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tampered2007-08-18 02:42 am
brokenbeliefs.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-08-18 02:42 am
Log; Complete
When; After their conversation here.
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Cirucci Thunderwitch [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thunderwitch] & Raphael [brokenbeliefs]
Summary; Following the conversation they had, Raphael suggested that Cirucci to look for her meal in the graveyard nestled at the corner of Xanadu, failing where Raphael offered the Arrancar a taste of his soul.
Log;
He stood outside the entrance to the graveyard. It did not make sense to the Chief of Virtues that the City would have a graveyard, especially when he knew that no one would remain dead… well, if one did disregarded the fact the fact that the person would have no pulse, no heartbeat after waking up as alive. Then again, Raphael has long given up on figuring this place out. It was not worth the headache.
He lit a cigarette, fixing it to his lips as he scanned around for a familiar figure. Raphael felt sympathetic for Cirucci. He probably would not know how she really feels, but he knew the feeling of need and the fact that it could not be satiated. Her food was souls, and being surrounded constantly by people and knowing that you cannot have want you want is a wretched feeling indeed.
Cirucci knew where the crypt was if only because she flew, sometimes, when she got bored. Released her true form and simply flew, wishing the sun beating down on the ivory bone and steel was the harsh and unforgiving light of Hueco Mundo, that the landscape below wasn’t cityscape or lush greens but instead the stark and barren deserts or the towering white walls of Los Noches.But such wishes were for weaker creatures, and she disregarded them.What was more important was her hunger, always present, constant gnawing in her gut for the food she was denied. The others coped better, she knew, the created ones. But she was Privaron, and she had ripped her own mask from her face, existed long before the others had help becoming Arrancar, before Aizen Sousuke.
And there were souls here, so many souls, all delicious and tempting and she couldn’t eat them, could tug and nibble but not devour, and it made her all the hungrier. Raphael’s offer seemed pointless to her, the idea that a soul would be here, but she came despite, if only because he was company, company that was ever so useful, and also, further insurance against the shinigami who were hell bent on punishing her for her more recent role in the injury of one of their own.She landed gracefully, released, and crooned a wordless greeting to the angel, long, boney talons gesturing before she sealed the form back away, the feathers receding, the bones fading before she was left with the blade at her waist and a coy smile of hello on her painted lips.
The familiar sounds of beatings wings made the angel look up, though the air has already notified him of an arrival. He half expected to see another angel looking for him for one thing or another, though he knew that was there were no other angels other than those he already seen in the City. He raised an eyebrow as he saw a creature landing in front of his gracefully. It was rather bizarre, at least to his eyes. He did nothing to hide the fact that he was observing her, from her wicked talons, sharp enough to rip out ones’ eyes with no effort to the ivory, bonelike appendages that formed her wings... perhaps they were bones? Raphael’s experience told him they were bones… an exoskeleton.
The angel watched with fascination as the creature transformed, twisting and shifting into the familiar figure of Cirucci. Though it was his first time seeing her other form, it did not quite startle the Chief of Virtues. He has, after all seen many who are beautiful on the outside, but absolutely rotten on the inside. Cirucci was not the nicest person Raphael ever met, but she was not the worst either. At least she was truthful about it. Though he tended to lie, he appreciated honesty. In the world he knew, one lied and backstabbed to advance. Perhaps, this was the reason he liked Michael. The other never lied, at least not to him.
Out of politeness, he flicked his half-smoked nicotine stick onto the ground and smiled, extending a hand to Cirucci, more out of habit than anything. “I am not certain if there is any souls in the crypt, but some of the markers here bear names.
To say she did not appreciate attention would be a blatant lie, and Cirucci preened obviously under his scrutiny, smirking in a satisfied manner. She enjoyed the feel of others’ eyes on her, release form or sealed, and she reveled in it, made sure to tuck the curled hair back behind her ear and flash a bit of thigh here, a bat of long lashes here, just out of habit.“Mm, perhaps? Cirucci is afraid they’d be old and stale tasting… wouldn’t that be sad?” The Arrancar took his hand, though she always felt some disdain for such chivalrous gestures, a shrug of her shoulders evident to this. Such chivalry was always lost on her, as used to Arrancar males as she was, she knew that such actions were only pleasantries, at best, mocking, at worst, and used to curry favor with her or condescend to her most often.
“Raphael will lead?~” She didn’t know her way about, only knew it’s location from the sky, and had never cared for thinking about human death or their ways of burial. She only cared for the idea that, once she’d sucked the soul out, they were dead, and that was that. Her only other experience with human death had been her own, and such things were beyond her memory. Too much time as a soul, wandering and lost, unsaved, to say, too much time as a Hollow when the chain tying her to humanity had rotted, left her heartless and masked, and now, too much time as an Arrancar, mask ripped to leave the spiked crown on her skull and the sword at her waist, still that heart missing from her breast.
