humans feel all the time. That's just something you're going to have to deal with. Where you're standing now, it means something obviously needs to change. You can't live like this. You can't go back to how you once were...as a human or an Arrancar. But you can step forward, and that step's going to take some time, and some support. And I'm here to support you."
Her eyes widened and she released the pillow limply, unable to even blink as she pressed her back into the couch, scrambling backwards as if she could get away from him, as if he intimidated her, scared her. His words did. If she wasn’t Arrancar… what was she?
She struggled for words, turned her head, and fell silent again until her shoulders began to shake weakly, body trembling. If he hadn’t been able to see her face, it could have been mistaken for sobs. But she was laughing.
“Support?” Cirucci smiled vacantly. “They’ll kill me.” She had no doubt several of the Espada would like nothing more than to shove their blades through the spot her heart should be. Knew one in particular that had to want it, considering hours she’d spent pinned to his wall by his blade, been forced to beg and plead while he watched with a smile.
“Cirucci can’t change.” She clutched Alfons shoulders, hard, a desperation and plea hidden beneath her maniacal gaze. “Alfons is the only one Cirucci can tell these things to, anyone else, one hint of weakness is all it takes…”
She released him as quickly as she’d snatched at him, stood and brushed past him, grabbed her discarded blade and caressed it gently.
“Cirucci’s a monster, Alfons.”
What was he supposed to do now? Trying to comfort Edward about certain things was one thing... Sure they were from different worlds, but they were both still human. And Cirucci might not have been a human anymore, but...
"You're not a monster." He watched her, not wanting to get close this time. Hopefully she had enough sense to not start cutting into herself again, but considering her unstable mindset, he wasn't so sure...
"I understand... I understand not wanting to die." Was there anybody who could protect her? Granted, the only person he knew personally with strong powers, aside from Cirucci, was...Alphonse and his alchemy, and he didn't want to put Alphonse in danger. "But I think...if...if the only thing keeping you from abandoning that way of life is because you're afraid that they'll kill you, then they aren't worth it. I suppose it's an evaluation of what's...worth dying for."
He really couldn't tell her what he had sacrificed, and why...twice. She already knew, and the two of them were just far too different in that way.
“I am!” She insisted, murmuring to her blade the trip-phrase that released her true form, not caring she was indoors. Her wings, bright and shining metal and ivory curled and bent backwards at the joint, awkward against the ceiling, tail curved tight against her body and the mouth on its end snapping at Alfons irritably, feathers that cascaded from her beaked headdress, taloned and elongated arms, one reaching forward to brush gently across the humans cheek.
“See?” Cirucci smiled again. “Arrancar.”
Her gaze traveled upwards and she soothingly arranged her feathers with the boned hands, the maw of her tail still emitting snaps of irritation.
“If I abandon this…” She flopped down on the floor as if the weight was too much for her, the feathers rustling again as they arranged, wings splayed across the floor with the grating of metal on bone, hanging heavy and limp from her shoulders, eyes downcast. “I abandon everything. And even if they killed me, I’d go back to them. Still go back. Because I want it.”
The transformation was truly awe-inspiring, and he was left speechless to watch, only moving to flinch away from the snapping. There was nowhere to go but back, and that just forced him to abruptly sit on the couch behind him.
Tony had gone into hiding, but he watched as Ciro bravely went up to poke it's nose at Cirucci's knee.
"Cirucci... You would have to abandon everything you know, it's true. But you wouldn't abandon everything. There's a lot more to live for...to even die for. You're obviously going through changes...emotionally. You can't just stop that. You can't keep working for them if you're this conflicted. I would...very much like to help you with this, but I'm not quite sure how. The only thing I can think of is having you stay with me and Noah, but with that would be a lot more change. But change isn't always bad. I think you only want it because it's what you know."
Cirucci didn’t answer at first, awkwardly bent her spindly bone arms to pluck the kitten into the three fingered hand, and for a moment, her face contorted in something like disgust, or rage, and it appeared she might harm the animal, but she finally let out a breath and set it down as far as she could reach.
“I can’t, Alfons.” She finally murmured, voice hitching lightly, just once. “I love it.” She closed her eyes, head tilted up, white bone mask contrasting starkly in her dark hair.
“I love killing.” One hand, bloodied shirt bandaged, clutched again at the hole in her chest. “I love letting them hurt me, break me…” Her other hand covered them upper part of her face, painted lips moving slowly, speaking deliberately. “I loved him. And I love all of them. I hate all of them. And I hate loving them, love hating them…” She laughed bitterly, tripping on her own words.
“… I can’t give up hurting.”
