Questioning? (Open)

[Seimenk]

Seimenk lay alone, stretched out on the side of a dune in the desert of eternal night. The ever crescent moon that hung in the starless void, his only companion. A cold wind blew from some distant place, shaping the empty expanse, and rattling the brittle trees. Unable to sit pensively, he began to think aloud.


"The Shinigami say this universe was created by the Light. If that's to be believed, what was it then, that caused the Dark to be created? Neither side will approve of the others existence, both are determined to fight, until Final Death.

There's nothing wrong with fighting for ones own survival. But even a fight in defense easily becomes awash in the scent of death. When blood finds new freedom in its release, no one comes away without smelling. For many, it is an intoxicating fragrance that like no other stirs the spirit. For some, it is a abhorent. The latter are exceptions, not the rule in a world which to me, seems drunk on the elixr of madness. They follow the path of least bloodshed, doing only what they have to do, as repellent as it may be.

I am one of the exceptions.

For the longest time now, the pawns of war have scurried to meet their generals, the Espada. I do not know what their plans are, only that their campaign has always been against the Soul Society. Recent rumor tells of a major offensive somewhere, thats all. Where else could it be, but the Soul Society? If the walls of the Sereitei had been breached, we would know about it. The Soul Society would be finished. So the attack must have failed. But it could not have been without collateral damage. That's an inevitable fact of warfare, certainly with Arrancar's vast and deadly powers. In their attack...how many non-combatants perished? I can accept protecting Hueco Mundo, but I cannot imagine laying siege to our enemies Capital. Too many people would get in the way. Too many that weren't soldiers, that weren't willing to pick up a sword and lay their lives on the line.

Must I breathe deep the incense of their labors? The rich scent of their machinations? If I dont, does that make me a traitor to my brothers?"

Its funny how easy it is to change a statement into a question.

"Am I one of the exceptions?

Did I not say that it was our Destiny, to swallow all the light? For the Dark to conquer all, take all into its black embrace? For all souls trapped in that pointless, vicious, endless cycle of death and rebirth to find freedom through our stomachs? Did I not command a human, Joe, to accept what I said was mankinds Final Destiny? Did that Shinigami, Kouseki actually prove me wrong that day, when she argued against everthing I believed in? If I change my mind, does that make me a traitor to my own creed? To what for so long I accepted as truth? To what still seems to be truth. If I still believe in it, just why the hell am I questioning it? Is it because to accept that as truth, I must also accept the Espada's actions as necesessary?

I thought I was one of the exceptions.

That Shinigami at the construction site? Did I not impale her on a pike and throw her in a deep grave? Did I not enjoy that woman, how she reminded me I could feel pain, even if I felt but one kiss of her bankai and not another stroke? Did I not take a trophy?!", he cried, removing her hair ornament from the pocket of his cassock. He dangled it from his fingers, the red beads clattering in the wind. "Did I lie to Nekoruru, when I told her I didn't hurt anyone that didn't deserve it? I could have run away from that fight, I was never in any grave danger...."

Then again, I didn't see her die and I was kind enough to pull her out of that hole. Raise her up, and leave her on a pedestal with carved flowers, like her little hair ornament.

"What did they used to say of the Vasto Lorde? That they were ancient and their sorrow was great. They said the cold wind of the stars was the breath they drew, that their veins were as ice. That their fury would find release on the cold plains and burning sands alike and again their voice be heard among the stars and the spaces between them. Where are they? Are they dead, content to keep to their forgotten crypts and vaults? No. That is not dead which can forever lie. Are they sleeping then? Or are they locked away in some lost universe, serving some life sentence? Dimensional doors barred with deadbolts that require the keys of old? At the thought of such things, am I humbled, am I reduced.

Now are we all humbled, all reduced. What are we now?

A mass without roots.
Billions of souls with holes to fill.
Lead by a Lord that offers the right to obey, and the right to kill."

Must they deify you, Aizen?

"Is that all we will be allowed in this domain? I cannot sit idly by, watching everthing happen. And I cannot feel my thus far disorganized action, efficent -doing little 'jobs' here and there where I believe I can help Hueco Mundo. I cannot stand alone and accomplish anything. If that is all we will be allowed, I cannot stand amongst the Espada, I cannot look on their works! I could not bear to have others look upon...me. If I am to...", he paused, avoiding the word 'be', as it implied he was trying to become something he was not. "If I am to, remain an exception and play apart in Hollowkind's destiny, I can be only, an Exequias. I cannot carry the sword that promises us victory into the Soul Society, but I can carry it closer to home and still live with myself.", he said standing up now.

