It's a Wonderful Cat's Life <Closed/Kionchi>

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. To-

However livid she might be, her eyes began to adjust after the man began to speak. She was able to quickly survey her surroundings; she had always been good at that, mapping out every detail she needed to know and all plausible escape and cornering routes. It didn't take long, still able to keep her sights mainly focused on the red-handed perpetrator.

The room was bare, broken furniture all that was left to indicate someone might be staying her. Was this an Espada's Castle? She made sure to keep her senses alert, ready to dash away at a moment's notice if anyone else might show up. For now, she had someone to deal with. There was blood on the walls, broken fragments of other Arrancar haphazardly spilled over the floor. Had he killed them, or did the person this room really belonged to? He wasn't an Arrancar, she quickly noted. She would know. She knew of every Arrancar in this castle of hers, and he had no mask to be a tell.

She had a quick pang of irritation over the fact that he likely had killed a few of her subjects. Was he luring him here with this strange power of his? Did they come, reeking of the same indignation she was? Would she die here, like the--

No.

Improbable.

Impossible, even. Who would he be to kill a Queen? Her reiatsu snapped tightly around her, digging away until no trace of it was left. She would not let herself be sensed by anyone else while she lingered in such a precarious, almost incriminating spot- and she held hope that the lack of something spiritual to hold on to might cancel out the connection he was forcing upon her.

It did not seem to be so. Pity, that.

”Its rude to ask someone their name without giving yours,”

She didn't dignify this with a response, though her eyes wanted to roll and her lips wished to curl. Her expression remained polite and stern, royal in its own right. She studied him. He could not seem to see her, not with that blindfold across his face, yet she could feel him looking at her. It reminded her of the way a particular one of her own went about 'seeing'. Was he using the lingering touch of her reiatsu to read her right now? Or was this... this... mirroring lending to the effect? It unsettled her either way, apprehension worming its way into her brain.

But not fear.

No, not fear.

Otherwise he was rather cute, though in such a situation she did not pursue those thoughts further. Pretty, even, she found him.

”My name is Kionchi. And I was just admiring your presence...”

Kionchi.

Such informalities, or did he only possess one name? She did not mind, not really, there were more important things here to worry about than his name. Caution, caution. Found out what you need to find out and-

Gods, fuck that.

Just make him stop.

Imitation was not a flattery she indulged herself in, or let others. Admiring her presence? By what, prying into it? Stealing some for himself? She had met many, many scary men her time here; men that could actually strike something at least in semblance to fear into her cold, long-dead heart. This man did not do that. He made her uncomfortable. Perhaps even creeped her out, if that was an inclination she would agree to.

Yet he did not seem threatening. Not yet, at least, further details to be determined. She blinked, once, the sparks in her eyes devoid of such mirth that she oft dabbled in and instead burning simply with her anger and curiosity.

Always curious, the cat.

”...Koneko-chan.”

She's had a great deal of cat-related nicknames given to her over her many years, some she even held fondness for and some that ignited the darker, blacker interests that shivered along her spine. This one, however, was new. She didn't know how she felt about it; she might be more inclined to relax under the title if he wasn't... himself.

"You do not admire someone by infringing on their boundaries, viclean unul. Kionchi.

Kionchi," she repeated his name again, for her benefit or for his she did not know, her tone as solid as it was at the beginning. "Why are you here?" Was that the question she really wanted to ask? No, yes, no. Yes? She wanted to know, but she had to know why he was doing this, rather. Is that why she asked? Her head swam. This was not a situation she had ever found herself in, but she was slowly growing used to being thrown tactical curve-balls. Even within her own home.

She would adapt, as always. She would be on top, as always, though this was not quite a game for her. Not yet. A challenge, maybe- and one she would win.

"Yes, why are you here, specifically, in this room, doing what it is you are doing?" And would you kindly stop?

She was ready for retaliation. The slightest twitch of movement from him that might indicate an aggressive action would be met with her dagger and as many Bala as she could fire off in a split moment.

Which would be a lot, from experience.

---

Word Count: 861

GP Count: 17

/Total: 34

He stood, but she didn't twitch. Not yet. She didn't want to make an enemy before she absolutely had to; her goal here was to get him to stop what he was doing, find out why he was here (and why, also, he was doing any of this in the first place) and finally gain him as an ally if applicable. (Or just leave. The more time she spent in his presence, the more she wanted to leave.) His skill, whatever it actually was, could come in handy.

