Snark Week (Joint Training, R, NDE)

[Marcelius]

(OoC: #TeamNachos has a new member, and she needs orientation! Luckily she has family who is eager to help! We will make a man out of Llusia yet! This is Joint Training, education thread between Marcelius, Miho, and Llusia. Special guest appearances by Kuroi are hoped for. By the end, we hope she'll know the ropes well enough to be accepted as a Fraccion! Llusia has first post, then whoever is fastest between Rin and I goes next. #TeamNachos!)

What is worse than a snarky, hot-headed, stubborn, know-it-all, talented, devil, teenager for a daughter? A second one. Fortunately, there is one soul in all the realms of all the worlds, who cherishes such an individual. Marcelius was notorious for being fatherly, but as of recent, it seems that notoriety was going to his head. Taking upon himself to help raise and educate any kind of Hollow that would take the time to listen; the old man was really flexing his patronizing muscle. It could be said, he pursued such situations and subjects...hoping to ensnare them in his warm speech and caring ways. How happy could one imagine him to be then, when he witnessed the actual birth of a new family member?

For a father who could never actually father a child, it was miracle made reality. Now a more important challenge has arisen, "How does he make this child successful?" His experience was limited, with only Miho a worthy enough claim. But it was not right to compare the two, for the hellion had done so much on her own before his involvement. This budding soul was completely inexperienced in the ways of their world. A Hollow, only now freed from her mask...

Llusia had been born into a world full of perils and danger. Even with the great potential of power that her new form possessed, the threat was no less dreadful. Seeing the chance to help another, recognizing his opportunity to expand his family; Marcelius wasted not one moment. Leaping to her rescue, he pried her shimmering white spirit...from the very belly of darkness. Acting as a guide, he gave her understanding of the life which awaited her. Speaking of Las Noches and Espada, the life lessons began anew.

Unfortunately, such lessons would take time. The task would be quite long and troublesome, if not for him, then for poor Llusia. It would not be a task easily accomplished, regardless of his qualifications. No, support was needed...but such a luxury is often unheard of in their homeland. Fortunately for the Blood Wolf, Marc's greatest asset was his guardian angel of woe. Working together, the two of them were undoubtedly going to shape the new addition into shape. Maybe, just maybe, they could raise her high enough to gain the Segunda's favor...so that she may earn her place among the family. Time and trial would tell. For now, Llusia was alone. Sitting in an twelve by sixteen room...she had been instructed to remain put and be patient.

Marcelius' words still echoing off the walls, "There is someone I must fetch, please wait here for my return." A sense of fear lingering in his otherwise assuring tone, "It is not safe to wander aimlessly, not in these halls." That was all, she had been given little choice but to wait. In the room, there were few distractions to hold her awe. There was a bed, turned sideways from the egress. The floor was covered in a tremendous, decently ornate rug. It was more sturdy than stylish. Only a large mirror, standing near six feet in height, broke up the plain wall adjacent the bed. Straight ahead from the only door, a thin window stretched. If inclined, a view to the endless night and eternal desert was available. Hopefully she could stay sane...till his return. Hopefully, he could be trusted to do so...

[Llusia Domenech]

She sat in the small room looking at her hands in shock still form what happened. So far Marcy had informed her of what she was, at least the basics of what she was. What came to her mind was the hollow that had changed her for so long, never told her about this. Wether he had been hiding it or not, she had somehow got it. She wanted to go outside the room, outside into Las Noches and test her powers, but she didn't want to make Marc mad. She had found herself increasingly feeling more loving for the man, fatherly love of course, and she wouldn't want to make him mad, yet. He left her in this room with only a mirror and window to keep her sane, while he went to go talk to someone. The first thing she did was look in the mirror, her complexion was paler then a ghost, her hair was snow white and down to her shoulder. Her eyes intrigued her, when she stared into them she almost hypnotized herself, they seemed to suck her into their beauty. She looked at her body and it seemed that she had increased in size in both her bust and her butt. She was embarrassed now, remembering hugging Marc with nothing on but his coat. She moved over to the window and looked out at the black sky and the moon. She listened to the silence of the desert, the sounds of the wind. She found it oddly...calm and yet she wanted to ask someone about the place more. Now she sat down with Marc's jacket around her shoulder and she waited for him to come back.