"I have an innate aspect of death in me, my aspect is Burial. I can show no mercy to those who willfully trample our motherland or directly interfere with our destiny. If they do not flee, I wont kill them. I'll bury them alive."

Comming out of his deep introspection, Seimenk found himself in the middle of a small sandstorm. It confused him at first, as he could no longer feel the breeze. Suddenly, he became aware of his own Earth tuned reatsu and the shimmering orange aura that enveloped his body. Calming himself, he sat down, running a hand through his hair.

[Stour]

A source spilling energy called Stour's attention from his normal exploration of the Desert. He figured another 250 years and he'd have memorized every important, or slightly interesting, attribute that the desert had about it. Finding several new solid hills underneath dunes today, he felt he had done enough. His often several day excurgences into the desert meant he spent as little time as possible in Las Noches. Not that he hated, much, the loudness and constant annoyances. Or, perhaps that was simply the reason. Whatever it was that really called him here, Stour decided it was unimportant. He appeared with a dispersing static noise near a small sandstorm. Horribly odd, really. He'd never seen anything like it. Through the sand, as it whirled, he saw a man laying in the center, apparently deep in thought to be making himself such a target.

Stour managed to only catch a few words, the last of which being exequias. Perhaps this arrancar was a member? Stour was unsure, but felt oddly curious about it, as he normally didn't care much for pleasantries, nor friends. The sandstorm appeared to be dying down, but Stour didn't openly present himself to the man, but rather watched from the outskirts as the man settled down, and lifted up his hand and ran it through his hair. Stour wondered whether the man felt his presence here, simply watching. Stour was unsure what to expect, part of him was sure there would not be a fight, yet his right hand grabbed the chain that sat around his waist as he stared, unblinking. Simply pondering as to what this Arrancar had been doing so far out here in the desert, and what he had thought about so intensely as to make the very sand around him wake and dance about as if it were a living thing.

[Seimenk]

Pondering the impact such a decision would have on his life, he was disturbed from his thoughts by the familiar rattle of chain links, however light they had been. Using his Pesquisa he could sense now the resting emission reishi of something near his own level. "Greetings!", he said simply without bothering to turn to anyone, supressing the urge to use any peripheral vision, in an attempt to test his senses.

"A few seconds ago...Indeed I had heard the sound of a sonido, but as common a thing it is out here, I had presumed it to be some wandering thing and dismissed it. Until I heard something else." , he started.

"But I'm sure you're an Arrancar now.", he stated flatly, "Principly because I sense now that your power is too strong to only be an adjuchas, but also because I heard the sound of chain links. Simple Adjuchas or anything else would have no use for such things decoratively or as weapons, as they have no sense of fashion nor want of armaments beyond natural weapons. Its a sound I'm familiar with, and from the way it sounded it must be a weapon, you probably touched it just now to make sure it was there. Make sure it was ready....", he trailed off for a moment.

"If you're curious, I wasn't involved in anything interesting, I just have a lot of things running through my mind. Its something I'm normally used to, but... its different now. I'm sorry if got you dirty or anything.", he said, dangling the hair ornament in front of himself. The sand left Stours clothes and his hair as if the grains were so many little insects flying away.

[Stour]

Stour smirked slightly, all of his questions being answered for him on minimal effort. It was a strange thing to occur, but now he was positive that there would be no combat... Unless instigated.

Stour began to walk a bit closer to the man as he apologized for getting Stour dirty, to which Stour audibly laughed, and replied, "Of course, if you'd have looked over, you'd have seen that public appearance isn't one of my strong points," running his hand over his torn robes, which he would wear until they were simply strips of cloth again.

"However," he continued, eying the floating particles as they lifted from him. "That is an extraordinary ability you seem to possess. It is, perhaps, an ability to control surfaces you contact?"

