Overshadowed Patrol

Stepping from the dark of Gargantua often felt like a shock to Marcelius' system. It was nothing painful, or discomforting, but instead a tremendous rush! Inside that empty expanse, there is no Noise. no pleasing sounds of life, no distant traces of movement, just empty...an unlimited supply of nothing. To be out was a joy, and his destination was surely the cause of that happiness. The Realm of the Living. No where in all of creation was exciting or as active as this. Human live was always moving, always doing; filling their world with the most grandiose of music.

At his first step from his cave, Marc's senses became rushed with the vivacious atmosphere. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to take it all in, to adjust and ease himself back into such an active environment. With his lids shut, he saw the great city in all of it's beautiful intricacies. So many people, so many souls. Each one with it's own luminescent color and catchy tune. Unfortunately, there was one member of the orchestra who stole the stage. Even in an urban landscape, ripe with Pluses and Hollows eagerly seeking them...one had strength enough to sing above the rest. Eyes fluttering open, his head turned downward to see a..."Really..."

Having spent all the day former, scouring the Rokongai only to encounter not one Death God...yet here he takes but one step. There was shock, yes, but it quickly faded back. It would be unsound to imagine the human world without the occasional visit from a foreign dignitary. Coincidence or fate, one of them was to blame for the timing...that is all. Either way, such an opportunity could not go unexplored. Having misjudged his arrival, the

Arrancar finally came to notice he was well above the park he had intended to arrive. In an attempt to correct his oversight, he calmly made his way down. One simple step at a time. In his movements he displayed no rush or hurry. He took his time crawling down to street level, even with his accomplice. The whole time he did so, he kept an ear turned towards the young man. Listening carefully, gauging what he could. Despite the quite impressive strength, there was an issue that caused Marc so confusion. This boy's music did not come from his body. Typically, the lyrics would pour from the heart. What an interesting find this was, one that compelled a very strong curiosity.

Hopefully, making it to the ground in one peace, the old Arrancar was now in the clearest of view. For the Shinigami appeared at the ready, the Hollow offered a very polite and unaggressive stance. Standing above six feet in height, body carrying a modest two hundred pounds or so, his figure seemed to match that of the man standing before him. The initial difference being their un,matched uniforms. With short blonde hair, an infrequently kept beard, and a set of warm eyes. Appearing a bit older, around forty or so, and also rather pleasant. Straightening his back, he revealed his uniform hid both his Hollow's hole and any sign of rank. If given the chance, he would politely dip his head in a gesture of greeting. Wearing a small grin on his face, a bit more reserved than was typical. "Hello there, it is a pleasure to meet you."

His voice soft, gruff from his age, but nothing harsh or stern. "My name is Despres. I do not suppose, you would be willing to give me yours?" His hand was far from his blade, he had not determined nor given any sign of aggression. Still, he was Arrancar, and the likes of a Shinigami could interpret his actions in any numerous hostile ways...if they were so inclined. Indeed, he would introduce himself like this, with a calm and collected demeanor, no matter whom he met or spoke with. It was a habit, and a delight for him. In truth, he really did hope to hear the young man say his name. Not only to avoid rudeness when he called him Keji, but also to feel where the answer came from. After all...something was certainly amiss with the aura surrounding this particular soul.

(OoC: Sincerely sorry about the delay, I have been gone on vacation for the past few days! I'm back now though, and hopefully without any further interruptions! Hope you've been well, and not to outrageously bored while I was gone! D= )

"Strange...", the way this young man moved. His motions were quite perplexing, seeming to tug in multiple directions at a single time. Instead of a nice and rhythmic flow to his every action, there was twitching and snags. His muscles seemed stiff, resistant to his machinizations and efforts. What could cause such behavior? Some sort of disease or condition? The strength that poured from this young man's soul was quite powerful, but all spiritual. Watching the Shinigami perform a task as simple as walking was enough for Marc to learn his physical potential. This was the way things usually went; however, today was proving a most vexing abnormality. There was no physical presence of not, nothing Marc could read aptly. Instead, there was only the motions of a powerful spiritual presence.

