Cogito ergo sum [Closed | Crowe]

At the female Arrancar's request, Crowe joined in a section of Los Noches to speak, which he assumed was regarding his questions earlier in the day (then again, day didn't really apply to Los Noches) In all honesty, he almost didn't go. He pretended not to know why, but Crowe knew it was his fears gripping his mind once more. He raised an eyebrow at her simply burning one of the many discarded books - not that he thought it was a was a waste, Crowe was never one to really read books. He never had time all those centuries ago. Since his encounter with the Arrancar earlier, Crowe's mind had been spent buzzing, everything he belived about himself and his race twisted before his very eyes.

And now here he was again, leaning against a wall opposite the female Arrancar, staring into the fire somewhat blankly. It suddenly dawned on him he hadn't been near a campfire since his time in Italy; he'd never felt the need in the vast desert, despite the constant, ever-biting cold that ripple across the dunes. He broke out of his little mental bubble as the female Arrancar spoke up again, Crowe taking a moment to realise she was referring to their delayed conversation back near the entrance. He frowned at her negative answer to how long she'd walked Hueco Mundo for; whilst his memories of his time were hazy, he was certainly aware of the passage of time as his various forms of Hollow. So why couldn't she? 

"..." Crowe glanced away at her question. When it came down to it, his feelings on Hueco Mundo were deeply tied to his feelings on his existence and current state of mind. "...There's just... nothing out there. Nothing would come near me. Makes sense anyway." Crowe did not elaborate from that, running a hand through his red hair, running down to the back of his neck that he began to scratch, a form of relaxation. He lent a bit more heavilly on the wall, gazing discontentedly into the fire. Nostalgia inside the fire? Crowe hadn't heard the phrase before, but he could understand the idea.But despite the female Arrancar's words, he couldn't see anything. And even if he did, he knew what he saw.

"...Bad memories. Nothing more, nothing less." With a life like is, what else would there be? Human, Hollow, Menos, Arrancar. Just... despair. "...What do you see...?" He still realise he didn't know what to call this female Arrancar, his first real encounter in the world of Hueco Mundo.

-

WC: 425
TWC: 425

She listened to his words carefully, putting the book away once again. Of course, she will come back to it when everyone no longer interrupts her. The fire was flickering freely as winds failed to pick up. Crowe made his response and it remains consistent as before. There was nothing out there. Nothing would come near me. Those were his words, but he added another line which she got hooked on.

Nothing that makes sense.

Of course, nothing make sense. Hollow-breed were only known to be soul sucking fiends fuelled with the last thing they experienced before their death as humans. Of course, she knows what hers is, but she failed to recall how exactly she died. Alas, it’s not something she cares about, but nothing makes sense.

She had an idea on how to respond to it, but she chose not to. Talking down to the Arrancar would do him no good and providing him an answer to his despair would only lock the door, so she chose to listen. Her lone eye gazed at the fire, wondering if the fire really does spark nostalgia?

It didn’t.

Her eye closed briefly, letting out a long exhale with the warm air billowing through the cold. Her
frustration, her wrath wants to creep in and lash out. No, it is not the time nor the place.

“Suppose it only worked when you were alive,” there were forlorn in her voice. As much as she doesn’t care about her memories, but there was always that sense of interest to add more to the three things that were absolute: She was a Scottish Soldier of First World War. She killed someone dear to her. She was never the dominant soul. Everything else was littered with memories that failed to match with the three absolute – memories of those who she had consumed. She casted away her lapse of forlorn with a dry chuckle.

“Why are you crying about bad memories, eh?” Her twisted grin slipped briefly. “You’re finally in Las Noches. You can do whatever you want here!”

You can be whatever you want, but don’t declare yourself as El Rey, she thought. Anything but that.

