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tampered2008-11-30 01:45 am
anti-buttons.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2008-11-30 01:45 am
LOG; BACKDATED; COMPLETE
When; November 22nd, evening, GOD SORRY RIZU SORRY
Rating; PG: 13, lol
Characters; Ishida Uryuu![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anti_buttons & Cirucci Thunderwitch thunderwitch
Summary; Because Jules is Jules and Rizu is Rizu, what starts as absolute, tongue in cheek crack re: an Arrancar falsely believing she's pregnant, becomes srs bsns re: what an Arrancar chose to forget, and a Quincy cannot help but remember.
Log;
Uryuu did not thank his lucky stars that Doumeki-san happened to be out, because he did not believe in lucky stars, and even if he did, he would have been inclined to believe that on coming to the City his stars, though previously fairly lucky indeed, had all become miserably unfortunate. What else could explain the circumstances of this day? There was zero possibility, outside of a curse's vindictiveness, that what the Thunderwitch had confessed had any truth to it.
But, outside of a curse - those were the key words, the words by which all citizens lived their lives.
So it was that Uryuu waited within his apartment, unwilling to do this in a public setting, where any person might see him place his hand over her abdomen and wait. His lips were pursed thin enough that they disappeared, and as he stood by the door, leaning against a wall in the front hall, he could not even pretend to be doing otherwise. The sooner this was over with, the better - the words that ruled his every encounter with the Thunderwitch
Oh, but she did have to stop the spring in her step before she knocked on the door. Of course, she was pissed, as well. In any idea, she could never have imagined this would happen. As far as she knew, though she hardly thought about it often, if ever, Arrancar were incapable of giving life to offspring. The whole... dead soul package.
But she knew it was so, a slight curve, she did notice it, and the nauseas feeling that morning, and the every so often umph that made her lips twist and her eyes dart down to her belly with a grunt.
The knock on his door came finally, and her hands returned to crossed under her breasts, after passing by to press a violet curl back in place beside her cheek. Shift, hip weight shifted, a ruffling of the purple dress that was not her uniform, and a tap of high heel.
This may be good.
This might be terrible.
Only, there was no might to it - it simply would be, and resigned to that fact, Uryuu squared his shoulders and took the last step to the door. Without a need to ask who stood beyond it, nor to employ the peephole, he opened the door and did his best to grant the woman only a cursory glance.
It was difficult to live up to expecting everything; an attire more feminine, human, less matching her typical garb, yes, he had seen it before, but the color differed, and her skin had more color as a result. The brevity of his look was ruined by what he failed to resist; a pause over her abdomen. Was there a bump, or simply a natural curve, or did she force it? With a violent jerk of his head preceding it, Uryuu stepped aside.
"Come in, then," he ordered.
"So cold, Shiro-Megane-Kun~!" But she wouldn't have it any other way, would she? Everything had to be perfect. The vision in her mind of defeating him... it had to be on her terms. She'd heard more than she wanted to, about her "previous" stay, about people who knew her, expected things of her, and everything else. And if it was one thing Cirucci was good at, it was denial.
That hadn't changed.
She sashayed in, plopping down immediately on to the arm of his couch, fingers curling against the fabric, offering him only a coy smile.
What an infuriating expression she wore. It might have been charming on any other face, but then, the sight of her these days stirred too many emotions. The best to focus on was that irritable determination. He followed her across the room, primly, neatly rolling up his sleeve.
"You claimed it's kicking," he said, straight to business, as if that attitude might defeat the I can't believe I'm actually humoring this lunacy though circling through his mind.
At the last moment, however, his cool attitude stumbled; Uryuu cast an uncertain, hesitant glance her way before actually reaching out to do the deed. Monster though she may have been, -- well. "Er- May I?"
Her smirk had twisted farther, seeing him try to act so stoic, so in charge. But that was her Shiro-Megane-Kun, wasn't it?
"Occasionally, I said." Cirucci crooned, eyes lidded. "Did I not say the little leech wasn't far along yet? I certainly don't plan on letting it get that far." Fingers splayed over her abdomen a moment, and it could have been mistaken for a mother's protective touch, were it not paired with those callous words. And truly, would she think much of destroying a child's life? No. She didn't possess a shred of those maternal instincts. Did sh- ... May he. May he?
"... Just touch it, Ishida." She deadpanned, caught off guard by his sudden hesitance. In fact- Yes. She was laughing.
Surprised by his own pause (it had certainly not been a part of his plan), his fluster at having yielded to it led to a defensive bristling at her laughter. His shoulders tensed, lifting, even as his brow bunched; but before he could snap anything in the heat of the moment, he managed to obtain a shred of composure.