It had been quite some time since Raphael last saw the beautiful Arrancar. He had almost forgotten what a tease she can be. Automatically, he found his eyes following her, drinking in her every gesture, her every movement. It was hard to believe that someone as delicate looking as Cirucci could be so bloodthirsty… but then again, the same can be said for Alexiel. “It would be sad, but it is at least better than nothing.” Truth be said, Raphael had absolutely no idea on whether there would be souls inside the crypt. He could not feel them, nor see them, but it just did not seem right not to try.
The shrug of her shoulders only brought a faint smile to his lips. Such a prideful being, full of spirit and fire. It was strange how he managed to end up with people like her and Michael, seeing that their personalities were a hundred and eighty degrees apart. Even her very words sounded more of a command than a request. “Of course, do watch your steps.” Silly words to someone like Cirucci. She was a fighter, a graceful one if her movements were any indication.
Cirucci did laugh at his caution, a light, airy noise, accompanied by a dismissing wave of a small hand. If she were to do something as silly as slip on a rock or turn her heel, she would probably die of shame, to be caught doing something to very weak and human. No, she was above such things.“Better than anything is true.” She commented, a murmur, hand falling to her stomach with a bit of a pout. “Cirucci hasn’t eaten in months, proper, and she’d even take an old soul, if she could get one.” The train of thought let her to raise her hand again as he led the way, index finger pressed to her bottom lip in remembrance.
“Cirucci has managed to have little nibbles though.” The Privaron smiled, a wicked upturning in the corners of her mouth, tongue flicking out to lick at the digit. “They were delightful, both so dark and tainted.” She shot the angel a knowing look. “The sinful ones taste just as good as the righteous ones.”
He knew at once he has said the wrong words as soon as it left his mouth. Her obvious amusement only cemented the fact. It was only because Raphael was beyond such things that he did not turn red at his own absurdity. It took a lot to gain a reaction from the angel. There was hardly anything that ruffled him. He had lived too long, seen too much.
So would he, if he were placed in her position. He glanced back at her for a moment, before speaking up. “Let us not get our hopes up. Though there are graves here, but as far as I know, no one ever dies here. At least not a permanent death,” Raphael said softly, not wanting to get her hopes up. He walked slowly past the crosses and obelisks, allowing Cirucci the time to look for souls – however she did it.
“A nibble is still better than starvi-“ His words were cut short as she finished her sentence. Raphael caught the meaning of her underlying words. “… When you are hungry, anything tastes good.” His words came out a little terser than he would have liked. She has hit a sore point.
Cirucci’s eyes had closed, her own energy questing, her reiatsu seeking out the signature of a soul, anything she could eat, but she still managed to catch the change in his voice, thought she didn’t acknowledge such immediately. “Mm, a nibble is better than nothing.” She crooned, followed his lead blindly without stumbling, small, booted feet graceful and careful. “And she took a bit from one of her pets, and another from a human who got too curious, ah, and they made the most delightful noises when she had her little lick.” The Privaron nodded, hummed a bit to herself before she stopped, untangled her hand from his, and pressed her finger to his mouth without opening violet eyes, long lashes brushing pale cheeks.
“Nerve, Raphael?~” The Arrancar asked without true concern, wondering as to what he had taken from her words, for she had meant nothing but food, but she was well aware meanings could have been derived from it, knew, in the cocky smile she wore and the disappointing senses that came back to her, that there were no souls here.
She noticed, much to his annoyance. Raphael supposed that being away from Etemenanki for an extended time has affected him more than he thought it would. To be in his position, he had to wear masks over masks and be a consummate liar. Backstabbing were rife, and most often, it was those whom you thought you trust were the very people who did it. To think that it had only been mere months, not even a year yet.
He felt her letting go of his and released hers. “Pets. Cirucci? I wonder what am I to you then?” Her answer did not matter, but Raphael asked anyway.
Fingers pressing against his lips, the blond kept silent, standing aside to watch as she concentrated. “Nerve,” the angel answered, not bothering to deny the fact from Cirucci. She has already caught on and it would be a futile to try to deny it. “Is there anything?”