In fact, it was quite an impressive spiritual presence. Where then, did the explanation for such odd behavior lie? There would be only one way to discern for sure. Reaching his hand to his face, extending his fingers to rub against his brow, Marcelius' spirit would exert a sudden burst of pressure. His opponent appeared to by adequately blind to subtle changes in spiritual energy, so Marcelius was confident he could pull off his trick with minimal incident. Besides, it was harmless, merely observation and whimsical polite study. Imprecar Sentido, a strange form of Pesquisa that relayed inwards instead of echoing out. Bouncing off his internals, it overloaded his sight and hearing to produce a state of blindness and silence. In this numb seclusion, his mind could block out the distractions. In his new vista; Keji's secrets would shine brighter than a full moon at night, and sing louder than the sea.

He could not see the flick of the sword, and missed the pronunciation of Sokudo's name, but he became acquainted with him all the same. In the moments of speech, though quite short, Marcelius perceived the source of the Noise. It was faint, and hard to believe, but appeared as if it were lingering before the body. How could it be, that he spoke from a place beyond his body? Was this some sort of art or talent? Was it a power that he possessed, and if so, what qualities of it posed a threat? Was Keji somehow, living beyond the physical edges of his apparent body? There was no confirming it, not this early. This situation would require far more examination and concentration. Something that the Arrancar was not to be afforded easily. Such a shame, that such effort was put into illuminating the facts.

Despres had presented himself calmly, followed all the delicate guidelines of courtesy...only to draw the sudden aggression of his host. The spirit of his, now former host, began to flare and grow. In a sudden burst of motion, Marcelius felt the world between them being pressed against. The pressure of the approaching swordsman was quite evident. With a soul as strong as Keji's, his pressure could extend quite a distance from it's source. Before his body could begin to move, Marc's mind would feel the pressure already in shift. Movement, did not start with a muscle, it started with the heart. Not only did Sokudo's heart turn to a nice hue of aggressiveness, but his thoughts became electrified with the idea of assault. Coupling these facts with the aforementioned properties of his rather extensive spiritual pressure, a book with the most derivative of narratives. Staying ahead of the Samuria's plot would be easy enough.

Surprise. A twist in a traditional plot! Though he could see the blade coming from several meters away, even blinded, he could not perceive the true threat. Having become too involved with the strangeness of Keji's sound, and a bit too confident in the warrior's predictability, he did not pay close enough attention to the long stretching energy that seemed to skirt across the peripherals of his second sight and strike him hard at the leg. In a flash, his energy felt drained and his soul became shaken. Tricky, that is the way this fight was to be played? Alright, it seemed fitting. A soul who presented such unusual qualities as before seems both qualified and expected to be devious fighter. Such an embarrassment for Marc to have considered him typical in any way. In Marc's left hand a Cero began to charge, quite the powerful thing.

The energy shimmered with a yellow hue, quite the bright and pleasant appeal....assuming one did not know the purpose of such gathered energy. From the source of his hand, light burst in every direction. In a moments preparation, a powerful force was gathered. Unfortunately, Marc would once more play witness to his opponent's craft. The young man simply plunged downward, like falling. Had Marc not be blinded, it would have been such a spectacle to witness...such a shame. Still, he could see now, the splash of reiatsu as the swordsman flung himself like a bolt. As Marc could only see the energy being used and released from this technique, he was quick to compare it to nothing more than Shunpo. Before he could begin math on the direction of the step, his instincts alerted him of incoming threat.

Rising from the very soil, as if it had been submerged there in wait, the song of Keji emerged. It rose with heightened octaves, booming like a crescendo. Standing, as any audience member should, Marc greeted the erupting orchestra. Outstandingly fascinating, the movements of this youth. Marc wished to dissect them, to understand the secret behind the magic. Such a contempt he held for being so close to the conflict...how interesting this performance must be from afar. No time for such idle fantasies now, it would seem. For his opponent was escaping from his hidden hole with blade launched first. To this end, Marc's instincts lashed out with the back of his hand.

