a nice quiet lunch(zen/marc social thread)

[slace]

Thread Title:[/b]

Starting # of Participants:[/b] [2]

OPEN/CLOSED?:[/b] [closed]

Brief summary of circumstances:[/b] [Marcelius heard tales of a basic hollow living in hueco mundo with an unusually keen intelligence and an odd tendency for social interaction. he was invited by this hollow to its home a strange glass palace in the middle of the menos forest.]

Initial Goal of Thread:[/b] [have lunch]

[Marcelius]

Strange, that is the word that best describes the Menos' Forest. A odd and baffling place, where the wasteland of Hueco Mundo suddenly comes to life. Tremendous trees which form the walls and the ceiling, strewn beneath the endless desert. Without water or sunlight, who knows how the mighty branches find sustenance to survive. On theory is rather dark, believing the trees somehow feed off the energies of the world around them. This would not appear as sinister, if the world around them were not filled with grief, pain, and misery of all shapes and sizes. For the only denizens who exist to supply such nutrients, are the fearsome Hollows.

Not simply Hollows, but Menos Grande. The mightiest, and most powerful of the Hollow breed. Beings formed out of massive, infinite consumption of their own species. Only the most foul and blakest of souls could be born in such a way. Yet, something new had sprouted in the forest. Something out of place. Within an isolate world of death and hunger, a soul has come to provide food for the masses. The existence of this benefactor is highly rumored. Witnesses do not often venture out of the Menos' woodlands. What reports are shared, are often not believed. Still...the mere possibility of such an existence, was enough to tantilize those of the more curious natures. Out of all the members of Las Noches, few rivaled the curiosity and intrigue of the Fraccion Marcelius Despres.

Standing, quietly among the desert dunes, Marcelius closed his eyes and waited for news. Not the sort of new one might receive by word of mouth, or even read within some published article. No, the information he waited for, was of a spiritual sort. With his outstanding skills in the matter, it did not take long for him to come across the message he sought. With a warm smile on his face, his eyes opened to watch the sliding of the sands. Beneath his feet, a great vomotion of shifting soil began to stir. All of the pale grains were shifting now, pulling inward into a large and growing mass. Despite the unsettled condition of his footing, he did not move or shift.

No, the snads would not dare drag them with him, for this was no random act of nature. Instead, it was the predetermined actions of a soul, a Hollow of considerable station. A Runuganga...a Guardian of the White Sands. Stranding, as best one of his kind could manage, the behemoth Hollow crafted his figure out of nothing but the desert floor. He was one of many of his kind, ancient Hollows who have become one with Hueco Mundo itself. This particular guardian was a recent friend of Marcelius'; one by the name of Arenna. Having heard the familiar echoes of the Fraccion's Pesquisa; Arenna had come to build his friend welcome. "Aaah~ Maaarceeelius. What have yooou cooome for todaaay?"

Taking a moment to bow his head in respect to his comrade, "Nothing more than passage into the Forest, friend." Then, a sudden thought occured; which inclined Marc to raise his hands and produce a short chuckle. "Preferably, nothing too dangerous...and with the least amount of sand forced into my lungs." There was a silence which followed, as the Runuganga are not know for their expressiveness. It was Marc's great fortune to know when such souls as their were happy or amused. It was a relief to know that some Hollows were still capable of sharing such exchanges. That not all of his kin was forced to fight in order to express themselves. It was a trait he highly valued, and one he desperately hoped to discover in others.

In this moment, Arenna found Marc's plee to be quite entertaining; though, spoke nothing of such thoughts. Instead, the large Hollow reached it's tremendous hand into the ground around the Arrancar. With a slow pull, began churning the sand around his feet. Soon enough, a large whirlpool of sediment began cascading to the inevitable center. What could easily be misconstrued for an attack, was actually the simplest method for boring down through the earth which divides desert and forest. It would appear, that Marc's humble request fell on insensitive ears. The further down he was drug, the more his fears of invasive sand grew more justified. It was not until the end of his perilous descent, that the foundation of the spiral opened up in a sudden manner. From there, it was a straight plummet...into the heart of darkness.

No Arrancar was ever unprepar...no Arrancar should ever be unprepared for a trip into the forest. It is ripe with only one sort of fruit, which is that of danger. Yes, the only things that goes or thrive in this shadowy abyss do so with ferocity and strength. The language of this land? Violence. Yes...truly the Forest was an unappealing place to venture for those of Marc's compulsions. His guard was raised, as soon as his falling body landed upon a high-hung branch. From the altitude of his position, he was able to make a clear examination of the world below. Unfortunately, his old eyes were not so keen as to identify import details which his within the murk of darkness which seemed to dominate this realm's palette. Could those distant figures be trees, or Gillian? Thank goodness for his alternative "sight". It seemed that every direction was populated by Hollows, the forest was quite...quite active. This could be a good thing. Maybe later, this could be addressed in conversation; after all, it is so difficult to find good discussion material in the vast emptiness of the Hollow Kingdom. Either way, the old Arrancar set off, quickly making his way down to the forest floor below. There would be quite a lot of walking ahead of him...even if his search proved a promising one.

Imprecar Sentido, Marcelius ultimate form of inquiry, soon blanketed his eyes and ears with a gossomer of numbness. Without distractions, his mind opened up to the immense landscape around him...and to all the thoughts within it. For the sake of his expedition, this proved immediately beneficial. For off in the distance, a great ways away, a truly unique mind was fast at work. Unlike the typical static which often filtered through the thoughts of Gillian and Adjchucas, this being was very meticulous in it's notions. The closer Marcelius drew to this beacon of the creativity, the more he began to grasp it's logic and goals. What he saw, surprised him. It was a happy revelation, but shocking all the same. Amid the dark underwood -where the Menos come to cannibalize themselves- a lone Hollow had the daring dream...to prepare food. Though it seemed questionable at first, the idea gave Marcelius reason to smile. Such an ambitious goal, and quite rare in this part of the world.

It made him fear, only at first, that the only food available would be freshly sautéd Hollow flesh. Regardless of that fact or not, this was certainly the rumored soul he had heard of before. The one who invites, those who are willing, into it's lair to share in a meal. Mmm, doubts did spring up...which begged to question the validity of this "restaurant". If it were anything like the hundreds of thousands of years which made up Hollow history to date...then this was a trap. Any spirit fool enough to wander into such an establishment, was doomed to be served. Still...curiosity had brought him this far...he could not turn back now. So forward he marched, until finally he came into sight of a most spectacular castle...built out of the most pristine of glass. By this point in his journey, his eyes and ears had recovered...and he could look upon the magnificne structure with the same awe that any other average soul might. Stepping forward, he came to the door. Standing, unsure if he should knock...or simply enter.

[slace]

Zens beautiful home towered above marcelius. the elegant architecture the fine craftsmanship. it was tremendous in comparison to the arrancar before it. the door swung open revealing the master of the house. A tremendous towering black behemoth of reptillian features. the creature layed on its belly and looked into the eyes of marcelius with a single grey orb. Zen had survived in the forest for two reasons. the first was how he knew about marc. the powerful radar he could project allowed him to detect everything within a certain distance. And Marcelius despres had wandered into this distance.