Pouting, Cirucci addressed each question in turn, her voice echoing clearly her disappointment. She could lie, she could act, and she could be subtle. The Privaron was skilled in making males, particularly those with higher ranks in the Arrancar than her own, believe that she was theirs alone, accustomed to playing subservient or feisty, depending on what was desired of her or would be best to advance her position, and tempered to attack in ways both low and despicable. But these things were for when she had to, normally, she was open and easy to read, her emotions plain as anything. “Humans are for pets.” And to her, that’s what they were, a food source, at best, useful pets, at next, and at worst, trash annoyances. “Raphael is most useful, quite handsome, and a pleasant companion.” She supplied that explanation, probing with her reiatsu just a bit more, her brow furrowing one moment before her eyes snapped open, violet darkening in a twinge of anger.
“No souls here, besides Raphael and Cirucci.” The 105th crossed her arms under her breasts, thin fingers tightening in grip on her arms, a terse, annoyed gesture, hips cocked to the side.
He had expected lies, pretty words to bind him to her. Was he disappointed that she spoke the truth instead? No, he was not upset. It was… different. After hearing lies and half-truths for so long, it was rather refreshing. “I am glad that you find that I am a pleasant companion,” he said carefully.
He watched as her demeanor changed. It did not take a genius to tell that Cirucci did not find what she was looking for. “How exactly do you… nibble on a soul?” Raphael said, failing to think of a more suitable manner to phrase his sentence.
“How?” Cirucci’s eyelids lowered, hooded expression as she glanced over at him. An angel… what would an angel’s soul taste like? Would it be… pure, by mere nature, or, could it be tainted? Powerful, it would have to be powerful, which meant it had to be tasty…On instinct, the Privaron licked her lips.“Is Raphael volunteering?” She crooned excitedly, turned to face him and stepped that much closer, small, delicate hands coming to either side of his face, a soft caress, stepping up on tiptoes to try and match his height, which involved, in no small part intentionally, pressing her breasts against his chest.
“Would he let me have a lick?” It was an interesting prospect, angel soul. She wondered if it would leave a lingering aftertaste, speaking against his mouth, mere inches away.
It did not surprise him when she brought up the question. It was only a matter of time that she would ask someone anyway. It was already admirable that she managed to last this long without sustenance. Raphael did not do anything to stop her as she came close. He had already made the decision before he even made his way to the crypt.
How she danced to a different tune as it suits her. Not that she has ever been anything but polite and accommodating to him, but it did not escape his notice that she was especially nice when she wanted something. It pleased and disgusted him at the same time, though he already knew her true nature.
He looked down at her, his eyes focusing on her lips. “A lick.”
Cirucci’s breathing gradually slowed, until she was taking only deep, even breaths, steady and focused. She eyed slipped half closed, the violet eyes dilating and widening as she tightened the feel of her reiatsu, felt out the soul in him, feeling it out.“Ah, Cirucci forgot to mention…” Her hands on his face twitched just a moment, nails scraping against his cheeks and temples just a second before she remembered herself and relaxed her grip, though it was still firm.
“This may hurt.” The Arrancar smirked, wicked on her lips, pressing against him in all the appropriate places, offering a moment of comforting touch, a light kiss and a lick against his lips before she opened her mouth, just barely touching there, before she latched on to the soul she felt there and pulled. Unlike her siblings, she didn’t prefer mass gorgings, taking in so many souls at once. She liked a personal touch to her food, and taking it one by one, and this one, she was sure, felt the energy against her own as she dug in and tried to rip at it, that it would be a good taste.
The warning came a little too late for Raphael to do anything but to brace himself for the pain that would come. Though he has already expected the process to hurt – it would be naïve to think that it would not, the angel did not expect it to hurt quite so badly. The pain hit him without warning, it was sudden, a paralyzing pain that felt like he was being shocked.
It took all his willpower and energy to not push the Arrancar away, though he doubted that he could – Raphael could scarcely breathe as it is. He felt as if his very being was being invaded and his limbs did not respond. All the angel could do is to hold on to Cirucci.
Probing, pushing, the Arrancar sought out a better grip, a better hold, hers was tremulous at best, only able to rip and claw at the fringes of what she could call his soul. It was slightly different from a mortal's, stronger, yes, and brighter, most... definitive, but she still couldn't pull it out.
Her eyes fluttered close, her breathing nearly stopping, perfectly still and calm as she worked, breathed in the taste of it on her tongue a few more moments before the futility of the action became frustrating, and she disengaged, lowing her heels back to the ground so she had to look up to meet the angel's gaze, tongue flitting out to lick her lips.
"Tasty." She crooned darkly, hands falling from his face to stroke down his neck. "A shame she couldn't have more than a nibble, but, ah, the reminder was refreshing."
Raphael let go of her, stumbling a step back before regained his footing. He gasped for air, his blue eyes meeting her gaze as he slowly regained control of his body. The angel gave himself several moments to recover, placing one hand on the Arrancar’s shoulder and another on her waist.
