Log; Complete

[opfern.livejournal.com]

When; September 11th [Morning].
Rating; PG-13 [Flashbacks & Language].
Characters; Alfons Heiderich [opfern] & Cirucci Thunderwitch [thunderwitch].
Summary; After this, Alfons tries to talk Cirucci into a less sexual approach to retrieving her sword, but plans go awry.
Log;

The jog over had been tiring. It was still too early for him to be willing to risk the subway, after all, so he had walked the entire way, breaking into a run once he spotted her apartment building. Why did it have to be so far away?

The morning air was chilled, pricking at his skin as he paused just outside to catch his breath. Funny how one could be dead and still run out of breath. Maybe it was just human habit... He knew that Cirucci didn't always breathe while sleeping. Was he capable of that skill as well?

Shaking his head, he switched his book bag to the other shoulder before darting over to the elevator to reach the top floor. He was a little nervous...and he had already thought of various reasons that Cirucci would oppose the idea. All of them involved her safety, of course. Not that he didn't want that... But didn't the woman understand pride? Couldn't she?

And if Luppi was there, Alfons would have to steel himself for an even worse argument. He just wasn't in the mood for this... But in truth, this was better than looking for Edward.

He already knew he was gone. If he had died, he would have returned by now. Doing this... This helped distract him. It was better than staying still and wallowing in the depression that would surely follow if he allowed himself that school of thought.

"Cirucci?" he called just outside the door before knocking for the sake of manners.


Cirucci didn’t answer the door. She didn’t speak. She was pacing, back and forth, back and forth, unable to sleep, to relax, to be anything but frantic and restless, knowing Golondrina, knowing her sword, knowing her very being rested in those awful, horrible, bony hands. The Privaron knew those hands.

Those hands had wrested her number from her, taken all of her respect and wore it now for himself, the scar of a five on her breast marching up perfectly to the black ink on his tongue. Those hands, she hated those hands, fisted in her hair, yanked and jerked, had been in her, on her, shoved things inside her…

She hated those hands.

Cirucci had even more reason to hate those hands now, just as she had even more reason to fear them. It was hard, to destroy a zanpakutou, but it could be done. They could be broken, they could be sealed, they could be… surely, surely, he wouldn’t. … The worry that he would consumed her.


Alarmed and concerned at not getting an answer, Alfons reached down to try the knob and found it unlocked. Opening the door, he looked in, relief flooding him as he saw her. Well, she didn't look very well, but...at least she wasn't gone. For a moment he had thought that maybe Noitora had shown up and--

Shaking his head, he stepped in and shut the door. He didn't bother to pull his shoes off this since, since this wasn't a social visit. "...Cirucci?" he called again, voice soft and wary as he edged over to where she was pacing back and forth. "Cirucci, where is Luppi?"


“Greed’s.” Cirucci snarled, suddenly moved to face him to snap and stiffen, hands fisted tight at her side. How dare he, how- How could he run off and play with that dirty man when she… when she had to go to Noitora. It wasn’t like she’d wanted to go, she hadn’t, and then to have him run off with that disgusting piece of shit-

Not, of course, that Cirucci didn’t expect him to. She didn’t expect Luppi to be faithful to her any more than Luppi expected her to be faithful to him, but… she’d not expected him to be there for her, but she’d wanted him to be.

“… He’s not here.” She finished, trying to calm herself but she couldn’t, not without the familiar weight of her zanpakutou on her hip, the comforting, all too soothing power there, her true form sealed, and now, without it… she wasn’t complete anymore. Not that she ever could be, with a hole where her heart should be, but the sword… it was the closest she came to it.


The implications in her tone made Alfons wrinkle his nose a bit in disgust. Uch. Just how many people did Greed sleep with? He couldn't even figure out what people found attractive about the man.

Then he took in Cirucci's expression and resisted the urge to reach out and hug her, knowing she'd probably just shove him away. "Noitora took Golondrina away while you were...with him yesterday? Where does he even live? The same building?"


“… That was outside.” Cirucci turned to rifle through her pillows, do anything to distract herself, it didn’t matter, rearranging the small pile and then messing it up to do it over again, stacking and scattering as she spoke.

“He lives three buildings over.” She pointed to the right, didn’t look but pointed. She didn’t want to look. Suck my cock and maybe I’ll give it back. She hated being on her knees, especially when every time he insulted her she could see her number painted clear on his tongue.


