Post by Garra Desalmados on Nov 5, 2014 2:54:19 GMT -5
"Out of all the people in this little arrangement of souls we have here, I can't really think of anyone who would be worth sampling more than a new taste..."
The remark came from the mouth of the reclining Captain of the Sixth, sprawled out in a mobile chair with tiny clawed feet scuttling about as the rider made his best effort to ensure that his Lieutenant would get as little done as possible today. The more he worked the less he could pawn off to new subordinates and that would give the impression of being soft. This impression was disagreeable. The paperwork on his desk caught a sudden cause of the violent 'Mondays' which in this case means: caught on fire. Gestures were slowly but surely becoming unneeded as his spiritual energy moved freely and near sentiently, much to the dismay of everyone forced to deal with him as he experimented with boundaries of range and temperature. Thus far he had learned that he could, with sufficient focus, burn the toilet paper in half of the Seiretei without a gesture and both halves if he did move to direct it. This wouldn't have been scientific if he hadn't done it a few different times and people were started to get suspicious about the absences but nothing could concretely be pinned on him; the very idea that he would use his boundless spiritual force to put someone in the 4th Division into the position of needing to wipe with their hands was far too ridiculous to accuse him of...which was, of course, the point.
Umi was still limited to flammable objects currently and the 4th was quick to produce less flammable toilet paper which was bothersome...but it did inspire some degree of ingenuity in him.
In response he burned the rolls instead and let them melt the paper.
Once the Lieutenant's work had curled up into ashes and screamed its last he closed a large leather bound book he had rested in his lap with an earthy thud. Dust and dirt scattered with the action as if the thing in his hands was just held together by sheer force of will as its age showed easily. "I thought I told you not to do anymore of that. We're expecting company after I merge the 3rd Division into ourselves and I won't have you doing all that for them. I'm hardly expecting any serious opposition and my palette has been in dire need of a cleansing so I plan on making a toothy mess of the first thing to get in my path. The only people stupid enough to do that though aren't even in my weight class and mostly includes varieties of Kido failures. I've been researching the subject and this particular ancient tome of forbidden arcane knowledge leads me to believe that an infusion of reiryoku, such as is commonly found in the body armor of magically inclined sorts, can greatly enhance the flavor of an individual soul."
The book lifted itself and vanished in a puff of dark vapor.
"This means that I am going to have a very nice day today if I can sink my teeth into Junko, Shiki, or Tokiyo so I need you to listen closely to me here..."
A depth came to his eyes that overtook the levity on all prior thoughts or sayings, each pupil unveiling the slow staircase down into the mind of a thing that shouldn't be known. "You are not allowed to get in my way. You can do whatever you want with the others but any soul of value, any soul that might have a texture and taste to it is mine. You have no idea how long its been since I've had a proper taste of shinigami , this employment makes that difficult, so don't try to stop me if things get out of hand. Trust me, dying is the best thing I could do to someone..."
A finger tapped slowly, gesturing downwards to the prison cells and dungeons below. "...and that is not the worst."
The windows to his own twisted soul fogged once more as the opacity of his intent reverted to its normal state. The chair clicked away, each claw striking the surface of the floor gingerly, and brought the speaker with it on its path out of the room now that his purpose had been completed. The work was eliminated and he'd made sure to get his point across: if he had his chance to taste a new type of shinigami then he was going to take it. "The clock is ticking though, make yourself ready and I'll see you there. I have to do some last minute experiments with the flammability of toilet paper holders...for a private, unrelated, project."
That had been an hour ago.
After determining that he could slag metal just as easily as any other substance he spent the remainder of the time thinking up ways to push Junko or any other termite that crawled out to their absolute limit before taking a bite out of them. A good flavor was not the goal and it had been months since he'd tasted anything other than the bitter flavor of inferior souls. Good was simply not sufficient. Excellent, grand, or divine was better and if any actions on his end could ensure that then he was going to make sure they were performed. Anything to rid the Quincy foulness that still tormented his taste buds from the mere memory of the event.
The trip to the division wherein he would be smashing skulls and taking names was short and brisk. The ebony army of the skeletal damned accompanied him. He preferred their flaming bones over anything that he hadn't created and thus didn't have full control over. They were not wearing armor and instead were in "I slept with Junko and all I got was this stupid shirt" t's and armed with an assortment of medieval weapons. He went light on the flails, they were always so trite...also on the long swords. More bows, rapiers, and maces. Not that the variety was of serious concern as he stood at the gates and two of his larger conjurations pulled the door open by force; it only ensured that he didn't look completely silly with an army of only one variety as his foot steps followed the crunch of broken door hinges. Umi could've demanded that they open them but that seemed...not as cool frankly. Their fear would make this task simpler and it wasn't like he couldn't make a new door at the snap of his fingers or anything...
He stood in the courtyard, the promised army of one filing in behind him in strict columns.
The Captain too had decided to bring his own shirt, despite his traditional and formal garb being worn, and dropped it on the earth. This shirt simply had a blank spot where the name would've been and this mystery was quickly solved when he spoke. "I didn't get your reservation I'm afraid, I don't know if you're going to be eating steak or chicken so I had to march my way in just to see if you were planning on showing up. I even made t-shirts for when I'm done pounding your asses so please, don't be shy..."
An empty scabbard thrust itself into the ground, the absent blade nowhere on his person. "I'm unarmed..."
Umi extended his hands and turned out his sleeves, billows of ash flowing freely as an assortment of tubes fell from them. Each one was labeled with a flavor and though he was a fair distance from any individual person they could be identified easily as lube by anyone familiar with the substances normal packaging. Here too he had decided to avoid certain flavors, or at least left them uncommon, in favor of ones that better suited his tastes such as 'Ass Grape' and 'Ass Grape 2: Electrical Boogaloo'. "I do, however, have something up my sleeve to make this process easier for you."
[OOC: The first two responses are reserved, please allow the scheduled parties to post. If you have any concerns or questions, PM me. The associated meta thread is here, please post and organize threads accordingly. Do not clutter this one, I will be butt hurt as fuck...also I will probably just correct your mistake.]
[Word Count | 1348]
[Growth Points | +26]
[Total GP | 26]
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