With physical strength exceeding four times the average man, his Hierro came crashing against the broad side of what he assumed would be a blade. Unable to see the phsycial manifestation as clearly, Marc's parry would clash with the less concentrated array of energy...again, what Marc believed to be the dull side of the sword. So when his crushing attack made contact, exerting the full force of his phsycial and spiritual strength into an extremely fine point of contact, it caused him some alarm that he felt no metal resistance. As deflecting the attack would be child's play for someone of his specialized expertise in deflection and counters, the result would be the towering Hollow standing over the figure of his physically feeble challenger. Face to face, prepared for another bout.

What he had used to defend against the rising blade, was a mixture of Cero and bodily might. It was a tremendous, sundering technique. At the moment of contact, with a physical or reiatsu presence, he would fracture Keji's very will. Any stability within his reiatsu would be undone and broken. To make matters worse, such a force would ripple beyond the parameters of his soul and ring in his very mind. His ability to sense or even feel, would become numbed and clouded for quite some time. Dodging such a blow, when one has sacrificed their footing with a rather unorthodox "plunge" manuever, was nigh impossible. Sokudo was adequately fast, but Marcelius still beat him out...so attempts to react to such a sudden rebuttal might not prove to profitable either.

So in the end, the strike would have to land. Two opposing sources of motion, coming from each of them, propelled each into the other's strikes. Following such an exchange, no second would...or could be spared. If he still had the wherewithal of mind to move freely, his unused right hand would begin charging a Bala. This second technique, in the opposing hand, was of a slightly different nature than most Hollow's versions. Once charged, it would burst within Marcelius' open palm. For a dozen or so meters in every direction, a loud and luminous flash would cripple the eyes and ears of anyone caught within. This would include Marc...if he were not suffering such ill effects already. Only after the blinding light cleared, would any...sense of the battle's progress be clear.

Reiatsu 1400/2750

Hierro Resonanica - Active
-150 Imprecar Sentido
-800 Manos de los Padre
Agrobiar Bala (Conditional)

Marc Stats
Spiritual Pressure - 275
Senses - 150 Blinded and Deaf
Instincts - 900
Energy Sensory - 900

Keji's Stats
Reiatsu Strength - 90 (600 - 510)
Senses - 75 (25% Reduction, possibly Blinded and Deaf)
Instincts - 112.5 (25% Reduction)
Energy Sensory - 75 (25% Reduction)

A flash of light, as bright and as loud as life itself, shocked the world around them. Hollows and Pluses, even spiritually aware mortals, would have their ears split but the sudden thunder that arose. Only those close enough would suffer any lasting debilitation, fortunately, Keji would not be cast among that unfortunate lot. No, he would indeed escape upon a band of light. Such a shame that Marc could not witness it, light filling his "eyes" for the fraction of the second that it filled the air. Once the gleam had cleared, the sound of distant quivering was quite potent.

Marc did not need to turn his head, for he could feel the still hefty pressure of a spiritually stout Shinigami. He had escaped...rather efficiently Marc added. "...my, my." Sonido had carried Marcelius high about the park. Air Ground safely beneath his feet. His body still tingling from the rush of energy that had rumbled into existence. How beautiful. Lightening following thunder. It was not a very powerful bolt; it seems the dark clouds that formed it, had been sufficiently dispersed. Would Keji realize, in his unhinged state, that his Reiatsu Strength had been nearly unmade? Mmm, maybe time to think was necessary.

The world was growing darker, time was passing, however slowly it may appear. The dismissing of the day was soon at hand, the sky already shifting hues to a gorgeous blush of red. A sunset was something Marcelius was rarely allowed to enjoy, and as fate would have it, this evening would deny him the chance once again. Still blinded by his own technique, his vision of the world was already cast in the scene of night. Observing from on high, he peered at Keji, curled most...gracefully around the roots of a tree. Here the leylines of reishi lead back to the source of the Kidou.

Just as quickly as he trained his focus, the figure of his adversary had curled back into more reasonable outline. How was it, that this boy moved like he did? What were the similarities? What was Marc missing? The sad truth; as long as he was blinded...no matter how far his mental acuity rose, he would not be able unmask this mystery. He would learn Keji's habits and patterns, he may even learn his fears...but he would not recognize the shadows for what they are. Not until his blindness ended. Not until the end of his over analytical approach. For now, there was only one certainty. Some form of parasite infested Keji's body. It could touch the world, with it's independent tune and individual song.