"Hello arrancar. my name is Zen isogi. I am the hollow that invited you here. Please do come in. i hope you dont mind what i made for lunch. since you are no longer a basic hollow i opted to prepare a more civilized meal for you. A delicious beef wellington sauteed in butter and garlic and drisseled with a nice plum and orange sauce. For the sides i made rosemary and onion mashed potatoes with brown gravy served with a pork and turkey blood pudding. I wasnt sure what you liked to drink so i aquired some fine wine to drink. and for dessert... im sorry i was rambling wasnt i? The creatures voice was deep and powerful with a low rumble but comforting in a way. welcoming as if to a long lost friend. It was like the gentle rock of a cradle coated in honey and turned to a deep low voice.

His belly flushed with color as if the entire underside were blushing. he hefted his immense girth off the ground and welcomed marcelius into his home. "i dont have any other customers today because i was hoping to have a nice discussion with you about some things." Zen guided his guest through the sparkling halls aglow with blinding light and into a grand dining room where a single seat had been served.there were large pits in the ground seemingly for the comfort of large hollows such as Zen himself. The table was perfectly smooth unordinary but adorned in a pure white cloth of the finest silk and each piece of silverware was intricately adorned with the patterns of roses and stars. countless dishes of inumerable types were layed across the table. each chair was of different design but the one marcelius sat in was of intricate work. countless maze dezigns carved into the woodwork the arm rests in the shape of serpents. cushioned with a delicate purple silk the back of the chair rose in carved feathers ending in the body of a powerful bird of prey.

The room itself was hung with thousands upon thousands of beautiful crystal chandeliers. the walls molded into the shape if various beautiful figures of varying body structure ranging from human men and women to androgynous birdlike creatures. the floor was arranged in millions of overlapping black tiles giving off the appearance of scales. on each wall were the beautiful archways towering structures made of the finest stained glass and arranged into countless scenes. within each archway lay another room or hallway. each of varying purpose and direction.

the food laying before the served chair was magnificent served on exquisite simple porcelain dishes with the finest silverware. it was as he had said. a crisp golden brow pastry looking main dish sat in the center of the setup almost as large as a fully grown chicken. over the beef wellington layed a divinely smelling orange sauce. next to it was a vintage bottle of red wine. aged for decades to the peak of taste and set beside a simple glass chalice. on a seperate plate sat what appeared to be several pounds of mashe dpotatoes with rosemary and onion. the potatoes were so light and fluffy to sight they could have been clouds on the plate. next to them sat a large gravy boat filled with a dark brown liquid. and at the end of this assortment was a thick dark red meaty looking tube that looked mostly like a sausage. the smells coming from the meal were subllime and heavenly in their intoxicating aroma.

"i do hope you enjoy your meal i worked very hard on it." Zen settled into a particularly deep pit filled with some unknown bubbling clear liquid it smelled like an odd perfume. he sighed contentedly and sunk up to jsut below his nostrils. the top of his head being the only thing showing. his long tail pulled a tremendous platter to him and upon it seemed to be a large bowly of some sort of stew. he lifted his head and put it into the bowl and gently drank from the pot. "So tell me. why did an arrancar such as yourself decide to accept my invitation to my humble abode?"

Zen had been alone for a very long time. Marcelius would most liekly feel the tremendous emptyness within Zen and the relief when The arrancar arrived. Zen was old. incredibly old. This was not his first time in hueco mundo and most likely not his last. He had been alone for a very long time and was quite pleased to have a companion even if only this once. He breathed deeply and sunk back into his pit. leaving his head above the watter completely laying next to marcelius.

[Marcelius]

It seems an answer had been lying in wait this whole time. No sooner had his feet settled down at the threshold of this tremendous, crystalline palace, did the mighty doors swing open in greeting. Beyond the gleaming portcullis, a figure loomed in striking contrast to it's residence. Where the home was of the brightest shine, the tenant was beast of darkest black. Towering above, his size required that visitors of Marcelius' stature raise their heads to properly greet. Thank goodness for the old Arrancar's studied and practiced charms. "Please, Honored Host, do not consider your words to be a ramble." His smile returning now, as his mind finished categorizing all the fresh information now given him. "It is I who owe you an apology, I fear I must have kept you waiting."

Considering the brevity of his wait outside, Marcelius felt his patron had been standing rather close by. This proposed a level of impatience, or more likely, simple excitement at his arrival. As the two strolled into the fine cathedral, Marc's eyes remained affixed to the vastly intriguing scene. From the chandeliers to the floors, there was not one detail spared in the beauty of this palace. Intricate design was pushed to the point of surrealism upon every surface and facet. Yet,none of this stole away Marcelius' eye. Not the art, which were works of a master. Nor the architecture which was birthed in the mind of a genius. None of that compared, to the music. A song, so faint, that neither ear nor recording could capture it. Despite it's diminutive volume, it held tremendous sway over the world. Yes. So powerful was it's message, that all which surrounded them were products of it's intent. Performed within the heart, and felt throughout...it was the music of Zen's soul.

What purposes guided this Hollow? To make it's home in the forest of Menos, was quite the dangerous gambit. Within the lumbering gargantuan, Marcelius could certainly sense a very decisive, and knowledgeable mind. The lyrics spoke came to him clearly, meaning this creature did not suffer as so many of the other youths do. Not plagued by beasital desires or petty needs...perhaps that is what has lead him to become so old without evolution? Truly, if such was te case, Marcelius would have a bounty to learn from such a spirit. In a time so long ago that it no longer bears memory or importance, he had become a Hollow...and desperately sought the nectar of other souls. Zen Isogi...maybe he was something new, that happened to be quite old? Whatever the reason, whatever this Hollows prerogative, Marc was surely to learn through keen observation.

The decadence that went into this home, was truly spectacular. It was built with taste, and taste in mind. Marc was caught in the spectacle, of a restaurant founded within the Menos' Forest. The rumors were not just true, they were grossly understated. Why, was the only sensible thought to follow. Marc could tell Zen's great age, for his song was composed of ancient tones and melody. Surely a creature as old as this, would know that the Forest has always...will always, exist as a place of hunger. Hunger made insatiable by a desire for life and power; which in it's wake, turns noble minds to that of ravenous swine. Within the Forest, Hollows who are blessed, still come to be robbed of sanity and plunged into Darwinism. Knowing all of this, made Marc ponder why this clearly blessed soul, would put such effort into a dream such as this? It felt a cheat, for such splendor to be established in such a squalor. Zen's neighbors would never come to appreciate the monument which gleamed among the shadowy trees. Perhaps there was more at work here, than what simply lingered on the surface. After all, most of this art was produced from carvings...and indicator of hidden, deeper intentions beneath the surface's relief.

So then. What mysteries lingered within the mind of this peculiar dragon? It seems the beast had plans to do delving of his own, as it was revealed they would be alone for their meal. "I see, well I must admit some disappointment. Obviously nothing against you, or your fine hospitality, but I find myself shivering to see the sort of customers you receive." Glancing around trying to spot anyone or anything which might give hint to the sort of clientele which frequents this establishment. "I am always eager to see our kind approaching life with a higher level of civility. I...find such events to be truly remarkable and substantial. Much like the accomplishments you have made here." He said, gesturing to the grand atriums through which the passed.