She had some many questions for him. Who was he before, why was she here, how did he get as strong as her to break his mask, how old he was, if she could meet anymore people. If she could stay with him was one of his most important questions, as she couldn't see how she would survive on her own. She wanted to stay and learn with him, so that she could do the thing that he did, vow to protect her. She wanted to say the same thing back to him and watch him grow older. She wanted to be around him until the time that her death or his comes. Hopefully it wouldn't happen anytime soon but that is what she wished for.

[Deleted]

What a beautiful fucking day. The moon is dull as fuck and filled with its usual hopelessness. The hallways were filled with despair. The forlorn on those other arrancar's faces... Why, the she-devil could just squee with absolute delight! Now, this was her kind of day! If beasts could smile, then Miho Shoga would show her glee like a shiny badge. Huh. Too bad. She wasn't one for expressions of the jovial kind. Miho's face simply said she was pleased without being too pleased... if that even made any sense. All the negativity in the air was nice. If only everyday could be like this~ Miho naturally wasn't a happy person but today was a little different. Today, it would seem Kuroi's little pow-wow would have a new edition...

Read: Fresh meat...

That's right, boys and girls. Today #TeamNachos was getting a nice new edition. What kind of comrade with Miho be if she didn't give the new little lamb a warm, welcoming greeting from the girl who constantly donned a wolfish grin herself? The hellion's heels clicked and clacked against the marbles floor announcing her arrival to Marcelius' room. Then all would go silent for a moment before Llusia would see a door go flying past her. All she'd see for a moment was a single leg clad in leather with a dangerous looking heel that could stab anything she stepped on. "Surprise, bitch." The fraccion's hands were pocketed and she'd silently step into the room. She walked with an air of dangerous confidence and she'd set her sights for her new victim...

Scarlet irises scrutinized the new one. Her back was turned and now Miho wanted her full attention. "Well, well, weeell..!" Her vocals dripped with maliciousness as she perched herself on the elderly man's desk, legs crossed and arms folded across her chest. "Welcome to Las Noches. For your sake, I hope you learn how to survive. I hope you enjoy misery, despair and lots of destruction.." One leg moved to kick over a tall lamp adjacent to the desk. She'd watch it fall next to the white haired girl. Hearing the sound of glass breaking always made shivers run up her spine with excitement. "...Or else you just ain't gonna cut it here.." It was her way of saying 'Get the fuck out if you don't have thick skin'. Miho pulled out her broadsword and in one swift movement the sawtooth edge was just inches away from her neck. Miho tapped her chin with it, raising it with the side of her nasty death dealer. She'd smirk devilishly before saying one last thing...

"...And everyone knows I love disposing of trash~"

[Marcelius]

(OoC: Agent asked permission to post next, so I'm letting her skip me. After her response, we will pick back up with pattern; Marc, Miho, Llusia.)

[Llusia Domenech]

Llusia smirked and grabbed the blade and ran her hand along the blade "If you really wanted to kill me, you should followed through like this" she moved into the blade and with her free hand cut herself slightly "But of course that would be to easy right?" she moved away as blood started dripping down her white skin and she smiled, licking the blood from her fingers and running up to Miho and getting in her face "It really is nice to meet someone that everyone says is a garbageman, that's what you are right? Disposing of trash if a remember correctly right?" she pricked Miho in her arm and licked the blood walking backwards "I think im going to like you alot, whatever your name might be, though lets keep it to small things, call my Llusia, Trashbag, garbage, bitch, whatever you want, really doesn't affect me" she smiled and sat down licking the blood from her neck that was falling down her arm. The shadows creeped down on Llusia naked body and all one would see was her red eyes gleaming in the dark. She started to laugh a bit "Where is Marcilus? He doesn't seem to be the type to be late and such, and please feel free to not answer my questions, garbage-women, as I am just trash you're at waiting to take out right?" she giggled to herself, wanting to piss off this arrancar, usually she wasn't like this but today was a day she was wanting to fuck with people.

