Post by Serraph Quarrere on Aug 10, 2024 17:01:54 GMT -5
When one sleeps, that person becomes vulnerable to all sorts of threats. Of course Serraph has been able to overcome this by sleeping in shifts with his other, Seris. His soul often exhausted itself keeping itself from being absorbed into its other, so he was forced, on a regular occasion, to relinquish control of his body and put his soul to sleep to recover. Seris would then take over the body until her soul became tired and the cycle continues. It was a problematic predicament that drove him to seek a way to separate himself into each other’s own body, but he had been unsuccessful in this regard.
Unfortunately this delays the stress on each individual soul and deposits it on the body the pair shared. When this occurs, both souls would sleep and the body would undergo a comatose state until it would eventually recover. This has happened twice so far during his stay in Los Noches. The first time was a non event as his position was new and his palace wasn’t known as a place of discovery and learning, a controversial aspect in the world of hollows.
This time was different. The moment he went to sleep, onlookers would seek to take advantage. Serraph wasn’t completely unaware of this. The Sexta espada held many fears, doubts, and suspicions. Such emotions often weighed heavily of a being of curiosity such as himself. When his crimson eyes finally opened, his mind immediately went to work. He knew the smell of ash and smoldering ruins well enough, and such things demanded the Lord Librarian’s attention.
After a quick retrieval of his cane, he’d slip from his bed to his reading table where a lone, aged book lay. A snap of his fingers and the table would be dimly lit. His slender fingers peeled open the book to the first page. Instead of words, each page held a pair of columns filled with bars that glowed either red or green. The book’s purpose was meant to help track the status of his servants, a system he inherited when he took the palace for himself.
The previous lord of this tower had a fascinating desire for humans and collected them. Each one would wear collars that served as neural dampeners and kept them acting in the way he wished them to. They were essentially slaves. To remove the collar would kill the servant in question, one merely had to wait until the system shorted out on its own and then the collar could be removed. As Serraph flipped through each page he’d see that every single status bar glowed a sickening red.
They were either dead or the collars ceased to function. This coupled with the smell of burning books lead the Sexta espada to believe that a few distasteful hooligans decided to move in during his rather long nap, believing that the Sexta simply abandoned his post. The Librarian frowned and closed the book.
“Events are progressing faster than I can anticipate. This isn’t good.”, she’d mutter, moving to the circular vault like door that served to enclose his personal quarters. Disguised as a wall, the material helped dampen and contain his reiatsu signature, keeping him safe from those who would seek to devour him in his sleep. Cutting his palm on the point of cane, he’d flatten out his hand upon the center of the wall. The mechanisms clicked and whirred before separating and sliding back to either side of him.
He’d step forward and out onto the balcony overlooking the main floor of his library and what he saw made his stomach churn. As far as the eye could see he’d see the smoldering ash heaps of that which used to be tall book cases. Dying embers floated in the air and the grand crimson tapestries which were made with custom heraldry representing each of the espada had been reduced to tattered scraps. The main floor was a wreck and as infuriating as it was to behold, it wasn’t the worst outcome of his absence.
Nothing put out on the main floor was irreplaceable. Tapestries could be made again, statues could be sculpted once again, and the bookcases could be rebuilt. Each book and scroll were reprints and copies of their originals. It would take a bit of time to compile the list needed to rebuild everything back to where it was before, but it could be done, except he’d be alone in this regard this time.
His crimson eyes lowered down to the feral barbarian arrancar that sifted through the ashes. It was a small number of them and each was caked in that of blood, human blood. So they killed his humble servants, his personal playthings? Not only did they attempt to destroy a center of learning, they attempted to dismantle that which upkeep such a great work. His teeth grinded against each other as his hands rested on the ash covered marble hand-rails.
HIs anger flared just as he did with his spiritual pressure, causing each of those worthless vermin to quake and turn their attention to the Lord of his place. He’d call out to them, “Do not throw the arrow which will return against you” The meaning was simple. It was a warning given far to late to these beasts not to give Serraph the means to justify disposing of them. Had they been of intelligent minds, they would have fled, but instead they looked upon him as if he were another meal. “Fools, all”
A Blur of movement and their supposed leader as on the ground, a can puncturing deep into its eye socket as the Espada skated his body across the smooth, checkerboard tiles. The other two wasted no time and lunged at him. Leaving his cane in the arrancar’ss skull he’d turn on his heals and pointed each open palm at the would be attackers. “Artillery adds dignity to what would otherwise be a vulgar brawl”, he’d state cooly as a pair of red orbs formed in the palms of his hand.
