Artist: Thirty Seconds To Mars - Song: Night Of The Hunter - Word Count:1,123
Honest To God I Will Break Your Heart.
Like so many times before lately, the lonely Vasto Lorde had found himself wandering the lonely sand of Hueco Mundo. Reflecting upon them, and perhaps they him as well. It was not a pleasant feeling, though to him it was certainly home. Something familiar. Though over the course of what had been revealed to be 400 years, that familiarity seemed falsified. Was his mind simply playing tricks on him, telling him the sands still moved the same with the wind, and that the sky above still reflected in his eyes the way it always did? On this day a lonely hollow would reflect on the past, the present, and the future. Possibly more so than he ever had before.
His name was Ulquiorra Cifer, and come to find out even after so much time had passed, the name still held a certain degree of power which it always had. Recent contact with an organization called ShadowFall proved that much at least. He still wondered though, so many things of course but this Shadow fall, what did they truly desire from him? If it was nothing more than power, why had his race not grown in the past 400 years? He himself had fallen to a human so then why would he prove of use today, where things really that bad? Could he alone change the tides, shift these sands below his feet to a more favorable position? Ulquiorra stared down at a pale hand, opened and then clenched into a fist at his will. The winds around him howled, and tossed sand into his face and chest. Winds strong enough to tear a human limb from limb, as he was rather far from the center of the castle itself. His thoughts seemed to express themselves in the form of an outburst of power. His spiritual pressure heightening near the max for but a moment. The result being a dome forming beneath his feet in the sand as they pushed back, and the winds could no longer reach him. He settled, and remained suspended in air for a moment before taking slow steps forwards to meet the sand once more some distance ahead.
Los Noches was not a friendly place, as it had proven so many times in the past. Ulquiorra thought back to the days before he was an Espada, before he was a Vasto Lorde and how he had to fight his way through hordes of hungry predators. He thought about when he'd met the young demon Styn, and the hollow that fought far below at the time, tumbling in these endless grains. It was a land of eternal darkness, the faint mock light that did shine within Los Noches was only manufactured by a false sky which hid the true eternal night above. No life thrived here, only death. Plant life and creatures beyond Hollow and what he now understood to be demons where nowhere to be seen. Only endless, every changing hills of sand. That, and the blood that stained them.
He finally stopped, gazed up at the sky as if he'd finally found where he wanted to be. Maybe somewhere above, atop the sky was the place where he an Ichigo fought, perhaps not; only he would ever truly know. There was not silence, nor peace. Such things were foreign in these lands but even a midst the chaos, Ulquiorra was able to divorce himself from the world around him, and slip back to a time from long ago.
Images flew through his mind, surrounding his subconscious self like a dozen giant screens, all playing at once, though depicting different scenes. There was Lord Aizen, and how he had come to bring Ulquiorra into his fold. And Ichigo, currently standing helpless before the might of the hollow before him. There was the ever defiant Grimmjow, taking a swift beating as a single strike to the neck rendered him unconscious. Finally his gaze fell upon a certain screen, and could not be drawn away. It was her, that woman. The one who'd proven so much, without so much as a shred of evidence to ever show for it.
She had pale skin, much like his own, though it held a certain degree of life to it his didn't. Her hair was long, straight and the color of a sunset, which he'd seen a time or two in his visits to the human world. But what struck him most of all, where her eyes. Not the grayish brown of their color, but what they spoke. He could read it on her face, in an instant. They spoke not of war, nor violence. They did not lash out like his kind, nor did they fear like those of most humans. They simply held a certain degree of knowledge, as if she knew something he did not. It was almost like… pity. And beyond anything thing else he'd even known, he wondered. Why did she pity him?
He was awake now, and gazed around at the world, the real one that is. The world of his thoughts faded, though analyzed. Why did he still remember her? Why did she matter? After so much time, she must be dead. Was this weakness he was showing, focusing so much on a human girl? Whether is was, or not, it would seem a pair of Arrancar thought so, as they had circled around him one to the east, and one tot the west. They growled, and charged in for an attack simultaneously.
He did not even need to think about. There was no need for the use of cero, or even a release of the magnitude of his spiritual pressure which alone would have frozen them in their tracks. He simply reacted off of instinct, still paying more mind to his own memories, than these petty annoyances. In an instant, just before they reached him, and the moment it was too late for them to turn back, he jumped in the air, only a bit, and spun like a top. He spiraled, extremely fast as a hard left kick landed against the first Arrancar neck while his right elbow impacted the other on the back of its jaw.
The bodies dropped like sacks, their severed heads flying in opposing directions as Ulquiorra landed against the sands that now soaked up the blood. Perhaps it was his distracted, off guard look that had prompted them to attack. Or maybe it was his relatively small stature. Or maybe, just maybe. It was his eyes. And the tear shaped marking that made him appear as if crying.
El Que Llora. The one who cries.
Tear You To Pieces And Rip You Apart.