[Marcelius]

Marcelius was moving with purpose, striding through the halls of Las Noches. Being a reknowned man of patience, with a strut quite slow and determined, it was a real shock to see him hurrying for a change. Something clearly had the elder in tears. Where other Hollows paid him no worry or mind, there would be one who found his pace alarming. Not just alarming; downright enticing. Whatever it was he was in a rush about must be important. And if he had something important to do, there was only one thing to do about it. "What do y'know..." Marc nearly froze in his step, as his path was cut by the sudden plunge of a behemoth broadsword...one nasty and vile to the eyes.

It carved the floor and punctured the wall; blocking his progress in ways it's mistress' small limbs never could. "...I spot a scarecrow. What are you up to, old fart?" The words were chilly, sinking into his nerves through the pours of his skin. They caused him to turn, and face their source. Gleeming through the shadows of the hall, blazed the crimson irises of the a hellion. Miho Shouga, Segunda Fraccion...and, daughter. "Why hello there, daughter. Having a good tantrum?" Before her face could be seen, a wicked smirk came first into the light. It was only a happy greeting for her, when he fought back against the insults. "Oh no! I'm not having a tantrum. Not yet atleast~" Her tone was challenging, as if inviting him to test her claim.

"So what are you up to, wrinkles? What could be so important you risk breaking a hip?" Tilting his head, giving her an unimpressed stare. Were old jokes the best she could do? "I am fetching some uniforms..." His tone turning deeper, signifying a more serious topic. "We have a new family member. A strong one, fresh from the pit." As he spoke, he could observe the excitement in the demon grow. By the time his words finished, she was tingling with energy. All of it, dark and twisted in origin. "Ooooooh~! A newcomer? And a girl this time?" The way she said newcomer, sounded like a butcher talking about fresh stock. It was amazing she caught the detail about it being a girl, through all that viciousness.

"And strong too? What...is she special or something?" Though annyone else might suspect jealousy...or a sensation of threat; Marcelius knew this was just Miho poking fun at his compliment. After all, she had to keep dear ol' dad's optimism in check. If not her, then who?! Not that she was not thrilled to do so...or anything like that. "I can tell you she's not special, Marc. She's not a beautiful, unique, little snowflake. She's just the same decaying organic matter as the rest of us. But you go on telling yourself she will survive." Oh, that's cold. Hiring him right where it hurts...calling him by his name. It was enough to make the old man sigh, before he fought to put his typical smile back in it's proper place. "You might be wrong about this one. She's more than she appears."

He stopped, considering the choice of words that his little one had made. "She's a predator...posing as a housecat." Turning towards Miho, practically grinning from his recollection of movie night. "Something you would know all about. From there he stepped on past, shifting around her warcrime of a sword. "I need to get her situated, before something goes wrong. I still have to get her some better clothes, so we can discuss this all later. Take care now." As he took up his speed once more, Miho called out to him one last time. "Get back to your hobblin'! While I go check on this fresh meat of yours. Make sure nothing goes wrong, hehehe..." That last part...maaaay have been said under her breath.

In Las Noches, it is required that each and every Arrancar dress themselves. In one way or another. For most, this means a uniform of white, a clear and intentional contrast to the Shinigami they opposed. Though the theme remained the same for all, such uniforms can come in dozens and dozens of different, unique designs. A lot like snowflakes, actually. So, not knowing exactly what style his rescue would like, he grabbed all that he could. Thus, under his arm, was a large and uncomfy bundle of various uniforms. All of them were appropriate in size, with variations being only in appearance.

From this selection, she could most certainly find whatever she might be want to wear. There was no doubt. And for his triumph, Marc was feeling rather good. Success was always a good pick me up. So satisfied in his accomplishment, that he allowed himself to walk in a daze. He remained aware of the world around him, but rather numb to it. In the end...this disconnection caused him quite a shock. The shock itself, came from discovering that Miho and Llusia's sounds...appeared to be in the same room. Shaking his head a bit, he focused in on the sources of both the noises...only to find them indeed together. "Oh no..." Sadly, no amount of effort could make up for his delay thus far.