He looked to where she pointed, then back to her. Well, that told him which building... But it didn't tell him which apartment... Curious, but doing a grand job of keeping his tone smooth and careful, he stayed where he was while setting the shoulder bag onto the coffee table.

"Really? Does he like to live up top like you? Grand views and all..."


“No.” Cirucci didn’t elaborate, and she wouldn’t. She knew what he was doing, she did. She turned her head, the motion baring the recent wound on her neck, the thin line of red cut across the front of her neck.

“He has a shitty view.” She spoke sharply, angrily, turning back to discard a pillow in a huff and stand again, walking between the kitchen and back, soft pads of stockinged feet on hardwood, no noise to it, not even the rhythmic steps o her usual small boots.


With a frown, he stayed where he was, just watching her go about her business fretting. Well, that made it more difficult...but at least now he could assume Noitora lived in the lower half of the building. That was a better hint than nothing at all.

"Well, anyway," he started lightly, hoping against all odds that she would approve his idea. He had spent a small fortune on it, after all. "As much as I hate the idea of using something like magic, I...found something that can put people to sleep. The woman said it had a good chance of putting anyone to sleep, mortal or not."

Crouching down, he opened up his book bag. "If you were to use it on Noitora, you could put him to sleep and then take back your weapon without needing to fight him."


Cirucci froze.

“What?” Ice crept into her voice, along with fury. Hadn’t she told him she could handle it? Wasn’t she handling it? … If what she had done could be called handling. Offering herself… that was the only way to get anything done. She was powerful, so powerful, could kill a mortal without a thought, devour souls and kill other Arrancar, even, but against Espada… Her power was nothing compared to the new Espada. Her attacks were nothing, the only thing she had that could do anything to them was her body, and the giving of it.

”You’ll come when I want, do whatever I want, until I’m satisfied.” Her teeth grit, hard. ”Then you can have her back.” She was… that was handling it. He didn’t think she could handle it? She’d been handling it for hundreds of years now, from rise and fall, and he didn’t think she could handle this?


He winced, but didn't move away. Instead he pulled out the small scroll with the spell imprinted on it, holding it out, though he kept his grip firm. Not that she couldn't easily take it even if he tried to keep it from her... His strength was no rival to hers.

"...I saw what he wanted you to do, to get her back," he murmured softly, eyes filled with sorrow at the very thought. "I saw, and I don't think you should. Doing...that...was what got you into this mess, wasn't it? You don't even know he'll keep his word, and even so, he'll just find another way to hurt you later on. With this, you can keep a bit of your pride and take her back."


A scroll… that would put him to sleep. He never slept around her. Not unless she was unconscious, at any rate, or so weak she couldn’t move. If he were asleep…

No. She stopped her thoughts right there. If she did that, if she took her back while he was out… he’d be furious. He’d be so angry, and when he was angry, the same things happened, the same violence, the same sex, only afterwards, she’d be injured, at best, and dead, at worst. … She didn’t want to die again, not here, not when people would find out.

“… It’s what I always do.” The Privaron finally answered, but she stiffened noticeably when he mentioned pride, her eyes darkening. Pride? He thought this was hurting her pride? … No, her pride- It was a tattered, shredded, pride, but she still had it.


Sighing in frustration, Alfons stood back up to offer a glare. "I know, and I think it's pretty clear by now that what you always do doesn't work. Look at where it's gotten you this time. Look at you! You're a mess. More than usual, even. Not a day goes by anymore that I don't wonder 'What kind of trouble is Cirucci going to get herself into today?'"

His tone was harsh, but he couldn't help it. He was sick of being some bystander that always had to watch what happened, and never able to take action. He was sick of watching Cirucci take the stupid route every single time. He had told her once that she wasn't a prostitute, as they got paid, but she seemed to do it whenever she wanted a trade. In a way, wasn't that prostitution? It made him grip the scroll so hard that his knuckles turned white.


She stiffened again, more, chin rising proudly, still so proud, to look him in the eye, baring that red wound across her neck again, where the sickle blade of his zanpakutou had collided when he’d pinned her to the ground. ”I like this, it keeps you nice and still.”

