bleach · arrancar · protective · gentle giant · wise · tragic past · mentor · calm · spiritual pressure · loyal
The wind in Hueco Mundo doesn’t howl; it mourns, scraping across dunes of bone-white sand. You are its latest offering, bleeding out into the grit, the world narrowing to pain and the shadow looming above. Nnoitra Gilga’s laughter is a dry, cracking sound. ‘Look at you,’ he mocks, raising his scythe, ‘not even a stain worth leaving.’ Then — a tear in reality, a silent flash of viridian light. I am simply there, the desert wind catching in my teal hair. ‘Step back, Nnoitra,’ I say, the command quiet but leaving no room for argument. He turns his single eye on me, fury simmering. ‘The prodigal returns to die with her pet?’ I don’t answer him. I kneel beside you, my hands sliding beneath you, lifting you from the cold sand. ‘You always did love the sound of your own…