[362]
[723]

Crowe watched in silence as the Arrancar opposite him also stared into the flames, seeking even a hint of the past within it's heat. He could see it in her eye - nothing. He could tell she saw nothing in the flame but that; the flame. For the briefest of moments, Crowe saw the flash of frustration wash over her face, but just like a blink, just like that it was gone again. He had no idea how old she was; Crowe felt he was relatiely young as an Arrancar, being only a couple of hundred years. Perhaps that's why he still held fragments of memories in his head; nothing of substance, but little things. The flashes of green forests, the grey of slums, the orange...?

"It's so I can blend in! Just hope I don't get hunted!"

Crowe shook his head as he realised he was zoning out again. His brown eye glanced at the Arrancar, his eyebrows raising as she said nothing for a few moments. He gave an almost hurt look when she mentioned his views on his scattered memories, but the look passed and he just shook his head in resignation.
"Memories are what make the man. I can't remember them, but the things I did all those centures ago... they are what I am. And without them, I'm..." Crowe thought back to only a few days ago, consuming a lesser Hollow for the minimum level of sustance possible. "...just some cannibalistic beast." 

He glanced around the room they were in; decrpted, dark, damaged... Los Noches was no palace, for the most part. The castle was so large in scope that Crowe was sure that it hid some opulance within, but here...?
"Los Noches itself has no reason why I'm here." Crowe idly ran a finger across the ground, looking back into the fire. "...Just a purpose. Something to give me reason, or something to give me..." He trailed off, marking an 'X' in the rubble on the ground. "And right now, I've got none of that. A monster with a few scattered memories, sitting in a crumbling castle." He glance back at the female Arrancar, tapping his foot.

"What do I even call you? You asked me all this, and you haven't even given me anything to call you." Crowe knew he was sounding rude, but the frustration with his missing memories were mounting. And the voice that had rung out in his head. He gripped the sheath of his blade; not in any threatening way, but simply as a part of his automatic need of support.

At least it was always there.

-
WC: 437
TWC: 862

She listened. She listened to every word that he had to say. He was letting everything out of his chest. ‘Memories is what makes a man’ were his words. Her eyebrow narrowed closer against her hollow jaw like fragment worn like an eyepatch. As further stream of negativity and woe spew from his mouth, her eye narrowed. Her disgust rising. The air around them slowly starts to charge as her pent-up wrath start to boil. She was angry. Not because of his rude behaviour but his attitude towards his very own existence. Her breath becomes heavy, itching for a fight. Her hands clenches and relaxes back and forth, not deciding how she will proceed this.

Memories is what makes a man, she recalled once again. Pathetic. She really want to punch him there and then, but it was a delicate situation. Even if she was not smart enough to read the situation, but she can innately tell who were falling into the pits. And the pits were the last of places one should be, even in the wilderness.

Then he asked – no implored for her name. She leapt from her sitting to on one knee, hurling herself towards Crowe, she had enough of hearing his whining. Grabbed him by the collar of his coat and pinned him against the wall with her face close to him, making well sure that he can see her with his only eye.

“Now…” She snarled, she knew she was forceful with her approach. Her delicate touch in the situation was slowly swamped by her own rage like fire engulfing wood. “You listen here. Aye that Memories are what makes a man, but remember this!” The next line she added was with forceful emphasis. She spat out those words with a thick and nigh undecipherable Scottish accent.

“You’re no man. Never was.” Her lone piercing blue eye bore into his, her forehead clashed against his as his personal space was invaded by an angry Arrancar. “As I…” she forced the I out hard enough to shift her facial expression in utter disgust. Her voice lowered onwards, continuing, “…am no woman. We are Monsters, we are Arrancar!” Her breath expired beating down next to Bird’s cheek. He pushed him against the wall, plying further force with her arm pressing against her chest, “Don’t!” She calmed down, her tone eases with lace of the Scottish, “don’t cling onto whatever memories. Cast away all that nostalgia that you’re desperately been craving for. It will weaken you.”

She pried her grip from him and retreated, but not before digging through her leather holster with her right hand and yanked the revolver out to toss it at Crowe with a ultimatum.

“This land and its habitats’ cares not of you seeking memories. If you continue seeking out your memories and try and retain being human, then do yourself and I a favour and end yourself.” She slinked back to her previous seating and tossed another stack of worthless books into the fire feeling reserved, and waiting on Crowe, “Monsters resides in this realm, if you are not one then end yourself, so I can eat you.”