Uryuu schooled his features, but couldn't cool the blush as he hastily, and yet gently, stiffly, placed his hand over the purple fabric that fell over her middle.
"You're the one who said I ought to do this," he noted, with no small amount of irritation, "How long might I have to wait?"
"Because I'll not having you call me a liar the one time truth comes out of this mouth of mine." And, perhaps, no- Surely, because she liked to see him squirm. Even if a part of her still knew she could never defeat him, she was safe in the idea that she would always have the power to do this, the tensing of his shoulders, his jaw, or the stutters and pauses. Always.
"..." She looked down, pursed her lips, and moved her hand again, over his, a mockery of the expectant mother who wanted to, together, feel the life she had created with another person.
"Not hours. But it may take a while. It only happens every now and then. Little fucker." The last insult hurled at the life she confessed to cradling within her lifeless body.
How could he do anything but roll his eyes at that declaration? Oh, there was another option, but the idea that this might be the truth on a day in which the network was flooded half with total rubbish and half with that which might actually be truth. The only thing that had landed him in this position was the possibility, however small, that the City would validate the lies for this day - that, perhaps, on this day, there was a slim possibility that life had been planted into her corpse-soul. The fact that anything like it had yet to be reported didn't nullify the chances; and Uryuu had hardly spent much time investigating the network beforehand.
What it came down to, what kept his hand on the cool cloth, was this: Ishida Uryuu would not be an accomplice, through inaction, to the City-Thunderwitch murder of possible innocent life. (As if anything produced by her could be innocent).
"Watch the language," he reprimanded, dryly, emphasizing how absolutely ludicrous this was. His back was beginning to feel stiff. And he could not resist this, a nitpick of her previous statement: "So, all those times you claimed you could defeat me... lies after all."
"Or what, the baby might hear, and be offended?~" She smirked, lips expressive, corners twitching up, pursed. Fingers twitched a bit, nails scraped over his own knuckles, the small bit of warmth offered there, where he touched against her belly.
However, at the jab, she immediately seized up, tighter than his back was, and her nails dug in, harsh.
"What?" Spat out, half standing, to try and press him back, reiatsu flaring suddenly, just as harsh, reactive and emotional. "I-" She caught herself, lip quivering in anger. "Don't take everything so-" There was an obvious conflict on her face, hormones? "Literally-"
His eyebrows arched. "Precisely."
Before he could protest the grazing of her nails, it was too late; they were already stabbing. He knew precisely how the half-moon crescents would look, though that wasn't the image flashing through his mind as his arm shot through with tension. But her reflexive grip was invariably affected by her pressing him, and Uryuu was only too willing to oblige by retrieving his hand, though it left him with red scratches.
Stepping back, he observed her impassionately, expressionless in the face of her shifting reiatsu.
"I shouldn't? Then what's this about, I wonder, if I shouldn't be so literal. A symbol of your obsession, festering in your gut?"
"You would dare to think I was so desperate as to-" Her face was contorted with rage, so easily incited to it, in these frustrating situations, with him so close and her all to knowledgeable, with this feeling in her that she could not defeat him. ... This feeling, like her body knew it, but it escaped her mind. (Her thoughts strayed to Nnoitra, to his disgusting face sneering abouve her, and all those nasty words, her past that couldn't be true-)
"To-" She paused, looking down sharply with a sudden tick coming to her eye, a little wrench in the way she stood, oof, and a snarl.
"Goddamn it- NO ONE IS TALKING TO YOU." Screaming didn't help any, but it did make her feel better, as she suddenly whirled on the Quincy, hand pressing hard back in to her abdomen. "This is your goddamned fault anyway- You think I thought this would happen?!"
There was no need for him to speak and confirm it; obviously he dared to think it, he believed it far more than he did that she might be pregnant. His features, ever schooled, now displayed only a cool disdain, his eyes narrowed to say, Of course, if not for her own interruption, one that ruined his little moment of aplomb.
Another step was taken back, this time with sheer disbelief, his eyes wide and arms jerking up in a seizure of horror. She might have fancied herself an actress, but Uryuu doubted that she was this good, which meant --
"S-Stop that," he tried, his voice weak and half-shrill with panic. "My fault? It's still-- impossible! Don't tell me you really think there's something -- something-- there."
"This is definitely your fault!" She shrieked, stomping a foot in emphasis. In reality, it wasn't an act. Some, cursed today, were silently aware of their lies and false confessions, others, fully believing in them, and Cirucci Thunderwitch was the latter. Much to her future fury and disdain.