"Trash? No." His gruff voice came drifting through the air, breaking up the tension of their hostility with a warmth that few others could imagine...let alome speak with. It should be enough to draw their attentions, to the big guy stepping into the room with a large package in tow. Having moved as quickly as his ancient bones could carry him, he arrived just in time to hear Llusia's fearless challenge. Though it was wonderful to hear such bravery...now should not be the time for it. Smiling for them both, he moved inward to drop the collected clothing on the bed.

Then, turning towards the nearly shattered door that lay on the floor, "This is not the worse it has ever been. I would bet it is still usable." Picking up the heavy panel, he hoisted it back upright...just to watch it fall to pieces. "Oh...that is trashed." Abandoning the destroyed hatch, he turned back to the youngsters. Then, holding out his hand to Llusia, "Miho, this is Llusia Domenech. Llusia..." His hand shifting to Miho, "This is Miho Shouga, Fraccion to the Segunda Espa..." It is only half way through his speech, that he took note of the blood on Llusia's hand. A sight which stole the words from his lips.

Now, when he arrived, he had seen Miho holding out that clever of hers...being the menacing she-devil she always was. There had been no cause for worry at the time, for the walls were still intact. Given what Marcelius had seen in the pit, and what he knew about Miho, a real fight between these two would destroy more than a few hundred rooms in Las Noches. So...there was that, at least. Too bad Marc was unable to ignore remaining indicators, that there was going to be a problem. To start; Llusia was bleeding. Whatever had happened to cause her to bleed, was also turning on rather dark switches within her mind. What he was feeling now...was nothing like their walk from before.

What he saw now, was the Hollow that had killed all those others in the Stockyard. While it was quite educational, seeing Llusia like this...it was not safe. Even less safe, was the fire burning in Miho. A rage, one which mirrors Nijuu, was beginning to darken her own corner of the room. If left to her own devices, this whole ordeal would soon nosedive. So...ever the peacekeeper, "Llusia, you are dripping." Fetching a couple of handkerchiefs from his nightstand, "Here...clean it up and tie it off. Then, pick out some things you like." He nodded towards the gathered uniforms on the bed. "Miho and I are going to show you around your new home. Get you settled, teach you what you need to know."

His tone was assuring, quite the polar opposite of what he suspected Miho's to have been. He even let out a little chuckle as he continued, "You will be getting better advice from Miho there. She knows what is is like to be a young woman in a place like this. Do you not, Miho?" He glanced over his shoulder while giving Llusia the time to tend her cuts and mess, blue eyes staring patiently...waiting for her to concur with him. After all, she owed him for not embarrassing the "living hell" out of her...by introducing her as his daughter. Something that took a lot of self restraint on his lovable old soul. Getting his answer from her...either by word, expression or even thought; Marcelius would turn back to their newest addition. "We'll make sure you find your place here."

[Marcelius]

In a castle of Hollows, it is ironic to come across an empty hall. Being the home to empty vessels, unoccupied areas mimic the residents who should fill them. It is a somber thought for those willing to take the time and think it. Sadly, such reflection seldom occurs in a world like Hueco Mundo. Even now, as this shadowy scene of a passageway lies in wait for it's actors; the oncoming drama would be devoid of much consideration or reverie. Instead, the pattering sounds of hurried footsteps would ring out.

A quick pace, driven by a passion much deeper than impatience. Twas fear which drove this soul forward. Fear of pain and of loss. The all powerful fear, for one's life. It is only such a force; which can compel an individual to run at their utmost. Certainly now, this Arrancar was doing just that. For the echoing steps belonged to the like of a lowly Numero. The young man sported dark hair and skin. His body seemed scrawny, underfed. Though he was quick enough, he ran awkwardly...as though he may fumble at any moment.

Tal, a citizen of the mighty fortress. Of the Broken Masks numbers, Numeros like Tal were the most endangered. Often preyed upon by stronger, more fortunate Hollows. Even preying on each other more times than not. So it offers no surprise that such an individual would be running for their lives. Especially when a more deadly predator is at their heels. And indeed, there was quite a deadly hunter in pursuit of the fleeting Tal. Another Numero, though one far larger and better developed. Though freed from much of his mask, looked more a best than a man. With a disproportionate shoulders and torso, this charging animal looked quite disfigured to human standards. Whether this larger Arrancar was a looker or not, meant very little to the flimsy Tal.