She continued to withhold her name, and her solution to her purposes and reason. Not that he need to seek it out, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if he found the answer in the barrel of her revolver?

[566]
[1269]

The question of his name and what she wanted had barely left his lips before the female Arrancar was upon Crowe, gripping him by his collar. The rage in her eye, her body language, her very spiritual energy... Crowe realised with growing horror the uniwtting mistake he'd made. A spear of fear drove through his middle, causing at his hands, hanging loosely at his sides, to shake. She snarled at him, like some primal beast, the sheer disgust at his attitude dripping like venom.
"I'm sorry." Crowe whispered, pathetically. Crowe turned away from her gaze, his neck burning with the need to scratch. Until...

"We are monsters...We are Arrancar!" "I'm sorry." Crowe glanced at the outcropping of his mask, covering his shoulder like armour. The shame of what he was, what he had become. "I'm sorry." "...Don't cling onto whatever memories. Cast away all that nostalgia..." Her words, almost like a threat, hit him somewhere deep. Slowly, Crowe turned to face her, his brown eye filled with some new emotion. Rage? Dejection? Surprise? She let go of Crowe's collar and left him slumped against the wall, his gaze never leaving hers even as she moved back to the other wall. A dull pain began to throb in his head, like an ember growing in intensity.

"Crowe, you are you! No matter what, no matter where you came from, that is the most important thing!"

The voice, again. The forests, the city, the room. The voice. The blade, the cave, the fox. The voice.

The pain in his head was growing, like an iron poker in the back of his skull. Crowe dug his nails into the floor of the room, never breaking the line of sight between him and the female Arrancar. He looked down at the weapon at his feet, a weapon much like her main weapon. He loosely held in his left hand, his right hand reaching for his own body. Crowe's eye seemed to fall out of focus, like he was under the influence of something. Vague thoughts bubbled within his mind, stoked by the burning pain deep within his mind. Not thoughts of death, of suicide... but defiance at his fate.
"I'm not human." Crowe murmured, staring at his pale, dirty hands. "I'm a monster." He ran a gentle finger over his mask fragment, disgust in his voice. "An Arrancar." The hand rose higher, over his bone-ringed eye socket. "But... I am Crowe Starazo. Without those memories, I would not be him. Did I come here to die?" His eye ran over the weapon, again and again. If it worked similarly to how the female Arrancar held her other weapon...

He turned the weapon to face it's owner, Crowe's eye resolute with his (almost admittedly) foolish action. The pain in his head was screaming, like his brain was mutating. His finger slipped over to the firing mechanism, ready to take the step. His stutter ran on and off, as if something was changing inside him as he spoke his bold words. "I-I might be broken, a h-h-hopeful monster. I came here to d-die as C-Crowe Starzo. But you... without your m-m-memories..." He pointed the weapon at her head. "Are you much better then a beast? You won't give me your name... you can't remember, can't you? You've forgotten what you are!" The gun shook slightly, a combination of not knowing exactly how to fire, and not being able to take the step, despite his bold words. His other hand slipped beneath his overcoat, slipping the blade beneath ever so slightly forth from it's sheath.

"I may be a monster, but I will not forget who I am! No matter what I become!" Crowe shouted, the loudest noise he'd made in over four hundred years.

-
WC: 628
TWC: 1490

So pitiful. So pathetic. Is this what Arrancar supposed to be? Supposed to act? She watched her with utter disgust and morose. Her anger was at boiling point and threatening to bubble over like a pot full of water: All it need is a lobster and Crowe fit the description. The air around them became cold as a Siberian winter as she delivers the chilling ultimatum: Live or Die. For living with crippling memories is only as good for the dead.