He threw the guess out at entirely random, as it had been lately, Stour was looking for people to converse with in these wastes. First an old maniac, and now perhaps someone with an ability nigh as strange as his own. He shifted in his position, several yards still from the other. As Stour wasn't, regardless of how desperately he wanted to converse at times, ever a fan of pleasantries, he had intentionally not introduced himself. He still had a feeling this man was aware of who he was, however, Stour had given up Pesquisa to rely on his eye. Should he have known the man as an Adjuchas, he would look different now, anyways.

[Seimenk]

*Theme Plays*
[ www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tlYNfbmbsg ]

Stour began to walk a bit closer to the man as he apologized for getting Stour dirty, to which Stour audibly laughed, and replied, "Of course, if you'd have looked over, you'd have seen that public appearance isn't one of my strong points," running his hand over his torn robes, which he would wear until they were simply strips of cloth again.

"I see...", he answered, finally turning to him.

Seimenk was a slight surprised to see the stranger was a man, having thought at first he was a woman. The first thing he noticed were differently colored eyes, neither one anything natural for humans like his own Hazel. Violet and Gold? His hair too was an unnatural blue. He was about as tall as Seimenk was, but he was thin not having Seimenks toned physique.

For someone who 'didn't care' about public appearance, he seemed to have a particular style, showing his individuality. His nails were long and pointed, colored a light purple. Had it not been for his worn, scruffy appearance, the nails to Seimenk at least would have seemed awfully effemininate. Instead, they came across less delicate, and more bestial. His eyelashes were rather long and thick, another feminine trait, but it was natural amongst some ethnicities. On his shoulder was a black mark in the form of what Seimenk recognized as a biohazard symbol. Such a thing was a human invention in the last 30 years and he was sure the Arrancar was older than that, so he was certain it was recently acquired as opposed to the domino mask design around his own eyes formed from two joined diamonds drawn with thin gold lines. Seimenk had possesed that since his Shinigamification . There was something else too, Seimenk spotted a Hollow Hole in the mans hand. It confused him as he had never seen a hole like that in a limb and not somewhere on the torso nor that small. Some said that such openings were symbolic. Seimenk's was where his navel should be, one could draw what conclusions they may. But what could be said about a man whose lost heart was once in his hand? Other times the openings appeared to be related to ones full release. What kind of thing could he become, that such placement would seem appropriate?

"However, this fine quartzite sand seems to find its way into everything; some find it irritating.", he explained.

"However," he continued, eying the floating particles as they lifted from him. "That is an extraordinary ability you seem to possess. It is, perhaps, an ability to control surfaces you contact?"

At those words two pale white cubes of solid quartz rose up, first behind Seimenk and then immediately after behind the stranger, in all of about four seconds. Neat hairline incisions traced themselves on the blocks top and front sides as if by invisible knives, cutting out a rectangular section from each. Disintegrating, the sections dissapeared leaving behind functional chairs with low backs that were the same height as the armrests.

"That would be impressive...", he remarked, "A telekinesis capable of affecting every surface or altering every substance in the world. But alas, every ability has limitations. All forms of earth -sand, silt, clay, gravel, stones precious and mundane, non metallic minerals, ceramics, and glasses are my domain. The hardest can be made as malleable as clay or even as infirm as water. The heaviest can be made to float or to fly as if it were light as a feather. Very different materials can be joined or mixed as if it were the most natural thing, or the most solid reduced to a innumerble motes of dust.", he said, finally sitting down.

Of course, there were further limits to his power, mainly concerning how much, and how far, and the fact that it was unusable while both his feet weren't touching some surface - usually the ground which ruled out using it in the air or while running. But that wasn't really the man's business. There was no harm in revealing what one was capable of, but it was always good to leave some limits unspoken, and some powers secret altogether.

[Stour]

"Ah, yes," Stour started, looking towards the chairs, "So, a peculiar ability nonetheless. Though just not quite so intense as I had originally been convinced. My lack of skill with such assumptions should be excused, I don't often delve into the skills of others." Stour finished the sentence awkwardly, still trailing the words and looking as if he had something further to add, but waited a few moments before doing so. "However, I simply couldn't ignore that."

Stour glanced at his hand. He had, after all, been shown a certain respect in the description of the man's ability. Was it, however, intelligent to divulge such secrets? Stour was inefficient with these occurances, very awkward when speaking, even. He more often killed, and consulted their skills in combat for their personality quirks. Actually speaking to find these out was... Challenging. In a strange way.