Before such secrets could be unravelled, they had arrived in the dining hall. Truly, this was a place meant for comfort and relaxation. Aside from the elegant table, established for Marcelius benefit, there were seating areas built with far larger bodies in mind. Being the guest, Marcelius was offered his spot first. This...well, is where paranoia took over. For though Marc sensed no hostility from Zen, this was all to unorthodox to be routine. Zen, after all, was a Hollow. Regardless of his age or the clarity of his mind, there were unchangeable truths. Marc, as well as any other of his station, knew well the harsh realities of their species. To grow, to become strong, they must consume powerful spirits.

It may start with the simple sustenance earned from Pluses in the beginning, but soon that would not be enough. Now think of Zen, and this situation. A Hollow...old and large in scale. His hunger must truly be immense. Though the complexities were...astonishing; this situation did meet all the criteria of a predator's ruse. A location had been prepared, with eye catching, and tantilizing alure. Any being drawn here, could very well have been placed under some form of illusion or deception. Invited in, promised food that suited their most envious fancy...there would be no denying the offer. Indeed, Zen had taken great strides to prepare a fest that should be beyond any mental or tactile abilities of a Hollow. It was stunning, really. What made the fright more personal for Marc, was the chair on which he sat.

Following his rest into it's embrace, his focused was drawn to the workmanship that had gone into it's manufacture as well. Intricate, dizzing, expansive mazes and figures. Spirals, knots...utilizing artsytyles which appeared as both Celtic and Islamic. Such a thing in the human world would be quite extravagant and highly sought after. The interlocking, seemingly infinite design, drew Marc to it's flame. His love of puzzles and challenges forced him to quickly begin plotting a solution. Fpr a moment, his guard dropped completely...well, so it would appear. In truth, his mind was busy solving the puzzle...while another portion solved it from the opposite direction. On top of that, his attention still remained on their surroundings...and the motives of Zen himself. No matter this hidden fact, this was certainly an oportune time for someone to make an assault on a soul such as the Arrancar's. All of these facts, coupled with the lack of other guests, set the stage for a magnificent trap. Fortunately for both souls, there was one unaccounted detail which had not been considered.

Zen's oppressive loneliness. Like the massive hole which prevented his bodies completeness...something possessed Zen which broke his ambitions. It was crippling. All consuming. It could have been his compulsion to build such a place as the majestic keep which encircled the both of them. Before, when he first arrived, Marc had noticed a swelling of joy within the behemoth. Before, he had dismissed it. Having been too enthralled by the absurdity of all the things he was seeing at once, as well as considering it the joy a predator feels when acquiring prey. Now, looking back on it, regret filled him. How could Marc had been so hasty? There were so many wonders at work in this part of the world...what was one more? In fact, the same joy that built within Zen, now took over Marcelius himself.

"I assure you, Monsieur Isogi, this food has already exceeded all of my expectations." Reaching to gather his silverware, images flashing within his mind...triggered by the shimmer on their polished surfaces. When these were set, they were set with hope and excitement. There was a respectable and earnest effort that went into the preparation of this dinner. Zen, truly did enjoy the idea of cooking...and what better way to reap the rewards, than to share what has been created. Within Marc's expression, a warm and satisfied smile took hold. It might have been surprising, given he had not yet savored his first bite. In another few moments, he sampled from the magnificent meat that was offered. Though his senses had dulled in his great age, he could still smell the various flavours that had soaked into the meat. One bite, and he was in heaven. The savoury butter that had been marinated I to the flesh...the citrusy aftertaste of orange that was pleasantly balanced with plump. Such a delicacy had eluded him for quite sometime. It was such a dramatic exposure of taste, that a moment had to be taken to simply process it all.

Following that brief period of silence, he turned to the large dragon. Observing him sample from a large pot of stew, taking note of the perfume bath beneath him..."Interesting." Bringing a cloth to while the sauce and drool from his lips, he composed himself once more from the delicious effects. "If I may, Isogi-san, I would like to hear what you have to ask me. I am a glutton for conversation...so hearing you have something you wish to discuss has stolen my intrique." The old would settled, for the first time, comfortably into his chair. There was a definite aire of lax and calm about it...one hard pressed for any soul to deny or even avoid being swept into. It would appear that something, quite possibly the food, had won over the heart and trust of today's guest. "Eyes" locked onto the dragon before him, Marcelius offered a sympathetic heart to whatever dilemma that the Hollow might have interest to share.

[Zen Isogi]

Zen listened intently to His guests words as they marched through his grand halls into the dining room. "well to be completely honest i havent had a customer in a very long time. almost nobody Is willing to come here. most think it a trap and those who see it as it is tends to use it as one." The intonations in his voice dripped with shame and sadness. As they arrived in the hall Zen turned towards marcelius. "thank you very much. I have spent a great deal of time and effort on my home. Its all that i have at the moment since very few of my kind seek anything more than senseless violence. I understand the need to feed but that does not excuse falling prey to animalism."

As marcelius took his seat and grew distracted by the mazes Zen Smiled as best he could. The arrancar had quite the tenacity to solve the mazes. As his efforts ceased Zen Let out a deep amused chuckle from his diaphram. "You most likely discovered this but the maze is unsolvable. More to amuse than to accomplish. i hope you dont mind that." marcelius had an odd change of emotinal expression and Zen assumed that he had said something wrong. He Sighed disheartened and began to turn away into his bath.

However Before he continued he saw the sudden joy on marcelius and beamed contentedly. as marcelius complemented his food Zen couldnt help but cry out excitedly. "oh that is msot wonderful news. i havent had a chance to cook for somebody who could genuinely enjoy it for a very long time. im absolutely delighted." for the next few minutes there was only the sound of marcelius eating and delighted enjoying the meal with a smile upon his face. Zen couldnt have been happier at the moment.

As marcelius turned to zen and attempted to engane in conversation Zen rose from his bath the water quickly evaporating back into the air. "Truly i am just curious as to why you would knowingly and willingly walk into the home of a hollow when it could so easily be a trap? why would a powerful arrancar risk themselves in such a way?" Zen curled up around the table and his face lay right next to the body of marcelius. "were you not worried i might attempt something? while you were distracted with the maze or the food i could easily have hidden myself from detection and attacked. So why do you seem to trust me so easily?" A powerful worry drew over Zens mind. He had very rarely been trusted so completely and when he had it had always ended up harming him.

not since alal. Thoughts ran through his head. his mind raced through memories of dozens perhaps hundreds possibly even thousands of lives. all of them his and all of them turning through the ages. Zen was easily among the oldest beings in hueco mundo if not THE oldest. His mind raced through his memories. lands of awesome beauty, people of terrifying power and emotions that threatened to split him apart in each experience and friends closer than any family. Unbeknownst to Zen this would all be privy to his guest. A single tear dropped from his eye and flowed into his scales vanishing. "im sorry. its just been a very long time since i had a friend to share my time with. would you like some dessert?"

Zen quickly rushed out of the room and came back gently carrying a variety of cakes and tarts. in the middle of the tray he brought them in on sat a delicate tea set filled with simple black tea with honey and cream. He took a few of the cakes for himself and dropped them into his mouth as he offered the rest to marcelius. "please try them." He was quite obviously attempting to hold onto his emotions and keep them bottled up. It was slightly embarrasing to say the least.