"You think I'd have done that if there was even the chance of this happening? What- Like something like me should have to worry about brats?" High pitched, he would be used to that by now, but this was even the half hysterical pitch of a hormonal pregnancy, which may possibly be twice as scary as simply an enraged Privaron Espada.
"I already got saddled with that half-baked drooling retard, and now this- I don't need this, you hear me? I can't take care of killing you, let alone trying to deal with some sort of ba- it went on, and she hadn't even realized what she'd said. I can't take care of killing you.
"Done--done--" He might as well have been foaming at the mouth, for the way in which, stupefied, he could only repeat that world to stupid ad nauseum. Done that? But they hadn't. Though she had taken his first kiss (and quite a few after that), she hadn't been his first in that, because it had never happened. City or no City, he would remember it.
"Done that" Uryuu finally managed to squeak, and felt both so nauseous and so dizzy that he found himself abruptly slumped against the wall, a quavering palm held out in front of him, as if to ward her and her words off. His eyes traced the spots of welling blood on the back of his hand.
"It's Impossible," he insisted. "You're dead, and I'm still -- still --" red, so red, but he forced it out, "A virgin, it's impossible."
It took her words a minute, even two to reach him through his self-pitying denial, but when they did, his shaking stilled. That, that was a queer admission; and he looked at her askance for it.
"Don't be such a child-" She snapped dismissively at his response, sneering and arms crossed under her breasts, hip cocked, all female rage. Women scorned, after all.
"Done that," Her voice was sharply mocking, "Slept together, fucked, had sex, rutted, I don't care what you call it, you're no goddamn virgin, and I sure as hell remember it." She continued on like she didn't notice his look, because really, she'd not even realized fully what she'd said.
Freudian slip. Rather telling.
Right as she began, his look disappeared between the renewal of horror. His shoulders hunched up as his hands shot to his ears, slapping over them with enough force that it almost hurt. Had he the presence of mind to take a look at himself, he might have been embarrassed beyond all recovery, but at the moment, he was too busy shoving his head toward his knees in that desperate, juvenile attempt to block it out.
"When then," he shot, staring at his feet, hands still protecting his ears. "When? You haven't been - ah- back for very long. We've barely seen one another, I've made sure of it."
"During the damn fight, I told you-" She scoffed, turning her back on him, absolutely disgusted with how he was acting. It wasn't good- Not good enough, for him to be acting like that. He should be more angry- He should infuriate her more, that was the way these things went-
"Whatever, just get over here and finish before you keep calling me a liar, huh?" Pointed with a vicious stab of her finger, glaring back over her bare shoulder.
"Fight?" Uryuu asked, raising his face from his knees so to cast an incredulous look. His elbows remained supportive on his legs; he made no motion to obey her later instruction, staring past her finger at her face, his mouth thinning. The damn fight? There had only been one fight, recently, only one.
"You," he said, with a deliberate languor produced by his recovery from hysteria, "don't remember the fight. So you-- you aren't in a position to tell me what happened, nor what happened until you pretended to leave, and pretended to return."
Perhaps he shouldn't have. Undoubtedly.
"Then tell me, instead of wasting my time trying to remind me of what I supposedly don't remember, hah?" She made her way there, palm hit the wall, leaning over him with a too sadistic smile- maybe too manic. Too daring, and yet, too aware of the dangers of that knowledge.
"Always "you don't know anything", "you don't know what happened"." Her voice mimicked his tones, inflections, even moved her hand to mimic the way he pushed up his glasses. "So spill, daddy."
His eyes moved, balls rolling in their sockets, and that was all for movement. Otherwise stationary, not so much as a muscle twitched in his face, though he looked up at her, though what her lips had twisted into should have struck him numb. Uryuu had learned not to fear monsters; though it was harder when they looked human, that, too, was something with which he had experience.
"Don't call me such a disgusting thing," he said, "and perhaps I will."
A beat, and Uryuu knew she would play along. He moistened his lips, preparing the words, though they were quite simple. "After all that time, I suppose you were as tired of it as I was. It was your idea; one last go, to settle things. Though, of course, I knew that things had been settled back in Hueco Mundo but you will persist in what you will."
Strange, how the last of it didn't sound bitter at all. There was nothing fond in it, not simply.
"You promised you'd leave me alone. So, we fought. So, I severed it - again. You disappeared for a while. Perhaps I would have believed that you'd really left, and come anew - except, ah, for the scars."
Staring up, his face remote, now, again, his eyebrows raised. "Satisfied?"
"..." She fell silent.