Not to mention he wasn't hard on the eyes, hair slinking down his shoulders and otherwise rather lanky frame. She always had a thing for long hair. She liked to play with it.

Liked to pull.

She couldn't sense him, which was also bothering her. This meant one of three things; his cloaking ability was stronger than her sensing (which would be an abnormality, but not entirely impossible), he didn't have any reiatsu to speak of, was entirely powerless and this was just some kind of fluke, or his mirroring of her scent blocked out his own. She wasn't happy with any of those answers- especially the thought that he was nothing more than a weak, nondescript mortal.

Entirely unlikely.

She couldn't even tell what he was regardless; would Shinigami be the best bet? It'd be nothing but guesswork. Did he have a Zanpakuto? Her eyes wouldn't focus enough to spare a glance at his waist to find out. She was on full alert, eyes boring into the blindfold he wore. She had to be ready for the slightest quirk of any of his muscles. She had to be ready for the chance of a threat.

She really did hope it didn't come down to that, though. He was smiling. Unnerving as that was, it was a good sign. Right?

”I’m just a stray, dumped off by my former master and left to fend off scraps…”

She wasn't sure how to react to his words. Did she laugh? That might upset him and turn this situation quickly volatile. Was he making a joke, due to her position as a feline? That explanation was sad, sure, either way, but it's not like she was here for his sob story. She was here because he was doing her, personally, a wrong. He was imitating her. The Queen. A pauper! Someone of whatever his breed was (it didn't really matter, he was objectively worthless not being her and all), nothing more than- as he put it- a stray, pretending to be her!

What was the point here? How did it start? Why did it start? Did he just want her attention? To lure her here, as he did his other... victims? There was too much guessing here. Too many questions. Not enough answers.

Everyone knew how those situations ended.

She was uncomfortable and annoyed; but she was interested, yes, interested all the same, even as her thoughts all urged her to either kill him or leave now.

”I guess you could call it a bad habit of mine. You see, I’ve never been very satisfied with how things turn out. I guess you could say I want to explore other avenues…”

His reasoning made no sense, even as she over-analyzed it in the way that she did so well. She picked apart each word, mulling over the simple complexities of his statement. If he was lying, it didn't matter- she didn't believe him because she didn't understand. Was this his ploy? Be as cryptic as possible until his conversation partner got irritated enough to try and devour him, thus giving him (or anyone that might be waiting in the wings) the means to dispatch them? It's rid-

”But in right now, I’d like to capture the essence of a particularly curious little kitten.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Shit!

She hadn't noticed. There hadn't even be an indication of his movements, no shifting of his feet, no quirk of his expression that might give his next action away. He was gone and then he was here, a finger pressing against the back of her soft skull. Had she fucked up? No, no, of course not. She didn't make mistakes, not ones this dangerous, that could end this badly for her. How hadn't she been able to react in time? Why wasn't she able to tell when he moved?

She was never in a scenario where someone outclassed her speed. That was all but unheard of in Las Noches, at least among the non-Espada group of Arrancar she belonged to. She was the fastest. It was her selling point, the way she moved and hunted like a cat. Quick on her feet, quick in her thoughts, quick for her kills. Her speed was her everything.

This man had made that entirely irrelevant in what had to have been faster than the blink of her eyes.

Had he even moved, or had he teleported? The strands of his blindfolds gave her the vague impression he had moved through her, a thought that curled her lips in a snarl.

"La dracu."  The hiss finally left her mouth the moment after his new position had finally processed in her thoughts, no more than a second after his finger made contact with her. She couldn't stand there, a lamb for the slaughter. She knew now he could have killed her, right then, before she could react, and that did nothing but piss her off more.

Did he let her live, or were his actions actually peaceable from the start? But that would mean... If he was sure enough that he could have pulled this little trick off...

Was he playing with her?