[Marcelius]

Something that Zen may come to learn in time, was that Marcelius required no maze or riddle for his mind to puzzle. No, within his skull a luminance of light and thought was always underway. Where others could rest at ease in the comfort of a cozy chair, ideas and notions beyond the measure were constantly firing within the neurons of his brain. Like a city, that never stops...never sleeps. Within it, while ordinary souls carrying on with the moment, time slows for him so that he may process all of the information he constantly admires. Yes, admire is the best word for it. The only way to describe the affection he has for watching the world as it passes by. At this time, that is exactly what he was doing. Yes, in the fractions of second which took his napkin to drop to the table and his lips to part.

He had intent to speak, to answer the dragon's query. Before the first breath of air could fill his lungs, before the first word came speeding from his throat; Marcelius took account of everything. From the position of the Hollow, to the size of the room. From the arrangement of the food, to the decorations which littered the floor. It was all important, it was all relevant. Why? Because the situation was unprecedented. Never before in his countless years of life, had he come across such a level of class or intelligence among his kind. In truth, it was something he had desired for the longest of time. Since the reclamation of his self from the Hunger...he wanted nothing more than to see others do the same. Here was a beautiful example of just that. Therefore, everything around them which may have played a part in the fabrication of this meeting and the Hollow who arranged it, had to be catalogued and valued.

By now, his hands had fallen back onto the table before him. At the corners of his wiped lips, the curl of a smile began to grow. Yes, despite Zen's interrogation, the old Arrancar had not skipped a beat or lost his mood. There was just too much delight pouring through him, invigorating brittle bones. While his head rose to greet his host eye to eye, as was polite, his mind finished it's prior calculations. How strange it was, that Zen would desire company. The idea of having a guest filled the Hollow with an emotion that is nonexistent in most every other member of the breed. Masks of his development, rarily maintain the capacity for complex or vivid moods. More than any other soul in existence, Marc knew this to be truth.

Yet here was Zen. Having grown old enough without evolving, that he has slowly pieced together his mind. No Hollow ever truly loses it, they must simply reaqurie it. Here before him was evidence to support such a claim. Yet, the proof was a double-edged sword. For it must be known, that Marcelius had always kept faith that a manner of advancement existed for his people. A way for them to grow in strength without the consumption and combination of power. It seems, with the discovery of Zen, that no matter how much time or intelligence is reaquired...evolution is not guaranteed. A bit of a shame, but nothing to fret over. After all...there was still so much here to be impressed and proud of.

Refinement, cultivation of identity and desires. A Hollow, which as Zen aptly stated, did not sucumb to the animalism. Instincts were present with Jim, but they did not dominate. They way he thought, and the resulting lyrics his mind sang, were the reasons for Marcelius' comfort. No alarm would be raised so long as the dragon maintained an attitude as he had been. This would have proved the quickest, simplest answer to the question before him. However, Marcelius knew that it was not the best. Within Zen, there was a curiosity. It may be the product of the immense loneliness that he suffered...while it could as easily be a deviousness. Marc knew this figure of mind well, for it was one much like his own. Though he was inclined to believe the Hollow and trust the feelings he felt within him...Marc was not foolish enough to give over to such confidence. This was still a Hollow, unique or not. The Hunger did not sound present, or at least, it was drowned out by reason and determination...but it was still there. Whether or not this beast was a threat or foe, Marcelius had no reason to divulge his secrets so early in their chat.

Truthfully, that would take away from the fun. Luckily, to avoid lying -which he detested- there were many reasons why he was at ease with this creature. So he simply chose one of them. At this time, his head finally finished turning towards his host. The smirk he started had finished, and without any tangible form of pause...he answered. "Why, do I trust you? Simple." His hand raised and motioned towards the walls encasing them with an upturned palm. "Look at what has been built here. The detail, the care and the artistry." Allowing the both of them to look back at one another. "Animals are incapable of such works...nor can they comprehend such avant-garde. I considered it an illusion, I will admit. Then I realized that it would have to come from my mind to be so convincing...and my mind does not create beauty such as this." Where his earlier tone had been light, pleasant and calm...the end of his words turned slowly dark.

By the end, the sounds were coming from the depth of his chest...pulled down by the heft of his heart. There are still those in Hueco Mundo, who are agile of mind. For one such as them, it would be clear that Marc maintained a less amicable attitude about himself. However, only the sharpest of tacks could pin this truth down with what little he had given so far. Though Zen was bright, he was still a Hollow...chances were stacked impossibly against him. "Though I do admit, the mazes were are surprise. Hah, I nearly bought my own idea of illusions with those. Until I realised they were without end." Once more, his grin returned. His blue eyes betrayed a gleam of recovered joy. "I prefer things to have endings, with results." Ah, but there is no need to dwell on such things. More important topics still awaited illumination!

Bringing his hands together, allowing the fingers to stack comfortably together in each other's embrace, Marcelius turned toward the dragon once more. "I've...been around for quite a long time. I know when my life is in danger. Surely you must understand what I mean." There was no way one such as Isogi could have survived without some form of instinct. "Obviously you are of remarkable intelligence for one of your development. You're wise enough to understand how your home appears to others. It seems, given how eager you were to hear all of my opinions...from your home, to your food, to you yourself. Tell me Isogi-san...how long have you been without...customers? How long have you been alone?"

Question for a question, that was fair. Having giving the host his turn, it was Marcelius' again. There was something, already, which tweaked his interest. A name. One spoken as though it were a whisper...a lyric one sings because they cannot forget it. Alal? That is what sound he could hear...yet again, it was still faint. Hopefully Zen's solidarity would have done for him, what it did for Marc. Loosen his lips and open his heart to all things. Maybe, just maybe, Marcelius would finally be able to engage a Hollow in a conversation with actually depth and severity. Let this not turn into a hoax...

[Zen Isogi]

"six hundred and sixty four years of physical solitude." Zen looked deep into marc's eyes. "This is not my first existence within hueco mundo and likely not the last. I am older than almost any regular being. and with such great age comes a very interesting experience. i am also very. very. lonely." Zen got up close to Marc. "truthfully you are the first person i have had a chance to truly speak with as myself during my entire current lifetime." zen sighed sadly and thoughtfully. "not since her atleast." Zen smiled at marc.

Zen looked to the cieling and with a crack of his tail he moved the chandeliers from their spots. revealing the carving of five beautiful humanoid entities as the cieling. "you see that man in the nude? that man is Slace. stalwart and loyal in aboslute. The young girl in his arms is hebat. a beign of such odd kindness and forgiveness you could not possibly hate her. that man there was named solaris. a madman but the most trustworthy man you would ever meet. the man there in the armored kilt and limbs is me. and then her." Zen reached up and touched the face of a girl hanging on his back. "alal."

Zen placed the decorations back gently and lay down upon the floor. he laughed in a disturbed twisted way. it was like the essence of evil and pain was twisting into his horrible solitude but not malevolent. it was in agony. he stopped and looked at marc. his essence oozed pain of the heart which marc couldnt help but notice. "what would you like to know about them? about me? about her?" Zen was crying once more. a single tear sinking back into his scales again. Marc would likely see it this time.

a long time ago in a tribe of primitive humans. a memory of Zens flashign through his mind with icnredible clarity.

there was great revelry. they had done it. Zen, slace, alal, hebat, and solaris. The greatest warriors of the tribe. they wore the pelts of their conquered foes. beasts of terrifying might and numbers. he warriors wore their pelts and as a prize they had claimed the beast chosen prey. a mammoth of titanic proportions. they would have food for ages. the warriors celebrated among their people they could have anyone they desired for a mate. solaris took a harem of his own as befitting his role as the king of the tribe. Slace and hebat retired to their personal home to celebrate in their own way. and that night ala took Zen aside. and for the first time they proved their love to one another. they bonded on a level of true love. and their lives were tied for that day.

present day
Zen remembered the day he and alal had been joined as mates. A marvelous day. he remembered it fondly but it was a bitter sweet memory. He looked away at his home and choked back a sob. "those were my first friends. my family. nobody has or ever will replace them." Zen held back the familiar pang of a hollows hunger. It was difficult but he would not fall victim to it and attempt to devour the only "friend" he had seen in centuries and decades.