Eerily silent, and if she had a heart, she might have felt it there, up in her throat. If she had a pulse, she might have heard it, beating loud and frantic in her ears as she watched the motions of this mouth, connected them with words, with a story, with rumors she had heard, and-
"... scars." The Privaron murmured, her expression darkening, waves of hair hanging down in her face, obscuring parts of her, eyes, then the tear drops, nose, mouth, as she swayed a moment, eyes out of focus- just one moment.
She had seen them. Had no idea- Knew they had never been there before, but there they were despite. Scars, so many... but most noticable, one jagged and pale across her belly, nearly straight, but not quite, cut by a desperate and unsteady boy, a Quincy with a scalpel and a trap.
Purple irises dilated abruptly, and a heady sense of wrongness pervaded her, a sickness boiling up in her throat, the idea of no reiatsu, the fear of no reiatsu, and then, Nnoitra's voice echoing in her mind again, say, you were up to some disgusting shit, Privaron, last time you were 'round... pathetic...
"... you're lying."
Because he could not look away, he did. Because the sight of her as his words slid past her filters, dripped down her throat and seeped through her eardrums, of the shadows that grayed the pallor of her skin as her hair fell, because it was too tragic and tragedy as a pity and he refused - refused, and Uryuu swallowed his sympathy like an awkward cut of salmon.
"Am I?" he murmured, his face tightening with the reflex that was offense, irritable twitches to ask how dare she, how dare she. But he relaxed; the tension slid, again, down neck, shoulder, arm, wrist, and as it pooled in his finger tips his lifted his hand and reached. The distance between them was not so great, was not insurmountable for his length, and and he pressed light against her dress as he traced that scar.
"I couldn't stop shaking," he admitted quietly, his eyes focused on what he imagined might be beneath the dress, the discolored skin.
Her teeth grit, a snarl ripped out of her, but she didn't move, not for a whole long moment, as she tried to imagine it. They spoke like they knew her, spoke like she'd DONE all these things, and she hadn't- Her mind knew she hadn't, couldn't imagine even doing it, but her body still remembered it. The pains, the paths, the locations, the methods of it all, and part of her quaked, at the physical memory of that pain, but her mind rejected it, not true, not true-
"I can't-" Her fist slammed in to the wall above his head, hard, then again, face contorted in rage still, twisted and cursed. Heer stomach twitched, tightened against the touch, and she hated that feeling, like she should remember, should, should, should-
"It can't have happened if I can't remember it, goddamnit-"
Though the wall shook, Uryuu did not flinch. His eyes rolled up once more, observing the intensity of her expression. In that moment, he felt detached, in that moment, he watched himself watch her, and in watching he could think, how is it that these peo--no, creatures, have lost their hearts, and yet could feel in this way. His fingers curled away from her dress, into his palm, but as he lifted his hand, they folded out. He closed his fingers around her wrist, exerted a gentle but firm force away from the wall. The last thing he needed was more holes.
"You wouldn't remember if you'd traded your memories for those abilities," Uryuu noted, voicing his long kept quiet suspicion. It was the only sense he could wring out of the affair. She had the scars. There was nothing else to it.
"I have no reason to lie about this," he added.
It was a peculiar thing, the expressions she was flickering through. Knowing there was something amiss... and yet her very nature seeking to deny it. It was conflict, pure and simple, even down to the core of her being. Tunnel vision, because all she could think about were those scars. That one, this one, the other one. There should only be one. Just one, on her breast there, in the shape of a number that was everything to her- had been everything to her. Five. Fifth. Espada. Privaron Espada. 105.
She seemed to not even notice the grip, or contact. Her brow was furrowed, lips pursed. Eyes dilated, and shaking, that quick, side to side motion that indicated rapid thought. No reply, from the Arrancar, though her reiatsu was pressuring, densing, as if she could force herself to recall through mere will or power alone.
Able to withstand the pressure of her reiatsu without pause, Uryuu rose from the sofa. He stood slowly, without releasing her wrist, and as he did pushed it gradually toward her, ending in pressing her hand against her abdomen. His fingers slid over hers, adjusting their position, outlining where he believed the scar to be. All talk of the absurdity of her being with child had, at least, been forgotten.
"Perhaps you should be going," Uryuu suggested, his voice in a careful monotone, his eyes behind his lenses, behind windows and glass.
He let go, though it took him a little too long.
Oh, forgotten it had been. In the face of something like this- What was that, something she planned to- and could, terminate at her own leisure and will. This was-
It wasn't something she could understand. Wasn't something she could think of. Not without breaking. Her lips pursed, and she turned.