It was the fellow Masks speed and hunger which more concerned the scurrying sod. With each four steps he took, the lumbering brute needed only one! While he remained ahead of his captor for now, time was against him. His only hope for life...was to want that life more than his chaser. Giving it his everything...till his joints ached and his lungs burned; Tal had only terror to stave off exhaustion. And only fate to blame; which Tal did. Profusely. Though...it is always a funny business blaming fate. For one can never be sure if their condemnation is issued prematurely. So. As the hands and teeth of his would-be devourer closed in, the dinner plan shifted. Instead of the scrawny Numero, words would be the meal this evening. Luckily, when mixed with the relief of continued life...humble pie's flavor is quite satisfactory.

Suddenly there came a great crash. The sound of metal and bulk, across the face of solid stone. The sort of shattering one hears in a quarry, as rock is hewed from the earth. That cracking and clinking of breaking slate. But with no quarry within the vast body of Las Noches; what could be the source of such a clamour? The answer was simple. Sudden. And struck the disfigured ogre of an Arrancar like a landslide. It was in fact, the wall to the Hollow's immediate right. The tremendous plane of white marble became immediately smashed, as if some colossal spider wove a web of fractures.

Unfortunately, the metaphorical arachnid's work was short lived. Almost as quickly as the designed formed on the immense pale expanse, it pushed forward towards the onlooker. Watching in bewilderment, the once vicious hunter became simpering fodder for the falling structures fury. Terrible noises began to pour. The collapse thundered through the hall in which it descended. Were there any souls from one end of the pass to the other, then they would become an audience to this melody of destruction.

Unfortunate for the one spectator able to see this event, he would be trapped by it's devastation. Tal, though saved from one hungry danger, now was trapped in the gullet of massive debris. But alive. Not just alive, but well enough to curse and struggle beneath the mess of demolished wall. Eventually, pushing his thin body up through the smaller openings and crevices. Freeing himself, to find that he shared this former hallway with even more souls than before. Not Numeros like himself, no. These two new individuals were ones of rank and responsibility. They were Fraccion, servants of the almighty Espada. Though their names unknown, Tal could sense the allegiance of these two. These were the worst Fraccions to encounter. Servants of the Segunda!

Pulling himself up from the desolation of his unflattering rest, the old fellow gave out subtle groans of discomfort. Feeling the jagged, firm edges of busted rock wedged into his back...his nerves were less than pleased. "Amazing." Feigning enthusiasm, the elder began to clutch at the rubble around him. Pulling till he was sitting upright, he hoisted up the clumps of wall he held in his large palm. "Not dense enough to break my fall, but tough enough to break my back. Simply amazing..." Yet more sarcasm, before got up off his asscasm. Dust fluttering off his clothing and body as he rose. Once back on his feet, he quickly slapped his chest and arms.

The beating he gave himself caused a massive stir up, yet more pulverized wall matter being kicked up. He seemed to be taking his sweet time. Making sure to get himself padded off as best as possible. There was a reason; however, for his slow action. His focus was elsewhere. Sight, hearing, and even body language all seemed unbothered. Meanwhile, his mind scanning beyond the shadows of the large room he came from. Using talents that go well beyond the five typical senses...the Fraccion secretly observed. "When you are ready, we can keep going..." Speaking into the darkness, the geezer challenged someone to keep coming. Coming to do what; however, was the question. Recapping the events which lead to the drastic redecoration of this hall...

Just beyond, in the room prior, ol Marcelius had taken quite the hit. Whether the hit was vicious or not was left to be determined, but the strike landed all the same. It had been a guided hit. The product of instruction. The solution to a problem he and his rival had been having. One of unbalanced strengths. Not of soul, but of actual body. The oldster was quite the brawny chap. His muscles and tendons much stronger and dense than those of his opponent. But their combat was not as vicious as the game of cat and mouse which they just interrupted. Though he had received a beating, it was nothing lethal. Instead, he was instructing the one doing the beating. Teaching them to make advantages where they normally did not exist. Example; the division in their physical abilities. The little one who fought against him was strong, but not his kind of strong. Yet she favored close combat and visceral aggression. While it was deadly, the way she did things, they could be deadlier.