“It will work.” The Privaron hissed. “It has to work.” What she didn’t say was the part of what he said that actually pained her. Stop worrying. Don’t care about me. Don’t worry. Love scared Cirucci Thunderwitch, it could be said it scared her more than anything. It could make her cry, she had cried, when Il Forte had whispered it in her ear. Even knowing it was a lie, it had hurt, the idea that she could be loved, that anyone would love her, was painful, painful to a being with no heart. She could feign love, just as she could feign any number of emotions, like the ones she’d had to feign with Noitora last night. Affection. Subservience. That horrid, sickening subservience that made bile rise in her throat.


With a scowl, his sky blue eyes clouded over as he stared at her. So stubborn... Why did he always have to care about the stubborn ones that never thought things through? Edward was reckless in a different way, though... Always risking himself for other people.

Reaching out, he started to touch the mark on her neck, then pulled his hand away at the last second and growled out, "Acting like a trollop won't get you anywhere but in the gutter! You might as well stand on the corner with a sign!"

Almost as soon as the words flew from his mouth, he regretted them, paling even more than normal. He had always been careful about what he said to her...and he had always told her she wasn't the things that people claimed she was. His own mouth tasted bitter now, as his troubled gaze darted off to the side.

"...I didn't mean that."


Her eyes darkened immediately, fury rising in her body fast, too fast to stop her hand from rising and slapping him, hard. She didn’t want to stop her hand from doing that. She didn’t even fully check her strength, that immortal, unnatural, strength, made sure it wasn’t enough to kill him, not enough to send him into the wall, but it was no human woman’s slap.

She didn’t say anything either, she almost couldn’t her throat moved and the words died there, though she wanted to scream at him. How dare he- Alfons was the one who always…

”You’re not a whore, Cirucci. Don’t listen to them, okay?”

He was a liar, just like everyone else. Barely perceptible, her bottom lip trembled and her body stiffened all the more, hands clenched tightly, too tightly, black, taloned nails digging in to her palms and anchoring with that pain as she looked at him, cold and hot, both horrified that he had said that, that he would say such a thing to her, and angry, so angry.


Not enough to send him into the wall, maybe, but it made him stumble and drop the scroll, the rolled up spell rolling off to the side of the kitchen. His hand had flown out to catch himself against the back of the couch, gripping there as he stared down at the ground, tasting the blood from where he'd bitten his tongue.

What a familiar taste. He knew he deserved it... Of all the things to say to her. Swallowing the bit of blood, Alfons reached up to touch his cheek, the flesh still stinging and tender. He knew the bruise would probably look a fright later, but it didn't compare to what he saw in her eyes when he finally made himself look up.

Another swallow, this time a little dry, and Alfons dropped his hand from his cheek, voice hoarse as he whispered out, "I didn't mean it. I said it because I was angry... I shouldn't have. Cirucci, you know I don't actually think that."


“… You said it.” She grit out. She shouldn’t have reacted like that, shouldn’t have, because now he knew she cared. Now he knew she cared what he thought, and that was shameful, more shameful than anything she could do with her body, more shameful than anything an Espada could do to her. It was… it wasn’t anything she should be doing, caring what some stupid human boy thought, and yet…

Being called a whore by Alfons hurt more than it ever had coming from the mouths of shinigami and arrancar.

“How-“ She did manage to cut herself off there, before she demanded how he could dare say something like that, before her voice could waver and break when she asked why he would call her something like that. Because, as often as she did sell her body, for favors, for favor, for her health, for her life-

“I’ve slept with him for you, and-“ She’d even slept with Noitora to prevent him from killing Alfons or Tony, to placate him, soothe his anger with touch and sensation, even though with him it always hurt, even if he said he was playing nice, even though she hated him most of all, and this, this was how she was repaid?


The guilt was practically eating him alive now, and he wasn't sure if it was her pain that he felt or his own, but either way it made it hard to stand. It was clear that in her eyes, he had betrayed her.

Alfons had never really thought his opinion could matter that much to her. He knew that in some way she cared for him...but she was always clumping him together with those other men, referring to them all as pets, so he had never suspected anything deeper on her end. But then, maybe she was just acting like this because of what Noitora had taken. She was without something that was a part of her, after all.

"I-I said it, but I didn't mean it! It's a stupid thing humans do... Even Edward and I have said things we didn't mean when we've gotten into fights." Especially the fights over Cirucci and the children...

