Post by Marcelius on Sept 11, 2013 0:29:29 GMT -5
(OoC: This is a training thread explaining the development of the Modo Cero. It will also act as training for Marc to master said Cero.)
Cero. The ultimate expression of force and power for the Hollows. It is a gift, given out of evolution. A reward for achievement. It is the weapon of choice for decimating opposition and asserting one’s self at the top of the pile. Marcelius concern was never being the strongest. In his early years, he only wished to eat. He did not always have to be stronger than his opponent to feast upon them. Waiting. Observing. Striking only when opportune. Not satisfied with the chewing alone, no, Marcelius had to know every tiny detail about a meal before he would let it reach his teeth. Given the gift of marvelous perception, he could analyze the gifts and abilities of others. Furthermore, he could look into the very heart of another’s desires and see the color of their Emotion. It took years, but even he was able to learn what each of the colors defined. Instead of questioning his prey to see what they felt during each shade, he taste them, sampling the various essences that embodied them during certain hues. He learned the sweetness of Joy. There was the spice of rage and the tart of Amazement. Grief was salty, and particularly disliked by the Hollow. After a great long while, in the interest of his pleasure; Marcelius began seasoning every victim he came across. By playing with the sound the made, tweaking it with his own power, he could turn their tune into any melody he prefered. Whether to cease the tears or bathe them in Fear, he could have any flavour of his choice. It became an obsession with him, and eventually he would even dabbled in creating all new pallet experiences! It has been a long time since he consumed anyone, but he still remembers every distinct taste he ever enjoyed in his prior form.
Having grown now, both in age and power, it remains a delicate process to change the Emotions of another soul. Where as before, he was a careful chef not rushing his meal for fear of spoiling, now he is an artist working to compose a masterpiece. With his Reiatsu, as he has been instructed to call it, he infects the souls of other beings with the most powerful suggestions. However, the times have changed...he is an Arrancar now. no long locked into his Hollow body, he lost his connection with the abilities he once had. Now when he gazes upon blank canvases, waiting for him to cast them into the most vibrant hues, he must simply stare and wonder what could have been. It was exhausting at first, the sheer boredum that fell onto his shoulders. Even after giving up the hunt, he never gave up his delight in altering other's perspectives. In a way he was a slight egotist, dreaming of a world where he could fix the issues of others by forcing them to think things differently. What if he did change the world with his gift, one fixed soul at a time? That reality may never come true for him now, he would only dream of what could have been. As was to be expected, this revelation did not sit well in his curious heart. In his age, he found fewer fancies than he used to. Why should he have to change his ways, just because a bit of difficulty had be handed to him? The problem remained, how exactly would he perform his old craft?
The answer first came to him, when his proficiency with Cero was put to the test. Having always hated Cero, viewing them loud and outrageous in design, he was made to despite them even more through his training. The cackling of a madman haunted him, while he shook his senses into oblivion with each burst of energy he was commanded to expell. Curse his ears, and their sudden revelation of purpose...why could he not remain deaf? All the same, his education in Arrancar Cero went amazingly. With each wave of power he ushered into the world, he heard stupendous noise fly with it. Not so much the constant humming or chiming of typically "dead" sounds....no, his Cero sounded...alive. So Marcelius inspected them. By holding fully formed Cero in his grasp, listening to their defiant racket, he learned just how they made the sounds of life. They were filled with his energy. They were not mindless stretches of terrible destruction, no...they were a living extension of his own being. That it was so taxing to produce and direct the Cero...they were a part of him that he was ejecting. So the thought appeared, what if they could feel as he? Surely, they must feel something...being made of his Reiryoku. So with each new Cero he blasted the desert landscape with more energy.
The answer did not come to him easily. It was a surprise, and it was hurtful. Marcelius was adept at analyzing the situation...even to the finest details. He felt cheated by his own soul. How difficult could it be, to grasp the "life" that he was imbuing these attacks with? What was he missing, or failing to grasp? Each new attempt made his mind weaker, taxed through exhaustion and frustration. In his fatigue...the Choir came. It began to sing to him, exposing his inabilities. With willpower, he could silence the music this time...but the more he pushed himself the more they returned to lash at the foundations of his focus. A frown was creeping into the corners of his mouth, tugging and restraining the smile that should have been there. Regardless, he would not let the lack of support stop him. Having spent so long with the voices, his ears were learning to grow deaf to them. His mind returned to it's work, the simple curiosity that birthed a tremendous distraction. It was just as much his cure from the raining, as it was a challenge for his creativity. Once more a Cero. Then again, and again. The evernight filled with the passing flashes of Hollow power, scorching the cool desert sands. All of it, the brilliant show that was his work ethic.