"Whatever. I don't need this." And before she even finished the sentence, she was heading for the door.
Rating; PG: 13, lol
Characters; Ishida Uryuu
anti_buttons & Cirucci Thunderwitch thunderwitchSummary; Because Jules is Jules and Rizu is Rizu, what starts as absolute, tongue in cheek crack re: an Arrancar falsely believing she's pregnant, becomes srs bsns re: what an Arrancar chose to forget, and a Quincy cannot help but remember.
Log;
Uryuu did not thank his lucky stars that Doumeki-san happened to be out, because he did not believe in lucky stars, and even if he did, he would have been inclined to believe that on coming to the City his stars, though previously fairly lucky indeed, had all become miserably unfortunate. What else could explain the circumstances of this day? There was zero possibility, outside of a curse's vindictiveness, that what the Thunderwitch had confessed had any truth to it.
But, outside of a curse - those were the key words, the words by which all citizens lived their lives.
So it was that Uryuu waited within his apartment, unwilling to do this in a public setting, where any person might see him place his hand over her abdomen and wait. His lips were pursed thin enough that they disappeared, and as he stood by the door, leaning against a wall in the front hall, he could not even pretend to be doing otherwise. The sooner this was over with, the better - the words that ruled his every encounter with the Thunderwitch
Oh, but she did have to stop the spring in her step before she knocked on the door. Of course, she was pissed, as well. In any idea, she could never have imagined this would happen. As far as she knew, though she hardly thought about it often, if ever, Arrancar were incapable of giving life to offspring. The whole... dead soul package.
But she knew it was so, a slight curve, she did notice it, and the nauseas feeling that morning, and the every so often umph that made her lips twist and her eyes dart down to her belly with a grunt.
The knock on his door came finally, and her hands returned to crossed under her breasts, after passing by to press a violet curl back in place beside her cheek. Shift, hip weight shifted, a ruffling of the purple dress that was not her uniform, and a tap of high heel.
This may be good.
This might be terrible.
Only, there was no might to it - it simply would be, and resigned to that fact, Uryuu squared his shoulders and took the last step to the door. Without a need to ask who stood beyond it, nor to employ the peephole, he opened the door and did his best to grant the woman only a cursory glance.
It was difficult to live up to expecting everything; an attire more feminine, human, less matching her typical garb, yes, he had seen it before, but the color differed, and her skin had more color as a result. The brevity of his look was ruined by what he failed to resist; a pause over her abdomen. Was there a bump, or simply a natural curve, or did she force it? With a violent jerk of his head preceding it, Uryuu stepped aside.
"Come in, then," he ordered.
"So cold, Shiro-Megane-Kun~!" But she wouldn't have it any other way, would she? Everything had to be perfect. The vision in her mind of defeating him... it had to be on her terms. She'd heard more than she wanted to, about her "previous" stay, about people who knew her, expected things of her, and everything else. And if it was one thing Cirucci was good at, it was denial.
That hadn't changed.
She sashayed in, plopping down immediately on to the arm of his couch, fingers curling against the fabric, offering him only a coy smile.
What an infuriating expression she wore. It might have been charming on any other face, but then, the sight of her these days stirred too many emotions. The best to focus on was that irritable determination. He followed her across the room, primly, neatly rolling up his sleeve.
"You claimed it's kicking," he said, straight to business, as if that attitude might defeat the I can't believe I'm actually humoring this lunacy though circling through his mind.
At the last moment, however, his cool attitude stumbled; Uryuu cast an uncertain, hesitant glance her way before actually reaching out to do the deed. Monster though she may have been, -- well. "Er- May I?"
Her smirk had twisted farther, seeing him try to act so stoic, so in charge. But that was her Shiro-Megane-Kun, wasn't it?
"Occasionally, I said." Cirucci crooned, eyes lidded. "Did I not say the little leech wasn't far along yet? I certainly don't plan on letting it get that far." Fingers splayed over her abdomen a moment, and it could have been mistaken for a mother's protective touch, were it not paired with those callous words. And truly, would she think much of destroying a child's life? No. She didn't possess a shred of those maternal instincts. Did sh- ... May he. May he?
"... Just touch it, Ishida." She deadpanned, caught off guard by his sudden hesitance. In fact- Yes. She was laughing.
Surprised by his own pause (it had certainly not been a part of his plan), his fluster at having yielded to it led to a defensive bristling at her laughter. His shoulders tensed, lifting, even as his brow bunched; but before he could snap anything in the heat of the moment, he managed to obtain a shred of composure.