A twitch of her boot and she was gone, the crack of a Sonido signaling her appearance at the other end of the room, mid-air, facing him. Her open palms pumped repeatedly, hurling sea-tinted Bala towards where he stood- a large volley that ended only when she touched the ground of the room again and then was off once more. She had jumped out the window, skirting down the wall before kicking off it in another Sonido. Her initial mission was all but forgotten. If she must she would find out later, or come back with more people to do the dirty work for her. Right now she had to get as far away from him as possible, lest she lose everything she had ever loved.

Herself.

Screw you, copycat.

---

Word Count: 1020

GP Count: 20

/Total: 54

She was on the run, hair bristling and fangs sharply bared together. Was this in her court? Should she have just let it go, ignored the presence and never involved herself with this... Kionchi? No. She had shuddered as she passed through the essence he shred but it meant he longer smelled like her, which she proved a second later with a simple sniff and reach of her reiatsu. Her goal had been completed and no matter how quickly or oddly she had won that game. Now, however, there was another one she had to deal with, and it wasn't her own.

She was quickly dashing through the air and sand, occasionally stones or trees or walls popping up to bound off of. It wasn't so much 'running' as it was 'Sonido'ing', pushing her speed to the absolute limits she could get it to--a slightly static-y image of her left every time in whatever place she had just moved from. Afterimages, an ability she had drawn out from a fight with a Shinigami quite a long time ago. She didn't have the concentration to pull it off as well this time, though, and barely put any thought to exactly how distorted the blurred images might be. She was only focused on getting away; and he was pursuing her, taunting her, facts that only pushed her forward harder.  He still out-sped her, even with the pure, dauntless energy she was forcing into every step she made. It was driving her mad. Who was this guy? Why was he doing this?

She no longer cared that he was a copycat, unable to dredge up the indignation she had been consumed by moments ago. As she ran it seemed she began to settle, though her nerves remained on end and she never slowed for a beat.

”Now now, coneko-chan, I wouldn’t hurt anyone as fun as you. In fact I just wanted to play a game.”

It might not be her game, but that did not mean it wasn't a game she could win. Honestly, if it wasn't for the power over her he displayed, she wouldn't be so... on-edge about this all. She'd have been pissed, but she would have gladly joined in his game. The difference was that she would have been the one easily appearing alongside him and giving him this proposition. She would have been the one toying, here, and everything would be on her terms.

That wasn't the case. He was faster than her, which meant he was a danger to her, which meant she needed to get both herself and him as far away from her base of operations as absolutely possible. God, imagine how she looked. A Queen, running from a stray! He was enjoying himself, too, she could easily tell. The taste of his joviality towards the situation was palpable both spiritually and plastered all over his playful expression.

If he wasn't endangering her right now, despite his words to the contrary, she might have found she even liked him. For the moment, though, he had to be deemed an enemy, and he had to be lost or taken out. The Queen could not idly take this threat, this slight, against her. It was a simply frightful assertation against her position that he was both faster (and realistically stronger, though that general term would not be something she'd ever admit) than her and deeming that she was both 'fun' and that he wanted to play this game. He made her feel like a toy.

She was not a toy.

She was the Queen.

He was the toy, and apparently a rather malfunctioning one at that.

He had also been touching her, she felt, skin burning across every bit of flesh and cloth his fingers had glided over. Maybe in another time, another place--once again another scenario remarkably different from this one--she would have gladly entertained the idea of falling prey to his perverted inclinations. Not now, though. Not when he was toying with her. Not when he was questioning her status, her desires, her everything with every. single. move. he made. Her life. He was playing with her life.

Evil, evil man. Were all male Shinigami like this (now that she could confirm he was, indeed, a Shinigami, due to being able to taste his reiatsu)? She recalled Walkren Dekharr for a moment, a gruff sigh bubbling on her lips that never left. Instead she swiveled when she saw the opportunity as his hand was pressed against her spine, twisting in mid air with Tentadora drawn; the dagger stabbing into empty space as he had appeared where she just been facing. She fell to the sand not far below them, the grains billowing into the air around her. While she made to move again, his words caught her ears.

”If you can hurt me once before our game is over, I’ll do anything you want, but if I can touch you three more times in the next five minutes, you have to grant me my wish, coneko-chan.”