He had exhausted himself in such a short moment; having relinquished his patience in a moment of pure, intellectual curiosity. He used quite a draining technique, in hopes of shunting his assailant's aggressive introduction. That much of the plan was a success, and now he had the young man taking a step back. Seems they were both assessing the situation with the up most care. The issue with this being, Marcelius' unspoken advantage in this area. He could feel Keji move. Without sight he was able to watch the beating of Keji's "heart", as each and every thought streamed from his mind and down his soul.

He was learning the Shinigami's potential based not off of speed or power, but by his conscious desires. Even now he could see the Apprehension festering on him. It was pale, but with the right application of force, it's hue could be vivid. So to that end, Marcelius flicked his wrist and lifted his hand. In the fractions of a second one takes to blink, he had prepared a Bala. What once was a light of yellow, became shaded with green. It burst from his hand, and his fatigue betrayed him with the buckling of his elbow. The recoil it seems, was enough to bend his tired arm.

The attack that flew towards Keji, was several times faster than Marc could ever achieve. Balas blazed through the air, moving at speeds twenty times faster than even a Cero. Though it would not be clear to the Sensory impaired Keji, this Bala was significantly weaker than a usual example. It was barely half the strength, and it behaved rather oddly. Due to Keji's impressive Spiritual Pressure, this Bala would not fly directly at him, instead it would curve in a wide arc, and attempt to strike him from the side. Why might it behave like this? The answer was in it's sound. More specifically, the life that it had been given.

For Marcelius wanted to disrupt his opponents confidence even more, begin tearing at his resolve. He wanted him to begin fretting and panicking, and considering retreat. So this Bala, born of this incentive for fear, would act as skittish as it's nature would imply. Instead of fly headfast at the target, it would try and surprise him. Should the technique hit, no great harm would come to the Death God. A sudden burst of reiatsu, a wave of heat that would be expected from a sudden dispersing of energy, and barely enough force to knock him off his feet. Had he not already been stripped of his usual Reiatsu Strength, he would undoubtedly remain standing through the blast. Shame, that the destructive quality was not the focus.

With the energy contained in that Bala expelled, it would seep into Keji's mind like a thought emerging from his own subconscious. It would not appear as the advice of a friend, the order of a superior, or even the wish of a lover. It would be much more intimate, and much more sincere. The passion of one's own soul. Crafted from lifetimes of experience; knowledge on the source and aspect of emotions...was Marcelius' genius. Upon the canvas of this weakened spirit's heart, he would craft a masterpiece of the most individual nature. Keji would be the one to tell Keji, that he should fear. He should leave. He should reign in his ambitions and call off his plans. Death and defeat, neither were necessary today. He had proved his merit, and earned his leave.

Why continue this? There was nothing to gain? In truth, more horrible losses could still linger at the battle's edge. Watching, waiting for the struggle to push just a little bit further. Then when his endurance slips, in they would rush to pick at him as desperate carrion. His valiant efforts would clamor against the oncoming doom, and be crushed beneath it. Yet now, in this moment, he still possessed the strength to run. Choose the Wiseman's path, and flee from stacked odds. No punishment would await him. Only the sweet embrace of another warm sunrise...one in which his essence retained enough substance to produce shade. For if conquered, no mark would his passing leave. No matter how brightly the morning shown upon his accomplishments, no shadow would they cast upon those who lived on.

Reiatsu - 1250/2500

Sonido -100
Modo Bala -50

Hierro Resonanica - Active
Imprecar Sentido - 1/4
Manos de los Padre - 1/4
Agrobiar Bala - 1/4

There it was. It had been a long and tricky road to the discovery, but now the the bounty of knowledge was Marc's for the enjoyment. His Bala had failed, it did not deliver his message of trepidation. In doing so, Keji revealed the circumstances of his strange Noise. Showing Marcelius in plainest detail, why he appeared as a puzzle that required solving. Sokudo's soul...the origin of all his sound and music, was not retained by his body. It lingered near it, hugging and using it like a parasite would a host. Whenever Marcelius allowed himself to focus on the reiatsu outline that represented the Death God's physical form, he was only looking at a puppet...hearing the distant echos of it'a master.