[Marcelius]

(OoC: Sorry about the delay Broseph! I'll do what I can to ensure that does not happen again!!)

Honestly, the first thought that Marcelius considered, was how fortunate Zen had been. Solidarity, for a Hollow of his strength, was a blessing. Even when the poor soul exposed himself and his feelings, divulding the great sadness that had accompanied his many years of isolation...Marc could only express you that the time had allowed the spirit to survive. Had there been more interactions between Zen and other beings, Marcelius might not be speaking with him right now. In fact, he could be talking to a completely different Hollow. Events which seem insignificant can often play the biggest role in determining ones fate. The dragon had every right to be upset over his separation, but...at least he still had live and sense enough to grasp such emotions.

This was how the Arrancar viewed it. His own opinions being shaped by a circumstance quite similar in nature to the dragon's. For at the time of his ascension into Vasto Lorde, he retreated from the world in a a self imposed segregation. His own reasoning was far different than Zen's appeared to be. Not to mention, that his reprieve was of personal choice. So maybe the similarities were not pure, or total. Either way, it provided a portion of a bridge...one which might link the divisions between them. So for that purpose, Marc clung to the idea that he understood what Zen had been through. Desperate to hear more, even if the progressing plot would endanger his empathetic assumptions.

The truth of Isogi's age was coming to the light, bringing with it's truths...a relief for Marc's mind. For in his unique perspective, he was blessed with the knowledge of other's ages. Not, an exact number, it should be noted, but a very close estimate. It is the song, the one of their soul, which tells him this secret. The Musica de la Vida. Through it's sound and tempo, resonance and lyrics...Marcelius could experience all the aspects of a fellow soul. For this Hollow, the Noise echoed and rang in the distant places. It was if the sound existed all around them, but was muffled by great travel. This was the sound of age. Faint, murmured...difficult to hear, having been played for so long. When in the presence of old spirits, the song of their soul is most often heard linger around them...instead of coming from within. For one as tempered by time as Zen was, his sounds seemed to linger at the very edges of the hall in which they sat.

So, how was it that such an elderly Hollow remained so undeveloped? The dragon would have Marcelius believe had died and resurrected. Quite a bold claim, one not easily supported. What seemed more reasonable, was that Zen had access to the memories of other lives. Lives which he consumed as a Hollow, and held to fervently. This was Marcelius' first hypothesis, as it was the case for himself. Countless souls, so...so many, had been consumed by this experienced Arrancar. As he considered the Chorus within him, it began to sing. While his memories wandered through the vast network of stories and minds within him, it reaffirmed his belief. Zen must have consumed the lives of others, and like many power Hollows, was having difficulty dividing himself from them. Marc too, was often faced with this terrible debilitation. Yes, that must be it. It made so much more sense. Much more than the idea...

Could Zen have truly lived different lives? Instead of one, long, unbroken life...his conscious simply existed over several? Were things like that even possible? The reincarnation of souls was a widely accepted theory. Enforced by the Soul Society, to justify the transfer of energy that occurs between the Living world and the Dead Realms, at the time of someone's passing. It was a simple solution to the philosophical context of death...but as a philosophy, it was difficult to outright prove. When a soul is "reincarnated", the energy had simply assumed a new form. Being only energy, it carries none of the memories or details needed to maintain an identity. Had Zen truly lived and dived, changing bodies and lives each time...how could he have retained his memories so well?

Pondering this subject, required a severe sacrifice of Marcelius' attention. His ability to approach multiple problems at once, being limited by the complexities of this internal debate. What good this did, was to snuff the wailing disapproval of the Choir...allowing his mind some peace in that regard. It fascinated, and confused him....this topic of reincarnation. Having memories so outstandingly old, and knowledge of himself that stretched back through the ages...Marc had confidence he had never died or endured rebirth. Save, the one time in which he first claimed his Mask. It was his oldest memory. One so profound, it was never lost or mingled with any other recollections. With it's disturbance, that earliest of thoughts, a sudden shiver brought Marc out from his trance. Showing no signs of distress physically, he appeared as though he had been smiling and listening all along.

And indeed...he had! For the subject of dear Zen's haunting words, now envoked the images of closest friends and deepest loves. Being forced to raise an eye to the ceiling, and the massive tail which hung above him, Marc stood from his seat. Hoping for a better view of the engravings, he was just as eager to hear the stories which accompanied them. Like before, with his catalogue of intriguing clues, these particular reliefs were of upmost importance. Zen was very gracious with his explanation, in both word and thought. It was easy enough for Marc to be swept away in visions and daydreams. Carried away to the long gone world of yesteryears. Throughout the senses of Isogi, through an emotional adaption, he became spectator of past victories.

The tribe, mighty and successful. It's people, safe and provided for. It's leaders, chosen for their strengths of arm and character, rejoicing over the bounty of their accomplishments. Humans of a primitive age, matching every description that their Moser day statues professed. Knowledge of them came to Marc, all from the eyes of Zen himself. Viewing from the dragons perspective, considering each accomplice with the same intentions as the Hollow had. By the end of the sojourner, Marc felt he knew them all. The respectful, though amused, consideration of Solaris, the King. The trust and dependence for Slace; as well as the uncontrolled appreciation of his kind mate Habat. Lastly...the profound adoration and euphoric joy; which came from Alal's love. It made his head dizzy, light with passion. Causing him to stumble, having gawked too long with his head twisted upwards.

A hand rose to clasp his face. In an effort to remedy his sudden vertigo, the Arrancar massaged his closed eyes. When tending to the baffled oculars, he noticed a dampness of skin. Looking upon his digits, Marcelius discovered the stains of tears. They and not had time enough to stream down his cheeks, but their presence was not misunderstood. Realizing exactly what had happened, he quickly turned to glimpse the dragon. To his great surprise, a single drop coursed across the Hollow's scales. This...was a substantial breakthrough. Even with his life-long connectivity to emotions, Marcelius went without crying as a base Hollow. It took him, a rather exceptional oddity, several evolutions to develops such a...human capacity.

So what then, did that make Zen? This soul was becoming more and more perplexing with each passing moment. Marc, honestly love it. He wanted...needed to know more. To be understand and comprehend such a persona as this. To do so, he would push for more answers. Grabbing his chair, he eased himself comfortably back down. His smirk now turned to a pleased grin, he motioned for the dragon to continue. Shifting his chair to face his host instead of the table and food...he confessed to the discovery of a much more satisfying indulgence. In a soft voice, one which maintained the aire of parenthood and wisdom, he encouraged the Hollow. "Please, Zen. Do tell me of her..." Pointing to the art which laid loft above, "Tell me of Alal."

