Gin Ichimaru (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shoottokill) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
spira_rp2016-06-29 12:58 pm
shoottokill) wrote in spira_rp2016-06-29 12:58 pm
And I don’t wanna say I told you so...
Gin Ichimaru's footsteps were light on the Desert Palace's ancient stone floor. They were soft enough to barely echo off the walls except for the scuff of a toe or heel.
He liked the Palace at night. It was more peaceful, like any populated place tended to be when most of the inhabitants were in bed and, for the most part, quiet. Even the air seemed to move more quietly when the hum of conversation and the distant sparks and flares of spiritual pressure were felt from the training centre, where the wards applied didn't keep it back if the door was left open.
Peaceful as it was, he rarely slept there. He had somewhere else for that, somewhere within his jurisdiction as a Gotei captain. He retained a room though, and it was from there that he was walking, heading in the direction of the quiet kitchen, while the borrowed sky outside the window was dark and the air was cool and filled with the smells of night time.
Nobody seemed to be up. He was sure that some of the denizens would still be awake, doing whatever they felt like in their rooms, but nobody was up and about. It was too late for the night owls and too early for the morning people. He smiled to himself as he reached the top of the stairs down to the main hall, but the expression fell away abruptly when the sound of an alarm split the silence.
The noise set every nerve in Gin's teeth on edge. Halfway between a scream and a siren, it was a magically amplified and erratic, half-undulating sound that had obviously been designed not to be ignored under any of the circumstances it might be set off to. It was hideous, organic and ear-splittingly loud, akin to the sound of a thousand babies crying and just as many tomcats yowling, foxes screaming and nails being drawn down a chalk board and it rose and fell in tone enough that it was impossible to get used to. For a moment, even Gin stood frozen at the top of the stairs, eyes briefly wide, the hair on the back of his neck on end.
"That's new," he said to himself, his soft voice drowned by the screechy baying of the siren.
He headed down to the hall, feet quick on the stairs. From beyond the front door, and the hall that separated the door to the Zertinan Caverns from the palace proper, he heard a low roar, angry and bellowing, even with the siren's wail doing its best to block everything else out.
"Oh," he said. "Look's like one of Kuja's little pets has slipped its leash." He smiled to himself, directing his gaze up the stairs, anticipating appearances from other members of the Clan. "This should be fun."
He liked the Palace at night. It was more peaceful, like any populated place tended to be when most of the inhabitants were in bed and, for the most part, quiet. Even the air seemed to move more quietly when the hum of conversation and the distant sparks and flares of spiritual pressure were felt from the training centre, where the wards applied didn't keep it back if the door was left open.
Peaceful as it was, he rarely slept there. He had somewhere else for that, somewhere within his jurisdiction as a Gotei captain. He retained a room though, and it was from there that he was walking, heading in the direction of the quiet kitchen, while the borrowed sky outside the window was dark and the air was cool and filled with the smells of night time.
Nobody seemed to be up. He was sure that some of the denizens would still be awake, doing whatever they felt like in their rooms, but nobody was up and about. It was too late for the night owls and too early for the morning people. He smiled to himself as he reached the top of the stairs down to the main hall, but the expression fell away abruptly when the sound of an alarm split the silence.
The noise set every nerve in Gin's teeth on edge. Halfway between a scream and a siren, it was a magically amplified and erratic, half-undulating sound that had obviously been designed not to be ignored under any of the circumstances it might be set off to. It was hideous, organic and ear-splittingly loud, akin to the sound of a thousand babies crying and just as many tomcats yowling, foxes screaming and nails being drawn down a chalk board and it rose and fell in tone enough that it was impossible to get used to. For a moment, even Gin stood frozen at the top of the stairs, eyes briefly wide, the hair on the back of his neck on end.
"That's new," he said to himself, his soft voice drowned by the screechy baying of the siren.
He headed down to the hall, feet quick on the stairs. From beyond the front door, and the hall that separated the door to the Zertinan Caverns from the palace proper, he heard a low roar, angry and bellowing, even with the siren's wail doing its best to block everything else out.
