A Cut Too Deep [Catherine, Alvah]

Her eyes fell upon those bandages as she noticed them burn and purple swell to the surface, feeling her stomach tense with anticipation. She wasn't fast enough to move before it would grab her, arm caught as it retracted away from him, toxic flesh digging into her own.

There wasn't a proper word or term that could describe what shot through her, but if she were to look back on this in retrospective, it could be best described as 'white noise shooting up her arm and into her brain'. Though the sensation was experienced in a literal stunned second, it felt like minutes worth of re-experiencing that burning sensation, those painful digs into her flesh, the breath of another cold on her face..

Her legs moved before her head could, her entire body lifted and then using Bringer Light to use the man's chest as a springboard to kick off and away from him. Heart roaring in her ears, her eyes sunk like a weighted stone to her hand - covered in first to second degree burns and even beginning to form small boils.

The look in her eyes was indescribable, like she was someplace else for a minute, a feverish laugh creeping from her lips as an uneasy smile formed, before her attention was drawn straight back to her opponent. It felt like her soul was on fire, like her veins wouldn't stop squeezing, it was a sickening feeling of adrenaline... Yet she smiled, through her heaving breath she maintained a frightful grin.

A blur, she appeared before him again. It was not her, it was just an image. Again, she appeared by him, but once again it wasn't her.

She was behind him. Behind him, wielding nothing but a torn pipe fashioned into a weapon, it's edges commanded to sharpen by her hand, seeking to pierce the man's shoulder with a flurry of green light increasing it's piercing power.

Something is different. He noticed something off as he held her, but it was unidentifiable until he found her feet on his chest. That same technique from before; used to kick off of him this time, and he could do nothing but accept the brunt force of it propelling him back as she dashed away. His hand on his chest, he fell to a knee at the power behind something so simple. It was unexpected, but it did not hurt him too much outside of a dulling soreness.

However, looking up, he noticed what he had felt earlier. Catherine no longer looked the same as before, her visage that of a trauma struck child. Her look alone told stories he could not fathom without explanation, and he felt his curiosity purr at the idea of learning more. Her smile, uncanny and beautiful, whispered secrets he must uncover, but for now, he will relish in the idea that he has become prey. This is a fight to take seriously.

And Catherine gave him no room to breathe. One second, she's in front of him, but then she's not. Then she's beside him, but again, she's not. His senses played tricks on him, but the addition of a weapon in her hand triggered a response from him as he knew it could not be another ploy. He rose from his knee and prepared himself as he felt that modified weapon dig into his shoulder. His Hierro could only lessen how deep her strike went as blood sprayed free.

"Savagery!" He exclaimed, reaching with his demonic arm to grip the weapon buried in him, its mere touching burning the energy she had placed around the object. She either let it go or would find Alvah's elbow entering her gut as he struck behind him. He'd then follow that up by raising his hand and grabbing her by her shirt and throwing her over him away into the sandy ground.

Plunge. Strain. Twist. Eyes unblinking even as red spurted on her face and chest, her grasp on the makeshift spear was tight and unrelenting, seeking to push it further into his shoulder, past the strain of flesh and bone, to sever it perhaps was her plan. She didn't think about it too hard, if anything it was hard for her mind to dwell on any one thing, other than a single mantra: Losing is dying.

Did his lips move? It was tertiary thought to the secondary glance of that hand reaching for her weapon, gradually unraveling the pull of souls she used to increase it's force upon his shoulder, only fully interrupted by that elbow crushing her gut, skidding on the sandy earth for only a moment before her figure flashed.

There she was. No coy play, she threw the pipe at him, guided by the swirling of Bringer Light to pierce his chest, the diversion used in order for her to appear behind him. A sizable rock was in her hands as she sought to bring it down on his head with reckless aggression, her expression someplace between exhilaration and empty rage.

Her attack was different from before also. She no longer aimed to test him. If not for himself, he'd have lost an arm. Catherine, or whatever has hold of her, wants him dead. To say the least, his right arm is somewhat out of commission. She didn't cut deep enough to make it unuseable, but it's going to lack its normal strength now that his muscles have been turned to strands. Either way, he can't let her actually kill him. That'd be an unfortunate ending to their blooming story.

With a flick, he swung his left to slap away the flying pipe, feeling the impact through his Hierro. He shouldn't block her next strike with his hand. He doesn't know what'll happen if he does. He might actually lose it, so he made an executive decision and reached to his side, moments later raising his Zanpakuto over his head to block the rock in her hand.

The pressure pushed him down back to a knee. His arm felt wobbly, his injured shoulder making it too hard to simply push her back. His only choice was to run his blade against the rock and roll to the side with the momentum. Then he used Sonido to move, creating distance between the two of them to regauge how to handle his current situation.

Push, push, push! She squeezed the rock so tightly it cut into her flesh, teeth visible in a painful grit that ought to shatter them. A painful soreness radiated from his previous strikes, her stomach surely bruised, yet she went about as if the pain didn't slow her. Her eyes followed him as he rolled out from beneath her, arms dropping unceremoniously with a crumbling stone falling between her shaking fingers.

What was that, a Zanpakuto? Of course, of course, Arrancar had Zanpakuto too, it wasn't the same as a Shinigami's - it used to be a part of their mask. Then did Shinigami copy them, or did Arrancar copy Shinigami? What came first? She wondered if her opponent removing his mask hurt. Was his experience as a hollow miserable? Was he, was she, was this, was that, thoughts came, and compressed, forming new thoughts, which also compressed, again and again like an ever twisting ball of roots filling gaps within itself.