[Zen Isogi]

Zen pondered over the question deeply and sighed his breath warm and moist. and then he looked at marcelius. "i have known alal since my first life. i met her when we were but children. we were all friends but alal...she was special to me in a way i didnt understand until much later. we were the finest our tribe had to offer. five beings of beauty, cunning, strength, compassion, and bravery. We grew up together. and eventually alal and I mated and soon we were wed by solaris. I loved her with all my heart." Zens words turned dark and somber emphasizing the past tense of the word loved.

He walked around the room pacing with a purpose and a determination previously undetected. an anger of some sort. but underneath another pit of sadness and pain. "We were happy for a time. until It happened. just as it happens every time. we grew to love eachother. and a tragedy befell a friend tearing us apart until in the end all of us die. it was hebat. she had been murdered by solaris brought under a mad rage by some strange plants and i blinded by loyalty. stood by him in his defense. Slace murdered alal and in turn i murdered solaris for causing this. And then and there. my spirit broken my friends gone mad or dead. there was i struck down by slace after a mighty and terrible brawl. and there was him being overwhelmed by the tribe. we were gone. but not forever." As zen visited these memories the images flowed through his head. The corpses the battles the blood the carnage.

All of it would be on display for marc as would zens hateful recollection of it. within his memory was displayed a tremendous city of immense size and power. people bustled within it and while they were not identical it was plain to see that The zen of this time was the very same zen who hunted the mammoths and died by alal. It could not have been anyone else. His life flowed before the eyes of marc from his childhood up to his gruesome death. "in my next life i grew once more. alone this time and for the first time. I clawed my way to greatness and found them there. We lived as friends again for a time. until i discovered that alal had changed with the rebirth. she knew me. but she was not the same. We were wed once more and i would not elt my self notice her change until in the dead of the night she took me. and she murdered me." The blood and the pain and the hate flowing through his veins would be caustic to the sanity of his guest. it was unimaginable.

and then there was Zens agony as he watched her torment his spirit with new lovers and victims. he decended into being a hollow for the first time. different fro what he was now. a terrifying catlike monster. but in an instant he was struck down by her and delivered for purification. It was horrifying the agony he went through. He became a shinigami and returned but found that they had been destroyed while he was away. He lived on and eventually passed into another life. "i became a hollow for the first time but it did nothing. i was crushed and purified before i was lost again. i had no chance for revenge and only now in my old age do i not desire it."

Lives flew by through his mind not all of them being tragic but each one ending with the horrible death of him and all his friends. "we traversed through our lives and many times reforged our friendship. but some strange fate did not desire us to be happy. it was not to be. but always i would go back to her. Then all amrc would see were zens memories of alal. many terrifying but most of them filled with his love and happyness. "It was strange. no matter what we did we would always come back to eachother and lose eachother in kind. "

Zen layed beside marc once more. "the rest. as they say is history. I would many times come to hueco mundo and dwell here in this land but that is another story altgether." The memories had been explicit and emotional. And zen looked at marc with a sly grin. "By the way how long have you been able to hear my thoughts?" Zen had figured it out some time ago. Marcelius always responded almost exactly in the right way to motivate zen. Zen realized this during his first travel into memory with marc.

[Marcelius]

Once more, optimism becomes the sandy foundations of his thoughts. Asking of Alal, turned the conversation quite sour. She was a creature who stirred, great passions within the dragon...within an ancient part of him that still knew joy. Marcelius was desperate to hear and see more of this affection. Once more, the oddity of this Hollow was causing such great intrigue. What should have been expected, was the sorrow that soon mixed with Zen's words. After all, the occupants of Hueco Mundo all shared the common lineage of suffering and death. So where Marc had wished and imagined great tales of love and beauty...reality carved a far more disheartening image.

A depiction of great betrayal. Malicious actions spurred by rage and completed in greif. The wrath of a mad king, the vengeance of a desperate spouse. The conclusion of Zen's first life, coming in the form of vindictive recompense. A life left empty, all the joys and friendships he ever knew...taken from him. Worse of all, was his equal blame. Far less common among the denizens of the Hollow Lands was guilt. Most who loved among them, with the emptiness cast through their hearts, were the cause of their suffering. If not for the shared story's depressive tone...he might have enjoyed a chuckle. After all, it was amusing to note...that nothing about Zen fit the norm. What a life he must have led, being so constantly uncommon.

Ah, but now the story reached a climax of considerable importance. Struck down at the edge of his friend turned nemesis, Zen sunk into the waves of karma. This is where the story became exceedingly abnormal. Feeling more like the recollections of vivid insanity, that the experiences of past lives. Souls were not supposed to remember the time before their rebirth...not without outstanding accomplishments in meditation and self discovery. Those outstanding traits were lacking in Zen, evident by the sheer intensity of his emotions. These facts quickly became tribal, as the memories of his "second" life played on. Zen was...himself, again. There were many things which defied understanding or expectation in the world...so Marcelius was well trained to limit his surprise. That was the charisma of one with age like his. When the dragon discussed his appearance, his retention of form, Marc simply brought his hands together in contemplation. How and why, was such a phenomenon possible? What could it mean? The mystery surrounding such a topic, felt much like the mazes which decorated his chair. Outstanding and impossible to solve.

Yet, as before, Marc was too weak willed to draw away from the challenge of a puzzle. Unfortunately, it meant the majority of Zen's second life went unnoticed to him. This would be a fact that latter sadden Marc, as it was certainly a most rude behavior. Nevertheless, the Arrancar puzzled. "What quality of the soul, would be so stubborn? Unwilling to relinquish form or memories, regardless of their pain?" Truly, a disease of the spirit...an unwillingness to let go. Such an unwillingness, Marcelius was quite knowledgeable of. Not just him...but in fact, all Hollows. For it is that unbendable will, which resembles greediness in many respects, which forces a spirit into becoming a Hollow. The expectation, then, would have been Zen's transformation following his defer at the hands of Slace. Before Marc could raise his voice, and put forth his question...pain like a acidic blade, stabbed and burned within his skull.

Another betrayal. Delivered by the hands of truest love, this time was exceeded the agonies of the first...if such a thing was possible. The feelings had been boiling up for quite sometime, but Marcelius' distraction had numbed him to it. Even with his immense ability to multitask, he had become too obsessed with one single notion of Zen's expansive story. So at the time when the emotions ran highest, and Zen's mind wreaked with discomfort and anger, Marc suddenly turned back to his large friend's troubles. His old eyes carried a look most concerned. How he wished he could have summoned words most perfect; which when spoken, could have calmed the aching spirit. There was simply nothing to say. No words which held any measurable power...over torments so strong. Instead, he eased back comfortably into his seat. Letting the beast continue with his tale...already regretting the lapse in focus he had allowed himself.

As luck would have it, Isogi was describing his first experiences as a Hollow. Yet again, the information caused Marcelius duress. "A different Hollow...why does he not appear as he does now? If his mind and soul were resilient enough to not be reformed after his original death...then why would he take different forms as a Hollow? Should they not be the same...or at least similar?" In the end, Marc's thoughts were based primarily on assumptions and speculations. However, this did not diminish the possibilities which Zen possessed. Within this unique creature, great secrets could be answered. It would take much time and examination to tell. In the meantime, the dragon continued. Finishing his somber history with a touch of poetry...imagining that fate itself had something to do with his numerous troubles. A fact, given the substantial evidence, was hard to dispute.