Days went by without any change or breakthrough. It was enough to further Marcelius' dishearted condition. His nights were not spent resting, as he found his mind puzzled over his hold ups each time he closed his eyes. When his head lay upon the pillow, waiting to embrace the Sandman's comforts, he could see the irritating flashes of Cero still burned into his thought. There was no escape from it, something that he desperately wanted to learn and understand. How could he alter or use the life he filled each Cero with. It was as alive as him, as Caulder, as every other Arrancar that still drew breath in the world. If it were alive, maybe it could feel? That had been Marc's all consuming occupation before he peeled his mask from his face. He tried to remember, the old ways. The times when he would extend forth his hand, pluck the cord of some other poor souls instrument, and cause them such elation or sorrow. Maybe it was still that simple...maybe, he could pluck the stricgs of his Cero? Why not, as he observed, they were alive as any other being in the world. Maybe massive amounts of reiatsu could feel, and if so, Marcelius was the only Hollow alive who could make the feel...what he wanted them to feel. Tomorrow, his day would start anew, and when the ability to issue forth a font of power returned, he would give it both life and identity.
The following morning, could not come quickly enough. With the rise of the fake sun, Marcelius had already left his room. Creeping through the halls in the early day, before the rest of the place would wake. Moving outside, putting distance between him and all the noises of the Palace. To accomplish his goals, he had to offer himself every advantage possible. This meant he must work alone, without the interference of others. This, was at least, an outstanding excuse for him. For his object was too closely connected to his former self, for the answer to be solved in any other fashion. So if he was to grow, and to learn, he would need to stop shunting himself. Now alone, an island of sentience among the rolling tides of sand, Marcelius carefully reached for his sword. One hand on the grip, lightly holding cursed prison. Marcelius had to take a few breathes, building both resolve and courage. Thinking of what he was about to invite into his life again, it drove his nerves to shudder. It could not be avoided, it was yet another task of necessity. What could be learned from this one sojourner, could help him limit his reliance on this more sinister side of himself. This was temporary suffering, for the prevention of further suffering. It was simple. It was nonnegotiable. It was time. "Compacer, Acusado."
The world quickly became dark, and for that change to be noticeable in Hueco Munro, was quite the accomplishment. Silence followed, shutting Marcelius off from distraction or stimulation. In reality, this was his favorite part of the whole process. Following, was the beautiful cascade of light, the source of all motion becoming visible to him once more. It was spectacular. Now that he could see more clearly, he could also hear things even better. It started with the spirits inside of him. They came forward and barraged him with their songs. One after another, biting eagerly at the chance to sting him deeply. It was fine, he was waiting and prepared for them. With a wave of his arm., he silenced them all with his dominant will. Soon there after, he raised his arm and prepared a Cero. It was fun to do such a thing when he was released. Hearing the roar of life in his hands, that trembling power coming into existence by his design. It was even enough to quiet down the masses who called and clamored for attention. Either way, here he stood...ready to fire his fresh Cero. Instead, he kept it held. Using his boundless energy and stamina to maintain the focused tap of power. While the Cero humed in his hand, shaking back and forth with fervor that begged to be released, Marcelius did not allow it to leave. Reaching now, not with his hand, but with his focus. He peeled back the layers of energy that shaped his technique, exposing it's inner flows of energy. With this onion of power now unfurled, Marcelius could see the vibration that gave it the sound of life. With another use of his focus, he pressed against that vibration like a chord, and plucked it to a new tune.
In a moment, his Cero began to change. It's color started first, a very reassuring sign for Marc. The color shifted from his very bloodied oragne, to that of a joious yellow. The energy in his hands was no longer stable either. It twisted and curled around inside of the ball he had formed it into. This was such a proud moment for Marcelius. Life, glorious life had been given to a Cero...and he was responsible. It appeared to be joy, that tickled the fabric of the twined energy. It seemed so happy, that way it shivered and tossed around in his grasp. The time had come though, his special little child needed to be set free. Loosening his grasp, the energy responded excitedly to the freedom . in a burst more tremendous than any he had produced before, the joyful Cero spread in every direction at once. It's happiness could not be contained, and as a result, it refused to be condensed into a beam of any kind. No, with it's joy, came a reckless enthusiasm. It did not matter to Marc, he loved that aCero could behave. Acting with the same mannerisms of real life, showing true character. This was a proud moment for Marcelius, and what he had achieved.
The jovial Cero was not the end. Oh no, no. This Arrancar had made something else, something as much access to feelings as any other being. So he began to practice, intent on allowing his Cero to feel every emotion. This was an education for him, and his power. He explained grief and he explained vigilance. This was his Cero, his. Watching as his energy carried messages of all type. Aggression to Rage. Curious, to Vigilant. Distraction to Surprise. His Cero were each alive, and each an individual. The more he practiced, the better he began to understand his creation. Through untold presentations, he was even able to forget about the discomfort he felt in his release. This new technique, was going to be spectacular.