Only when he was certain that he would not crumble on the spot when he let go of her did he do so. He straightened his back and pushed his hair back. “Next time, do try to give me enough ample time to brace myself before you do something like that again,” he said, giving her a small frown.
"Sorry, darling." Cirucci crooned, smoothing down the front of her dress, pulling at her long, white, gloves where they'd rumpled at his seizing muscles and grip, preening, a sort of inspection after a meal, no matter how brief and tantalizing it was. It had only made her hungrier, the little taste, but she never had to mind to deny herself the want of it, no matter whether she could get it or not.
"Most people are averse to pain, so, ah, I didn't want you to get scared, mm?" She explained it away like that, but she gave the true reason when she hooked a finger in his shirt and tugged. "Plus, Cirucci likes the look in the eye when they realize it~"
At the moment, Cirucci reminded Raphael of a cat that got both the canary and finished the cream. “Did I grip you too hard?” the angel said, gesturing lightly at her arms. Her next set of words only cemented what Raphael has observed of her so far.
Cirucci Thunderwitch is through and through a sadist. She is amused by, and takes pleasure in the psychological or physical suffering of others, especially if it is inflicted by herself… and it did not bother him at the very least. “Given a choice, I would not willingly allow myself to be hurt, but I can take pain. After all, it comes hand in hand by being friends with Mika,” he said absently, a little distracted by her tugging at his shirt.
"Mm, no." Cirucci was Arrancar, and no mere harsh grip would be "too hard", no, it took a good blow to bruise her hierro, usually a blow from one of the males she attended, the Espada, the higher ranks, their hands and blades and teeth. "So brave, though, to take it, yes?" She complimented, drawing him closer by tugging more insistently at his shirt, a pout on her full lips.
"Raphael isn't mad at her, is he?" It was a docile show, though obviously faked, not having to put effort into acting in front of him, she knew he saw through that, one, and two, appreciated her honesty more than most. It was a relief to not act, to not wear the simpering subservience she was forced into giving the Espada, or the brave front around those stronger than her, the weaker around those she wanted to lure into complacent, the friendly one she wore for those she wished favors from.
Too many.
The compliment was wasted on him. His long years as the Chief of Virtues had seen to that. Sweet, honeyed poison, empty and false words; expertly wielded to butter and weaken those weak enough to succumb to it. Raphael had seen enough, participated in them enough to ever allow words of praises to affect him. The angel is beyond that, he accepted it with a small nod and that was it.
He gave her a long, hard look at her act. Raphael knew she did not mean it, but it was already instinct for him to react to masks with apathy. “No, I allowed you to, didn’t i?” he replied, giving her a brief smile to show that he did not mind. Cirucci was quick to catch on and Raphael was certain that his pause did not escape her notice.
"You don't mind, because..." Cirucci tugged harder, until she brushed back up against him as they had been, on tiptoe to kiss gently, softly, and yet... there was a dark undertone, something hungry and powerful, at the underside of his neck.
"Because you offered, or..." The Privaron snickered somewhat, though it could have been mistaken for a giggle. "Because you know CIrucci compensates her males?"
The hair behind his neck prickled as the words left her mouth. Though Raphael knows that anything that Cirucci is capable of, she would not be able to harm him, her undertone still gave him cause for worry.
“Because I offered,” he stressed, though he ran his hand through her hair, enjoying her feel of it. He meant it. He had offered it willingly because he was concerned… and the thought of it irritated him more than anything. She was not Barbiel, neither was she Sara, he should not care about her, but yet he did. It was bewildering.
"Why?" Cirucci queried, leaning againt the touch of his hand, a nuzzle, soft and subservient. He was gentle, capable of strength, but gentle, and that mystified her, stumped her, more like, that it could be so, but, damn, if he wasn't useful, he, the only healer she knew she could count on to tend her, a doubly useful thing considering her propensity for getting injured.
"For nothing?" The idea of giving something for nothing was another foreign concept she could not comprehend, even between licks against his throat, small peeks of her tongue from between her lips, as if he could still taste like his soul had.
The Chief of Virtues did not know the answer to her question either. From the start, he has established that he would not heal her or hers without a payment and here he was, giving her an exception. His hand tightened on her hair. “Only this once,” he told the Arrancar, though it was more to himself. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice her ministrations. Was he actually developing some sort of affection for her? He hoped not. It was troublesome enough looking out for Mika, he did not need another person on his list.
"Don't worry, Raphael~" Cirucci crooned, husky and low. She hated being ignored, and she knew ways to make sure it wouldn't last long, in press and tremor, but for now, she tasted, wishing it would taste like his soul had.
