Post by A.H on Jan 21, 2018 13:17:12 GMT -5
“Well…” the sound of Crowe asking her the question comes off as duh to her but judging from her lithe like appearance, it’s difficult to tell what exactly she’s capable of. The shotgun and the world war one highlands replica uniform, it come to no surprise that the first assumption that she lacked the capability to fight close combat, but they are terribly wrong. She was a fearsome monster with a lust for battle. The things that she wailed though to become what she is was something to behold. She looked over to Crowe with a wry, wicked grin that would make a child cry at a glance. Her Scottish bellowed lightly in jovial.
“Aye? I covered wars, y’know? I am good…”
Then the sudden realisation that she was nothing to behold. The grand stage was not at all low. The billowing smog bellowed through out the ruins of Las Noches. The eyewitness scarped out of fear or perhaps something much worse? The roaring snarl of the pressure got her head turning to the young woman, but her craning has become even harder, heavier to turn – like crushing a bottle full of water. She felt the weight of the world clawing her down onto her knees, her legs buckled yielding to the insurmountable power. At last her eye glinted at the blackened gloop massing at the finger tip of ragged girl but that did not frighten her.
It how easy it was to dispatch her was her deepest fear.
Her wicked grin shifted to discomfort and stress as she felt the smog compressed her very being, suffocating her, cramping her. The foul Arrancar stood before her looked upon with a smile that trumped hers. The smile was riled with death. A.H imagined that smile was on her face as she razed all who crawled beneath her down into an overcooked pate. She struggled to stood upright as the weight of Gatekeeper’s agony pinned her head down to the ground. She exerted as the air squeezed from her lungs. She felt her grubby, silky smooth hands clutched her insides and held it tightly.
’Woman…you should learn not to play with food.’
She wanted to move, she want to wail at her with everything she got. If she going to die, then she better died delivering fear to her predator, but the pressure bounds her down to the ground. Her knees bent, slowly laying towards the soulless soil against her will. She grunted. Strange memories flashed through her mind of men slumping over to the ground after being executed with the single bullet drilled into their head. Was it going to be like this? Her dawn, her reprisal failed and the world against her. All she could do was yield and accept it.
Accept it.
Deep within her boils. The thought of the world against her flashed through her mind and it brought her thrill. Rational thought tossed aside like yesterday newspaper why bother thinking about the dread and death. Her head slowly began to shift, tilting up to gaze at the deliverance of death and the facial discomfort slowly began to swing. Out with the newspaper. The blood boiling and bubbling. Discard the death and fear. The joy rising. Her primal urge was her officer. The whistle blows. In come this month Porn Magazine!
She felt hard.
Her thigh muscles tensed, her foot dug through the soil. The aging shotgun glistened against the lonely moon. Her lung expanded with its brute force. Her blue eye sparkled. Her soul opened the doors. The mist of air escaped from her nostrils. The whites from her enamoured, wicked grin gleams.
Her officer jacket draped over her escaped from her form. Dust kicked up with a rumbustious energy. Her footwork quaked, soaring towards her merciless predator and with a sudden loud abrupt roar she buzzed across the distance and there she stood beside her with the right cranked back with such elasticity. Her fist balled up and with the explosiveness. Her release was swift and her best work. It had been a long time since she last threw a punch with such vigour, without a single thought coursing through her mind. She had forgotten that Crowe was behind her. She had forgotten what she asked the mysterious woman. Hell, she even forgotten her name. The ugliness of the nameless’ cero faded along with the commanding aura but that doesn’t matter to A.H.
A little bit of purple would look beautiful on that predator’s cheek.
[756]
[3819]
“Aye? I covered wars, y’know? I am good…”
Then the sudden realisation that she was nothing to behold. The grand stage was not at all low. The billowing smog bellowed through out the ruins of Las Noches. The eyewitness scarped out of fear or perhaps something much worse? The roaring snarl of the pressure got her head turning to the young woman, but her craning has become even harder, heavier to turn – like crushing a bottle full of water. She felt the weight of the world clawing her down onto her knees, her legs buckled yielding to the insurmountable power. At last her eye glinted at the blackened gloop massing at the finger tip of ragged girl but that did not frighten her.
It how easy it was to dispatch her was her deepest fear.
Her wicked grin shifted to discomfort and stress as she felt the smog compressed her very being, suffocating her, cramping her. The foul Arrancar stood before her looked upon with a smile that trumped hers. The smile was riled with death. A.H imagined that smile was on her face as she razed all who crawled beneath her down into an overcooked pate. She struggled to stood upright as the weight of Gatekeeper’s agony pinned her head down to the ground. She exerted as the air squeezed from her lungs. She felt her grubby, silky smooth hands clutched her insides and held it tightly.
’Woman…you should learn not to play with food.’
She wanted to move, she want to wail at her with everything she got. If she going to die, then she better died delivering fear to her predator, but the pressure bounds her down to the ground. Her knees bent, slowly laying towards the soulless soil against her will. She grunted. Strange memories flashed through her mind of men slumping over to the ground after being executed with the single bullet drilled into their head. Was it going to be like this? Her dawn, her reprisal failed and the world against her. All she could do was yield and accept it.
Accept it.
Deep within her boils. The thought of the world against her flashed through her mind and it brought her thrill. Rational thought tossed aside like yesterday newspaper why bother thinking about the dread and death. Her head slowly began to shift, tilting up to gaze at the deliverance of death and the facial discomfort slowly began to swing. Out with the newspaper. The blood boiling and bubbling. Discard the death and fear. The joy rising. Her primal urge was her officer. The whistle blows. In come this month Porn Magazine!
She felt hard.
Her thigh muscles tensed, her foot dug through the soil. The aging shotgun glistened against the lonely moon. Her lung expanded with its brute force. Her blue eye sparkled. Her soul opened the doors. The mist of air escaped from her nostrils. The whites from her enamoured, wicked grin gleams.
Her officer jacket draped over her escaped from her form. Dust kicked up with a rumbustious energy. Her footwork quaked, soaring towards her merciless predator and with a sudden loud abrupt roar she buzzed across the distance and there she stood beside her with the right cranked back with such elasticity. Her fist balled up and with the explosiveness. Her release was swift and her best work. It had been a long time since she last threw a punch with such vigour, without a single thought coursing through her mind. She had forgotten that Crowe was behind her. She had forgotten what she asked the mysterious woman. Hell, she even forgotten her name. The ugliness of the nameless’ cero faded along with the commanding aura but that doesn’t matter to A.H.
A little bit of purple would look beautiful on that predator’s cheek.
[756]
[3819]