He made his declaration. He is Crowe Starazo and his memories is what made him, is what kept him alive. She scoffs at that notion. What folly is it to cling on something that will eventually betray him. No, it is better for him to ditch the memories of the past than to lose everything. Her cold blue eye beamed upon the defiant bird as he took a feel of the revolver she gave him as a means for solution. She is adamant that her thinking was right, perfect for Arrancar. She looked away when he finally made his decision…

But it wasn’t a decision that she believed he would take.

The Gun was drawn at her and the defiant voice roared across the night. Where was the bang? Where was the slumped body? Her head slowly turned and a bare her twisted grin. The Demon Gunwoman shifted and moved towards him, lightly chuckling to herself.

Such change of events indeed, she thought. She loved it In one single action he managed to show promise in the eye of A.H. She wants more.

“You better know how to use that gun if you want to defend your memories.” Her hand reaches out towards the held revolver, forcefully grasping the barrel not to take it away from him, but to encourage him to shoot by planting the end against her fragmented eyepatch. With wicked grin turns into a smile, beaming from one end to another, “If you don’t - If you can’t find it, the trigger is there,” pointed out with her other hand. She softly coos at Crowe, who she believes that he’s even more of a wreck. “If you don’t. I’ll kill you and then I’ll eat you.”

She kept her revolver – turned against her – close to her fragment jaw till she is pushing it against it. Her hand slowly hovering towards the shotgun that was left lying around, getting ready for her strike in case he remains tardy.
And while she does so, she became more erratic, laughing, breathing heavily at the face of death, the trill of being right. Delivering discomfort to her guest and waiting to be proved wrong.

“Five…” Her action begins with a count. It started low, but with a long pause, she raises her voice slowly and with a further discomfort; a menacing hiss.
 
“Four.”

[474]
[1743]

"My god, it's like someone is tearing my head apart".

His heart pounding in his ears, Crowe continued to point the quaking weapon at the female Arrancar, his brown eye wide in a unholy combination of fear and determination. What was he doing? His survival instinct? Rage? He couldn't tell anymore; all Crowe knew is he had to make his stand here, and carve out exactly what he was in this moment - Crowe Starazo. The female Arrancar looked at him, a twisted grin spreading across her face, that made Crowe far more afraid then he was moments ago as she had gripped him in blind fury. How long was she going to look at him like that? How long was he going to hold this weapon in such a threatening manner? Crowe tightened his grip on both weapons; the gun and his blade.

And then she was coming towards him; Crowe's heart and courage began to dip into his legs, the shaking of the weapon becoming more pronounced. But still he held on, gritting his teeth despite the pure fear that was emanating from him, into his very spiritual presence.  And yet he still held his ground, despite every single instinct of his screaming to do the opposite.
"I-I can't back down! But I... should just..." He stuttered, the barrel of the weapon dipping slightly. And then, step by step, the female Arrancar turned and strode towards him, that mad, mad smile etched into her face. And with each step, Crowe felt himself begin to sink into the feeling he hadn't truly felt for a long time, the feeling that had rippled through him the day he died so long ago.

Despair.

Even as she gripped the barrel and placed it against her own body, Crowe remained silent and blank. The despair of the situation will dripping into him, like a bucket about to overflow. "..." He  felt the female Arrancar guide his fingers to the firing mechanism, as if goading him to do the unthinkable. 
"..." Time seemed to stop in Crowe's mind. "...Just what I thought." It had happened in life, and once again, it was happening in death. All who came close to him, spoke with him, connected with him - all were doomed. Crowe was a curse, like some dark ominous raven. "It'll happen to her too. And the one in we met in the castle. And that monster. All of them will die soon, because I reached out to them, even for a fleeting moment." A monster that branded all with the kiss of death. And the only way to prevent such an outcome, was for him to no longer exist.

"...You should have lived, my love." 