"You won't get nothing." The Thunderwitch smirked. "She'll pay for her meal."
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Cirucci Thunderwitch [
thunderwitch] & Raphael [brokenbeliefs]Summary; Following the conversation they had, Raphael suggested that Cirucci to look for her meal in the graveyard nestled at the corner of Xanadu, failing where Raphael offered the Arrancar a taste of his soul.
Log;
He stood outside the entrance to the graveyard. It did not make sense to the Chief of Virtues that the City would have a graveyard, especially when he knew that no one would remain dead… well, if one did disregarded the fact the fact that the person would have no pulse, no heartbeat after waking up as alive. Then again, Raphael has long given up on figuring this place out. It was not worth the headache.
He lit a cigarette, fixing it to his lips as he scanned around for a familiar figure. Raphael felt sympathetic for Cirucci. He probably would not know how she really feels, but he knew the feeling of need and the fact that it could not be satiated. Her food was souls, and being surrounded constantly by people and knowing that you cannot have want you want is a wretched feeling indeed.
Cirucci knew where the crypt was if only because she flew, sometimes, when she got bored. Released her true form and simply flew, wishing the sun beating down on the ivory bone and steel was the harsh and unforgiving light of Hueco Mundo, that the landscape below wasn’t cityscape or lush greens but instead the stark and barren deserts or the towering white walls of Los Noches.But such wishes were for weaker creatures, and she disregarded them.What was more important was her hunger, always present, constant gnawing in her gut for the food she was denied. The others coped better, she knew, the created ones. But she was Privaron, and she had ripped her own mask from her face, existed long before the others had help becoming Arrancar, before Aizen Sousuke.
And there were souls here, so many souls, all delicious and tempting and she couldn’t eat them, could tug and nibble but not devour, and it made her all the hungrier. Raphael’s offer seemed pointless to her, the idea that a soul would be here, but she came despite, if only because he was company, company that was ever so useful, and also, further insurance against the shinigami who were hell bent on punishing her for her more recent role in the injury of one of their own.She landed gracefully, released, and crooned a wordless greeting to the angel, long, boney talons gesturing before she sealed the form back away, the feathers receding, the bones fading before she was left with the blade at her waist and a coy smile of hello on her painted lips.
The familiar sounds of beatings wings made the angel look up, though the air has already notified him of an arrival. He half expected to see another angel looking for him for one thing or another, though he knew that was there were no other angels other than those he already seen in the City. He raised an eyebrow as he saw a creature landing in front of his gracefully. It was rather bizarre, at least to his eyes. He did nothing to hide the fact that he was observing her, from her wicked talons, sharp enough to rip out ones’ eyes with no effort to the ivory, bonelike appendages that formed her wings... perhaps they were bones? Raphael’s experience told him they were bones… an exoskeleton.
The angel watched with fascination as the creature transformed, twisting and shifting into the familiar figure of Cirucci. Though it was his first time seeing her other form, it did not quite startle the Chief of Virtues. He has, after all seen many who are beautiful on the outside, but absolutely rotten on the inside. Cirucci was not the nicest person Raphael ever met, but she was not the worst either. At least she was truthful about it. Though he tended to lie, he appreciated honesty. In the world he knew, one lied and backstabbed to advance. Perhaps, this was the reason he liked Michael. The other never lied, at least not to him.
Out of politeness, he flicked his half-smoked nicotine stick onto the ground and smiled, extending a hand to Cirucci, more out of habit than anything. “I am not certain if there is any souls in the crypt, but some of the markers here bear names.
To say she did not appreciate attention would be a blatant lie, and Cirucci preened obviously under his scrutiny, smirking in a satisfied manner. She enjoyed the feel of others’ eyes on her, release form or sealed, and she reveled in it, made sure to tuck the curled hair back behind her ear and flash a bit of thigh here, a bat of long lashes here, just out of habit.“Mm, perhaps? Cirucci is afraid they’d be old and stale tasting… wouldn’t that be sad?” The Arrancar took his hand, though she always felt some disdain for such chivalrous gestures, a shrug of her shoulders evident to this. Such chivalry was always lost on her, as used to Arrancar males as she was, she knew that such actions were only pleasantries, at best, mocking, at worst, and used to curry favor with her or condescend to her most often.
“Raphael will lead?~” She didn’t know her way about, only knew it’s location from the sky, and had never cared for thinking about human death or their ways of burial. She only cared for the idea that, once she’d sucked the soul out, they were dead, and that was that. Her only other experience with human death had been her own, and such things were beyond her memory. Too much time as a soul, wandering and lost, unsaved, to say, too much time as a Hollow when the chain tying her to humanity had rotted, left her heartless and masked, and now, too much time as an Arrancar, mask ripped to leave the spiked crown on her skull and the sword at her waist, still that heart missing from her breast.
