Log; Complete

[thunderwitch.livejournal.com]

When; June 2nd, early morning
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Cirucci {thunderwitch} & Rukia {juicebox_woes}
Summary; Fetching zanpakutou for the Octava, Cirucci finds an easy target in the training Kuchiki. Lies, beatings, and abductions occur.
Log;

Teeth gritted as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face. Swinging the sword again, she sidestepped, whirling and following the motion through to finish the strike, shadowboxing with an invisible opponent. Stepping back and repeating the move, Rukia allowed herself to fall easily into the familiar kata, Sode no Shirayuki's white ribbon fluttering around her, an accent to every shift of stance and spin of the graceful white blade.

Not enough, still..

While her hakudo was good, and her kidou formidable, the petite shinigami knew for a fact that her sword skills were lacking. They always had been, since her days in academy. She supposed that was what one got for being a primarily kidou-type shinigami, but that didn't mean she found it acceptable. Thus the early-morning training sessions on the beach. In a way...her life had come to revolve around training as of late. Initially as a way to keep her mind off of Ichigo's absence, then a method for keeping herself awake, fighting back the demon that sleep had become in her mind, bringing with it phantoms and nightmares to torment her. And she could tell the difference. Her movements were more fluid, her reaction time keener, even her kidou was more polished and stronger. But it was the sword skills that still seemed to elude her.

Cirucci thought perhaps shinigami grew stupider each time they killed one. The Quincy had called out the Sexta Espada, for what she could care less. It made her angry. Shiro-Megane-Kun should have known she had claim on him, should have known only she was allowed to kill him, not Grimmjow, it wasn’t his right-

But Grimmjow understood that. He wanted the substitute. She wanted the Quincy. And when one called one out like that, well, it was easy enough to arrange a trade. All Cirucci had to come up with was a way to lure the substitute to the fight with the Sexta and the Quincy. Easy enough, when shinigami advertised their weaknesses and their silly loves. Ah, love. Fastly becoming the Thunderwitch’s favorite weakness to manipulate.

That had been the plan anyway. Until Grimmjow up and left. Bastard.

Just when she’d though that little fight she’d anticipated with the unseated would be wasted, another opportunity had presented. Fetching zanpakutou for Szayel-Aporro? … Why not? It kept her mind off things, for one, off her indecision and her doubts, and on her nature.

So she’d sought the unseated, after all, she’d said where she was going, and now found herself watching. Trees were perches to her, stark white uniform hidden by foliage as she crouched easily on a thin branch, eyes narrowed. Prey. Shinigami prey. Her blood thrummed softly in her ears, singing songs of carnage. Wait, Cirucci. She soothed herself, settling, reiatsu suppressed enough that the hole in her chest hurt for it. Wait.

Normally she might have noticed the way the faint sounds at the edge of the forest stilled, the way even the wind seemed to die down in preparation for the Privaron's attack. But 5 nights without sleep, coupled with 4 days of relentless training had left her drained. It was about the limit that she could push herself to before she would collapse into her bed and sleep for -- if she was lucky -- an entire night of fitful, dream-wracked sleep. At least when she reached that point of exhaustion her body was so tired and so battered that even the horrific visions in her mind could seldom break her from slumber. Lowering her blade, she panted, one hand raising to rake sweat-drenched black hair from her eyes as she readjusted her grip on the sword's hilt. Had to keep going.

There.

She’d watched like a hawk waiting for that moment. The moment she let her guard down, nearly fully, dropped her blade and raised her arm. Not that the Privaron couldn’t handle her, even at full strength, of course. But Cirucci had no desire to fight this one, not when her entire being hummed with reveling in what she truly was.

She sprang from her perch, the same tactic coming in to play as she had done when kidnapping Hinamori Momo for the Octava. As she dropped the trip phrase for her blade came from painted lips twisted into a smirk, the bones and metal forming around her even as she fell, the wings catching her just before the ground as her flight leveled, hurtling into a sonido and long grasping arms, taloned arms, reaching out to snatch at the unseated, silent save for the whistling of wind through the metal blades on her back.

The whistling sound, coupled with the sudden spike of enemy reiatsu was all the warning she got, giving her only enough time to spin around, bringing the snowy blade up in an attempt to block long talons that reached for her. Rukia swore mentally, she'd been stupid. So stupid to let her guard down. And it wasn't as though she didn't know the reason. She knew exactly why the Privaron was attacking her. They didn't want her. They wanted him. And she'd been a collossal fool to not realize that it would only be a matter of time before they'd try to get to him through her.

Most blades weren’t even enough to slice through an Arrancar’s hierro, Cirucci had blocked her share of zanpakutou with her bare hands, smirked and broken such blades all her death. It was a testament to the way the City dampened their powers that the shinigami’s blade sunk in just enough to draw blood before it was pushed back by the sheer speed at which the Privaron moved, snatching the unseated’s petite form in clawed arms, clutching tight.