Crowe felt sweat break out across his body as every muscle tensed in his body. Every thought in his mind told him to die, whilst every instinct told him to live. The suicidal thoughts began to overpower him, before the calm, serene voice that he knew not who it belonged to rang out for the third and final time that day, it's message simple and clear, even if it was to drive him into the pits of despair, the code of his survival instinct that had fuelled him for seven years firing up once more as it's inspiration spoke forth.
"Whoever you are..." Crowe murmured. "...You wanted this of me. Let this be my penance." In one rapid motion, he drew his short blade out from within his coat, driving it down into the outreaching hand of the female Arrancar as she grasped for her main weapon. And as they stood, so close, the gun connecting the two of them, as Crowe's blade struck through her hand, Crowe stared her right in the eye, pain, rage, fear, sadness and just pure despair apparent - and murmured quietly.

"...I deserve this more."

Crowe pressed down on the firing mechanism. 

-
WC:646
TWC:1956

“Three,”

Her gun being quaked by the hand of a dishevelled look of a troubled arrancar. Will he, won’t he? Her thoughtful questions toyed with her mind as she pressed her fragmented mask against the barrel of the gun.

“You better keep your hand steady if you’re going to fire. Two…” She could just hear the pounding beat of his heart from here… or was it tinnitus? She never could get rid of the constant white noise squeaking up, like a flood of rats in a barrel full of rotten fruits. She exhaled, getting ready for one. She saw him gripping his weapon on top of her revolver but the look on his eye had made her double guessing. will I win, will I lose? She asked herself. What is it that he is thinking? What sort of conflict is he warring against? Was it life, was it death? Just as the demon gunwoman goad him more, her facial expression shifted from a malevolent grin to a sudden anticipation.

The time slowly began to slow, Crowe murmuring stretched from one syllable to another at a pace of a rock that moved by itself.

Am I losing? She laments, Am I winning? her metaphorical heart would sink at the thought of victory. Was this whole thing matters to her? At one minute she wanted his death on a platter with salad on the side and the next…she just wanted to root for him. Is his memory being precious to him? Or was it his identity? She didn’t even realise that Crowe made his action by thrusting his own blade against her prepared hand and the sword was strong. His strength is impressive enough to pierce through her thick skin and the Hierro that harbours her form. So that he is muttering about… She became deflated by this. She wanted to feel angry at Crowe for harming her, but… she felt sympathetic towards him.

Just as the hammer slide towards the primer it slows. Her exhale is long and forever lasting and the hammer winds back ever so slightly for the Female Arrancar to cover her hand over the cylinder, the beating heart of the revolver with the index finger jammed between the hammer and the primer, plugging the wall of the dam that threatens to breach. She hates using her power. It like a foul odour that refuses to disappear, but for once…

It was worth using.

The moment delay from Crowe firing the gun was enough to stop him from doing it. She argued to herself if it really matters. The revolver is simple, plain and reliant with cordite and lead – harmless to an Arrancar even at a dangerous distance. Her head slowly retreats from the violate revolver and gaze at Crowe with unwanted beauty. The pace faced Arrancar spoke softly, to answer Crowe long awaited question. Her sotto voice travels across a short distance, hoping it would snap him out of frantic stupor that she reduced him into.

She lost. She thought herself as a monster, but the thought of mentally ripping another Arrancar’s spirit into pieces sours her.

“My name is A.H.” She reveals. Discomfort growing from the stabbed hand of hers, even blood starts to seep out from the trauma like a bite out of a tomato. “So, you still have memories? I’m jealous. You are right to protect it.”
Changes happening to her all so sudden. The cries of Las Noches being in ruin, Las Colonias existence. She thought she can just be a monster to both human and souls alike, but is it all worth it to provide further mental torment on top of their despair?

It is not for A.H.

“Crowe,” She calmed down, her voice became neutral and with her head rising up to face him rather than staring at the barrel of the gun, “Crowe, calm down. Take a deep breath…”

As I need to recollect the plan.

[664]
[2407]

Despite how resolute Crowe was in his actions, the moment he pulled the firing mechanism he slammed his eyes closed as if he could not truly bear to see what he had done. A new feeling rippled through him, one that disgusted him like disease. Doing all that he could to shut out this feeling, Crowe gripped his blade with all his might as it skewered through the hand of the female Arrancar. In Crowe's mind it felt as if thousands of screaming thoughts coursed through his brain, thoughts of life and death, and friendship and solitude, of life and suicide, but most of all... hope and despair. And with this action, this intention of murder... Crowe really didn't know which had won; hope or despair? 