It had been quite some time since Raphael last saw the beautiful Arrancar. He had almost forgotten what a tease she can be. Automatically, he found his eyes following her, drinking in her every gesture, her every movement. It was hard to believe that someone as delicate looking as Cirucci could be so bloodthirsty… but then again, the same can be said for Alexiel. “It would be sad, but it is at least better than nothing.” Truth be said, Raphael had absolutely no idea on whether there would be souls inside the crypt. He could not feel them, nor see them, but it just did not seem right not to try.
The shrug of her shoulders only brought a faint smile to his lips. Such a prideful being, full of spirit and fire. It was strange how he managed to end up with people like her and Michael, seeing that their personalities were a hundred and eighty degrees apart. Even her very words sounded more of a command than a request. “Of course, do watch your steps.” Silly words to someone like Cirucci. She was a fighter, a graceful one if her movements were any indication.
Cirucci did laugh at his caution, a light, airy noise, accompanied by a dismissing wave of a small hand. If she were to do something as silly as slip on a rock or turn her heel, she would probably die of shame, to be caught doing something to very weak and human. No, she was above such things.“Better than anything is true.” She commented, a murmur, hand falling to her stomach with a bit of a pout. “Cirucci hasn’t eaten in months, proper, and she’d even take an old soul, if she could get one.” The train of thought let her to raise her hand again as he led the way, index finger pressed to her bottom lip in remembrance.
“Cirucci has managed to have little nibbles though.” The Privaron smiled, a wicked upturning in the corners of her mouth, tongue flicking out to lick at the digit. “They were delightful, both so dark and tainted.” She shot the angel a knowing look. “The sinful ones taste just as good as the righteous ones.”
He knew at once he has said the wrong words as soon as it left his mouth. Her obvious amusement only cemented the fact. It was only because Raphael was beyond such things that he did not turn red at his own absurdity. It took a lot to gain a reaction from the angel. There was hardly anything that ruffled him. He had lived too long, seen too much.
So would he, if he were placed in her position. He glanced back at her for a moment, before speaking up. “Let us not get our hopes up. Though there are graves here, but as far as I know, no one ever dies here. At least not a permanent death,” Raphael said softly, not wanting to get her hopes up. He walked slowly past the crosses and obelisks, allowing Cirucci the time to look for souls – however she did it.
“A nibble is still better than starvi-“ His words were cut short as she finished her sentence. Raphael caught the meaning of her underlying words. “… When you are hungry, anything tastes good.” His words came out a little terser than he would have liked. She has hit a sore point.
Cirucci’s eyes had closed, her own energy questing, her reiatsu seeking out the signature of a soul, anything she could eat, but she still managed to catch the change in his voice, thought she didn’t acknowledge such immediately. “Mm, a nibble is better than nothing.” She crooned, followed his lead blindly without stumbling, small, booted feet graceful and careful. “And she took a bit from one of her pets, and another from a human who got too curious, ah, and they made the most delightful noises when she had her little lick.” The Privaron nodded, hummed a bit to herself before she stopped, untangled her hand from his, and pressed her finger to his mouth without opening violet eyes, long lashes brushing pale cheeks.
“Nerve, Raphael?~” The Arrancar asked without true concern, wondering as to what he had taken from her words, for she had meant nothing but food, but she was well aware meanings could have been derived from it, knew, in the cocky smile she wore and the disappointing senses that came back to her, that there were no souls here.
She noticed, much to his annoyance. Raphael supposed that being away from Etemenanki for an extended time has affected him more than he thought it would. To be in his position, he had to wear masks over masks and be a consummate liar. Backstabbing were rife, and most often, it was those whom you thought you trust were the very people who did it. To think that it had only been mere months, not even a year yet.
He felt her letting go of his and released hers. “Pets. Cirucci? I wonder what am I to you then?” Her answer did not matter, but Raphael asked anyway.
Fingers pressing against his lips, the blond kept silent, standing aside to watch as she concentrated. “Nerve,” the angel answered, not bothering to deny the fact from Cirucci. She has already caught on and it would be a futile to try to deny it. “Is there anything?”
Pouting, Cirucci addressed each question in turn, her voice echoing clearly her disappointment. She could lie, she could act, and she could be subtle. The Privaron was skilled in making males, particularly those with higher ranks in the Arrancar than her own, believe that she was theirs alone, accustomed to playing subservient or feisty, depending on what was desired of her or would be best to advance her position, and tempered to attack in ways both low and despicable. But these things were for when she had to, normally, she was open and easy to read, her emotions plain as anything. “Humans are for pets.” And to her, that’s what they were, a food source, at best, useful pets, at next, and at worst, trash annoyances. “Raphael is most useful, quite handsome, and a pleasant companion.” She supplied that explanation, probing with her reiatsu just a bit more, her brow furrowing one moment before her eyes snapped open, violet darkening in a twinge of anger.
