In an instant, the dreary halls of Las Noches became alive with color; with the scent of a strikingly familiar reiatsu that bristled with a distinct sense of vigor as it assaulted the Cuarta’s senses. And before long, the source of said energy began to make its way towards Ulquiorra without almost any hesitation. The otherwise expected twinge of annoyance that the predictability of the Sexta’s actions would have instilled in him had been replaced with an undeniable sense of fascination.
He allowed for a moment to pass before turning his head to peer over his shoulder, his large eyes focusing on the blue-haired piece of trash lumbering his way over. Everything appeared to be the same as when he’d departed: he wore his egotistical grin with pride, his shirt hung tastelessly open, he’d been exuding an aura of groundless confidence, and still employing the use of copious amounts of unnecessary hair-care products. The Cuarta then allowed himself a moment to reflect; for what reason did he allow himself to become so caught up with such an idiot?
He continued to stare unwaveringly, opting out of extending any further acknowledgement towards his comrade-in-arms. Even so, Grimmjow ought to count himself lucky. It wasn’t every day that Ulquiorra gave his undivided attention to anyone other than Aizen.
The same old desolate halls stared back at him as he made his way across polished floors, the high-reaching concrete walls that shelled them climbing at more than just the average several feet. A dismissive flicker of a glance to his side, narrowed cerulean studying just a part of his surroundings briefly before— Tch. Yeah, it may have been months since he last strode through this fortress, but he could tell that there hadn’t been a speck of change since then.
Well, save for how much of an ass their so-called God King had made of himself.
Grimmjow had only caught the very last edges of that spectacle, but that memory alone managed to elicit a low, cruel laugh from his throat. He only regretted he hadn’t been there for the entirety of it.
But he supposed that what awaited him just a few steps away would have to do in way of making up for things.
"Ulquiorra," he drawled when he was finally close enough, his lax posture alone speaking volumes of the amount of pride and confidence he held in his repertoire. The distance between them had decreased significantly, but not so much that he was well within arm’s reach. —Needless to say, the Cuarta’s undivided attention had done nothing to quell the sudden spike in his ego.
He hadn’t missed how the source of Ulquiorra’s reaistu failed to move an inch since his unannounced arrival.
"Been awhile. Did you miss me?"
—You mocking me, greyface?
If your blog is still active... Odd question but it's your muse straight or gay?
heY do u ever tried catnip does it burn your throat do u have to wear a flea collar
[—A dismissive glance at the greyface who had just gotten its ugly mug lodged in concrete.]
[Feh— Someone else’ll clean that up.]
hey whats ur opinion on lilynette
The hell does that kid have to do with anything?
how did u decide u wanted destruction was it bc pride and stupidity were already taken
Care to find out, jackass?
CAN WE BE FRIENDS Q A Q
[Has ripped out and splintered more spinal cords than you can count.]
[Are you sure you want to be friends with this guy?]
rolls around his feet anyways Q A Q weeps silently
[Near completely crushes the girl’s head under foot as he stalks off to his quarters.]
[Someone’ll clean that shit up.]