Log; Complete

[thunderwitch.livejournal.com]

When; August 23rd, wolf attack
Rating; PG
Characters; Cirucci {thunderwitch} & Tony {darkest0knight}
Summary; Tony's gotten into a spot of trouble during the wolf attack, and after Cirucci bails him out, they have a heart to... hole talk.
Log;

He hadn’t really thought it through, was the problem. But then, who expects a bunch of snarling, angry, ravenous shadow-wolves to ambush you outside the grocery store anyway? It wasn’t like he’d had time to pick the best course of action.

Which was what Tony kept telling himself as he cursed, and moved people out of the way of snapping jaws, and tried to make as many as possible of the hulking black backs surrounding him erupt into flame. It was working only mildly better than what he’d been doing before, which was using the remains of his groceries and his own blood to keep some protective shield in place.

A little further off, Tony could see Ky ripping through masses of dogs with lightning and sword. Somewhere behind him he could hear Walter yelling and the sound of Pup’s growling. But mostly what he heard was the frantic beat of his own pulse and a litany in his head that sounded an awful lot like shitshitshitshitshit.

To his left, another strand of dental floss snapped beneath the weight of a hound throwing itself at the wards. Tony managed to fling it a few feet back by reversing the Come to Me spell, but the beast was fast and had obviously decided Tony was worth the trouble of eating…

‘Think of something!’

Shadows shifted underneath the wolf’s feet and Tony froze, eyes widened in panic.

“Oh crap…”

>>>

“I’m just going out for a goddamned minute, Noitora!” She’d slammed the door on her way out and shook herself, smoothed her hastily donned dress and adjusted a garter that was out of place. Honestly, she looked a fright. Tucking waves of her hair behind her ears, the Arrancar gave a shrug. Had to go preserve one of her pets.

The Arrancar kicked into a sonido, releasing her blade as she went. She loved the way her true form felt around her, the comfort of her true shape that not much else could compare to, taking to the air in the grating shriek of metal and the rustling of feathers and ivory. Cirucci wasn’t really in too much of a rush, after all, she didn’t care terribly much if he died as long as he would still be of use, but, she did admit to arching a brow when she watched him below, a small form.

Tsk, tsk, Tony-dear. Losing. With a put-upon sigh the Arrancar folded her wings, plummeted to the Square below in a whistling rush of air until she’d come so close, long, taloned arms reaching out the pluck the magician from the cobblestones and snap the wings out again, bracing the fall until her small boots hit the pavement and she kicked off again into a sonido back air bound, dragging the human beneath her clutched in her bony hands.

>>>

He hadn’t seen it coming, which is probably why instead of leaning into the movement, Tony squawked, twisted, and nearly yanked his arm out of his socket trying to see what the hell had just grabbed him—pleasenotashadowpleaseplease—and dragged him into the air to dangle like a sack of potatoes.

When he caught sight of feathers and a familiar face, relief made him swallow around a sudden thickness in his throat.

“You could warn a guy before you do that,” he said, meaning the words to come out casual and light, but wincing at the hoarse strain in his voice.

>>>

Cirucci laughed noisily, an avian lilt to her noise, circling higher and higher, gaining foot after foot into the sky, her tail swaying as she headed up, dragging the human still, her grip, large, bony talons, sharp and pointed, holding him tightly.

“Tony-dear, you’d gotten into quite a bit of trouble trying to be selfless and save people, didn’t you?~” She crooned, her voice nearly lost in the sound of wind and the cries from the streets below.

>>>

Too tight. Tony hissed in a sharp breath as a talon dug into a sensitive spot just under his right arm, drawing blood. He started to shift in her hold, but decided against it when he glanced down. The ground was a very long ways away.

“I wasn’t being selfless,” he protested feebly, eyes glued to his sneakers and the empty air beneath them. “I was trying to buy waffles and not get eaten.”

>>>

“You’ll get dizzy looking down like that.” Cirucci commented off-handedly, wing tilting as she veered right, circling the roof of a nearby building, slowly beginning a descent, a whistling sort of noise when the wind ripped through ivory and metal sheet wing blades.

“Besides, you could have made it out o your own if you hadn’t been saving people, mm?”

>>>

“M’already dizzy,” Tony replied. Except that the way his head was spinning probably had more to do with exhaustion from using his power so much, and the adrenaline that was now leeching from his system.

But he obediently closed his eyes instead, letting his head loll forward on his chest as he took some deep breaths and tried not to think about what his body might sound like after hitting the pavement from four-hundred feet.

“And I had to try something. There were kids and…and Ky. Shit. Ky’s still there, I have to go back.”

>>>

“No, you don’t.” Cirucci admonished, flapped her wings in powerful gusts, stirring up dust and dirt from the building roof, hooding her eyelids, long eyelashes protecting violet iris from the blinding debris. She landed gently, small boots touching down holding Tony aloft so he wouldn’t jar, before setting him down just as carefully, though still not releasing him from her talons, in case he’d run off.