"Oh," he said. "Look's like one of Kuja's little pets has slipped its leash." He smiled to himself, directing his gaze up the stairs, anticipating appearances from other members of the Clan. "This should be fun."
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The wyrm was attacking in anger, its attacks more powerful as a result, but also less considered. Did she have the space to use Cascada without enveloping one of the other Arrancar in the wave? Perhaps. If she adjusted the angle of her attack.
The Ryoka had provided her with enough water to do exactly that.
She pointed her weapon at the ice that crumbled and splintered and glittered, and took control of it, melting it into water, and gathering it around herself.
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Even was a coward. He was fully able to win a fight when it came to combative magic, but he was a coward and, for as long as he'd known him, he seldom put himself in a position where he fought if he didn't have to. Did he have to? Could they win without him?
His analysis of the battle said no. He was concerned about their ability to win even with him. Not all of the Arrancar had taken advantage of their powered up forms, so they had that to fall back on, and Lumi and Marluxia were both obscenely powerful, if he reckoned correctly. Gin also hadn't lifted a finger.
They could win, they could probably win, but they would have to wear the monster down, and how long could that take?
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The licensed species considered animal-form fiends to be the collected souls of the anguished dead, coagulated into one being in the form of an animal. Wonderweiss had told him that. He had told Wonderweiss that the animals had a different story, one of possession. They had their own tales of horror where the souls of the dead were concerned.
He growled low, but his annoyance eased somewhat when Wonderweiss stroked his fur.
"Can they win?" He asked, frowning.
Forvalaka could feel his eyes on the back of his head. His ears twitched, turning to the sound of his master's voice. He thought about it, about what their opponent was and what they were. It was difficult to say, even when he looked at it with all of his senses and his wisdom. Fiends, old and vicious, versus an ancient, intensely powerful animal. Under ordinary circumstances, he knew who he would back, who he would want to win, but these circumstances were far from ordinary, and his wants didn't come into it. The Arrancar were powerful, but they were limited by human forms. The dragon was limited by nothing but its vast, vast reserves of Chakra.
Possibly, he replied, stopping in front of the doorway and peering through with bright, burning eyes. It depends how the Wyrm uses his power.
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They were struggling. They were unleashing attacks that would have seriously injured another monster of similar size and Chakra levels and it was shrugging them off because of its defences, only going more powerful and more angry with every strike it weathered.
"They won't win," he said, voice soft, and low, and only for Marluxia's ears.
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The Wyrm was getting pissed off and if that thing hit him, he was fucked. He stayed back, on his toes, preparing to move to avoid another attack if it came his way.
Blaster had done little to hurt it, if anything.
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He shrugged, ruffling the hair at the back of his head.
This wasn't going well.
The Wyrm was brushing too much off, gaining too much ground. Even Grimmjow was playing the avoidance game rather than enjoying the fight. Nnoitra, he saw, had gone on the defensive. He had been concerned that he'd wade in, like a total idiot, and try smacking it. Apparently not.
If this carried on, even he was going to have to release. That wouldn't be fun for the rest of them, not when half of the ones in the palace hall were gasping from the dragon's reiatsu.
Damn it.
He held out a hand and fired a small volley of Ceros, aiming to hold it back while Halibel charged her attack. No point standing idle, much as he'd like to.
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"Vilg, drao'na clnafat," he muttered. Ulquiorra had drawn his sword, Grimmjow was playing dodgems, even Stark was getting actively involved. Halibel was hitting the thing with some of her best moves, and all it seemed to be achieving was pissing it off. "Drao ghuf drao'na clnafat."
He felt like he was having to watch his friends fight for their lives, and slowly lose, which was fairly apt. He looked around. Kadaj had done one, and Yylfordt didn't know where, but it was probably a good thing or he'd be flipping his lid any minute and running out there to help.
That was the worst thing. They couldn't help. He could release to his full power, and he'd still have to crawl out of the door.
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They couldn't endure. Not as long as he could.
He bellowed, and swiped with his claws, snapping his jaws at the one that jumped out of the way, swiping viciously at the others that stood around. He turned and thrashed his tail at them, the weight of it able to deliver a more powerful blow than even his claws.
