Post by Rose✿ on Oct 24, 2014 0:03:26 GMT -5
The captain was thinking to herself, breathing in a hoot of marijuana smoke as she kept her eyes closed, focusing on holding the smoke in her lungs. Exhaling now, a large cloud of milky smoke escaped from the woman's berry colored lips. It almost looked like a dragon breathing fire. The smoke was followed by a bit of coughing, and the smell of marijuana smoke filled the air as it wafted around the woman. Todays strain was called BC god bud, and this was one of Rose's favorite strains. The buds had more of a blue tint to them and they were full of many brown threads, packed with THC.
The gentle breeze had rustled the golden and crimson strands of slightly messy hair, making it tousle gently and gracefully, letting various sized braids come into view. Crimson eyes followed the smoke as it twisted and turned with the wind before it dispersed into thin air like it was never there. Today she didn't wear the haori or the badge, instead she remained in what was to her preference for today, which was a dark reddish purple tank top that seemed to be made of a thick looking fabric, with lace trimming the lining and two red stripes going vertical down the center. It was tailored to hug her curves and fashioned with a deep V neckline down to the bottom of her bust while A strap held the deep neckline in place near the top of her bust.
She wasn't one for the standard shinigami garb. She believed that everyone should wear what they wanted. But seeing as she was a captain she tried to keep her clothing mostly black if she could. In all honesty Rose didn't want to just toss away the entire standard shinigami uniform, so she wore a peice of it. Removing and hemming the sleeves and cutting it off at about her hips she wore the piece as a vest, the ends frayed. She had two sets of belts around her waist. Each with their own compartments which held little odds and ends for long travels. One belt adorned with a metal plate with the flower of the 4th division.
Rose was always prepared for random journeys, keeping a pouch strapped to each leg which had bare necessities and even a few more straps on her arms. A pair of finger-less gloves were worn along with black jean cutoff shorts Th outfit was complete with knee high boots with a slight heel, a leather jacket and a rich shade of crimson colored scarf.
She wasn't within the Seireitei, she had ventured out of there and beyond Rukongai even. Normally Rose would retreat back to the likes of the human realm. However today she retreated to the depths of the wilderness beyond Rukongai. Less running around but hiding away just as well. Sounds of civilization was no where to be heard here and the wilderness seemed to extend with each passing year so it was easy to get lost if you venture far enough. However, if you wanted to get away the risk seemed worth it.
Her back rested against the trunk of a big oak tree, at least 200 years old. Rose opened her lids, the dim sunset washed into her bloodshot eyes; yet they locked onto a figure in front of her. There stood a man that was taller then her, his hair was dark, tinted blue like a midnight sky. Deep red eyes looked down at Rose as she took another inhale of smoke, holding it, then exhaling. This man was not real, his name Sangre Gundan, Rose's zanpakuto spirit. He appeared before her like a hallucination, not really there for others to see. Then again that didn't matter as she was the only one around here. Not even her young wolf like dog was here, and that thing always stuck by her side like a lost puppy because... Well he was a lost puppy. The well toned man glanced up at the sky, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath.
"Do you hear that?" He spoke in his calm, deep voice. Rose's gaze was locked on the image of Sangre. His words seemed to go in one ear and out the other for her. She was to focused on Sangre, almost as if she was caught in a day dream. Rose could feel her heart sink as she looked at his face. The sharp jawline, the bits of facial hair that seemed to remain as stubble on his face, even the half ass smirk on his lips; it was all to familiar. Her zanpakuto spirit was a dead ringer for her late husband that she lost long ago. Compared to her long lost husband, Sangre's hair was longer and styled more modernly and his facial expressions seemed more grumpy in comparisons to Haven's charming disposition.
Nothing could change the past. Her husband Haven had passed away long ago, and in her years of being a shinigami she had never encountered him in her afterlife. She understood that many memories faded with time and lots of shinigami were unable to recall their lives while they were living; but Rose's feelings were to strong, feelings that only caused her trouble in her past. However there was no denying it, those feelings were there along with the acceptance that Haven may never come back. There was always a chance his death caused enough grief for him to turn into a hollow where he'd either grow to become an arrancar or be consumed by another hollow. Either way he was gone...