She hated the expression on his face, caught with her turned head, glaring at him through the dust storm she had accidentally kicked up. Her tongue lolled past her lips, almost disrespectfully. "A game? You ask me for a game, Kionchi? Tu creatura prost!" While her words were snarled, lips curled, there might have been the slightest tinge of genuine amusement to the melodic quality of her voice--perhaps mainly due to her absurdity. He had no idea who he was talking to, or who he was messing with.

"Do you liken yourself to in a position play with a Queen, viclean unul?" Not much more could be said on that point. Too much high-and-mighty discussion and she'd end up in front of Erasmus, paying for her treason against the false king if he even considered her worth his time. The idea that he wouldn't had always pissed her off more than the idea of being punished for acting in her rightful place. "...Very well." She muttered, eventually, letting him absorb her words before kicking off again--she knew he would keep up with her; but this time her speed was blinding, perfect afterimages mimicking every moment over her lands.

"I will play your game, but I will win." Were the last words she said, blurred through the air before a Cero the same sea green as her Bala blasted through the air towards the Shinigami. She did not know if it would hit him but she didn't linger to find out, the only thing left of the Cero's point of creation an afterimage in the firing position; back arched, mouth gaping in a snarl. It wasn't the most steady of beams, but she wondered if it would distract him long enough for her to think of a plan, as quick as she was in that area of tactical combat.

Anything he wished, was it? It didn't matter. If she won she'd force him under her control, and she'd then be able to take her frustrations out on him in more polite, cultured ways. 'If' she won? Please, she knew she'd win. Even this man, as skilled as he might be, would be no match for her.

There was no match for her.

---

Word Count: 1155

GP Count: 23

/Total: 77

(cue 'i'm a stupid cat' chase music)

"I gotta remember these delicious nicknames of yours, conekochan. What cuisine is that? Turkish?"

She didn't like the way he was teasing her, both with his questioning during their chase--now a game she had agreed to, it seems, one she had to and would win--and the analyzing gaze of his she could feel, if not confirm directly. He was still studying her, which kept her on her edge, even as her fluid movements relaxed into ones she knew so well. She was still watching him intently, yes, and trying to read all of his intentions the same; but it wasn't okay for him to do it, too. It was rude and invasive. For once, she hadn't asked for anything in this situation. All she had wanted was his mimicry to stop.

'Rude and invasive' described the sly Shinigami creepily well, something noted with marked chagrin. She still kept herself in her best form, gracefully stepping along the sands and stones while his own movements were a bit more aggressive in display--though not in mindset, something that still left her confused. He reminded himself of her in the barest of ways, simply like Walkren had. He wanted to play this game with her, the only difference between this and that time being she wasn't sure she was happy with the terms of this one.

It was a necessity that she play, if only to placate the Shinigami until she could get herself into a position to wrest this further into her favor. "I do not know." A simple response, breathed, flicking a Bala at the place he last was while dashing to the side. She slowly began to wonder if her use of afterimages were even necessary, gaze lingering on the static imitations before they dispersed within second increments of when first created. He seemed to be similar to Takua in the way he read her. Did he even see them? Was she just showing off when all was said and done? A 'tch' later and the pretenses were dropped, instead fading silently and swiftly into the air, no trace of her left behind.

He still kept up with her, until--

"Queen!?"

Every time she gleamed such a reaction from someone she began to care less and less about the fact that anyone else might find out. As she had gone over, many times before in her thoughts, it was nothing but an empty title to sit upon a meaningful person. She liked it because of the image it gave others of her, not because she specifically cared to be crowned in a such a way.

Irony, as a hand found the tiara of her mask fragments nestled between her feline ears. Perhaps she already had been. Anyways, it was a means to an end, etc, etc. As long as she was on top she didn't particularly care what anyone else called her--just that she had their attention and devotion.

Just that she was loved.

She took advantage of his stupor, eyes bright, firing a round of Bala before shifting away and falling into a circular pattern around him. This way she could barely be seen by anyone's eyes while she hoped the cloak of her reiatsu pulled so tightly around her would stop him from tracking that, as well. Tentadora was drawn, the mirrored blade nestled in a gilded rose guard held attentively in her right hand, ready to slash if he came too close or the opening arose for her to go in.

"Forgive my insolence, Ojou-sama. But having now met Queen, King and his Ace, I guess I'm just trying to act out my role as your loyal Jack."