“Unseated~!” Cirucci finally spoke, loud over the whistling of wind and a peculiar high-pitched whine of bone grating on metal. “Fancy meeting you here!” The cruel voice was accompanied by an equally cruel squeeze around the ribs.

"Cirucci..." She gritted her teeth as she was wrenched into the air, utterly refusing to permit any sound of pain to escape her lips. She would not give an Arrancar that pleasure. "...indeed. Though I have to admit I'm surprised. I thought I was beneath your notice." With whispered words and fast motions of one hand, she slammed a palm against one clawed arm, channeling the kidou directly into the Arrancar's body. "Haddou no Sanjuuichi: Shakkahou!"

“Thankfully for you-“ The Arrancar snarled, releasing the shinigami to only one hand as smoke trailed from her right, the kidou burning against the ivory, “Your fucking partner, or-“ She smirked, shaking the other female in claw and maneuvering her claws about arms and shoulder to try pinning her tight.

“That’s right…” The Privaron resumed her two handed grip, a smoking burn and a slight cracking in the bone where she’d been hit. “He’s not your fucking partner anymore, is he?” Her voice was snide and biting. This little thing was being troublesome, she didn’t want to have to actually land to dispose of her.

Gritting her teeth again, ignoring the stinging words, she swiveled as much as she could, using newfound flexibility to kick her legs up and try to hit the Privaron in the gut. "You...underestimate him. He's got no reason to come running." It was a lie, of course. Regardless of what feelings for her Ichigo may or may not have, the unseated shinigami knew perfectly well that the orange-haired punk would still break every bone in his body to come to her rescue. And for yet another time, she wished he wouldn't.

“Ah~ Ah~ Ah~” The Privaron tsked, easy enough to feel the shinigami squirming in her grip to move, to predict in this situation and shake her roughly, a warning. “He came running to Soul Society for you, didn’t he?~” They’d been told of the events in Soul Society by Aizen, they all knew what had happened, how it had happened. “So why not when Cirucci threatens to cut out your pretty little heart?~”

All she could really do was glare at the Arrancar, biting back whimper of pain as talons dug into her torso, feeling the blood drip down her sides as the claws clenched tighter. "He'll kill you, you know."

“Oh, no, darling, Cirucci doesn’t want to fight him~” The Privaron crooned, voice honey-sweet, moods and affections swinging faster than thought possible. “You’re just the bait.” Didn’t matter if she knew the plan, after all, it wasn’t like she could do anything about it, or any such thing. Her lips twisted into a smile, claws clicking ominously against each other as she constantly shifted and dug in. Let the unseated think this was about her little shinigami substitute. No. Cirucci refused to look at the white blade. That was what she was here for. Rukia herself, well, Di Roy could have her.

Try as she might, Rukia couldn't keep the colour from draining from her face. Grimmjow....Her mind flittered back to the last time they had faced the Sexta Espada. The feeling of his arm as it punched through her midsection, the sickening feeling as the blood pooled at her feet, the crushing thought that she was going to die without ever telling Ichigo how she really felt...And knowing, even though she hadn't been there, how much damage had been inflicted on her strawberry.....

Cirucci laughed aloud at the sight, looking down with black hair whipping about her face as she spiraled higher and higher, reveling in the sensation that came every time she released her blade and returned to her true form.

“Exactly, dear.” She smirked. “So, you’re going to be a good girl and watch both your little friends die, yes?”

She stared down at the ground for a moment, silent. "No." Looking up to glare daggers at the Privaron, she set her features. "I'm going to watch while they bring death to you."

Another laugh escaped the Privaron’s lips, her face amused before it suddenly shifted into something furious, roughly digging her talons in with the soft squelch of blood and flesh.

“You’ve got some things to learn, shinigami.” She hissed, flight taking her faster and faster. “You’ll watch them die.”

She bit her tongue, drawing blood, but she would not cry out. Ichigo.....for once, use that thick skull of yours and don't follow them...

Cirucci smiled again, fury gone as fast as it had come.

“Good girl.” She soothed, loosening her talons grip ever so slightly. “Now, do you prefer watching first hand as they die, or hearing about it later?” As she flew, she looked down. Needed something to send as a present… perhaps?

Snarling, she mentally concentrated, trying to draw on her reiatsu. Even for only a moment, if she could just call up enough.... Panting, she had to stop. There just wasn't enough. Shunko...took too much out of her. And even if she'd been able to blast herself out of Cirucci's grasp, it would just leave her totally helpless.

A dramatic sigh escaped her as she rolled her eyes. Not playing? So boring. It was a simple enough matter to swing her release’s tail about, slam it into the shinigami’s head with a satisfying thud to knock her out cold. And then she saw a small shine on her wrist.

A bracelet? That would do. As long as she had the real prize, that shining white blade.

Next she and Luppi just needed to get Kensei’s.