A part of her always wanted to believe that Sangre was Haven, yet that would of been impossible. A zanpakuto was a part of a shinigami's soul, but if soul mates were just two pieces of the puzzle; maybe a part of Haven lived on through Rose, and took form as her Zanpakuto. To bad Rose didn't believe in soul mates, otherwise it all of the endured sorrow and pain could have been for some twisted and cruel love story. Rose closed her eyes and tried not to think about Haven, she didn't want to try and create some sort of theory on how Haven could be alive or around; it would only hurt her more in the long run.
She wasn't exactly moved on from Haven. His death was so sudden that she had no chance to say goodbye. Then again the two were only engaged, and exchanged no vows, then again no 'till death do us part' was spoken. Rose cleared her mind and tried to listen, The joint was placed between her lips as she tried to listen for something. Impatience had already set, causing Rose to tapp her finger. What was she listening for exactly? What was Sangre going on about? With an annoyed sigh escaping from her lips after she took the joint in her finger Rose pursed her lips. "What am I listening for exactly?" She asked, now focusing on the high that was the pumping through her body. Tick tock tick tock. A dead silence had fallen around her, and her zanpakuto didn't even answer her.
She had her zanpakuto laying across her lap, and with her free hand she pulled the blade from its sheath a little bit. She let there be only a few inches of the metal visible, then Rose pulled the joint from her lips and put it out against the metal, chipping it and saving the roach for another time. Sheathing her zanpakuto entirely she brought herself up to her feet. She let an annoyed grunt escape from her lips, pivoting on the balls of her feet and placing her left arm against the trunk of the old tree. Stepping closer she rested her forehead against her arms and closed her eyes, making everything go black. Her senses weren't the greatest, she had to admit that one.
There was always a sense that was nulled from the drugs, depending on which one she took that is. But over the countless years she learned to work with it and even fight under the influence. It was her way of adapting to hold her own in unexpected combat. Rose's body even transcended human expectations and functioned differently then other shinigami's. Poisons and unwanted impurities were always rid from her body as her power grew. Because of this Rose was a woman with drugs, booze, and no worries. Her body had it's breaking point, and when it should of gone through things like overdoses or alcohol poisoning, it simply got rid of problem. This allowed Rose to get a nice high and keep it with no worries. Little to say this woman was never sober.
Rose listened more closely, trying to work with the altered senses as she picked up on more and more things. Before she had heard silence; dead, uncomfortable silence. Now she was getting more in tune with her surroundings, the rustle of the leaves was the first thing she picked up on, pushed by the breeze. She started to pick up on the sounds of snapping twigs and the crunching of dry, dead leaves. It was feint and was most likely caused by small animals that lived in this wilderness. She heard the songs of the birds and calls of various animals, all melding together like a melody of nature. She had to admit, It was actually kind of soothing, no wonder people listened to those wildlife soundtracks while falling asleep.
She heard a sudden ruckus. The sounds of birds flying from trees and more breaking branches was heard. She heard the trampling of foot steps in a haste followed by a high pitched screech. She knew that sound, the cry of a hollow. If you lived in the soul society then you were educated on the wilderness. It was a vass untamed place where the souls of animals that have passed resided. Its ever expanding and is said to have no end. Rumors and myths existed of prehistoric creatures that even lived in here if you ventured deep enough to find them even. Along with all that people were advised to never venture far into the wilderness as it was common for hollows to break through and make new homes, allowing them to hide and wait for prey. You can't exactly blame the hollows. Hueco Mundo is a dull world, maybe the hollows wanted change of scenery in their afterlives.
Rose pushed back from the tree, turning in the direction of the cry. She could see the birds flee in the distance from the thicket of the woods to the sky. Keeping her zanpakuto clutched in her left hand Rose was on the move now. Utilizing Shunpo Rose was gone in a flash.
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