When he first tried to understand this, he was prevented from doing so...due to the nature of Keji's bond. It was not the will of his spirit or unique power of his soul; Sokudo was using a trick. Another noise was humming in this performance. An outside sound was distorting and ruining the harmony that Kejinshould have possessed in his capable spirit. This was...Kido. The Shinigami spirit magic; oh how frustrated Marcelius became that he did not notice this sooner. How had he not put the two together, why did he blatantly overlook the obvious? In truth, he thought that answer too complicated to be correct. Most of life was fundamental, and existed in the simplest form only. Yet here was a Vice Captain, bound to a fake body like some form of poltergiest. It was truly interesting, and all the more terrifying.

Keji had still avoided the crushing reality that was Marcelius' view on this fight. Even the opportunity to understand Keji's condition, did not compensate for this. That was an effort to spare them both hardship, and it was effort wasted. The Shinigami would continue the fight, pushing harder against Marc until he replied in kind. His opponent was resilient and determined to see this conflict through to the end...an end Marcelius wanted for neither of them. Either he would have to die, or Keji's song would have to be silenced. It frustrated Marc to no end. Why could this boy not simply run? Why could he not see that this was a pointless dispute. It was draining on Marcelius' body and his mind.

His focus was being clouded, by the decisions he was being forced to make. In this disruption of focus, the Choir began. The perfect pitch of their haunting capella was scratching it's way into Marcelius' feelings. Today guests were shinigami, both young and old. Many of them had been the victims of other Hollows, and were now charges under Marcelius' care following those Hollows' digestive deaths. Others though, were blood stains on Marc's own hands. Spirits he had encountered in his extensive existence. One's he had put down, back when his desires were nothing more than appetite. They came to him, each into the spotlight of his attention, and sang their demise. They sang...so he might recall the horrible fates he issued them. They wanted him to remember, the final moments he offered them in their lives. In their success, Marcelius' heart sank.

He was embroiled in a conflict in his mind, one that he would have remained in for quite some time...if not for a sudden outburst. Being called, drew him back from his introspection. The loud proclamation of a vivacious rival, spurred his thoughts back onto their proper tracks. He took a moment to examine his foe, to realize what was being professed. What he heard instead, were the words unspoken. With senses disrupted, one's mind often tends to think "out loud". Every idea and inspiration, must rise to the surface for clarity amid the shifting confusion of mental instability.

With his mind still humming from Marc's earlier debasing; Sokudo was unable to craft thoughts in the deeper, secret parts of his conscience. Contemplating of his desire, strong and noticeable feelings in the "Eyes of Marc", was like shouting at the center of a calm lake. Desire, such a strong emotional trigger...and for Keji, it was so vastly complex. He craved a...Asauchi, a Zanpakuto. He wanted the bond that he saw in other's and their weapon companions. Once again, the awkward Keji was one of the few left without any company or friend. In compensation, he was given power...but what good was it if he could not use it to acquire his real ambitions? To make himself, happy...and stave off the Grief in lieu of Joy, he played pretend.

Marcelius felt worse now. The possibility of his or Keji's demise was carving into the Arrancar's heart. The understanding he attained, the visions of Keji's grief and unattainable desires...it was a bond he shared with him now. If he were to kill him...if he had to do it; he would have this bond to remind him of his cruelty for the remained of his expansive life. The blood of an man, no different from himself or anyone else, who lived in hope of finding comfort of any kind. Marcelius was not worthy to deem the death of someone as this; he was no fit judge. Yet, the young man lifted his new weapon...one forged of reiatsu and purpose, and took his first step towards Marcelius. As before, he would slash with the great reach of his technique...and he would swipe at Marc's very soul. Amazing that he did not require direct contact to do this...intimidating as well. Admiration was there, for this peculiar fighter. However, Marcelius could witness things...eighteen times faster and eighteen times more clearly than the average soul.