Uryuu schooled his features, but couldn't cool the blush as he hastily, and yet gently, stiffly, placed his hand over the purple fabric that fell over her middle.
"You're the one who said I ought to do this," he noted, with no small amount of irritation, "How long might I have to wait?"
"Because I'll not having you call me a liar the one time truth comes out of this mouth of mine." And, perhaps, no- Surely, because she liked to see him squirm. Even if a part of her still knew she could never defeat him, she was safe in the idea that she would always have the power to do this, the tensing of his shoulders, his jaw, or the stutters and pauses. Always.
"..." She looked down, pursed her lips, and moved her hand again, over his, a mockery of the expectant mother who wanted to, together, feel the life she had created with another person.
"Not hours. But it may take a while. It only happens every now and then. Little fucker." The last insult hurled at the life she confessed to cradling within her lifeless body.
How could he do anything but roll his eyes at that declaration? Oh, there was another option, but the idea that this might be the truth on a day in which the network was flooded half with total rubbish and half with that which might actually be truth. The only thing that had landed him in this position was the possibility, however small, that the City would validate the lies for this day - that, perhaps, on this day, there was a slim possibility that life had been planted into her corpse-soul. The fact that anything like it had yet to be reported didn't nullify the chances; and Uryuu had hardly spent much time investigating the network beforehand.
What it came down to, what kept his hand on the cool cloth, was this: Ishida Uryuu would not be an accomplice, through inaction, to the City-Thunderwitch murder of possible innocent life. (As if anything produced by her could be innocent).
"Watch the language," he reprimanded, dryly, emphasizing how absolutely ludicrous this was. His back was beginning to feel stiff. And he could not resist this, a nitpick of her previous statement: "So, all those times you claimed you could defeat me... lies after all."
"Or what, the baby might hear, and be offended?~" She smirked, lips expressive, corners twitching up, pursed. Fingers twitched a bit, nails scraped over his own knuckles, the small bit of warmth offered there, where he touched against her belly.
However, at the jab, she immediately seized up, tighter than his back was, and her nails dug in, harsh.
"What?" Spat out, half standing, to try and press him back, reiatsu flaring suddenly, just as harsh, reactive and emotional. "I-" She caught herself, lip quivering in anger. "Don't take everything so-" There was an obvious conflict on her face, hormones? "Literally-"
His eyebrows arched. "Precisely."
Before he could protest the grazing of her nails, it was too late; they were already stabbing. He knew precisely how the half-moon crescents would look, though that wasn't the image flashing through his mind as his arm shot through with tension. But her reflexive grip was invariably affected by her pressing him, and Uryuu was only too willing to oblige by retrieving his hand, though it left him with red scratches.
Stepping back, he observed her impassionately, expressionless in the face of her shifting reiatsu.
"I shouldn't? Then what's this about, I wonder, if I shouldn't be so literal. A symbol of your obsession, festering in your gut?"
"You would dare to think I was so desperate as to-" Her face was contorted with rage, so easily incited to it, in these frustrating situations, with him so close and her all to knowledgeable, with this feeling in her that she could not defeat him. ... This feeling, like her body knew it, but it escaped her mind. (Her thoughts strayed to Nnoitra, to his disgusting face sneering abouve her, and all those nasty words, her past that couldn't be true-)
"To-" She paused, looking down sharply with a sudden tick coming to her eye, a little wrench in the way she stood, oof, and a snarl.
"Goddamn it- NO ONE IS TALKING TO YOU." Screaming didn't help any, but it did make her feel better, as she suddenly whirled on the Quincy, hand pressing hard back in to her abdomen. "This is your goddamned fault anyway- You think I thought this would happen?!"
There was no need for him to speak and confirm it; obviously he dared to think it, he believed it far more than he did that she might be pregnant. His features, ever schooled, now displayed only a cool disdain, his eyes narrowed to say, Of course, if not for her own interruption, one that ruined his little moment of aplomb.
Another step was taken back, this time with sheer disbelief, his eyes wide and arms jerking up in a seizure of horror. She might have fancied herself an actress, but Uryuu doubted that she was this good, which meant --
"S-Stop that," he tried, his voice weak and half-shrill with panic. "My fault? It's still-- impossible! Don't tell me you really think there's something -- something-- there."
"This is definitely your fault!" She shrieked, stomping a foot in emphasis. In reality, it wasn't an act. Some, cursed today, were silently aware of their lies and false confessions, others, fully believing in them, and Cirucci Thunderwitch was the latter. Much to her future fury and disdain.
