tampered | Log; Complete

Log; Complete

When; Sept. 17th, morning
Rating; PG-13 (blood/violence)
Characters; Ophelia {

better_third}
Summary; Raring for a fight, Ophelia starts looking at the two captains Noitora has pointed her to, but one of their third seats has a bit of a problem with letting the sword-happy Claymore anywhere near her captain, let alone near him with a sword. Which means it's playtime.
Log;

Ophelia was excited.

A little smile on her face, trees and scenery rushing by and the familiar sound of her feet, the metal armor on her shins and their oiled clinks. Run, run, run, faster, faster, faster until she reached her prey.

This girl was weak, so it wouldn't be a real fight. It would be a little game.

The Claymore skidded to a halt when she reached the edge of the forest, always tentative before she stepped out of it. The world beyond it, the manicured gardens and the structures, the City and it's buildings, were unfamiliar to her, scary and unreal, but she sometimes had to brave them. ... Not that she was scared.

"Little girl?~" Ophelia unslung her large blade, twirling it around expertly as she childishly goose-stepped out from the shadows of the trees that bordered against the back of the temple.

"Are you ready to play?"

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Kiyone stiffened as Ophelia stepped out from the forest. It wasn't so much her appearance at the forest edge that made Kiyone tense, but the way she addressed her. "I'm not a little girl," she insisted. The Claymore did appear to be older than Kiyone, but unless she aged as shinigami did, the third-seat was sure she had at least a few hundred years on the other woman.

She left the other question unanswered, not really wanting to 'play' anything with the Claymore. At least, not whatever game had earned her the nickname Blood-Soaked Ophelia. All Kiyone wanted to do was to stay between Ophelia and her captain, and even if that meant playing, well- So be it.

"Yes, you are~" Ophelia crooned, stepping steadily, confidantly out now, each step slow and regular, measured even, like she was counting out each one in her head.

One~ Two~ Three~ Four~ Five~ Six~ Seven~ Eight~ Nine~ Ten~

The large Claymore blade swung out, level with the shinigami's chest. She hadn't answered the game question, that was annoying, but she'd make sure it was fun.

"These are the rules." She eyed her, taking in the physical strength her form gave. Shame those bulky robes made it hard to judge muscle, unlike her own tight, fitted clothing and her sparse armor.

"I'll match your strength, okay?" Ophelia held the large blade easily in one hand, gesturing animatedly with the other. "And then I'll up mine, and up it and up it and up it until you can't take it anymore!"

Kiyone took a half-step back as Ophelia swung her blade out. She rested a hand on the hilt of her own blade, gripping it tightly. The other woman was far too excited for this, for this game she wanted to play. And those rules...

"Fine. But if you decide you can't take anymore before I do, then you'll swear to stay away from taichou. You won't attack him, you won't try to kill him, you won't even talk to him." Kiyone took another half-step back, inching her blade free. "Okay?"

"Oh, sure." Ophelia eyed the shinigami like a wolf eyes prey, like an animal ready to strike, coiled and ready. And that was what she was.

"If you can beat my strength..." The Claymore began to shift her wrist, nearly imperceptible as her fingers tightened, the smooth, polished metal of her sword hilt, the black card inside, (she'd never need that), the mark on it's blood channel that matched the one on her neckplate... all of it was thrumming, thrumming with excitement.

"I promise to leave your precious captain be." Judging her strength was hard to do in those clothes, but she measured with experience and guesswork, loosened her muscles and swung, a motion that seemed so weak to her, accustomed to losing herself in battle, but would, to the shinigami, be an even, solid motion, overhand and swinging down.

If... Kiyone didn't like that word. She didn't like to think that she might lose this. There was something to be said about knowing an enemy's strength before engaging them in battle, but Kiyone was never one to deny that she was sometimes rash. Especially when it came to her captain and his well-being and protection.

She pulled her sword free and brought it up to block the downward motion of Ophelia's. She wondered how much of the Claymore's strength was behind that swing. If it was a good part of her ability, she'd just might make it. If it was only a little of what Ophelia was cabable of, well... Kiyone would rather not think about the 'if.'

Ophelia pushed a bit against the blade, moved a bit quicker, a bit stronger in her next blow, and then the next. Each one blocked adeptly enough by the little girly thing.

"Not bad~!" She praised, pushing harder this time, harder the next. "I couldn't judge your strength very well with those silly clothes!" The claymore blade snicked over and over into the third seat's zanpakutou, each time a little harder, each time stronger, releasing the power in her muscles, laced with yoma energy, a little bit of the time.