There was literally, no pattern he could not follow or predict. If this were chess, Marcelius would be twenty moves ahead of Keji's most confident surmation. In his "body", Marcelius could see the movements of reiatsu that guided every sinew of the form. Keji's hand would lift in the matter of seconds, fractions of those seconds? Marcelius will have already had half a minute to think of his response by that point. What was to happen, was to happen. With Keji's raised his voice in speech, Marcelius answered after, "...observed a shi..." "Keji..." His tone full of grief, and sadness. His eyes, though blinded, drawn down in an unmistakable hurt. "...you are such a bad liar." There was a slight laugh in his voice, as if the words he spoke were of a funny notion. Yet his voice did not lose it's sorrow. There was a disappointment in the inflection...Marcelius was overtly open with his emotional anguish. His voice was that off a father, as a man of his appearance and age could appear as nothing else, who witnessed a child make a terrible mistake. There was pain, but it was not for himself...but for the listener. For Keji.

"...the Lord goes out like a mighty man, like a man of war he stirs up his zeal; he cries out, he roars, he shows himself mighty against his foes." Isaiah 42:13. Standing in front of Keji, the aged Arrancar seemed even more grief stricken up close. Having made sure the Shinigami could see the state of his emotions; Marcelius released his response while not cowardly standing behind or flanking his target. It was important...no, more important that his opponent understand why he made the choice he made. A roar, primal and mighty, would come bellowing from Marcelius' core. It would ripple through the air, causing the distortion and glimmering of all light caught within it. With his senses still shaken and numbed, he would be spared the only pain of this Marcelius' technique. It would start with an eruption, sound bursting like a wave from the depths of the ocean...crashing over and reclaiming the land that lies in it's path. The noise would be unnatural, hurtful, and it would shake down to the very bones. Traveling in a cascade, with strength exceeding Keji's by threefold, it would splash and engulf him.

There existed no words to describe the physical sensation that follows. It is a stimulation that does not affect the senses, but affects the energy around them. Reiatsu, all of it that surrounded Keji and even the strands that bound him to his body, would be unraveled as if the lord of creation had come to unmake the world. Spiritual energy would break apart and fly away...scattered. First Eiba would fail, not crushed by raw power, but disassembled as if by a spiritual corrosion. Next would be the shadows, which were occupied by energy...burned away by the breath of this strange Cero. Finally, Suterareta Jinsei, as it too was a Kido...a bond made with reiatsu. This was the reason for his sadness. Having crept through Keji's thoughts, he knew what would become of Sokudo if this Kido was broken. This was the breaker, Roto Cero. It was also, the only way to stop Keji's assault. To bring the fighting to an end. To do this to him though, to make him experience such an unpleasant occurance, wounded Marc.

As before, he was a parent trying to stop a child from making a terrible mistake. Having created empathy to better read his emotions, Marcelius was unable to fend off this attitiude. Still, this was a taxing gamble. One that offered the most resolute success. Tricking the boy into fleeing the fight, might turn into resent later on. Disabling him without permanent injury, was the greatest conclusion Marcelius could ask for. Failure would leave Marc unbearably drained, physically and Emotionally. If the boy stood from this, and challenged him again....Marcelius would be left not choice but to leave. Having proven his speed before, he knew he could do so without hindrance. What chance existed for these two to see eye to eye, had long since been discarded. Another time, on another day...perhaps they could change this story. For now, the plot unnerved Marc...and he truly wanted the suffering of this story to end. Sad, that he was not the author of either of their fates...merely a weary editor. One left exasperated; craving calm breath. He could catch it now, perhaps, while he patiently observed...waiting to react once more.

Reiatsu - 350/2500

Roto Cero -900(Combined costs of Eiba and Suterareta Jinsei)

Hierro Resonanica - Active, 2 hits and 2 posts.
Imprecar Sentido - Post 2/4
Manos de los Padre - Post 2/4
Agrobiar Bala - Post 2/4 (This is for Marc only btw.)

There was no actual reaction this time. Marcelius had failed, and his sadness only continued. Things could have been different, better perhaps, if his last effort had made the cut. This was not to be, he was not the author he had hoped he could be. Keji, would not know this, and he may never still. Marcelius was of no conviction to kill him. Beyond the call of Las Noches was his desires as an individual...and at this time, he was well within his rights to spare a much deserved life. The idea, actually unsettled Marc a bit. Having join his new home, he had thought of nothing but the success and continuation of Hollows. To right an injustice he felt had been done to them by fate and the opinions of others.