>>>

Tony felt the ground beneath his feet, then the buckling of his knees as he swayed with the reaction of his body to his fear, now that he had the luxury of time to think about it. Think about dark, writhing shadows and sharp teeth closing on his neck. He shuddered, swallowing back his nausea. Ky needed him. He tried to stand up straighter and shrug off Cirucci’s hold without slicing himself in two.

“Yes, I do. Let go.”

>>>

“No.” Cirucci sighed, tossing her head with a breath of air up into her hair to get it out from her face. Her grip stayed firm, idly noticing that a talon had dug into his side and removed it, a bit of blood staining the ivory shade.

“You’ll die, and that’s just not convenient.”

>>>

“I would not,” Tony retorted sourly, more out of habit and bruised pride then anything. His right arm ached and trembled, the skin around the scar on his hand where he focused his power was swollen and red. He knew she was right. He wouldn’t have been helping anyone if he went back.

But still…

“I can’t abandon him. Friends don’t do that.”

>>>

“This one is going to.” Cirucci pouted, she wanted to seal that form away before she started to sweat, but she wasn’t willing to release him quite yet. A dilemma, surely.

Her tail thrashed, the maw opening and closing, snapping irritably.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

>>>

Tony sighed and scuffed his feet, ears straining for noises of the fight he’d been pulled from. He didn’t hear the crackle of Ky’s lightning. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

“Let go,” he said, quieter this time. “I’m not going to run. Let go.”

Actually what he really wanted to do was sit down.

>>>

Cirucci eyed him carefully, finally released him to drop the inch or two to the ground from his feet, flexing the wrists and cracking the bones in her talons, each one scrabbling as she stretched them out, the tail writhing and wings shifting before she sealed them back up, returned the whip to her side and panted a bit, wiped a drop of sweat from her neck and adjusted her collar to try and cover bruises.

“Good boy.” She smirked, flopping down lazily on the ground.

>>>

The bone-cracking sounds Cirucci’s talons made as she returned to her usual form didn’t do anything to help Tony’s nausea. Gratefully, he sank to his knees and considered his options. He could heal the damage done to his arm by using the powershot, but it would only make his exhaustion worse.

And even if he could muster up the energy to move after that, Cirucci could easily stop him from going anywhere.

So instead he threw all his energy into sulking.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m your pet,” he grumbled, putting a tentative hand to his side to access the damage done by Cirucci’s talon. The sting of parted flesh greeted his fingers, but the cut wasn’t too deep.

The bleeding had even stopped on its own.

>>>

“Then don’t talk like an idiot?” Cirucci offered, shrugging, drawing up her knees and brushing dirt from her pale legs, lifting one, then the other, dusting off her stockings.

“Honestly, Tony-dear, always getting into trouble.” He was her pet, of course, but she wasn’t going to bother refuting it, he was too stubborn for that. She didn’t seem to care that each motion of leg and arm bared bruisings, the distinctive mark of fingers on her thighs, her wrists.

>>>

He turned to glare at her and caught sight of a set of purplish smudges lining her upper thigh. And started. And glared harder.

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted, his voice low and tight with anger. She’d been with him again, had let him hurt her and all because of some stupid idea of rank and…

And he couldn’t do anything about it. Just like he couldn’t do anything to help Ky.

He hated being so useless.

>>>

“… What?” Cirucci cocked her head to the side. “Just because Cirucci kills people and they always have to have friends who want to kill her…” She followed his gaze, spread her legs and looked down, fingers skimming up over the bruises with a thin-lipped expression, matching her fingers up with the bruising, easily identified as hands.

“Oh.” He was still going on about that, was he?

>>>

“Oh,” Tony repeated, sarcastically. But he was already lurching to his feet to stand in front of her, eyes searching for more serious injuries. “Are those it, or are you hiding broken bones?”

He didn’t think Raphael would allow him to pay for another healing for the Arrancar quite so soon, if at all. If she needed it…

He sighed and rubbed his forehead with his left hand. He was too tired to deal with this.

>>>

Cirucci shrunk in on herself, shoulders sinking and a pout coming to her lips, tossing her head to the side, but this only bared the finger prints on her neck, mostly hidden by her collar, sending curled dark hair whipping about her face.

“Like he could break any of my bones.” She huffed, but really, it was quite the possibility. If he wanted to, he could probably snap them, light and brittle, had to be, considering she’d started as an avian, winged, Hollow.

>>>

“That didn’t answer my question,” Tony said, but the ring of purplish smudges on her pale neck answered for her anyway. He sucked in a concerned gasp and couldn’t quite help the automatic movement of his hand towards her, fingers reaching to trace the marks.

If she’d wanted to hide them from him, she wasn’t doing a very good job.

>>>

Cirucci shied somewhat from the touch, arching her neck back away from questing fingers, lips curling. She could take a lot of pain, but that didn’t mean she wanted them aggravated and reminded of how sore she felt.