Cero. The ultimate expression of force and power for the Hollows. It is a gift, given out of evolution. A reward for achievement. It is the weapon of choice for decimating opposition and asserting one’s self at the top of the pile. Marcelius concern was never being the strongest. In his early years, he only wished to eat. He did not always have to be stronger than his opponent to feast upon them. Waiting. Observing. Striking only when opportune. Not satisfied with the chewing alone, no, Marcelius had to know every tiny detail about a meal before he would let it reach his teeth. Given the gift of marvelous perception, he could analyze the gifts and abilities of others. Furthermore, he could look into the very heart of another’s desires and see the color of their Emotion. It took years, but even he was able to learn what each of the colors defined. Instead of questioning his prey to see what they felt during each shade, he taste them, sampling the various essences that embodied them during certain hues. He learned the sweetness of Joy. There was the spice of rage and the tart of Amazement. Grief was salty, and particularly disliked by the Hollow. After a great long while, in the interest of his pleasure; Marcelius began seasoning every victim he came across. By playing with the sound the made, tweaking it with his own power, he could turn their tune into any melody he prefered. Whether to cease the tears or bathe them in Fear, he could have any flavour of his choice. It became an obsession with him, and eventually he would even dabbled in creating all new pallet experiences! It has been a long time since he consumed anyone, but he still remembers every distinct taste he ever enjoyed in his prior form.
Having grown now, both in age and power, it remains a delicate process to change the Emotions of another soul. Where as before, he was a careful chef not rushing his meal for fear of spoiling, now he is an artist working to compose a masterpiece. With his Reiatsu, as he has been instructed to call it, he infects the souls of other beings with the most powerful suggestions. However, the times have changed...he is an Arrancar now. no long locked into his Hollow body, he lost his connection with the abilities he once had. Now when he gazes upon blank canvases, waiting for him to cast them into the most vibrant hues, he must simply stare and wonder what could have been. It was exhausting at first, the sheer boredum that fell onto his shoulders. Even after giving up the hunt, he never gave up his delight in altering other's perspectives. In a way he was a slight egotist, dreaming of a world where he could fix the issues of others by forcing them to think things differently. What if he did change the world with his gift, one fixed soul at a time? That reality may never come true for him now, he would only dream of what could have been. As was to be expected, this revelation did not sit well in his curious heart. In his age, he found fewer fancies than he used to. Why should he have to change his ways, just because a bit of difficulty had be handed to him? The problem remained, how exactly would he perform his old craft?
The answer first came to him, when his proficiency with Cero was put to the test. Having always hated Cero, viewing them loud and outrageous in design, he was made to despite them even more through his training. The cackling of a madman haunted him, while he shook his senses into oblivion with each burst of energy he was commanded to expell. Curse his ears, and their sudden revelation of purpose...why could he not remain deaf? All the same, his education in Arrancar Cero went amazingly. With each wave of power he ushered into the world, he heard stupendous noise fly with it. Not so much the constant humming or chiming of typically "dead" sounds....no, his Cero sounded...alive. So Marcelius inspected them. By holding fully formed Cero in his grasp, listening to their defiant racket, he learned just how they made the sounds of life. They were filled with his energy. They were not mindless stretches of terrible destruction, no...they were a living extension of his own being. That it was so taxing to produce and direct the Cero...they were a part of him that he was ejecting. So the thought appeared, what if they could feel as he? Surely, they must feel something...being made of his Reiryoku. So with each new Cero he blasted the desert landscape with more energy.
The answer did not come to him easily. It was a surprise, and it was hurtful. Marcelius was adept at analyzing the situation...even to the finest details. He felt cheated by his own soul. How difficult could it be, to grasp the "life" that he was imbuing these attacks with? What was he missing, or failing to grasp? Each new attempt made his mind weaker, taxed through exhaustion and frustration. In his fatigue...the Choir came. It began to sing to him, exposing his inabilities. With willpower, he could silence the music this time...but the more he pushed himself the more they returned to lash at the foundations of his focus. A frown was creeping into the corners of his mouth, tugging and restraining the smile that should have been there. Regardless, he would not let the lack of support stop him. Having spent so long with the voices, his ears were learning to grow deaf to them. His mind returned to it's work, the simple curiosity that birthed a tremendous distraction. It was just as much his cure from the raining, as it was a challenge for his creativity. Once more a Cero. Then again, and again. The evernight filled with the passing flashes of Hollow power, scorching the cool desert sands. All of it, the brilliant show that was his work ethic.