"Life is suffering, and no matter how many you might live, you will never find it any other way. That is a philosophy even those of the human world can grasp. I..." Pausing for a moment, to prepare his words. "I know those words might seem heartless, but there is something you might have failed to see." The warmth of the old spirits smile came back once more. "Throughout all of the time you can remember...those closest to you have never left." Taking a moment to glance at the ceiling again, to look upon the marbled faces of ageless comrades. "For the average soul, rebirth means the loss of everything...good and bad. With the loss of all memories of anguish, with them go the cherished moments that help define your joys and sorrows. Loved ones fade to nothing, and can never be recalled. Nor do they remember you, when they pass into their next role. Despite what grievances you may harbor...unlike any other, you still have those who are of value to you.

[smear:ffff00]I cannot begin to express...the envy which I feel for your great fortune..."[/smear:ff3300] Within the auditorium of Marcelius' own soul, the Choir assembled. All the thousands of thousands of voice which he had consumed over his own lengthy, and terrible existence...now sang of loved ones lost. A powerful incentive for remorse, the loss of treasured fellowship could be. Among the numerous voices which occupied his mind, many still weeped solely for those who had been closest to them. With many cases, the life for which one voice longed...was also among the gather chorus. After all...it is quite common for Hollows to devour their most prized companions. For all of these reasons, Marc's heart was quite envious of someone who never consumed their family.

The conversation dictated, that Zen be given a chance to ask a question of his own. Considering how honest the Hollow was about matters of such personal context...Marc would be inclined to share only the most honest answers to any inquest sent his way. It was the just, and honorable thing to do. That was, until, Zen pried upon a matter which Marc had been sworn to secrecy. A talent of his, invaluable to both himself and those who depend on him most. Something...he was quite amazed had been discovered. Given his great care with his words...there was little evidence or reason for someone to suspect such a ludicrous idea as mind reading. Had it not been for the abstract qualities of words...he might have fallen into real trouble. "You suspect me for some divinationist? A fortune teller?" The look on his face displayed a sincere bafflement...after all, he had no grasp of what the dragon intended to imply with his accusation. "Am I hearing you correctly? Please, do elaborate...if you do not mind?"

[Zen Isogi]

Zen listened politely to the opinions of his guest. and when marcelius finished a cold understanding. not rage or sadness. just... cold logic flowed from him. pure raw conviction. it was like an unstoppable typhoon of willpower. "yes. they have never left me. perhaps you are too young to undertsnad that i have lost them though. the agony of not only having everything you love and care for stripped away from you. not only the pain of always knowing it shall happen. but not being able to stop continuing the cycle of loss." The conviction slowly ebbed away to be replaced by a sense of relief. as if a great weight had been released off of zens heart.

"though i loathe the continuation of this eternal dance i would not surrender them. my heart will not allow me to give up on the hope that someday we can be truly happy" this was zens response to marcelius' comment of envy. His great powerful body quaked with the movement he began. No malice emerged from his heart only the gentle happiness of a friend. He ever so carefully attempted to lift marcelius into the air and bring him to zens level. They would establish eye contact once more. this time marcelius would feel the hunger coming from zen. not that of a hollow. but a hunger for knowledge.

Zens eye adjusted and focused in upon marcelius' face. A feeling of acceptance flowed through his mind for a split moment and he placed marcelius back. "your obviously right. im not sure what i was thinking. so then i must pose a query to you my new friend. i have told you of my life. what of yours?" the feeling of curiosity still burned deep within zen and an epiphany hit him. he believed if he were to get his friend to divulge their past zen could perhaps glean some understanding of him.

Zen reached up with his tail and scratched an itch upon his large back While he contemplated marcelius. He is not young. obviously not. but nowhere near as old as some who dwell within this realm. How does one aquire an ability such as his? its baffling. Could marcelius truly be capable of such a feat? zen was unsure and this disturbed him greatly. he looked upon the arrancar and wondered. could this be the one to help him?

Zen sat and contemplated deep in thought over the question he was about to ask. he thought long and hard about the outcome of it. after much deliberation he decided upon his course of action. he looked once more upon marcelius and a hope seeped from his body. detectable even by one without marcs gifts. he looked at his newfound friend and smiled. "what do you want in life?"

[Marcelius]

(OoC: Sorry beyond words for the delay...my muse has been hurting recently. I just haven't had the motivation, it has sucked! D= Either way...I hope this post is sufficiently entertaining!)

Heroic Tales never speak of moments like this. The brave Knight who seeks out the deadly beast, is never greeted by such richness of character. This, though simplistic in nature, was a reoccurring thought which never seemed to fully escape Marcelius mind. Dragons are synonymous with the terrible, destruction of the world...or so all the tales he could remember told him so. This little presumption of beasts of his like, constantly had Marc's mind pausing to savor the contradiction. After all, it was much like the contradiction Marc wished to exist for Hollows. People always assume them to be awful monsters of ruthless, sadistic carnage...and people were right. It was the fact that this stereotype was so honestly, wholly true, that caused the old Arrancar's stomach to twist and turn.

But here, in this strange palace, there was no such a soul. Yes Hollows were it's only guests for the evening, but there were no monsters. Such a situation...was far too rare in this bleak world of theirs. And so, when the heroic theme returned to Marcelius' mind, he embraced it. Zen was as the dragons of legend, with a lair that he his himself and his treasures from the world. For Zen this treasures were the companions he had shared all of existence with...to Marc, the real treasure was the drive behind his unique soul. It was poetic. It was earnest. It was the sort of heart one might expect from the Hero off the story, one who must overcome great loss to rise above...and yet, the 'heart' beats in the body of the beast. Truly, how could such a contradiction not give Marc reason to pause.

Hearing the Hollow speak of his troubles, Marcelius was far less swayed by the dragon's persuasive words. Though Isogi saw the suffering as clear as moonlight in Hueco Mundo, Marcelius saw it so very differently. As was said before, the Arrancar could not interpret such a life as anything but fortunate. It was, however, a product of his askew existence in this world. Living a life where each and every moment is occupied by a reminder of mistakes and pain from one's past...what did he have to lose? For Marcelius, regardless of such souls existence, there is no forgetting or escaping the suffering of the past.

As far as he concerned, his suffering would exist with or without those companions...so why not have them? People who have gone through the same expierence as he. People who understand why he is who he is. A family that neither hate, time, or death could truly drive apart. Eternal family. It, when cast in the right light, was the ultimate object of Marcelius' desires. Even now, he struggled with souls who would never truly understand him...trying to forge such a thing that he perceived Zen of having. Though the dragon had already earned Marcelius' respect, with this matter, he could not earn the Arrancar's empathy. In this respect, the two Hollows might never see eye to eye. Or so Marcelius believed...

As if on a cosmic cue, the large bodied Hollow began lifting Marcelius from his pleasant standing on the floor. The body was quite large and sturdy, and thus the new footing beneath Marc was quite stable, as well. Soon enough Marc saw himself pictured as a reflection of Zen's eyes. It should be no surprise, that there was no worry or concern evident in the old man's aura or mannerism. Instead he patiently waited for the point that the dragon wished to make. With some degree of shock, Marcelius had not expected to receive an apology. It was...well, uplifting. To hear consideration for his feelings, hmm, it was quite odd being on the other end of such a statement. Marc himself having a problem with excessive apologies, at times. Still, he did what he could to shoo away the Hollows plea. There was nothing to forgive after all, no trespass which needed compensation.