He would release the building energies into a pair of crimson beams which evaporated the pair of attackers. When their ashes had fluttered to the ground he’d pull his cane free from the man’s skull, bringing its bladed tip before his face to examine. A quick flick of his tongue and a concerned scowl after, he’d flick the rod and the blood free. Something was off here. These vandals were not what they should be.
As a hollow gains power and evolves, so do their ability to reason. When a hollow breaks free of the confines of their mask, they also gained a bit of comprehension and understanding as well, yet these fools still acted as freshly birthed hollows. The way they felt as well seemed completely off as well, but not completely unfamiliar. It was almost as if he’d felt this flavor of reiatsu before, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him. He’d grunt in mild frustration as the front door to his library shut heavily, drawing the blood red light of his eyes to the newest visitor.
It was another arrancar, but not a feral like those three. He could see the mild fear in her eyes. Another blur and he was standing before her, glancing down at the letter she held out for him in a trembling grasp. He’d laugh and take the letter. “Worry not, little lass. It is entirely seemly for a young man killed in battle to lie mangled by the bronze spear. After all, in his death all things appear fair.”, He’d quote from the great Homer, flicking the envelope open and unfolding the letter within.
It was a summons disguised as an invitation from the Segunda written in flowery yet direct language. From the texts he could feel an aura of frustration, partly directed at his station but mostly at something else entirely. They would meet at her palace to discuss a troubling development. Now this was quite surprising. Out of all people she could have contacted, the Segunda had chosen to associate, Serraph?
His fuzzy memory had little recollection of this Maria, yet she seemed to know enough to want him to work with her on this development. The Segunda, one of great power, wanted Serraph, one who arguably, depending on who you ask, should not even be an espada to work with her? Now this was quite the interesting development. He’d smile and fold the letter back into its envelope and pocket it before turning to the messenger.
“You may proceed to lead me to her. I’m afraid I’ve never been to Lady Maria’s portion of Los Noches.”, he’d urge his new guide as he walked her to the front door, pulling the heavy slab of stone open by its bronze handle. “After you.”
Unfortunately this delays the stress on each individual soul and deposits it on the body the pair shared. When this occurs, both souls would sleep and the body would undergo a comatose state until it would eventually recover. This has happened twice so far during his stay in Los Noches. The first time was a non event as his position was new and his palace wasn’t known as a place of discovery and learning, a controversial aspect in the world of hollows.
This time was different. The moment he went to sleep, onlookers would seek to take advantage. Serraph wasn’t completely unaware of this. The Sexta espada held many fears, doubts, and suspicions. Such emotions often weighed heavily of a being of curiosity such as himself. When his crimson eyes finally opened, his mind immediately went to work. He knew the smell of ash and smoldering ruins well enough, and such things demanded the Lord Librarian’s attention.
After a quick retrieval of his cane, he’d slip from his bed to his reading table where a lone, aged book lay. A snap of his fingers and the table would be dimly lit. His slender fingers peeled open the book to the first page. Instead of words, each page held a pair of columns filled with bars that glowed either red or green. The book’s purpose was meant to help track the status of his servants, a system he inherited when he took the palace for himself.
The previous lord of this tower had a fascinating desire for humans and collected them. Each one would wear collars that served as neural dampeners and kept them acting in the way he wished them to. They were essentially slaves. To remove the collar would kill the servant in question, one merely had to wait until the system shorted out on its own and then the collar could be removed. As Serraph flipped through each page he’d see that every single status bar glowed a sickening red.
They were either dead or the collars ceased to function. This coupled with the smell of burning books lead the Sexta espada to believe that a few distasteful hooligans decided to move in during his rather long nap, believing that the Sexta simply abandoned his post. The Librarian frowned and closed the book.