Days went by without any change or breakthrough. It was enough to further Marcelius' dishearted condition. His nights were not spent resting, as he found his mind puzzled over his hold ups each time he closed his eyes. When his head lay upon the pillow, waiting to embrace the Sandman's comforts, he could see the irritating flashes of Cero still burned into his thought. There was no escape from it, something that he desperately wanted to learn and understand. How could he alter or use the life he filled each Cero with. It was as alive as him, as Caulder, as every other Arrancar that still drew breath in the world. If it were alive, maybe it could feel? That had been Marc's all consuming occupation before he peeled his mask from his face. He tried to remember, the old ways. The times when he would extend forth his hand, pluck the cord of some other poor souls instrument, and cause them such elation or sorrow. Maybe it was still that simple...maybe, he could pluck the stricgs of his Cero? Why not, as he observed, they were alive as any other being in the world. Maybe massive amounts of reiatsu could feel, and if so, Marcelius was the only Hollow alive who could make the feel...what he wanted them to feel. Tomorrow, his day would start anew, and when the ability to issue forth a font of power returned, he would give it both life and identity.
The following morning, could not come quickly enough. With the rise of the fake sun, Marcelius had already left his room. Creeping through the halls in the early day, before the rest of the place would wake. Moving outside, putting distance between him and all the noises of the Palace. To accomplish his goals, he had to offer himself every advantage possible. This meant he must work alone, without the interference of others. This, was at least, an outstanding excuse for him. For his object was too closely connected to his former self, for the answer to be solved in any other fashion. So if he was to grow, and to learn, he would need to stop shunting himself. Now alone, an island of sentience among the rolling tides of sand, Marcelius carefully reached for his sword. One hand on the grip, lightly holding cursed prison. Marcelius had to take a few breathes, building both resolve and courage. Thinking of what he was about to invite into his life again, it drove his nerves to shudder. It could not be avoided, it was yet another task of necessity. What could be learned from this one sojourner, could help him limit his reliance on this more sinister side of himself. This was temporary suffering, for the prevention of further suffering. It was simple. It was nonnegotiable. It was time. "Compacer, Acusado."
The world quickly became dark, and for that change to be noticeable in Hueco Munro, was quite the accomplishment. Silence followed, shutting Marcelius off from distraction or stimulation. In reality, this was his favorite part of the whole process. Following, was the beautiful cascade of light, the source of all motion becoming visible to him once more. It was spectacular. Now that he could see more clearly, he could also hear things even better. It started with the spirits inside of him. They came forward and barraged him with their songs. One after another, biting eagerly at the chance to sting him deeply. It was fine, he was waiting and prepared for them. With a wave of his arm., he silenced them all with his dominant will. Soon there after, he raised his arm and prepared a Cero. It was fun to do such a thing when he was released. Hearing the roar of life in his hands, that trembling power coming into existence by his design. It was even enough to quiet down the masses who called and clamored for attention. Either way, here he stood...ready to fire his fresh Cero. Instead, he kept it held. Using his boundless energy and stamina to maintain the focused tap of power. While the Cero humed in his hand, shaking back and forth with fervor that begged to be released, Marcelius did not allow it to leave. Reaching now, not with his hand, but with his focus. He peeled back the layers of energy that shaped his technique, exposing it's inner flows of energy. With this onion of power now unfurled, Marcelius could see the vibration that gave it the sound of life. With another use of his focus, he pressed against that vibration like a chord, and plucked it to a new tune.
In a moment, his Cero began to change. It's color started first, a very reassuring sign for Marc. The color shifted from his very bloodied oragne, to that of a joious yellow. The energy in his hands was no longer stable either. It twisted and curled around inside of the ball he had formed it into. This was such a proud moment for Marcelius. Life, glorious life had been given to a Cero...and he was responsible. It appeared to be joy, that tickled the fabric of the twined energy. It seemed so happy, that way it shivered and tossed around in his grasp. The time had come though, his special little child needed to be set free. Loosening his grasp, the energy responded excitedly to the freedom . in a burst more tremendous than any he had produced before, the joyful Cero spread in every direction at once. It's happiness could not be contained, and as a result, it refused to be condensed into a beam of any kind. No, with it's joy, came a reckless enthusiasm. It did not matter to Marc, he loved that aCero could behave. Acting with the same mannerisms of real life, showing true character. This was a proud moment for Marcelius, and what he had achieved.
The jovial Cero was not the end. Oh no, no. This Arrancar had made something else, something as much access to feelings as any other being. So he began to practice, intent on allowing his Cero to feel every emotion. This was an education for him, and his power. He explained grief and he explained vigilance. This was his Cero, his. Watching as his energy carried messages of all type. Aggression to Rage. Curious, to Vigilant. Distraction to Surprise. His Cero were each alive, and each an individual. The more he practiced, the better he began to understand his creation. Through untold presentations, he was even able to forget about the discomfort he felt in his release. This new technique, was going to be spectacular.