Voice speaking out in defiance of the booming qualities of the dragon's massive speech, Marcelius still laced his words with warming kindness. "No, no...do not waste your mind over such a triffle. I myself did not desire to seem crass in my questioning, it was merely a curiosity. I often hear presumptions about myself, but none ever like yours. So if anything, it is I who should apologise. For responding so rudely to both a host, and a kinsman." His smile was soft, restrained even. It was an expression more of comfort, than of brimming joy. It was meant to ease whatever tensions might remain...and keep the conversation civil. Levelheaded. For there was much more the two of them could discuss. Conversations which neither of them could find anywhere else in Hueco Mundo. Discussions which could begin to ease, the dragon's long existing loneliness.

Unfortunately...when hope was at it's highest, the topic took a darker turn. Not something by design, so Marcelius believed, but a genuine accident on Zen's part. A product of ignorance. Not the foolish kind, the simply misinformed variation. For how could Zen possibly know, the connection Marcelius has with his history? Having only just met, without yet delving deep within his conscience, Isogi had yet to learn that his past...though filled with suffering unique and dreadful...was not the only one of it's tragedy. Listening to Zen's tale had proved quite painful for Marc. Such a long story, one with such clarity and refined agonies. Like a devastating opera, a dramatic fable which sang of how fate only saw fit to torture the protagonist with reoccurring plight, Zen's past was riveting in Marcelius eyes. Partly due to the qualities of family that he mentioned before, but mostly...for it's certainty.

For in Marcelius, there were tales with accuracies and facts, stretching back for millinea...but none of the possessed certainty. "I, must confess my apologies once again." Pausing a moment to let his answer be absorbed, his darkened tone continued. "For that is a request, which I cannot properly fulfill." Reaching with both hands, he tucked them behind his back. Letting out a long sigh, before closing his wrinkled eyes. Thee darkness helped him, gave him focus...brought him clarity. What he sought, was not entirely the same as Zen's petition. Instead, he offered up the best he could produce.

I remember Johan Kuhn. Time spent pinning over another's love. Failing behind in work, loosing touch with all acquaintance. Seeking something which was desired above all others, but already claimed by a worthier soul. Dying alone, having forgone all those who would could have been at bedside in the end. Cold, angry, and born again...only to find the longing still there. Pining for the life, the one before the obsession. Attempts to reclaim it, by taking it from any who had it." Wringing his hands within one another, Marcelius endured a growing concerto. It was the Choir, antagonized into performing. Antagonized by his attempts at recollection.

"I remember Lucretia Pavesi. Famous name, from a small town. Life was spent underboot, kneeling to the wishes of others. Desires were wild and splendor, never settling for just one thing. Instead of seeing the world, experiencing the privileges some called rights, finding only locks and arrangements. Spending nights dreaming of better vistas, and days dreaming of night. Never working hard enough, never remaining focused. Longing for escape, but never possessing a key. Growing old and bitter, wishing for loneliness...feeling more afraid than ever when it came. Passing into the cold, with only the least favorite...most complacent grandchild watching. Darkness, but not emptiness. A voice in the shadows, reminding me...of everything. All the wonders of the world. Then...nothing." Not once had Marcelius' body move, not even a budge. Only his words proved his continued life.

[smear:ffff00]"Hyun Dai Chou, always too insecure to ever try. Always being overlooked. Never taking the chances which came. Then, a woman being attacked. Intervening. A beating, long and painful. Dying, having saved her life...still no one ever knowing. Udawe Sembene, a champion and a killer. Bloodied and capable, envy of those who wished for bravery. Plans to conquer, to claim what could not be defended. Waking up, in a sweat and lightheaded. Back aching, a heavy smell of blood. A woman, a wife...weak and stupid, holding my bloody knife. Fury, wrath unimaginable. World fading, with hands around a tiny neck."[/smear:ff3300]

With a sudden gasp, large blue eyes opened once more. Deep pools which carried far into the soul, now seemed to shine...like ponds disturbed by skipping stones. Disturbed was a good way to describe him, as his hands dropped to his sides. Feet stammered a bit, trying to balance upon the dragon's offered podium. His deep breathing prevented his words from coming clearly. Seconds dared to become minutes, as he tried to calm himself once again. In time, the weary voice returned. The elder had reclaimed control of himself, an hoped to shed more light on his actions. "I have memories, ancient and numerous. I can tell you stories...from a thousand, thousand lives." Standing straight, correcting the posture of his spine; Marcelius hoped to speak clearly once more. "Though all of these memories are mine, I own not one."

Though appearing cryptic, the message was plain as sunshine. Marcelius was a vessel for untold multitudes of souls...their lives had become his. A living collaboration of the undead, the same as any other Hollow. Looking back to the patient Hollow, who still endured his wordsy habit. "The name, the one I use. It comes from a man exceeding 800 years of age. A mason, who used his talents to see more of the world...than most in his era could imagine. A romantic, who fell for a woman of unique prominence. A fool, who succumbed to tortures of body and mind...and traded his great love for the hope of life. A life...which he knew would be filled with fear, anguish...pain and remorse. Still. He would have gladly offered her again, a thousand times. He would betray an innocent...as many times as it took, to escape the weakness he felt." This time, the break in his words ere intentional. Not needing air or clarity on what he would say next...he wanted his story to live in the mind of his audience. To have time to grow and produce something meaningful, before he could finish. The conclusion, was one that dared to break the storyteller once again."Can you imagine anything more Hollow?"

[Zen Isogi]

The tales of marcelius filled Zen with understanding, and with comradery. "Marcelius Despres. I believe lunch is at an end. This place has been my home. a fortress to hide myself alone with my pain. my loathing. And so i must destroy it. i shall lave this place. and you shall do the same. This palace shall be forgotten to the sands of hueco mundo." Zen Gestured for his new found friend to leave. A determiantion burned within his mind like nothing he ahd felt in centuries. Zen would evolve as he ahd always done. He would move past his history and forge a new future. Marcelius would bear witness as in a blinding flash of speed Zen slammed into and through the walls of his palace. The entire complex would shatter and collapse around Zen and only when the beautiful twinkling structures were dust in the sands would the towering behemoth rise back up and roar triumphantly. he would look down upon marcelius and smile.

Zen nodded and held out his powerful hand to marcelius. "Goodbye. We shall meet again new friend." no matter marcelius choice Zen would vanish from detection a blur of speed and he was gone. The hunt had begun again. Zen was going to destroy and murder and consume As a hollow must. He would forget who he was for a tme and become who he must to atain what he needs. All that amrcelius would feel from Zen were the last echoing emanations of trust and happiness.

But before he was gone from marcelius mind a final image would flash into the arrancars mind. Zens previous life. A life filled not with the pain and sorrow he felt before. But a life of joy and unity. They were nobles in a time long past joined together in the bonds of family. Children forming within the womens bodies. a joy unsurpassed as This life was lived and in the end they died together as friends and loved ones. It was a aprting gift for the reader of emotions. A last goodbye from his newfound comrade before the great beast was gone completely. The palace of sorrows was so throughly devestated that had amrc not been there he would never have believed it had existed. it was an obvious gesture of acceptance. and of growth from the ancient Zen.