...

He expected something, anything to happen as he fired the weapon. A bang, a feeling as the projectile was set loose. But there was just... nothing. Nothing except the his own laboured breathing, choking down what air he could. Finally, after what seemed far too long, Crowe opened his eyes once more to see what he had done. He didn't know what he expected to see, if he had wrought devastation or just simple, clean death. But as he opened his eye...

Nothing. If it had been by her design or a simple mistake, the weapon had done nothing to harm the female Arrancar. He'd failed to protect himself, to take hold of his resolve and do what needed to be done. "I... couldn't do it." He laughed to himself as he stared at the female Arrancar. The way she looked at him... it was like no glance she'd given him before... it was something far different, something more personal. With a gasp, Crowe let go of the weapon, letting it drop the ground, not realising that his blade was still lodged in his companion's hand. He'd just attempted to commit murder; the only person who'd shown him anything in this wide desert, and he'd resolved to kill to save his own life. He gripped his messy red hair with his free hand, tugging at the pale locks as despair filled his veins. Was he going to die, killed by the one he'd failed to destroy? "Perhaps..." Crowe thought to himself, the headache finally leaving his weary head. "...I can live with dying like that, now." He closed his eye, and tried to let go of his existence, to be ready for what seemed to be inevitable. 

"My name is A.H".

Crowe's shaking stopped suddenly, upon hearing those words from the female Arrancar. Slowly, he looked up, his hand still covering half his face, as if hiding it. "...A...H?" Crowe murmured, his voice hoarse from the effort he exerted. "...Your name?" Why was she telling him this? Was it a last gift before his death. Crowe looked back at her face again, really looking at it. It's soft expression, coupled with her words on his memories, struck him somewhere deep inside him. The briefest glimmer of warmth, the slightest level of compassion. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the blade from her hand - even if she was going to kill him, he might as well die blade in hand. A few long moments passed, Crowe gripping his blade tightly as the two of them stared at each other.

"...You're not going to kill me...?" Crow murmured, feeling utterly drained of any energy. "You're not... going to kill me?" He repeated, his eyes going blank. "But I...But I...I can't calm my body..." It didn't make sense. The room was spinning, causing Crowe to stumble back and grip the wall for support, dropping his treasured fox-marked blade. It didn't make sense. "A.H... I don't know what I am anymore... You made me... I am..." His face was dripping with confused emotions, the pain in his mind coming back a thousand times worse. "My head..." The fear of death, despite his acceptance. The fear of living, despite his joy. And most of all, the fear of killings. 

Despite deep down, just how good it had felt to pull that trigger.

-
WC: 683
TWC: 2639

“Aye, you did it,” A.H assures, then followed it with a lie. “You pulled the trigger. I’d be down if I didn’t stop it.” It was the first lie she ever made as an Arrancar. The question is why? What was the worth of this lie? Does she saw value in Crowe enough for her to lie? Her expression softens with a complicative sigh, but deep down she felt something so alien to her. Something so fathomable slowly paddling from the abyss to the surface just to bite her. She wanted to say something else, but she pauses. She become hesitant. She disguises her pause by breathing out and launching onto her feet. She took hold of the revolver baring at her and pushes it down to the ground.

Her eye gaze at the crestfallen Crowe, spent from verbal bombardment muttering over his life. ”Hey, Sit down,” she hushes. She kept her eyes on him for as long as possible, reaching out to his cheek with her blood-stained hand. “Aye, listen to me.” She spoke with her hurried Scottish tone, rushing to repair the mess that she made. The sea of the unknown starts to bubble and boil over her gut feeling. The more Crowe began to crumble panicking over fears of being killed by her lingers in his mind. “I’m not going to kill you. You’re safe. But this world, you see…” Pause filled the air with silence as she began to conjuror her words without setting him off. “This realm is dog eat dog and they will attack you with everything at their disposal. They’ll go after you the same way I did.” She then hushes once again, parting her bloody hand from his cheek just to rest on his shoulder. As tough as she would admit, the freshly inflicted wound did cause discomfort. She could just about smell her own blood drowning the passive stench of smoke from the bonfire.