Stour decided it was a show of good faith to allow the man a glimpse at why Stour's hollow hole was so displaced, so awkward. He had, of course, noticed the man looking at his hand. Stour was used to his eyes being pondered, but had never divulged such information. He preferred that to remain his Ace in the Hole. His hand, however, had been witnessed.

"I feel as you have divulged a secret upon my pestering, I should divulge one of my own," Stour stated, picking up a rather large, jagged rock with his left hand, and held it above his right. He turned sideways, so the man could see as he dropped the rock, and it passed through his hand, coming to exist on the other side of him, roughly the center of his back, then floated for a moment, and fell heavily, as if confused as to which way gravity flowed anymore.

At that, Stour walked towards the chair and placed his hand on the back, as if wondering if it would simply crumble. It, however, did not, and Stour sat upon it, finding it oddly comfortable.

[Seimenk]

"Curious....", he remarked seeing the feat. "You can take in objects in front of that hand and transport them behind you? In some kind of spatial distortion? I would wonder if there were a limit to the alloted size of such objects, or whether the poweris at will. Ifit were always active, you'd have a devilof a time trying to hold anything", he commented.

It was truly an impressive ability, the like of which he had never seen before. He wondered if it were capable of wapring space and transporting even Cero beams without burning his hand or arm. Still, he was certainit wouldn't stand up to his special Proxima Bala. They would explode with a 10ft burst radius resulting in an explosion with total diameter of 20ft. whenever they passed within 5 feet of a subject emitting enough reiryoku. If it wre fired athim, it would explode before it ever reached his hand , engulfing him in energy. Even if the hand could remove part of the blast, behind him, he would still be enveloped in energy. His special Bala lacked the traditional piercing damage inflicted by literal 'bullets' and replaced it with damage spread over the entire body like a grenade or a shell. It was technically less lethal as a result, but greatly increased his accuracy.

"You know, a technique like that could be perfectedif it had the ability to draw in objects, like a wind tunnel or a black hole. And even further if you could transport objects anywhere.", he remarked.

[Stour]

"As if the thought never occurred to me," Stour said, with a bit of a cold laugh. Not to say he was specifically being rude, it just comes that way to him. Stour, had of course, attempted creating larger openings several times. None of these attempts bore fruit, one resulted in a week's unconsciousness in a rarely used hallway in Hueco Mundo, when he was a new arrancar. "No, no, I know it seems as if it can be done, but the amount of energy it would consume to produce an effect larger than that with any actual sustainability and timing is something much beyond my capabilities.

Stour stared blankly for a moment, his eyes darting around the horizon. It was indeed quiet for Hueco Mundo. Perhaps the reiatsu that had just been released here as the two had their show put off the majority of the hollow in the area. Or perhaps they were just getting lucky for the moment.

[Seimenk]

"Forgive me for not introducing myself, I see I got a little too involved in show and tell.", he said apologetically, "I'm Seimenk Ongoh. I guess I'm about 250 years old, though I've been an Arrancar for about 100. I used to live in the Forest of Menos, until I left to explore the desert and the other planes. I make frequent trips to the Earth realm. I trust you've been too havent you?", he asked, "Seeing that tattoo, I'd say you've been there within the last 30 years. Does that symbol have any particular meaning to you, if you dont mind me asking? Who did it for you?"

[Stour]

Stour looked at the man, supposing he, too, should introduce himself. "Stour Kirinonai, Espada Ocho. I am quite a bit older than you, Seimenk, though I was born into this new life by Aizen," Stour started, and the man then asked about his tattoo. The symbol he loved. "Yes, the symbol is of their design, but it is very suiting to how I've changed as an Arrancar. I've visited, obviously, yes.. And took the symbol into the position on my body I thought most suiting. For, yes, I am a biological hazard. You've simply caught me on an off-day."

Stour looked at the man, and said, after finishing his explanation of the tattoo, "And I gave it to myself. Not as difficult as one might think, really."

Of course, anyone who didn't have his eye and a mirror would have a hell of a time trying to tattoo themselves, but Stour had never experienced life without his advantage, so couldn't be completely sure of the differences, and always, for sake of being prepared, assumed he had less of an edge.