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Halibel wasn't equal to this in her current state, which meant that Ulquiorra's Resurrección would fare no better. Winged as it was, it would provide no advantage against an enemy of this strength, and this degree of defence.
Segunda Etapa?
He could not trust the Hollow with that ability, and he did not trust those present with knowledge of it. He had not yet explained its existence to Aizen-sama, and his use of it was not at his own behest.
Do you wish to use it? A sibilant voice in his head asked, as he deflected the force from the wyrm's attack at last and moved clear. The Hollow listened, inevitably, and saw an opportunity.
I do not trust you, he answered, in the confines of his own head, the sound of lapping waves against an invisible shore echoing in his ears, although that sound came from the same place as the hissing voice.
His answer was a laugh, and nothing more.
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"Cascada!" She cried, throwing her power into the water and sending it forwards, crashing into, and under, and over, and around the wyrm.
It dragged it back with the force of the attack, and for a moment the wyrm seemed stunned.
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"They can't win," he said, declaring it matter of factly, but with a hint of dull surprise in his voice. "They're going to run out of chakra before they put a dent in that wyrm's armour."
He pushed his glasses up his nose with two fingers and pursed his lips. "Even Stark," he said, "his release will incapacitate half the Arrancar fighting, but he'll still wear out faster than it will. Pity," he added, "I'd have liked a sample from it."
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"So what happens?" He asked, voice less calm than he would have liked. "What do they do now?"
Ulquiorra was out there. He and others, some stronger than him, some less, Even and Nel included. Ulquiorra was Elementally superior to it, but that didn't matter much. Not when it could outlast and crush things smaller than itself with a whole array of well-armoured body parts.
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He looked around at the others, watching for their reactions. Apache didn't move, but he was relatively sure she couldn't. It was taking every ounce of her resolve not to sink to her knees under the pressure of the wyrm's considerable reiatsu.
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This thing was harder than he was and for him, somebody who prided himself above all else in his defensive capabilities, that was something he didn't admit often. He narrowed his eye, gripping his scythe-spears tightly enough to hurt even his hands, and looked to Stark.
"This thing ain't going down," he said, when the roar of water from Halibel's Cascada softened to a hiss.
The Wyrm had it all. Strength, endurance, size, vast reserves of chakra and experience. It was the kind of monster that had tales written about its ancient strength, the sort with daring heroes and tragic endings.
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He scowled, watching the thing react to Halibel's attack, knowing it was one of her strongest, especially when she was released. Had the wyrm been anything else, they could have taken it out by bombarding it with attacks until it gave under them, but this thing was designed to last.
And it knew it. Even if they exhausted all of its chakra by baiting it into successive magic attacks, all they would achieve was damage on their side and it being limited to physical assaults. They had yet to deal any real damage.
"One of you try a Gran Rey Cero," he said, offering the job to any of the three released Arrancar.
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"What usually happens when people try fighting something stronger than themselves," he said, "is that they die."
Amusing as he found Ienzo's reaction, however, Szayel had his own concerns. The top six Arrancar were out there, and a Ryoka. None of the remaining Arrancar could even hope to match it if it outpowered the first six, which left the fight in the hands of Gin, Kadaj, Tayuya, and the remaining Ryoka.
Kadaj and Tayuya sere supposed to be skilled summoners, so there was a possibility there, dangerous as it was. Gin was, well, somewhere on Aizen's tier when it came to strength, but he was also as mercurial as the weather in Giza. Marluxia was unarmed, although a mage by all accounts, which may not be much help here, and Lumi was injured.
What would happen if they couldn't defeat it?
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"E cfayn po ouin sudran'c dyddanat vmybc E ys kuehk du pnayg ouin vilgehk vyla, Szayel," she spat. She clenched her fist around her flute and gritted her teeth. "We can take it down with Aeons if we really have to," she growled, mostly for Ienzo's benefit. She didn't like the little twerp, but right now they were united against Szayel's dickholery. "It's the very last resort, though. We could cause another collapse of the cavern."
