While tyrants close the doors.

[theedgeofreason]

The past few weeks had, for Aizen at least, been somewhat trying.

The publicity he had been expected to deal with following the fall of Midgar had been an inevitable chore. Due to his position in the Gotei 13, pledges had to be made to help Bancour during its time of crisis. Wholesale destruction could quite easily breed scores of Hollows and it was Aizen's sworn duty, and that of his men, to eradicate them whenever they reared their bone-masked heads. Bancour was far, far out of his jurisdiction that was true, but there was no harm in proving that the Gotei 13 recognised no borders when it came to its collective dedication to its work. At the same time, he had been obligated to sit in on meetings with Archadian political giants concerning the delicate state of peace in the aftermath. To nobody's great surprise, and certainly not to Aizen's, The Archadian Empire had been the first to come under suspicion. Accusations, both the plausible and the far-fetched, had come thick and fast in the wake of the collapse. Even weeks after the incident some tempers were still running high, but nothing could be proved until Midgar was safe to examine.

Aizen's privileged position gave him access to Midgar's status reports and, while Bancouri officials had lobbied to keep them out of Archadian hands, Aizen's insistence that he have them when he was to be sending in his own men in to a potential Necrohol to aid Captain Komamura's already thinly stretched forces eventually resulted in the necessary papers crossing his desk. That all lands in the vicinity of the inner-city were considered too heavily poisoned by high concentrations of leaked Mako was certainly encouraging.

All in all, it had been an interesting change from the curious state of limbo that had reigned ever since Nabudis had accidentally been reduced to a blasted ruin and the Greenlands around it, now known as the Deadlands, to a smoking wasteland. Even so, dealing with manpower allocation and sitting on a council made of members trying by turns to and not to affix the word 'war' to the fore of it had taken their toll. After many packed days and what felt like even more sleepless nights, Aizen had been obvious about growing weary of it all and openly yielded to exhaustion. At the first opportunity, he had taken a few days leave and bid his Lieutenant deal with his duties in his stead. With no rest for the wicked, a phrase that had turned out to be truer than he had thought possible, Aizen clandestinely returned to the Desert Palace of Clan Khamja to deal with unfinished matters there.

The atmosphere in the Palace was much as it had been when he had left. Some things remained unchanged others ... well, they were quite different. Zexion, the Ryoka Alchemist, had made a full recovery where his exhaustion was concerned, but Aizen had been informed that the boy had not said a single word since waking and had spent most of his time holed up in his quarters. He had dealt with very few matters across phonelines, but he had sent word to ensure that Zexion was not to be informed of the new faces on the side of their enemies ahead of his return. He had made it clear that any Arrancar found breaking this order would find themselves dealing with the consequences. Nnoitra had, from what he had been told, kept himself well out of the way. Aizen was glad of this -- it minimised the chances of one of his more unruly Arrancar coming face to face with the subordinates of the man he had helped murder. Grimmjow and Neliel were doing as well as could be expected, her more than him. Luppi, to nobody's great surprise, was slow to recover from the injuries he had sustained at the hands of the Ryoka Berserker. He was considered to be out of danger, but he was still currently immobile and his moments of conscious lucidity were few and brief.

What had really nettled Aizen upon his return were whispers, whispers all too soon confirmed, that another of his Arrancar had struck out at a full-member of the Clan. He would have expected such of the rash, hot-headed members of his mismatched band of underlings, people like Nnoitra, who had already proved he could, Grimmjow who had as well, the Fracción Apache who was, as far as he was concerned, only biding her time. Even Szayel, albeit in a fashion less ... traditional than those, was not above suspicion. The name he had been given was a surprise to him. It shouldn't have been, especially not given past behaviour or the current state of affairs, but it had nonetheless given him pause.

Ulquiorra had attacked L and, from what he had been told, the preceding argument had taken place entirely in Old Rozarrian -- a language none of the witnesses could profess to speak. L had recovered, for a given value of recovery, and was up and about contrary to recommendation. He maintained that the altercation was one that concerned only blood, not the Clan, and Aizen had not been brought before Illua to answer for the crimes of his subordinate. In the end, Aizen only found himself disappointed that Ulquiorra had shown mercy. He, like Nnoitra, had been unsurprisingly absent following the incident.

Aizen resolved to speak to him on the matter, but it would have to wait until more pressing affairs had been attended to. The meeting, the debriefing put off following the mission itself, was still to be conducted. All of his Arrancar were expected to attend, even those in disgrace, though Luppi was to be the notable exception. L would undoubtedly be there regardless of the inevitable friction between him and his nephew, the presence of Zexion was assured and Gin Ichimaru had said, with his characteristic smile, that he wouldn't miss it for the world. He had even gone so far as to suggest that Marluxia, one of Khamja's older Ryoka recruits, also be present. The unknowns allied with the Berserker could easily be Ryoka, Gin had pointed out. Some of the files L had recovered from Midgar had certainly suggested such. With Zexion having been deliberately kept in the dark and Marluxia not yet up to date with the situation, they were unlikely to both be able to stifle reactions as to conceal a truth, should they attempt to do so. There was wisdom in the suggestion, and so Aizen had consented to it.