“Events are progressing faster than I can anticipate. This isn’t good.”, she’d mutter, moving to the circular vault like door that served to enclose his personal quarters. Disguised as a wall, the material helped dampen and contain his reiatsu signature, keeping him safe from those who would seek to devour him in his sleep. Cutting his palm on the point of cane, he’d flatten out his hand upon the center of the wall. The mechanisms clicked and whirred before separating and sliding back to either side of him.
He’d step forward and out onto the balcony overlooking the main floor of his library and what he saw made his stomach churn. As far as the eye could see he’d see the smoldering ash heaps of that which used to be tall book cases. Dying embers floated in the air and the grand crimson tapestries which were made with custom heraldry representing each of the espada had been reduced to tattered scraps. The main floor was a wreck and as infuriating as it was to behold, it wasn’t the worst outcome of his absence.
Nothing put out on the main floor was irreplaceable. Tapestries could be made again, statues could be sculpted once again, and the bookcases could be rebuilt. Each book and scroll were reprints and copies of their originals. It would take a bit of time to compile the list needed to rebuild everything back to where it was before, but it could be done, except he’d be alone in this regard this time.
His crimson eyes lowered down to the feral barbarian arrancar that sifted through the ashes. It was a small number of them and each was caked in that of blood, human blood. So they killed his humble servants, his personal playthings? Not only did they attempt to destroy a center of learning, they attempted to dismantle that which upkeep such a great work. His teeth grinded against each other as his hands rested on the ash covered marble hand-rails.
HIs anger flared just as he did with his spiritual pressure, causing each of those worthless vermin to quake and turn their attention to the Lord of his place. He’d call out to them, “Do not throw the arrow which will return against you” The meaning was simple. It was a warning given far to late to these beasts not to give Serraph the means to justify disposing of them. Had they been of intelligent minds, they would have fled, but instead they looked upon him as if he were another meal. “Fools, all”
A Blur of movement and their supposed leader as on the ground, a can puncturing deep into its eye socket as the Espada skated his body across the smooth, checkerboard tiles. The other two wasted no time and lunged at him. Leaving his cane in the arrancar’ss skull he’d turn on his heals and pointed each open palm at the would be attackers. “Artillery adds dignity to what would otherwise be a vulgar brawl”, he’d state cooly as a pair of red orbs formed in the palms of his hand.
He would release the building energies into a pair of crimson beams which evaporated the pair of attackers. When their ashes had fluttered to the ground he’d pull his cane free from the man’s skull, bringing its bladed tip before his face to examine. A quick flick of his tongue and a concerned scowl after, he’d flick the rod and the blood free. Something was off here. These vandals were not what they should be.
As a hollow gains power and evolves, so do their ability to reason. When a hollow breaks free of the confines of their mask, they also gained a bit of comprehension and understanding as well, yet these fools still acted as freshly birthed hollows. The way they felt as well seemed completely off as well, but not completely unfamiliar. It was almost as if he’d felt this flavor of reiatsu before, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him. He’d grunt in mild frustration as the front door to his library shut heavily, drawing the blood red light of his eyes to the newest visitor.
It was another arrancar, but not a feral like those three. He could see the mild fear in her eyes. Another blur and he was standing before her, glancing down at the letter she held out for him in a trembling grasp. He’d laugh and take the letter. “Worry not, little lass. It is entirely seemly for a young man killed in battle to lie mangled by the bronze spear. After all, in his death all things appear fair.”, He’d quote from the great Homer, flicking the envelope open and unfolding the letter within.
It was a summons disguised as an invitation from the Segunda written in flowery yet direct language. From the texts he could feel an aura of frustration, partly directed at his station but mostly at something else entirely. They would meet at her palace to discuss a troubling development. Now this was quite surprising. Out of all people she could have contacted, the Segunda had chosen to associate, Serraph?
His fuzzy memory had little recollection of this Maria, yet she seemed to know enough to want him to work with her on this development. The Segunda, one of great power, wanted Serraph, one who arguably, depending on who you ask, should not even be an espada to work with her? Now this was quite the interesting development. He’d smile and fold the letter back into its envelope and pocket it before turning to the messenger.
“You may proceed to lead me to her. I’m afraid I’ve never been to Lady Maria’s portion of Los Noches.”, he’d urge his new guide as he walked her to the front door, pulling the heavy slab of stone open by its bronze handle. “After you.”