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He shook his head, reorienting himself after the tidal wave had swept him back, claws digging into the rock and sand. He bent low, inhaling again to build the fire. It wouldn't bother the ones with water, he knew. There were some old and terrible things that were one with the water, and that creature that kept attacking him with it was one, and was not one.
The others, however, did not like the fire.
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She bit her thumb, drawing blood, which she drew across her weapon in a stripe. Her cero gathered, drawing the blood in, mixing with it, amplifying the power and destructive capability before she fired, drawing her weapon in an arc.
The cero buzzed and shot forth, making the air feel as if it was vibrating.
It landed, and exploded in dust, and sand, and rock, obscuring the view.
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They couldn't win this fight, she knew, but she wasn't about to give up here and now. There were people beyond that door that she wanted to protect.
She drew her own sword.
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He made to step forward and opened his mouth to speak--
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The monster was too powerful for them. Even Szayel was convinced of their defeat and he knew the limits of the abilities that the Arrancar had, if not Even. He narrowed his eyes, glancing around. There was no point in staying to die with the rest of them and he didn't have any ties to anybody but Marluxia. If they got out, using the portals Marluxia had mastered, they could escape injury. He leaned in to speak to him, lowering his voice.
"We should g--"
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He may be right, he said. The wyrm is holding back. Reserving his strength until they are too spent to fight back. He is old enough to have fought and killed Hollows before. Fire burns them from the world almost as effectively as your magic swords and his is hotter than most.
Wonderweiss gripped his blue-green mane more tightly, the palms of his hands damp. His friends were out there, they couldn't just die. Couldn't just give their all for a losing battle, that was suicide.
He felt numb. Everything seemed fuzzy for a moment, as though he'd just been shrouded in something muffling and thick. He listened to the monster's bellowing and the clicky falling of rocks in the aftermath of Halibel's latest attack.
If Stark couldn't kill it, and Stark could easily kill or incapacitate some of them with his reiatsu alone, they had no chance. Gin, or Lumi, they might have a chance, but Gin was for Hollows and Lumi was hurt, try as he might to hide it. Wonderweiss knew that his staying to the sidelines wasn't selfish self-preservation alone and he could read some aspects of the man's behaviour as accurately as he could an animal's. He was strange like that.
We should get away from it, the Torama said quietly, his voice echoing in Wonderweiss's head, low and deep and warning.
"No," Wonderweiss said. "We can't just leave them."
They are some of the strongest people here, Forvalaka said, tail flicking, claws scraping the wet marble floor. Sending weaker backup will not help. The rest of you can't do anything. You should cut your losses and get out.
Wonderweiss felt as though the floor had gone from under him. Torama, as a species, were social. They roamed the wilds of their native lands in prides, like packs of wolves, and seldom walked the world alone. Family, and unity, were everything to their survival, and Forvalaka was suggesting they leave some of their group behind to die? Was that how dire the situation was?
He shook his head, not wanting to accept that they couldn't possibly win. They were Arrancar, they couldn't... there had to be another way. Maybe if... would that even be possible? It... it was a monster, a beast. There was nothing to say that couldn't...
He swallowed. Hard.
"Let me try," he said, voice level, and clear. Gin, who had been stepping forward, stopped. Lumi paused in the middle of whatever he was whispering to Marluxia and looked up. "Let me try," he repeated.
He was a beastmaster. The wyrm might be ancient and strong and powerful, but it was still a beast. There had to be a chance. Even if he could hold it in thrall for long enough for them all to get out, it was something.
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"Try what?" He asked, utterly incredulous. "That thing can shrug off Stark, little bro, I don't think you can take it."
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Wonderweiss had a lot of power in potentia, but Szayel couldn't assure it would ever be realised. He was also well suited to being a Beastmaster; the boy walked everywhere through daily life with the offensiveness levels of the average dreamhare. Provided said dreamhare wasn't faced with Szayel, at least.
Still, there was no reason to believe he'd be able to take on something of this magnitude.
"Don't be ridiculous, Wonderweiss. This thing slipped Kuja's control, and frankly, you're not in the same league."
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