A tepid snort, almost bored by his attempt at polite respect if not for two things. One, he spoke of meeting the King and his "Ace". Would that mean Erasmus and Takua? Should she worry further for her safety? If had such high connections... he must be someone of importance, and apprehension that she had unknowingly and accidentally picked a fight she couldn't win even if she took the target in front of her down slowly began to worm its way into her cold chest.

Two, he had found her once more. Not only was his afterimage much more solid and convincing than her own--to the point where she hadn't known it was an afterimage at all until he felt her closer to her--his hand had grabbed her in a short bow before he disappeared too quickly for her to lash out.

Kionchi: 1, a score that made her eyes flare darker and the muscles in her arms to tighten and flex. Her boots kicked off the sand once more and drove her as far away from him as they could, the Sonido loaded with so much force it blew away the sand in a short smokescreen. She needed to react better. Faster. He had done that so easily, it was becoming a fact that not only could he have killed her by now he could have won by now, as well.

Shit.

Her nose scrunched, the pleasant scent of his reiatsu clashing noticeably with the effect he had on her otherwise.

"Or maybe I'm just a wildcard in all this, acting out the Knave in your Royal Flush?"

A threatening growl, a spin in mid air with Tentadora tightly grasped in case he had chosen that moment to get close to her. She reacted to every perceived movement with a blind stab, almost coasting through the air, gliding. She had no idea, for once, how she was going to do this. She couldn't keep up with him yet he could easily keep up with her no matter what she tried. The idea of gaining distance and thinking of a plan was all but kaput, not able to get far enough away from him to do so. There was no shelter to stock up in, build her defense. There was nothing she could realistically do to fend him off, let alone actually win her part of the game.

But the idea of her losing was a wretched one, turning her stomach and drawing her lips back in a snarl that hung inverted to the smirk on Kionchi's face.

Her reiatsu exploded outwards, claws and fangs and bristled fur instead of the usual infectious mist. It blew up sand, bent trees, tumbled stones and focused the majority of its force on Kionchi himself; forcing its way into reading his disposition, something she hadn't had the time or mind to do before now. Subtle perception wasn't a possibility for her in such high-speed combat.

No, right now she shoved her pressure down on the man and let it dig its teeth into his own, drinking it in until mint mingled with lavender and it became difficult to note the difference between them. Still, her taste was only superficial, too cautious to try and peek deeper.

She didn't want to accept this man beat her out in more than just speed, though to anyone else it was plain as day.

Amusement.

He felt exactly as he looked, sly and coy and playful and--a spitting image of her usual view of life, a snarl building in her throat. Was she enjoying this game? Maybe, somewhere deep down, the primal side of her that enjoyed the thrill and risk and fun of something so simple yet so dangerous. But nowhere near as much as he was, nowhere near the entertainment he found in toying with her. He didn't hold any worry for how this would turn out--he was pretty self-sure.

His confidence made her angrier, even if it was an innocent reaction to the play he was putting on. "No." She hissed, controlling her breathing even as her emotions twisted and turmoiled within her. She had to relax, had to calm down, had to focus on doing what she did best--play. Play this game, and play him. Power difference or not, she was the Queen, she was the Queen damnit and he was nothing.

He was nothing, yet she found herself adjusting her steps to match his own. A silent grace, feet skirting the ground instead of pumping off of them. Her arrogance allowed her to mirror the confidence he was showing, even if it was mostly a show for herself. Even if she was forcing it. This was important, and she was treating it as such.

She was learning from him, however slowly.

She could play the copycat, too.

"You are nothing more than a Joker!"

---

Word Count: 1363

GP Count: 27

/Total: 104

It was peculiar, getting a taste of his unbridled excitement and elation the moment their spirits begin to mingle while her reiatsu held its aggressive connection. He pulled as she did, despite her expecting him to push her away. He revelled in it, almost, a notion that brought a gleam of surprise to the cat’s eyes even as their game continued. She felt a sense of completion in that moment, as if she was suitably replacing an empty part of Kionchi’s being with just that flicker of her presence.