“No souls here, besides Raphael and Cirucci.” The 105th crossed her arms under her breasts, thin fingers tightening in grip on her arms, a terse, annoyed gesture, hips cocked to the side.
He had expected lies, pretty words to bind him to her. Was he disappointed that she spoke the truth instead? No, he was not upset. It was… different. After hearing lies and half-truths for so long, it was rather refreshing. “I am glad that you find that I am a pleasant companion,” he said carefully.
He watched as her demeanor changed. It did not take a genius to tell that Cirucci did not find what she was looking for. “How exactly do you… nibble on a soul?” Raphael said, failing to think of a more suitable manner to phrase his sentence.
“How?” Cirucci’s eyelids lowered, hooded expression as she glanced over at him. An angel… what would an angel’s soul taste like? Would it be… pure, by mere nature, or, could it be tainted? Powerful, it would have to be powerful, which meant it had to be tasty…On instinct, the Privaron licked her lips.“Is Raphael volunteering?” She crooned excitedly, turned to face him and stepped that much closer, small, delicate hands coming to either side of his face, a soft caress, stepping up on tiptoes to try and match his height, which involved, in no small part intentionally, pressing her breasts against his chest.
“Would he let me have a lick?” It was an interesting prospect, angel soul. She wondered if it would leave a lingering aftertaste, speaking against his mouth, mere inches away.
It did not surprise him when she brought up the question. It was only a matter of time that she would ask someone anyway. It was already admirable that she managed to last this long without sustenance. Raphael did not do anything to stop her as she came close. He had already made the decision before he even made his way to the crypt.
How she danced to a different tune as it suits her. Not that she has ever been anything but polite and accommodating to him, but it did not escape his notice that she was especially nice when she wanted something. It pleased and disgusted him at the same time, though he already knew her true nature.
He looked down at her, his eyes focusing on her lips. “A lick.”
Cirucci’s breathing gradually slowed, until she was taking only deep, even breaths, steady and focused. She eyed slipped half closed, the violet eyes dilating and widening as she tightened the feel of her reiatsu, felt out the soul in him, feeling it out.“Ah, Cirucci forgot to mention…” Her hands on his face twitched just a moment, nails scraping against his cheeks and temples just a second before she remembered herself and relaxed her grip, though it was still firm.
“This may hurt.” The Arrancar smirked, wicked on her lips, pressing against him in all the appropriate places, offering a moment of comforting touch, a light kiss and a lick against his lips before she opened her mouth, just barely touching there, before she latched on to the soul she felt there and pulled. Unlike her siblings, she didn’t prefer mass gorgings, taking in so many souls at once. She liked a personal touch to her food, and taking it one by one, and this one, she was sure, felt the energy against her own as she dug in and tried to rip at it, that it would be a good taste.
The warning came a little too late for Raphael to do anything but to brace himself for the pain that would come. Though he has already expected the process to hurt – it would be naïve to think that it would not, the angel did not expect it to hurt quite so badly. The pain hit him without warning, it was sudden, a paralyzing pain that felt like he was being shocked.
It took all his willpower and energy to not push the Arrancar away, though he doubted that he could – Raphael could scarcely breathe as it is. He felt as if his very being was being invaded and his limbs did not respond. All the angel could do is to hold on to Cirucci.
Probing, pushing, the Arrancar sought out a better grip, a better hold, hers was tremulous at best, only able to rip and claw at the fringes of what she could call his soul. It was slightly different from a mortal's, stronger, yes, and brighter, most... definitive, but she still couldn't pull it out.
Her eyes fluttered close, her breathing nearly stopping, perfectly still and calm as she worked, breathed in the taste of it on her tongue a few more moments before the futility of the action became frustrating, and she disengaged, lowing her heels back to the ground so she had to look up to meet the angel's gaze, tongue flitting out to lick her lips.
"Tasty." She crooned darkly, hands falling from his face to stroke down his neck. "A shame she couldn't have more than a nibble, but, ah, the reminder was refreshing."
Raphael let go of her, stumbling a step back before regained his footing. He gasped for air, his blue eyes meeting her gaze as he slowly regained control of his body. The angel gave himself several moments to recover, placing one hand on the Arrancar’s shoulder and another on her waist.