She stared at him as they parted, labored panting as she momentarily relented, until she realized herself.

"Hah, ya think part'n from me will save ya?!" Shouting across the field, her far more vague Americanized accent had shifted to betray her roots, the words coming out with a tear from the depths of her throat, "Tis' a battle! A battle that ain't over!"

Far swallowed by the fervor of battle, she once again broke the distance between the two of them. Losing is death, losing is death, losing is death.

She swung a fist for him, feet planted in a stance before him.

It's a battle that isn't over. She is right about that. He's unsure when she'll expire, but he has no other option but to hold out for now. She has yet to push him to the brink, but it does seem her options have become far more limited. Instead of using objects, she now comes with him with fists. He knows they can do damage, but tissue and bones are far from a sharp metal object.

He moved, using his demonic arm to blow some of her blows, making sure to not grab her. His power only worked when he touched something with his hand, meaning he'd not cause her any harm for now. However, he's still on the back end of this, back to the moment they had before when he had focused on defending. And just like then, he'd counter, swinging his Zanpakuto threw the gap between her attacks, hoping to force her back.

Again and again, she swung empowered blows with little feeling of letting up, even as her fists were beginning to wear raw from each strike she simply did not let up. There wasn't a reason to, it felt like nothing could stop her thrill, as if she were invincible. There was no fear for the hand that burned her, why would there be? It wasn't hurting her that way any more, she may as well have overcame that limitation for all she currently knew.

Shhrk, the sound of metal entering flesh hit her ears before the blossoming of pain and blood processed, the blade's teeth sinking into her hip. She didn't fail to dodge, there was simply no care in if that blade struck her. A hand grabbing that blade tightly was a hand that would act to immobilize her opponent, grunts of pain and effort as she pulled against his direction for the blade, eyes locked dead on his own as sweat beaded down her face.

"Y'thought that would kill me?!" She'd spit poisonously through her teeth, "Nothin' kills me! Not ya', not they, not anybody!"

Blood, she needed blood. Some sensible thought pushed through to remind her, not that she would act on it sensibly. Lunging her head forward, she would latch her jaw onto his wounded shoulder with a vicious might, biting as hard as she could and seeking to drink his foul blood, not terribly intent on letting go.

He thought their bout a simple showcase of abilities. Maybe the exposition rising as it had should have been a thought that ran through his head, but he figured things would would have ended by the time they've reached this point. Whatever chain reaction has led them here has turned any normal action and reaction into a plight of life or death. She should have dodged, but now she bled, and he is sure that humans are not as stout as Hollow.

Then she grabbed hold of his Zanpakuto and said such ludicrous words. An animal is what she's become, and her next action of biting his shoulder proved him correct. She'd, of course, sink her teeth into his Hierro, but that would not hold up against her use of empowered actions. Iron taste coated her tongue as he flinched. Almost like someone had pressed pause, they both now stood there in an awkward position.

"...Interesting... Interesting indeed... What nightmares attack that have turned the insightful woman from before into a bloodlust beast? If I were to inquire, I'd say you've become rather Hollow, my dear."

His lips curled with a satisfied smile, finding the boorish woman from before a story worth reading. He wonders what page he'd have to flip to to understand her visceral reaction to his touch. Would it be a tale worth tasting like his blood? Or would he find that he happened upon a truly broken individual that has always been? Either way, he would take the time to relish in her presence before letting his blade go and reaching behind her.

Fingers slipped through the mass of orange that spilt from her head, taking hold of whatever could fit in his fingers. Sadly, he'll have to stop her from sucking him dry, and with a yank, he'd go to pull her face free from his shoulder. And, to exemplify his actions, he leg came up, foot in her stomach, kicking to send her spiraling away, back to a distance he can accurately prepare from.

Her teeth bit down with everything she had, a flow of red with a flavor she found sickening pouring down her throat. Slowly, the recession of her burns picked pace, the bleeding of her wounds gradually ceasing as she forced herself to choke down this liquid that aided in her healing. Concentrating on such a thing stilled her thoughts, at least to where she understood her company's words. Some sense of clarity returned to her, teeth loosening their hold just as she was yanked off, held in the air by the scruff of her top, only to then receive yet another powerful kick to her stomach to send her flying.

Though she landed on her feet, she stumbled, she hurt. Barely holding back the contents of her stomach from coming back up, she'd cover her mouth and steel her nerve, swallowing hard with her eyes squeezed shut. Damn, damn she fucked up, she went real far this time...

"Isn't that natural? I only have my powers because of Hollows..." Though breathy, it sounded like her normal accent returned, deep breaths as she held her stomach, wouldn't be surprised if it was black and blue at this point, "..But I definitely pushed this trial too far, huh?"

Hmm?

He noticed her change as soon as she began to speak, but her words made everything so crystal clear. Calling her a Hollow wasn't just an observation but a fact in of itself. Power derived from Hollow-kind? Is that what she meant by Fullbringer? He has never heard of such a thing, but he rarely knows humanity. They must be a race that have grown beyond one's natural understanding, a race worth investing in.

"You pushed it exactly where it needed to be. There exists no too far, only what one is capable of handling."

His shoulder ached, for he did not sport the healing he had just watched her do. His blood had fueled her power, but that simply meant he had little for himself, so with a sigh, he sat down. His Zanpakuto rested next to him, its blade coated in her blood as sand stuck to it.