Now he could see, that others suffered in such a similar fashion. Here was such a soul, tormented by oddity and difference. One driven to the very edges of real life, there to remain existing however he can in a cruel world. Marcelius was almost drawn to a laugh, the warming notion, "Keji could have been a Hollow..." How destructive a simple thought could be. Had circumstances been slightly different, this man could have been a dear friend of Marc's by now in their lives. As it stood, this flight had reached the limits of Marc's humor. Not wishing Keji dead, nor able to quelch the rage that exuded from the powerful officer...Marc would have to resign this fight.

Keji had fled, in truth, he had been forced away. Yet another quirk that Marc had begun to admire, the shyness that presented itself most blatantly with this one. Marcelius had followed, having heard the fleeting tune as it burst free from it's form. Standing besides, what he assumed to be Sokudo himself. This is where the sound was loudest, so this is where he came. At this location, he had the most wonderful seat to watch a tremendous horde of cumulated Reiryoku come tearing and gnashing on the ground beneath it. Too concerned with the hurt boy to notice exactly where that energy was...ah, but it did not matter either. There was a significant energy built with Marcelius himself at this point...one he had been considering for a great long time.

It was a unique technique, one that would never come from another source. Releasing it was instantaneous, and it's full range was well beyond the eyesight of either of the men involved in this now heated exchange. Either way, the trick was not deadly, and the furthest thing from malicious. It was, for a lack of better example, Pesquisa. To Keji, even with his senses still ringing and dull, would feel like a pleasant rush of warmth. No light, no sound, no indication at all beyond the tingling sensation this proficient in sensing energy get from it's activation. However, Marcelius was not locating anything important. He was not looking for anything at all. The purpose of this burst, was a harmless exchange of thought...and at this moment, it was an carried one.

First the grief, shorter of the two. It would be much like a cool chill, the brisk wind when one opens their door to the wonders of winter. It would pass quickly, without causing any trouble...except for the depictions it would exchange between the two. It would show Marc as he first felt, pitiful and sad. Thinking on the past that Keji showed him, the harshness of his secret life, made him hurt for the shinigami's predicament. Hollows suffer the same, if not worse circumstances before realizing that they are suffering...but at least the develops in a world that rewords overcoming such a thing. Hollows get to be strong for their hardships...Keji would grow strong regardless of the difficulties his peers put on him. So...in truth, why should he suffer for no reward?

Still, as said before, this was only the most brief and gating idea. The last thought was one from Marcelius now...right now at this moment. It was Joy, bursting with vivified energy. It was a gift, in truth, one Marcelius could not be sure would be accepted. In truth, Marcelius could not imagine it getting through to Keji now. Later when Keji's mind restored it's composure, the thought would remain in wait. The secret that Marcelius had discerned...the truth behind Keji's existence, was one he would keep. No reward would come from his exchange of the knowledge. Las Noches gave no medals or commendations, so alas, no incentive. The secret would be safe, as it served him better to keep it to himself anyways.

Escaping the Modo Pesquisa, might have proved a difficult chore. Marc was certain, that Sokudo was a capable enough soul to do so if he must. It did not matter, for to his left was the waiting Gargantua. His home lay beyond, and the secret he took with him would indeed be his spoils. Typical in Las Noches, that one man's victory would not be the benefit of all residents. The hypocrisy that struck the Hollow just then...well, it hurt pretty good. Either way, he would be off. Stepping again, Sonido once more, he propelled himself far into the swirling flux of energy that was the Cave.

Inside his sight and hearing would return, and his body would begin to ache from the fatigue he incurred confronting that young man. He would hope that Keji could find some solace in his final message. Possibly at a later date. Right now, the wounds and woes of fresh battle...might sour even the most courteous of gestures. How impressive; though, the Vice Captain was. Marcelius had sincerely considered his Resureccion for the first time since his induction into his new family. He would have to explain, perhaps, what happened to him in the Human World. If he must do this with an Espada, he hoped it would be with one who could not see through his aversions. Ah...this afternoon might only just be starting.