"Come on, come on!" She baited, finally pressing with more strength than she knew the shinigami possessed, swinging solid at her side.

Kiyone met every swing of Ophelia's sword with a block from her own. What she lost to Ophelia in strength, she made up for in speed. She struggled more and more to hold off the Claymore's blade with each successive interception, able to feel the woman press harder each time.

She continued to move to defend herself, blocking this swing, that one. But as she turned to parry the next swing, she lost her footing on the uneven ground and stumbled. She cried out as Ophelia took advantage of the misstep, the Claymore's blade biting into her side.

"Not bad," she returned the praise, pulling back from the other woman, sword-less hand clutching her side. It wasn't as deep as it could have been; she was sure she'd had worse. Maybe. Wounded or not, Kiyone wasn't ready to say she was through.

"Of course not~" Ophelia smirked, a wide, manic grin, and swung her blade again. Slowly her strength increased, and slowly the third seat had to relent, each swing was stronger and each of hers not only the same strength as before, but weakening due to the wound.

"Isn't it lovely?~" The Claymore crooned at the sight, at that crimson that flowed from wherever the body was wounded. "It is..."

And then she was gone, no longer in front of her. Suddenly behind, claymore blade ready to strike, to cut down from behind.

The game got tiring.

After Isane pointed Shunsui in the direction of the entry and reading what had transpired between the two women, Shunsui needed no more urging. He was a little annoyed that Kiyone felt the need to take matters into her own hands - it could only mean trouble. Especially considering her opponent. While Shunsui had not fought the woman, he has spoken with her and could sense her blood lust.

Flash stepping to what he assumed would be the meeting place, Shunsui saw that his suspicions were correct.Kiyone was indeed in trouble by the looks of things.

He moved quickly again, unsheathing his double zanpakutou and instantly stepping in between the two of them as Ophelia moved to strike again. He blocked by crossing his own weapons.

"Yare, yare. Looks like I got here just in time."

"Kyouraku-taichou-"

Kiyone could feel his reiatsu behind her before she saw him. She turned to see the captain between herself and the Claymore.

Ophelia had moved behind her, but how? Wasn't she just in front of Kiyone, bloodstained sword in hand? And there she was now, engaged with Shunsui. If he hadn't been there to stop the Claymore... Kiyone made a mental note to buy the captain as much sake as he could drink sometime.

A hop skip back away from the ring of blades and the Claymore stood, blade leveling with the Captain's chest, stained red, that lovely crimson, from the smaller shinigami he was protecting.

"You said you were weak~" She taunted, twirling her blade easily in one hand, sending droplets of blood flying about.

"Change your mind over this weak little bitch?"

Ukitake was certain that it had been quite some time since he had hurried this much - a thought of his frantic run to save Rukia from the hollow-infested Kaien flew trough his mind, and spurred him to hurry even more.
Kiyone. She was in danger, he could feel it, and it made his heart ache in worry… even if he could now feel another familiar reiatsu in the same place.

What was going on here?

Flashstep took the white-haired captain to the scene of the fight, and his brown eyes narrowed at the sight of the armored woman battling Shunsui. Thank goodness his friend had come…
Nemu had told him about this...'Blood-Soaked Ophelia'. It had not sounded good.
Gripping his zanpakutou, he drew the blade, mumbling the well-known incantation before breathing out the name of the blade, splitting it in two.

He had to make sure Kiyone would be safe. She had to get out of here - fast.

Pointing one of the jitte-like swords upwards, he concentrated his reiatsu. The blade crackled with electricity as he called out to his subordinate.

"Kiyone! If you can move, run away!"

Slowly, Ophelia's neck turned. It turned and turned, farther than a normal neck could go, faint popping noises in her spine until she could look the other captain in the eye, her own far too bloodlust clouded, far too dangerous, too predatory.

"The other one..." Her blade twitched, and slowly the movement changed, from the simple twirl of her wrist to holding her blade straight out, level. Her arm did not appear to move, and yet the blade began to ripple, undulating and sinuous like a snake.

"This might just be fun after all..." Her eyes began to shift, from silver to gold, veins pulsing as they released yoma power into her body. These two captains and her, the other didn't even factor into the equation, and Noitora a little ways away, if she wanted him to play...

Things would get interesting indeed.

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Log; Complete

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