With the attendees decided, orders in the guise of invites had been sent out.

Comments

[tozasemurcielago]

Since his fight with L, Ulquiorra had remained sequestered away in his room. He hadn't come out much, partly because of a desire to stay out of the way of gossips such as Szayel, who would inevitably press him with questions that Ulquiorra did not wish to answer, and partly to avoid running into L again. Ulquiorra did not wish to have another altercation with him right now.

His Hollow, Murciélago, had given him enough to occupy his time, regardless. The Hollow had requested his attention, over and over, until Ulquiorra had finally given it, and then it had mocked and needled at him. Ulquiorra was used to that, just as he was used to the Hollow knowing things Ulquiorra wished it didn't, and it had asked questions he had not wished to answer until it had finally got answers and then....

And then.

Ulquiorra trusted Murciélago less than he trusted Gin, less than he trusted L any more, and when it had offered something new, Ulquiorra had been wary. An offer, it had said, nothing more, a taster, temporary, the next time Ulquiorra faced something alone it would let him try it, and Ulquiorra, wary of the Hollow's tricks, more familiar with Murciélago's ways than anyone else on the whole of Spira, had agreed.

And then it had given him something else, for now. A token of faith. Something that could be useful; something he didn't have to be released to use. Ulquiorra could not trust other's words, couldn't trust the things he felt, but, the Hollow promised, he would always be able to trust the things he could see with his own eyes.

Then, because nothing Murciélago ever gave came without a trick, it had asked, in the privacy of Ulquiorra's own head, in the loneliness of his own room, if he trusted Aizen, and Ulquiorra had decided that he did not, with this.

The Hollow had laughed, because Ulquiorra was completely alone again now, in a way he hadn't been for a while. Just the two of them, it had said, for the rest of Ulquiorra's life.

When the summons to the debriefing had arrived, Ulquiorra was where he had been for most of his time since; sat in his room, reading a book he'd read before, quiet and unobtrusive. There'd be questions, he knew, about his behaviour. He'd be forced to explain, at least to Aizen-sama, but his altercation with L was not something he had any reason to hide.

He was one of the first to arrive in the parlour selected for the meeting, though that wasn't much of a surprise, and hands in his pockets, he quickly scanned the room, and then chose a spot to stand in, away from the centre of the room, and, he hoped, away from the centre of attention.

[palehornedprince]

The group collectively known as 'the brats', although they called themselves Clan Skite, and were currently minus one in their usual number, were in the sunhouse. Yylfordt knew that they were expected at a meeting, but he also figured that he was the only one getting even slightly itchy about it. Grimmjow didn't give half a shit about making Aizen wait, and possibly even enjoyed the idea, if he remembered about it in the first place.

Yylfordt had a healthier respect for his own neck, where Aizen was concerned, but also knew that Grimmjow was viewed as the ringleader, which was true, and that with Grimmjow having been so badly injured by the Ryoka last time, they could probably get away with pushing it on those grounds.

Believable excuses. Yylfordt was all for those.

So he refrained from looking too worried, out in the sunhouse. The conversation had taken those odd turns conversations do, and somehow progressed from the mundane to the ridiculous and was now firmly in the land of cartoonish fuckery as Tayuya tried to decide which she'd screw or marry out of Gin and Kuja after throwing Aizen off a cliff.

"All right, bro," Yylfordt conceded, "you don't have to sleep with them after the wedding night if you marry them, but you do have to live with them." She'd insisted it was unfair to ask who she'd sleep with just once, and who she'd sleep with multiple times and have to live with like she was married out of Gin and Kuja. Yylfordt wrinkled his nose. "I don't think 'cliff, shag, legally cohabitate' has the same ring, does it? So you gotta sleep with the husband at least once."

[theedgeofreason]

Aizen was not a man that believed in arriving 'fashionably late' for the purpose of making an impact, but he did so nonetheless, purely because he knew all too well that some of his subordinates could play fast and loose when it came to timing. He had no desire to be waiting for them to grace the meeting with their presence, so he endeavoured to arrive last and succeeded in doing so.

He pushed the door open just as Grimmjow went to open his mouth to respond to Yylfordt's complaint and cut him off before he voiced whatever it was that he had intended to say. He watched as Apache seated herself in the chair that the Al Bhed had evidently just vacated and quickly took note of who was there. All of the Arrancar with the sole exception of Luppi, who was in no position to attend, were there, as was Gin, L and the two invited Ryoka. Good.

L looked rather worse for wear, that was obvious enough, and Zexion seemed rather distant, even at first glance. Ulquiorra looked very much as though he was trying to remain as stiff as usual and was managing rather well, all things considered. Marluxia looked somewhat wary of being invited -- an understandable reaction. Gin, as ever, was giving nothing away. The rest of them seemed between casual about the whole affair, or as though they wanted it to be over already.

"My apologies for being late," he said, his tone not betraying his insincerity.

He closed the door behind him and pulled a small, rectangular piece of paper from his pocket. With a flick of the wrist and a brief, blurred hand gesture, the tag adhered itself to the gap between the door and the frame and the rest of the crack glowed brightly, if only for a moment.