"You think I'd have done that if there was even the chance of this happening? What- Like something like me should have to worry about brats?" High pitched, he would be used to that by now, but this was even the half hysterical pitch of a hormonal pregnancy, which may possibly be twice as scary as simply an enraged Privaron Espada.
"I already got saddled with that half-baked drooling retard, and now this- I don't need this, you hear me? I can't take care of killing you, let alone trying to deal with some sort of ba- it went on, and she hadn't even realized what she'd said. I can't take care of killing you.
"Done--done--" He might as well have been foaming at the mouth, for the way in which, stupefied, he could only repeat that world to stupid ad nauseum. Done that? But they hadn't. Though she had taken his first kiss (and quite a few after that), she hadn't been his first in that, because it had never happened. City or no City, he would remember it.
"Done that" Uryuu finally managed to squeak, and felt both so nauseous and so dizzy that he found himself abruptly slumped against the wall, a quavering palm held out in front of him, as if to ward her and her words off. His eyes traced the spots of welling blood on the back of his hand.
"It's Impossible," he insisted. "You're dead, and I'm still -- still --" red, so red, but he forced it out, "A virgin, it's impossible."
It took her words a minute, even two to reach him through his self-pitying denial, but when they did, his shaking stilled. That, that was a queer admission; and he looked at her askance for it.
"Don't be such a child-" She snapped dismissively at his response, sneering and arms crossed under her breasts, hip cocked, all female rage. Women scorned, after all.
"Done that," Her voice was sharply mocking, "Slept together, fucked, had sex, rutted, I don't care what you call it, you're no goddamn virgin, and I sure as hell remember it." She continued on like she didn't notice his look, because really, she'd not even realized fully what she'd said.
Freudian slip. Rather telling.
Right as she began, his look disappeared between the renewal of horror. His shoulders hunched up as his hands shot to his ears, slapping over them with enough force that it almost hurt. Had he the presence of mind to take a look at himself, he might have been embarrassed beyond all recovery, but at the moment, he was too busy shoving his head toward his knees in that desperate, juvenile attempt to block it out.
"When then," he shot, staring at his feet, hands still protecting his ears. "When? You haven't been - ah- back for very long. We've barely seen one another, I've made sure of it."
"During the damn fight, I told you-" She scoffed, turning her back on him, absolutely disgusted with how he was acting. It wasn't good- Not good enough, for him to be acting like that. He should be more angry- He should infuriate her more, that was the way these things went-
"Whatever, just get over here and finish before you keep calling me a liar, huh?" Pointed with a vicious stab of her finger, glaring back over her bare shoulder.
"Fight?" Uryuu asked, raising his face from his knees so to cast an incredulous look. His elbows remained supportive on his legs; he made no motion to obey her later instruction, staring past her finger at her face, his mouth thinning. The damn fight? There had only been one fight, recently, only one.
"You," he said, with a deliberate languor produced by his recovery from hysteria, "don't remember the fight. So you-- you aren't in a position to tell me what happened, nor what happened until you pretended to leave, and pretended to return."
Perhaps he shouldn't have. Undoubtedly.
"Then tell me, instead of wasting my time trying to remind me of what I supposedly don't remember, hah?" She made her way there, palm hit the wall, leaning over him with a too sadistic smile- maybe too manic. Too daring, and yet, too aware of the dangers of that knowledge.
"Always "you don't know anything", "you don't know what happened"." Her voice mimicked his tones, inflections, even moved her hand to mimic the way he pushed up his glasses. "So spill, daddy."
His eyes moved, balls rolling in their sockets, and that was all for movement. Otherwise stationary, not so much as a muscle twitched in his face, though he looked up at her, though what her lips had twisted into should have struck him numb. Uryuu had learned not to fear monsters; though it was harder when they looked human, that, too, was something with which he had experience.
"Don't call me such a disgusting thing," he said, "and perhaps I will."
A beat, and Uryuu knew she would play along. He moistened his lips, preparing the words, though they were quite simple. "After all that time, I suppose you were as tired of it as I was. It was your idea; one last go, to settle things. Though, of course, I knew that things had been settled back in Hueco Mundo but you will persist in what you will."
Strange, how the last of it didn't sound bitter at all. There was nothing fond in it, not simply.
"You promised you'd leave me alone. So, we fought. So, I severed it - again. You disappeared for a while. Perhaps I would have believed that you'd really left, and come anew - except, ah, for the scars."
Staring up, his face remote, now, again, his eyebrows raised. "Satisfied?"
"..." She fell silent.