Only when he was certain that he would not crumble on the spot when he let go of her did he do so. He straightened his back and pushed his hair back. “Next time, do try to give me enough ample time to brace myself before you do something like that again,” he said, giving her a small frown.
"Sorry, darling." Cirucci crooned, smoothing down the front of her dress, pulling at her long, white, gloves where they'd rumpled at his seizing muscles and grip, preening, a sort of inspection after a meal, no matter how brief and tantalizing it was. It had only made her hungrier, the little taste, but she never had to mind to deny herself the want of it, no matter whether she could get it or not.
"Most people are averse to pain, so, ah, I didn't want you to get scared, mm?" She explained it away like that, but she gave the true reason when she hooked a finger in his shirt and tugged. "Plus, Cirucci likes the look in the eye when they realize it~"
At the moment, Cirucci reminded Raphael of a cat that got both the canary and finished the cream. “Did I grip you too hard?” the angel said, gesturing lightly at her arms. Her next set of words only cemented what Raphael has observed of her so far.
Cirucci Thunderwitch is through and through a sadist. She is amused by, and takes pleasure in the psychological or physical suffering of others, especially if it is inflicted by herself… and it did not bother him at the very least. “Given a choice, I would not willingly allow myself to be hurt, but I can take pain. After all, it comes hand in hand by being friends with Mika,” he said absently, a little distracted by her tugging at his shirt.
"Mm, no." Cirucci was Arrancar, and no mere harsh grip would be "too hard", no, it took a good blow to bruise her hierro, usually a blow from one of the males she attended, the Espada, the higher ranks, their hands and blades and teeth. "So brave, though, to take it, yes?" She complimented, drawing him closer by tugging more insistently at his shirt, a pout on her full lips.
"Raphael isn't mad at her, is he?" It was a docile show, though obviously faked, not having to put effort into acting in front of him, she knew he saw through that, one, and two, appreciated her honesty more than most. It was a relief to not act, to not wear the simpering subservience she was forced into giving the Espada, or the brave front around those stronger than her, the weaker around those she wanted to lure into complacent, the friendly one she wore for those she wished favors from.
Too many.
The compliment was wasted on him. His long years as the Chief of Virtues had seen to that. Sweet, honeyed poison, empty and false words; expertly wielded to butter and weaken those weak enough to succumb to it. Raphael had seen enough, participated in them enough to ever allow words of praises to affect him. The angel is beyond that, he accepted it with a small nod and that was it.
He gave her a long, hard look at her act. Raphael knew she did not mean it, but it was already instinct for him to react to masks with apathy. “No, I allowed you to, didn’t i?” he replied, giving her a brief smile to show that he did not mind. Cirucci was quick to catch on and Raphael was certain that his pause did not escape her notice.
"You don't mind, because..." Cirucci tugged harder, until she brushed back up against him as they had been, on tiptoe to kiss gently, softly, and yet... there was a dark undertone, something hungry and powerful, at the underside of his neck.
"Because you offered, or..." The Privaron snickered somewhat, though it could have been mistaken for a giggle. "Because you know CIrucci compensates her males?"
The hair behind his neck prickled as the words left her mouth. Though Raphael knows that anything that Cirucci is capable of, she would not be able to harm him, her undertone still gave him cause for worry.
“Because I offered,” he stressed, though he ran his hand through her hair, enjoying her feel of it. He meant it. He had offered it willingly because he was concerned… and the thought of it irritated him more than anything. She was not Barbiel, neither was she Sara, he should not care about her, but yet he did. It was bewildering.
"Why?" Cirucci queried, leaning againt the touch of his hand, a nuzzle, soft and subservient. He was gentle, capable of strength, but gentle, and that mystified her, stumped her, more like, that it could be so, but, damn, if he wasn't useful, he, the only healer she knew she could count on to tend her, a doubly useful thing considering her propensity for getting injured.
"For nothing?" The idea of giving something for nothing was another foreign concept she could not comprehend, even between licks against his throat, small peeks of her tongue from between her lips, as if he could still taste like his soul had.
The Chief of Virtues did not know the answer to her question either. From the start, he has established that he would not heal her or hers without a payment and here he was, giving her an exception. His hand tightened on her hair. “Only this once,” he told the Arrancar, though it was more to himself. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice her ministrations. Was he actually developing some sort of affection for her? He hoped not. It was troublesome enough looking out for Mika, he did not need another person on his list.
"Don't worry, Raphael~" Cirucci crooned, husky and low. She hated being ignored, and she knew ways to make sure it wouldn't last long, in press and tremor, but for now, she tasted, wishing it would taste like his soul had.
"You won't get nothing." The Thunderwitch smirked. "She'll pay for her meal."