Recognizing this, the elder Fraccion offered some advice. He told her to wait for him to block or to swing; whichever came at a better moment. Rather than dodge or block the attack, he told her to roll it. When his larger, heavier, more powerful momentum came through; to grab hold of his arm and help him along. By pulling and tossing in the direction of his force, he would end up delivering more than he bargained for. While the tactic was simplistic and versatile, it proved quite effective this time. Though he fed her a rather telegraphed and predictable attack, her strength propelling his own was tremendous.

Suddenly the bulky Hollow was flying into the wall. Flung and spun against the stone, with enough gumption to break on through...straight to the other side. Thus the predicament for Tal's hunter, and the terrible mess for Las Noches' civil engineers. Now...however, they needed to continue. Their start was fun, but their work was far from done. So the senior Fraccion, held out his arms, neither hand yet gripping his broadsword...inviting the young one to try an independent assault. One that did not require him to make the first move. "How would you strike a flatfooted opponent?"

[Llusia Domenech]

Llusia kicked the wall over and looked over to her father, looking at her hands and then listening to him. She looked at her hands, them being held in a fabric embrace from the white finger less gloves. Opening her hands, she breathed in slowly and took in air, it had been awhile since she felt this kind of...joy? was that it? she hated it, why was this man bringing her joy? Looking to her father she looked around, she knew he was going easy on her, but there was a sudden sense that had stopped and that they were really sparing now. She cracked her knuckles and then looked at her sword, thinking for a moment, she considered what she could do. The Obvious was to just directly attack him, which impulse was screaming do it. Though there was something that she wanted to test, something she had only heard to be a rumor, though she was unsure how to do it, she thought she had a firm grasp of the idea and well...fuck it might as well try. She nodded her head slightly to the side and thought for a moment and then looked down, smiling "I wouldn't" she looked back up. Quickly she kicked up a huge piece of debris and kicked it forward, picking up another piece she threw another piece towards him, then breathing out slowly is was as if everything slowed down, suddenly reiatsu felt like it was at her feet.



She looked at the debris flying towards Marc and focused on it, holding her sword in a standard stance. She took a position and closed her eyes, really focusing and closing her ears out for a moment. Opening her eyes, her iris went from a dark red to a bright blood red, her pupils changed to feline like slits then circles and her face displayed some type of instinct that rose from with in her. Her face was blank and she suddenly seemed to walk three times her normal speed or at least that's what it felt like. only in old tales about the Arrancar had she heard about this move, never thinking it was real but suddenly she was in the act of doing it. Suddenly she was moving, battle mode suddenly switched on and she watched everything fly past her as she almost suddenly landed on the rock that was in the air landing towards Marc, coming into impact zone, the rock turned and it would show Marc that she had figured out how to sonido and appear right there on the huge broken wall flying towards him, her blade swinging down, or rather up for him as she was upside down as the rock flattened out in the air and was below it. She looked into his eyes and then looked next to him, trying to throw him off in case he were going to predict her next move, though she wondered if this had been enough to throw him off already. All in one moment she stopped her movement towards the old man and sonidoed tot eh right of him, her left, and her blade still moved in an slashing down movement towards the old dinosaur.

[Marcelius]

Giddiness. That was the only way to describe the scarecrow's mentality. An ecstatic, jubilant, delighted, energized state of mind. It was positively embarrassing, but he was none the wiser. No, instead he was deluded by it. Hazed over by the joy which set his mind swimming. Each moment a memory. Each second as bright and spectacular as a sunrise. But...what could cause such optimism? What could manifest such a sublime perspective? Why, a father's love. The price and happiness that only appreciative parents can explain. It was such a condition which afflicted the codger. Made him, in many ways, a goof. It kept a big, silly grin on his face. All of it, thanks to the actions of this newest member of Las Noches. All of this because of Llusia.

She was a rarity. A naturally born Arrancar. Not requiring the helping hand of the Hogyoku...she simply climbed her own path to freedom. Tearing and struggling through the darkness that lies behind a Hollow's mask. Fighting back the voices. Denying any other claim or strength over her. Conquering all which might oppose her retrieval of identity. Overcoming a trial such as that...was more than enough to boast the power of her will. She would someday make an outstanding member in their family. Already, she was earning a special place in his eyes. Though, Marcelius was always a sentimentalist. No one had to work hard to earn his favor. That was the fault of his kindly soul. So with him, this young pup would have the easiest triumph. Through him; however, she would learn what it would take to earn the appreciation of others. With his guidance, she would find a cure to the Sadness within her. It would just take time...practice...and many, many...ducks!