He knew not to blindly trust Cirucci with certain things, so for just a moment he was terrified that Ciro's life was quite possibly going to end right there. When she set him down, Alfons let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding in, and quickly stood to go retrieve the kitten. Along the way, he spotted Tony crouching under the table and hissing in Cirucci's direction.
"Well, then..." He swallowed, but it was dry. Maybe it was too much to hope for a better future for Cirucci...but he certainly had tried. "If this is the life you want, then there's no problem, is there?"
“… No.” Cirucci did not remove her hand from her eyes, her lips curling into a trembling smile. “There’s no problem, you’re right, Alfons.”
Her voice dropped to barely audible, her mind clouded. Human, she’d been human, and had loved, and hurt, and she’d cried, and someone had said they loved her, touched her gently, and she’d smiled and been happy and truly, truly, happy, but it wasn’t real, none of it was, and she was worthless, poor, poor Privaron. His… poor, poor, Privaron.
“… No problem.” She murmured again.
Alfons' instincts told him to run, really. To go and grab Tony by the collar and just ditch Cirucci as quickly as possible...but he wouldn't. The only thing he maybe regretted was bringing the kittens when she was obviously this unstable.
Carefully, he leaned over to set Ciro down, nudging him away before straightening back up and glancing to the Arrancar. He rubbed at his arm, looking incredibly uncomfortable, but not many could blame him given the way Cirucci looked right then.
Really, he thought there were plenty of problems, but he wasn't sure now was the right time to push that subject. "...So, then...if there's no problem...maybe we should get you cleaned up and change, and we can...have some more cake?"
“I’m… I’m not hungry anymore, Alfons. Not for human food.” Cirucci tried to laugh again but her lip quivered. She wasn’t really listening to him anymore, she was remembering.
Remembering memories she shouldn’t have and reasons and motivations. Voices and people and lovers and losses. They always left her, didn’t they? They’d all leave her, Il Forte, Grimmjow, soon the others would leave too, and she’d be the only one stuck here, the only one… who understood, understood that rush of releasing the blade and reverting to her true form, the rush of happiness when she watched shinigami die, the rush of bodies and the holes in their torsos and the masks on their faces.
“… I can’t eat like I want to. But it’s no problem.” She clawed at the hole in her chest, as if she could rip something out of it, eyes still hidden and head tipped back, tipped back like it had been when Il Forte had wrapped his hands around her throat and snapped it.
He watched her, troubled, as she clawed at her lack of a heart, and carefully stepped a little closer. "That's fine. But..." Slowly, Alfons reached out to touch her shoulder. She was rather intimidating in this form, but he just had to remember that Grimmjow had been far more intimidating at times, and Alfons had still squirted him right in the face with water.
"We should still clean you up, and put some proper bandaged on your hands."
“Don’t touch me.” She muttered hoarsely, able to feel his hand even through the cold bones on her shoulders. Cold, like her dead body, like the sullen sluggishness in her blood, only alleviated for moments at a time in the beds of others.
Her hands still didn’t move, her grip on her face, over her eyes, even tightened, spasmed. She smiled. A favourite you might have, Privaron. Lovers, too. But you will only ever be company for the night, regardless of who you bed.". Who’d said that-Oh… yes. He had. And he was right. But she couldn’t stop that anymore than she could suddenly gain, though the ticking of the clock, absent now, had begun more and more to remind her of the beating of a heart.
“… Am I insane?” She suddenly asked, still not removing her hand from her eyes.
The question itself was loaded, but Alfons didn't have to think very long to answer. He did try to word things carefully, though. Insane or not, at the very least she was unstable. "I think you're just as insane as the rest of us here. That's what this place likes to do, after all... To drive us out of our minds by throwing us in situations we're uncomfortable with."
Like she had requested, he now kept his hands at his sides, standing still. It felt like he might as well have been tight-rope walking, though. "If you want to retain your old life, I guess you'll...have to fight it. Things that make it hard, and things that change it...just try to fight them."
"That's a yes?" Her clawed hand twitched against her face, almost drawing blood, but not quite.
"Good..." Cirucci crooned, voice warbling between cold and warm, between low and loud. Unstable was one word for it. Even back in Hueco Mundo she had been known as wildly unpredictable, hard to control, harder to understand than most. Her motives and her thoughts were never anything that could be considered logical, and added in combination with the City curses? The Privaron hadn't been anything resembling sane in a long, long, while. The clicking of metal against bone as her wings moved, slinking closer to her body, a few drops of sweat visible against her brow.
"... Why are you here?"
Maybe he had given the wrong answer, but what would have been right? He wasn't a doctor... He couldn't tell someone if they were sane or not, but he was pretty sure that completely insane people didn't wonder about their own sanity.
"Huh? Why am I... Because you asked me to come over. Did you want me to leave?" He doubted leaving her alone right then was very smart, but was staying any smarter?