“I said I’m in one piece, Tony-dear.” She reminded, chastised, fingers opening her collar and pulling aside fabric, baring down to her naval, revealing the inner curve of her breasts, marred by bruises there, bite marks, and the gaping hole through her torso between them.

“No broken bones, see?”

>>>

He caught himself staring at the hole in her chest and immediately wrenched his gaze away, staring at his own feet, cheeks aflame. The hand he’d outstretched towards her was snapped back to his side so quickly it was like she’d burned him. Why did she do things like that?

“I believe you, I believe you! Do your shirt back up, geez.” He squirmed uncomfortably, not willing to look up to see if she was complying with his order. He directed his next question to his right big toe.

“So I don’t need to find a healer this time?”

>>>

He find one? Hmmph. “No.”

Cirucci frowned, snapping her fingers to get his attention, and pointing to the hole through her chest, not at all ashamed at any state of undress.

“You’re gay, Tony-dear, this shouldn’t be anything to you, come now, I want you to look at something, this is a lesson for you.”

>>>

“I’m gay,” Tony repeated, a sullen pout crossing his lips. “That means I don’t wanna be ambushed with girly bits. And I don’t need your stupid lesson.”

He didn’t. She was just going to point at the stupid hole and say stupid things about not having hearts and how this should affect Tony’s view of her. Like he needed to hear that shit again.

>>>

The Arrancar snickered. Girly bits.

“They’re breasts.” She snorted, leaning forward to snap her fingers around his wrist, tugging until she rested his hand in that space where organs and skin should be.

“See?” He honestly didn’t seem to get it, her lack of heart. None of them seemed to, not any of her pets. Were they dumb? Foolish? Too kind-hearted? She wasn’t sure, but it got annoying.

>>>

Tony’s eyes widened in alarm as she grabbed him.

“Hey,” he protested. “What are you…HEY.”

His hand was through her. His hand was through her goddamn chest. Horrified, he tugged backwards, trying not to brush the edges of the hole with his fingers.

“What the hell are you doing?”

>>>

“I want you to remember what you feel there.” Cirucci murmured, eyes drifting closed, her hold tight, refusing to let him withdraw his hand, eyebrows arched high as she spoke.

“Tell me, Tony-dear. What do you feel?” The brush of wind through the hole through her torso made her shiver.

>>>

“I don’t feel anything except that you’re crushing my wrist.” Tony scowled and gave one last twist before giving up, letting his hand hang limply through the hole.

“I get it, okay? You have a hole in your chest. You don’t have a heart. Whoopdedoo, now let me go and do up your shirt.”

>>>

Cirucci gave a put-upon sigh, let him go and let thin fingers skillfully redo the snaps on the front of her dress, hiding the whole of her chest away behind crisp white fabric again, hiding bruises in the shape of long, bony, fingers, bite marks from a mouth with a tongue that held her old number, that same scar across her breast that was in the distinctive shape of a five.

“So dumb, sometimes.” She yawned.

>>>

Snatching back his hand as soon as she released his wrist, Tony stuffed it hastily in the pocket of his jeans, as if to keep it out of danger from winding up in some girl’s chest-hole again. It had felt…weird. Weird because there really was nothing there.

When Tony had put his hand through the ghosts at the possessed house, he’d felt a cold so drastic it was painful. He’d touched dead soul…stuff. But the only chill he’d felt with Cirucci was from the wind, not from a dead soul reacting to his living flesh.

“You’re the dumb one,” he muttered under his breath, “if you think I’m going to change my mind just because you put my hand through your chest.”

>>>

“Listen to yourself.” Cirucci scoffed, waving her hand limply and rolling onto her back, staring up at the sky, smirking confidently at the noises of wolves attacking people below.

“Just because you put my hand though your chest.”

>>>

“You’re the one that did it. If it sounds ridiculous it’s not my fault.” Tony frowned and then shook his head. That hadn’t come out right either. He wasn’t being very coherent, but then again, he’d just spent the last few hours fighting killer shadow-wolves.

He figured he had the right to not be very coherent.

>>>

Cirucci sighed again, snorted, and stood up, brushing dirt and debris from her dress, readjusting the vibrant purple garters, and fixing her hair.

“I’ve got to get back.” To him hung in the air. “Don’t you dare go down there the minute I leave.”

>>>

Tony stiffened, chin snapping up at Cirucci’s words. She couldn’t leave. He wasn’t going to let her go back to him when he’d already strangled her and god knows what else today.

“If you go I’m heading right back to find Ky,” he threatened, also rising to his feet, managing to only stagger a little before finding his balance.

>>>

Cirucci laughed. It was a quick step to him, weak as he was, and all it took was a rap on the back of his head with her hand, well… it was like a tap to her, she supposed to a human it would be more like a blow to the head. Maybe it would leave a little bump.

“Stupid human.” She rolled her eyes, dragged him to the door to the stairs and propped him up, patting down his hair.

There.

And then she went back.