"Haahup...", the old man let out in a startled manner. Both of his blue eyes stretched to their fullest extents. What light existed in the dimly lit halls, now reflecting off those broadened pools of azure. The cause of his surprise? A massive bulk of stone. A slab, really, that had been apart of the wall before. It came dangerously close to him, flying by a significant speed. Dodging proved far easier than it should have been. A mere slide of his right foot, his body turned side face. In such posture, the large stone missed by a much more comfortable, and acceptable distance. So, it was not truly a duck...but the sentiment of avoiding injury was the same. Were he to help her along, he was certain he would need to avoid more maneuvers such as that one. Still amazing, though.

The attack was sudden and efficient. Already, the senior Fraccion was recalling it with satisfaction. Llusia strode towards him with determination in her eyes. Those pale, pink irises carrying the true viciousness of a Hollow. An instinctual ferocity; which allowed for precision in the face of danger or death. It was with such eyes, that the young woman performed a beautiful two step. With the first she reached to the pile on which she walked. Plucking some of the rubble from rest, and flicking it at him with amazing strength. This initial fling provided the projectile which he would avoid first. Ah, but she was no finished. Not at all.

With her very next step, she flaunted that amazing strength once more. This time with less effort, and more panache! No reaching down or twisting her posture. She did not waste time trying to extend and contract her arm...those precious fractions of seconds could not be spared. Instead, she jutted her foot straight into the rockslide. With a swift pop, like that of an athlete at play, she turned a second slab of stone into another missile(Really stress the second "i" sound, makes reading it more fun!). Yet another obstacle which her aged target would find troubling to avoid. Suppose it was good for him that she was not a true athlete? That her kick had been off center...and high. With the trajectory her mighty punt assigned, this rock was going to sail right over his...duck!

The swipe of her sword was clean, and quick. Highly practiced, nearly to the point of mastery. The glistening blade left a trail of eerie light in it's wake, as supernatural strength propelled it through the dense, Reishi-laced air. The angle of the cut was a falling one. It came down hard from above her target, an impossibly challenging course to intercept. And that was for an armed man. For Marc, it was the most beautiful of techniques. It had precision. It was clever. There was strategy and skill, an absolutely commendable assault.

She even went a step beyond. She knew that he was slow, but experienced. She knew what he would do with these traits. She knew how he might try to compensate for shortcomings, and maximize advantages. Recognizing her opponent for their individual talents, and doing what she could to subvert them. The subtle eschewing of her sights. Misdirection, pure and neat. Were he...literally...anyone else, such a gambit would have been deadly efficient. Problem being, he did not rely on his sight. Nor any of his senses, really. A truth that Llusia would be WELL aware of, following the next few moments of her life.

Not once would his head move. Not once would he try to follow her motion with his eyes. Starting from her sprinting start, ending with her doble sonido. Which begs the question of, "How Marcelius Sees?" There are many ways that people can view the world. The five senses allow for a variety of interactions and stimulations. Though they are named separately, and defined individually; the senses are very much a singular canvas. Through the interaction and mixing of the senses' diversity; one paints a view of their surroundings. Making thoughts and memories alike, these astounding works of art rarely use just one sense. That would be the same as painting a masterpiece with just one color. Possible...but supremely unlikely.

Now, many would use all five of the given paints to illustrate their world. Marcelius forgoes each of these. Instead of five, he sees dozens...hundreds even! More colors than other souls could hope to imagine. More than enough to highlight his world. Especially all the really juicy, interesting parts. Parts such as, "Where is the hostility?" Oh yes. That was a very typical place for his mind to highlight. Doing so with collages of red, orange, and yellow...each dependant on the soul behind the attack. All of them as vivid as the next. Today's primary hue? A bold splash of orange.