"... I think you'd better go." The Arrancar's voice dipped dangerously and her talons shifted against her face again, as if trying to hide something, strain evident. Her release took much more reiatsu than some others, the price she paid for ripping off her own mask and not having help, but it was usually fine for a while as long as she was stable, as long as she focused, concentrated. But she couldn't settle on any one thing, whirling from one bad thought to another, from abandonment, worthlessness, being powerless, being hurt, left, feeling...
Alfons rubbed at his arm nervously, pausing to dig his fingers into the sleeve. It was hard to look like he had much composure right then... There was blood smeared here and there, his shirt was torn, and being thrown to the ground often left people looking disheveled. But really, the last thing he wanted to do then was to go home and change...
"Cirucci..." He watched her carefully, gaze trailing on the living weapon that was her body right then. "I'd like to stay... You're obviously upset. Can't I help?"
Her bones snapped together audibly and the hand at her chest clenched hard, blood rising beneath the talons as she dug them into the hole between her breasts, the hole that made her what she was, heartless, heartless, heartless. Arrancar. Privaron. ... A worthless, worthless, soul that couldn't even-
"Go-" She hissed, grounding her mind in the pain, the sensitive inner skin tearing easily beneath her sword made ivory flesh. "You can't help me, you can't, I don't want you to-"
This wasn't fair. She was probably right, and he couldn't help her. But he was standing there and looking at her, and she just expected him to leave her like that?
She expected him to leave her. Everyone left her... Wasn't that what she believed?
It clicked, then, and though it couldn't beat any longer, Alfons felt his heart clench. His breath was shaky, and it was nearly impossible to hold back the tears right then. Lifting his hand, he started to reach towards her, but then pulled back at the last second to rub at his eyes.
"I'm not leaving you, Cirucci. I'm not going anywhere. I don't care what you do or how you look."
"Stop it-" She snarled, wanting to reach out, grab him, squeeze until she heard something break, snap, scream, but unwilling to uncover her face and unwilling to unhook sharp talons from her own skin.
“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” The tail whipped and cracked sharply, the maw screeching and a glow beginning to gather, lashing out with anger the only thing she could comprehend would help anything, violence… it always solved things, didn’t it? It always-
Cirucci felt the sweat on her brow and let out a shaky breath that she didn’t have to take, talons spasming and trying to focus. What was she doing. Hurting. That was right, that was familiar.
"I--I can't!" He took a step back, furiously rubbing at his eyes. It wasn't like he normally cried over things. The last time he could remember, he was delirious and bleeding to death in Nill's lap. But to him, it was like he was staring at a tragedy now.
If Cirucci wouldn’t cry for herself, then someone had to. “Just… Whatever it is you’re doing, just calm down! We don’t have to…talk if you don’t want to, but I’m not going anywhere!”
She wouldn’t show it, but she would, for herself. There was a reason she wouldn’t uncover her face. No one… only two had seen her cry, and it wouldn’t happen again. It wouldn’t.
“You don’t get it!” Cirucci snarled, the tail’s maw snapping closer and closer to the human, the glow growing.
“You have to go, or I’ll kill you.”
At that, Alfons did take another few steps back, and he used his sleeve to wipe at his eyes. The shock of that idea was enough to stop the tears, but his voice still trembled.
"If I go..." He looked to the kittens. They were both under the table, now. At least they were...getting along?
"If I go, are you going to kill someone else?"
"I want to be alone." The tail lay limp now, the the glow still pulsed erratically in between the beaked mouth, something like steam coming off of it, burning, caustic, reiatsu, the heat evident even at a distance. The Arrancar wouldn't answer whether she would or not, because she didn't even know what she was going to the next moment, let alone two moments, three moments in the future.
It was obvious that he wasn't doing any good by staying. If anything, he seemed to just be making it worse. So, it was very tentatively that he stepped back again and turned to grab the cat carrier. Quietly, he moved over to the table and crouched down, tapping the floor to get Tony to come to him, and Ciro seemed to follow...at least just enough for him to grab them and put them inside.
With the small door locked, he glanced over and spotted the book she had got him lying nearby. Straining to reach under the table, he snatched it up and stood back up.
"Just...let me know if you...need anything. You know where I live. And I'm only...leaving because you want me to. Not because I want to."
“Bye~bye~” Her voice switched sing-song, waiting until he’d fully left to remove her hand from her face. She stared at the pure white bones, stared at the faint shimmer of liquid on it, still on her eyes.
“… Ah.” She smiled, touched her tongue to it tentatively. Salty.
Her other hand removed itself from the hole in her chest and she leisurely licked one talon clean. Copper.
Then her eyes fell on the cake still on the table.
… At least he’d left the cake.