Eerily silent, and if she had a heart, she might have felt it there, up in her throat. If she had a pulse, she might have heard it, beating loud and frantic in her ears as she watched the motions of this mouth, connected them with words, with a story, with rumors she had heard, and-
"... scars." The Privaron murmured, her expression darkening, waves of hair hanging down in her face, obscuring parts of her, eyes, then the tear drops, nose, mouth, as she swayed a moment, eyes out of focus- just one moment.
She had seen them. Had no idea- Knew they had never been there before, but there they were despite. Scars, so many... but most noticable, one jagged and pale across her belly, nearly straight, but not quite, cut by a desperate and unsteady boy, a Quincy with a scalpel and a trap.
Purple irises dilated abruptly, and a heady sense of wrongness pervaded her, a sickness boiling up in her throat, the idea of no reiatsu, the fear of no reiatsu, and then, Nnoitra's voice echoing in her mind again, say, you were up to some disgusting shit, Privaron, last time you were 'round... pathetic...
"... you're lying."
Because he could not look away, he did. Because the sight of her as his words slid past her filters, dripped down her throat and seeped through her eardrums, of the shadows that grayed the pallor of her skin as her hair fell, because it was too tragic and tragedy as a pity and he refused - refused, and Uryuu swallowed his sympathy like an awkward cut of salmon.
"Am I?" he murmured, his face tightening with the reflex that was offense, irritable twitches to ask how dare she, how dare she. But he relaxed; the tension slid, again, down neck, shoulder, arm, wrist, and as it pooled in his finger tips his lifted his hand and reached. The distance between them was not so great, was not insurmountable for his length, and and he pressed light against her dress as he traced that scar.
"I couldn't stop shaking," he admitted quietly, his eyes focused on what he imagined might be beneath the dress, the discolored skin.
Her teeth grit, a snarl ripped out of her, but she didn't move, not for a whole long moment, as she tried to imagine it. They spoke like they knew her, spoke like she'd DONE all these things, and she hadn't- Her mind knew she hadn't, couldn't imagine even doing it, but her body still remembered it. The pains, the paths, the locations, the methods of it all, and part of her quaked, at the physical memory of that pain, but her mind rejected it, not true, not true-
"I can't-" Her fist slammed in to the wall above his head, hard, then again, face contorted in rage still, twisted and cursed. Heer stomach twitched, tightened against the touch, and she hated that feeling, like she should remember, should, should, should-
"It can't have happened if I can't remember it, goddamnit-"
Though the wall shook, Uryuu did not flinch. His eyes rolled up once more, observing the intensity of her expression. In that moment, he felt detached, in that moment, he watched himself watch her, and in watching he could think, how is it that these peo--no, creatures, have lost their hearts, and yet could feel in this way. His fingers curled away from her dress, into his palm, but as he lifted his hand, they folded out. He closed his fingers around her wrist, exerted a gentle but firm force away from the wall. The last thing he needed was more holes.
"You wouldn't remember if you'd traded your memories for those abilities," Uryuu noted, voicing his long kept quiet suspicion. It was the only sense he could wring out of the affair. She had the scars. There was nothing else to it.
"I have no reason to lie about this," he added.
It was a peculiar thing, the expressions she was flickering through. Knowing there was something amiss... and yet her very nature seeking to deny it. It was conflict, pure and simple, even down to the core of her being. Tunnel vision, because all she could think about were those scars. That one, this one, the other one. There should only be one. Just one, on her breast there, in the shape of a number that was everything to her- had been everything to her. Five. Fifth. Espada. Privaron Espada. 105.
She seemed to not even notice the grip, or contact. Her brow was furrowed, lips pursed. Eyes dilated, and shaking, that quick, side to side motion that indicated rapid thought. No reply, from the Arrancar, though her reiatsu was pressuring, densing, as if she could force herself to recall through mere will or power alone.
Able to withstand the pressure of her reiatsu without pause, Uryuu rose from the sofa. He stood slowly, without releasing her wrist, and as he did pushed it gradually toward her, ending in pressing her hand against her abdomen. His fingers slid over hers, adjusting their position, outlining where he believed the scar to be. All talk of the absurdity of her being with child had, at least, been forgotten.
"Perhaps you should be going," Uryuu suggested, his voice in a careful monotone, his eyes behind his lenses, behind windows and glass.
He let go, though it took him a little too long.
Oh, forgotten it had been. In the face of something like this- What was that, something she planned to- and could, terminate at her own leisure and will. This was-
It wasn't something she could understand. Wasn't something she could think of. Not without breaking. Her lips pursed, and she turned.
"Whatever. I don't need this." And before she even finished the sentence, she was heading for the door.
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