This color and intensity, all of it stems from the emotion of anticipation. Oh, but it is not so simple as that. Things like emotions never are, after all. There was reason for them. Factors which determine their shade and saturation. A coalescence of information; which erupts inside of Marcelius' head like a hurricane conducted orchestra. With the color comes sounds and vibrations. Triggering memories that lead to smells and tastes. Suddenly he was a font of sensory input...all of it processing at speeds far beyond any common mind. All of it telling him of her, and how he should react to her attack.

The worst thing about winning over Marc's sentiments, is his focus. With as much hope and delight that this new family member offered him, there was no dragging his mind off of her. She became his center, for a time. Every thought and notion would revolve around her. Like an inescapable field of observation. This level of examination...quick to show the frightful potential it exercised. Starting with her hovering strike. The masterful use of Sonido; which placed her on the spinning debris above him. This was her first stop, and the first indication of her armed offensive. It was a dangerous approach, but one with magnificent rewards for success.

If left unchecked, such a move would have one of his shoulders cleaved open. Worse, if she went for his head. Evasion was nearly out of the question. The old man's physicality being his own downfall. Literally, as it were. See...if he were to try and drop low to duck her swipe, he would need to go real low. The length of her swinging arm and full sized blade, both making her reach great. Though it was possible to get under such a swipe, it required one of two things. Either tremendous flexibility, or a very dramatic fall. The latter coming with options, as well. Letting the Fraccion to chose either his rump or face to land on. Yes, neither were pleasant choices. What would have really been a good choice, would have been a turn. Shifting sideface either left or right, turning on the vertical axis of his body. Such would adjust his anatomy, and make an up or downward strike irrelevant. Oh...but wait. "I like that answer..."

Blood soaked pupils would gaze upwards into the blackened air of Las Noches' hall. Only to see those gleaming azule orbs peering back. Unshaken, uninjured. She was back on the ground. The second Sonido, completed without a hassle. The swipe which began up above, now fully delivered down below. The full force of her swipe had coming rocketing down, only to find that the earth was much closer than expected. His large palm, flattened against the wider guard of her weapon. All the power put behind it, dissipating into his flesh. The slice was over. Having failed to wound him, any more than a possible bruise on his hand. How did this happen? Simple enough. The turning response he gave her very first boulder, had shifted his whole body sideways. Rather than the breadth of his chest, only his left side facing her prior position. This being when Sonido took over.

A truly amazing technique. One he marveled to see her use with such imagination and style. But, a little too soon. After all, Sonido results in a massive burst of speed. Exceeding that of Shunpo by a great deal. When moving so quickly, an Arrancar's intentions become their actions. There is no time for second guessing. No time to adjust or reconsider. What they begin to do, they do. That is simply the way it is. Why she intended had been chosen before she raised her foot. That meant, he knew it. Or...rather...he knew he had reason to fret. Admittingly, he would have bet on a frontal charge two seconds before she surprised him. Regardless, his turned body was the answer to both.

So. She would use Sonido, intent on beginning her strike from above. Already sideways, the vertical slash would head straight for where he had been, but no longer was. That brilliant coloration of orange beginning then, when the anticipation for her second Sonido took over. With such sly plans up her sleeve, there was no avoiding the exhilaration of anticipation. Her mind and body simply could not resist feeling the excited twinge before finalizing her move. It was that twinge, quite a natural and universal thing, that revealed how the slash was going to end. Emotions being read like body movements...for they all spawn from the same source. The mind, and all it's intent.

In the end, her second Sonido dropped her back to solid ground. Where she had expected to flank his unchanged position, was now facing him head on...again. Her falling blade caught on his hand, which moved only a fraction of the distance her overhead slash demanded. In the end, she was successful in closing the gap between them. She also had him caught in a lock...one where his hand had to keep superior pressure on her weapon's guard.Though, with the contrast in their sizes...his hand really covered more than that. Even overlapping with her own hand in a small way. Most importantly though, she learned more of his talent. That it depended not on sight. In the future, shifted eyes or feints made with weapons or limbs...well, they would be ignored. How might she react to this discovery? Was it creepy to think he could follow her that well? Did it upset her to think how predictable she seemed to be? Or...did all of this encourage her to outsmart the dinosaur? "Never let me catch you attacking someone who is prepared..."