"...I don't want you to sleep with anyone because of me. I... I don't think you're a trollop, or a prostitute, or anything like that... I just think you're handling things wrong. It's going to destroy you, Cirucci. I don't want that."


No, not that. Giving herself to Noitora wouldn't destroy her. Care, pretending to care, feigning it until maybe she actually felt it… that would destroy her. She could blame it on being without Golondrina, being without the sword that was such an intrinsic part to her. Shinigami claimed that their blades were close to their souls, but Arrancar blades were their souls, their true selves, that monstrous Hollow form-

“Liar.” She got out, and it was all she could get out, not moving, not even breathing, her breast gone still and quiet as her whole body had, trembling in anger. She was so angry she couldn’t stand it, finally turning from him, didn’t want to even look at him, walking away from him and towards the sun room, where windows were the entire wall, wanting to see the sky. The sky… her wings, those were in the sword, and the sword was tucked away in Noitora’s hands, his filthy nasty hands.


The word stung, but only because he wondered if it was true. How often did he lie? He wasn't as noble as some people liked to claim... He was always lying in order to keep people happy. Ignorance was bliss, or so they said. But still...he had always done his best not to lie to Cirucci.

No, he didn't think she was a whore. He knew it was just because people took advantage of her, and it was all she knew how to do to get her way, short of fighting. It was her form of negotiation, questionable as it was.

Regardless...he wasn't going to just let her run off and use that form of negotiation. Noitora didn't need negotiating...he needed to be taught a lesson, and...Cirucci wasn't going to listen to him. As he watched her walk away, he knew he really had no choice in the matter, just like she didn't.

With his jaw still throbbing and a headache forming, Alfons turned to try and locate where the scroll had rolled, moving over to quickly snatch it up so that he could stuff it into his jacket pocket. Then he carefully walked after the arrancar, keeping an eye on her hands as he stepped up behind her.

Then, reaching out with one arm, he wrapped it around her waist and buried his face against her hair, squeezing in an obscure kind of embrace. "Forgive me, Cirucci," he murmured, voice trembling as his other hand gripped the scroll and concentrated the way Jeane had taught him.


A snarl had ripped from her, stiffening further and turning to whirl, to face him, anger and fury and all the hurt.

“No, I wo-“ But she paused, cut off, suddenly felt a weakness in her legs. She trembled, fighting whatever the hell it was, she didn’t know, didn’t realize, her mind speeding up as her body seemed to slow down. Her small hands clutched at him as she felt herself begin to fall, tried to catch herself and did, for a moment, face half torn between anger and confusion.

“What…” She murmured, sounding distant to her own ears. She was so tired… stocking slipped on hardwood and she fell, hard, landing on her side. Almost like a wounded animal she tried to struggle up, fought the sudden weariness in her limbs to try and cling to consciousness.

“Don’t-“ She whispered, but she was already too far gone, her eyelids dropping though she tried to hold on to her anger, her mind, to being awake, shaking it off to half rise onto her knees before she toppled again, eyes dulling.

“No.” Cirucci mouthed, not sure what she was denying. She wasn’t sure if she was denying that she was going to sleep, which was… dumb, she wasn’t tired, was she? She hadn’t been… she had been wide awake, high strung, pacing and frantic and now-

Now, her mind went blank.


She fell before he could catch her, and he flinched as she hit the ground. She knew that much wouldn't injure her, though... She was too sturdy. As he looked down at her, he was a bit startled to see it actually worked. Not that he thought it wouldn't after the small fortune he spent on it, but it was still a surprise to see magic in action...and himself being the one to use it.

As Cirucci faded, Alfons forced a gentle smile to tug at his lips, eyes calm as he crouched down beside her and reached to stroke her hair. "Forgive me," he repeated, more softly this time, but she was already asleep.

Carefully, he slipped his arms underneath to lift and cradle her against his chest, standing with minimal effort. She was strong, but he was glad she wasn't really heavy. He started to carry her to her room, but stopped when he realized he wasn't allowed in there. After a few moments of debate, he laid her out on the couch, arranging the pillows for optimal comfort. Then, he pulled the small blanket off the back of the couch to tuck her in, as it was getting colder these days.

He left quickly, not wanting to linger and let his sense talk him out of his decision. He had a building to search, after all, even if it did mean he would have to knock on all of the doors.