Aizen had no intention of having his meeting overheard.

[tozasemurcielago]

Ulquiorra ignored the complaints, exclamations, and shudders that ran around the room. He could regenerate everything but internal organs; plucking out an eye affected him no more than cutting off an arm or a leg. It was a minor inconvenience at worst.

“See for yourselves,” he said, calmly, before crushing the eyeball in his hand. It shattered into dust, which spread around the room and formed images.

There were three of them; the berserker with blue hair and a scarred face, forming a weapon from the spirit particles in the air. There was an exchange, between him and Grimmjow, but no sound came with Ulquiorra's replay for anyone to hear what was said, and then the berserker made an attack, and Grimmjow defended himself.

The other two watched, but didn't join the fray immediately. A girl in a pink dress, with big brown boots, carrying a staff, brown hair and green eyes, who cast obvious supportive magic, took the background compared to the other one. Spiky red hair, bright green eyes, with a touch of mako infused glow to them, who held two chakrams either side of himself before they lit up with flames.

Ulquiorra stepped forward, neatly avoiding the first strikes, and responding with a bala blast. Nearby, Luppi made to cero the girl, who looked horrified before using a powerful Holy spell on Luppi. Grimmjow and the berserker concentrated on each other, with the berserker striking his weapon on the ground to create a shockwave, while Nel cured Luppi's injuries. Then Ulquiorra's view was cut off as his red haired opponent threw one weapon into the air. When it landed, fire fanned out in all directions, swallowing Ulquiorra and his opponent and then cutting off the others from view as a wall of fire leapt up around them both.

Ulquiorra and his opponent exchanged blows a few times, Ulquiorra successfully landing a hard kick before his opponent dived back out through the flames and used a hit and run technique instead. He was clearly skilled, and used to fighting from a distance. When the man ducked behind the flames and a whirling chakram came flying through the wall, Ulquiorra fired a cero in its direction, the green blast extinguishing a part of the wall, leaving it smouldering. Grimmjow could be seen, wielding the berserker's weapon, and doing some considerable damage to the berserker with it, but then Ulquiorra's opponent came hurtling back into the scenery, wielding sharp chakrams and flames, and singed Ulquiorra's clothing. Ulquiorra responded with a bare handed strike to the sternum, but his opponent pulled back just before it connected, white hot fire flaring in all directions as he went.

The berserker, fighting Grimmjow, changed, transforming into a blue furred beast, with glowing yellow eyes and sharp teeth and claws, and at exactly the wrong moment, with the worst luck in the world, Luppi ran past, and was caught up and slammed back down. The beast bounced him off the floor repeatedly, like a toy, until Luppi was as limp and broken as a ragdoll, and then threw him at Grimmjow.

Nel used her own resureccion as Ulquiorra and his opponent continued to fight things out, with the other man managing a couple of hits against Ulquiorra that not only made contact, but drew blood. Nel charged against the berserker, holding him off while Ulquiorra snapped his fingers, dispelling every buff that the girl had used on him.

The red haired man backed off, putting distance between himself and Ulquiorra, shouting something that made the berserker tear away from his scrap with Nel, and then a black rain fell over the battlefield, extinguishing the last flames and hitting everybody, bringing Nel to her knees while the berserker shielded the girl with them.

Grimmjow released while Nel cured, and Ulquiorra responded to the attack with more bala blasts, which his opponent dodged with surprising efficacy. Then Nel threw her lance at the red haired man, which he tried to hold against. He was floored when he failed, and that was when the berserker, already embroiled in his continuing fight with Grimmjow in his released state, swung a blue flamed chakra attack at Nel.

But it was the girl whose reaction was interesting. After a shout, she stopped, clasping her hands in prayer and sinking to her knees. Rain washed over the battlefield again, but this time it seemed to have the opposite effect, and the red head stood up, while Nel stared, and Grimmjow and the berserker continued tearing at each other.

Both the berserker and Ulquiorra's opponent appeared to be in better condition, and when Ulquiorra took the opening created by his opponent's obvious distraction, he found his strike, which would normally punch right through a man, had no effect.

That was when Nel called them away from the fight, and although the berserker seemed reluctant to leave it, he had no choice when Grimmjow left him. The Arrancar stepped through a Garganta, and Ulquiorra's last view of the charred and smoking battleground was of the three of them, the berserker still in his transformed state, appearing to be in perfect health despite the brutal fight they'd participated in.

[theedgeofreason]

Aizen waited patiently for everyone to file out.

Much had been cleared up during the course of the meeting and he could now count Marluxia as an ally, for what that was worth. He didn't trust him. He would never trust him. He was a Ryoka, for a start, and he had little to gain by telling him everything and the potential to lose, so he didn't doubt he would seek something in return. Still, for the moment, he could be useful.

Now it was time for the girl's curious ability to take centre stage. He closed the door after Gin made his exit and re-applied the seal. When that was done, he turned to those that remained with a calm-yet-serious expression on his face. It gave no hint of his feelings on any of the matters that had already been discussed, or those that were about to be.

"So," he said, stepping away from the door and into the room proper. "She's a Cetra."