It took a lot to drag herself away from him, to pull back her hold and tightly cloak herself with her hungering reiatsu once more. Tentadora flashed outwards, nearing Kionchi’s dazed expression before she felt the sudden rush of energy and wind as he disappeared and appeared at the dagger’s tip. Confusion and shock briefly flared across her face, tilted with the stroke of his finger. A shiver, a growl, the startled cat bristling as she let her body fall backwards so as to kick away from the man.

”Jokers are wild.”

Kionchi: 2.

Cheshire: 0.

Disgusting, she thought, drifting backwards across the sand before his sudden turn-and-run stopped her in her tracks. Was he leaving her, now? Had he gotten bored of the game so close to a presumed win? Or did he began to fear her after the grasp of her energy had taken hold of him? No, he had not been frightened by the eager, violent way she had torn into his spirit. He had met back in kind with the brimming feelings outlined earlier. So what was it? Why was he leaving now?

Wait--he was heading back towards Las Noches. The castle! She chided herself even as she fell to all fours, the shine of her fangs reflecting in the moonlight. Was he going to tell Erasmus of her? Takua? Another Espada? Or was he just luring her back to kill her himself? Had she done anything wrong, realistically? Enough that would warrant being reprimanded?

… No?

She had not. She had identified a visitor messing with her, a Shinigami that had killed other varying Arrancar, and had given chase as to take him down. Beside her pompous air there was nothing he could hold against her. No claim he could stake that would hurt her or her reputation, other than a rumored opinion that she had been running from him instead of the other way around.

Still… it made no sense, then, why he was going back. Isn’t this what she wanted? He had stopped his soul thievery and was now leaving her alone. Why would she go after him? She could carry on.

But then he would still remain and the game would not be over. A tsk, hissed between locked jaws. She disliked him, yes. He annoyed her and pushed her far enough that her careful composition had faltered for even a second to give that away. It was illogical to want to continue this stupid game--one he had started, at that, with the ball in his court!--yet she found herself hesitating in turning and leaving.

She could pop into the human world for a few hours, but then what? Would they ever see each other again? Would he be gone by the time she got back, her ready to kill the bug that had buzzed around her head for a short afternoon? Or would he stick around, nagging at her, nudging the mischievous cat to her very real limits?

She couldn’t just… let the game end like that. He was ahead. One more touch and he would win, when all she needed to do was get one hit on him. If she was lucky her hit might be enough to take him out in one blow.

No, not lucky--if she was herself, if she did things as well as she knew she could.

It was a sigh that escaped her arched frame as her hands and boots dug into the sand, sending it away. Her position was similar to his, the way he had darted around her and dodged everything she could throw at him; even bitter words. It was her turn to be the copycat and take some of the knowledge of his speed into account when she moved. He was faster than her.

He was faster than her.

He was faster than her.

But not for long!

Small, glitchy bursts of reiryoku scattered from her limbs as she sped off. The Sonido was rough, predatorial, but it carried just as much speed as her more grateful dashes had. Maybe even more, aided by the confidence she was imitating and the desire to catch up with the running Kionchi. She could be just as fast as he could. She was the Queen, after all. She was the Queen and he no more than… no more than a joker, a Jester making a fool of himself in such company.

And catch up she did, the air static around her as her form pulsed next to the man’s. “Salut.” She spoke, diving to tear into him with her blade while talking to him subsequently. “It has been fun, Kionchi. Dar sunt multe lucruri pe care nu le cunosc.” ‘But there are many things you do not know.’ A purr, pleasant while her facial features relaxed to reflect the same. A coy grin, lithe frame sliding through the air.

“You can’t outrun a cat, little mouse. No more than you can outrun a queen, little joker. You speak much. You speak often. You play your game thinking--what? That I could not play back? You have been confident this entire time. That has not wavered. Yet there is something missing, dragul meu. Ceva foarte importante.” ‘Something very important.’ “How much of this confidence of yours is faked?

Is it for me? Is it because of me? There are many differences between us, Kionchi.”

Adjusting her body to try and hit him mid-dodge while he tried to evade her strikes, mirroring his quick movements. “The biggest one here is you put in a clause for if you lost this game. ‘If you can hit me once, I’ll do whatever you say.’ You go in, even for all of your presumptuousness, thinking there is a chance that you could lose. I would never do that.

But I never lose.”

---

Word Count: 1057

GP Count: 21

/Total: 125