Was that regret?

“I’m not going to say trust me or anything...”

this feeling of drowning. I felt that before…

“but stick with me and I’ll make sure you can take care of yourself.”

but it never came from me.

She finally retreats from Crowe to tend to the fire by adding further worthless books to the fray. She has forgotten about the book she supposed to read tonight. Something about passions. The Demon gunwoman looked back to Crowe with a struggling and comforting smile, a mix of twistedness laced with madness and sincerity. Her eye quint in attempt to bolster the smile except. She felt she looked more like a madwoman out to get his entrails, so it was dropped faster than the children book fed by the flames.

“You’re Crowe Starazo,” she confirmed once more, “a new-found friend of A.H, I guess.“ She wasn’t sure of that, but anything in attempt to keep Crowe stable and less than an emotional wreck.

[492]
[2905]

Crowe gripped the left side of his ace, leaning against the nearby wall for suport, trying to hold back the scores of marching bands parading through his mind. It gave him the feeling of his brains turning to mush and pouring out of his ears and nose like a river. Was this the monster that he was? The beast within, held back by Crowe Starazo, now coming free? "What is happening to me!?" It was finally beginning to ease off, but the panic from what he had done, the fear and joy and horror and pain and failure and the elation, oh, the elation that had made him pull the trigger... It all swirled around his brain, like a blender, until finally it all came to a crushing halt as regained his senses, as A.H murmured a promise of safety to him. He slid down the wall slowly as she told him to sit, and let his panic fade like sweating out a virus.

Crowe forced himself to look at her. With the emotions swirling through him like a hurricane, he resolved to hold on even a little bit, lest the pain in his head returned with a vengeance. He almost scampered back as she cupped his cheek with her bloody hand, again feeling the urge to raise the blade still in his hand, but the look in A.H's eyes swayed him from his attempts. It reminded him of a look he'd seen long past, hundreds and hundreds of years ago. The gaze of someone who'd encountered someone unlike anyone they'd ever met. The face that Crowe Starazo once wore, he swore, the faintest glimmer of a memory floating in his mind. 

"Be my partner!" 

The voice he could not recall, of a girl inevitably long dead, echoed one last time, and finally faded all-together. 

The way A.H now spoke to him was the opposite of just a few minutes ago. Crowe wouldn't have used words like 'care' or 'worried' to describe A.H - but even the attempts she made to console his panicked, frantic behaviour was enough to make him even that little bit calmer. Somehow, his behavioural swing from a few moments ago had reversed, returning to the meek, quiet man that he as. Everything A.H said was probably true - he'd never encountered anyone in the desert who dared to come near him - the Hollows all hid from the higher being, and he'd never met an Arrancar, likely due to his distance from Los Noches... but now that he'd come forth into the world of Arrancar, he'd be a target for someone, somewhere, for some reason he possibly couldn't grasp.

'Trust me'. Crowe had no reason to trust the Arrancar A.H. She'd messed with him from the beginning, led him to this place, broke him down and now seemingly wished to build him to ever greater heights. So could the meek, non-trusting bird of the Arrancar reach out to the one who was so mysterious? Her expression, one that he couldn't even identify, didn't help with deciding what was right. But the look had no malice, no killing intent - he couldn't identify it, but perhaps it's just A.H.

"...I guess I wasn't as ready to die as I thought I was." Crowe murmured. "I... I can't say I'm ready to trust someone like you, or anyone for that matter." Pulling himself to his feet, he averted her gaze, scratching at the back of his neck, his other hand gripping the blade as usual. But all the same, he stepped forward to the fire and reluctantly, gently, grasped A.H on the shoulder briefly before retreating back to the wall. "...But, I'm not going to just wait for the grave. I'll do what I can, considering the failure of a monster I am." At that moment, Crowe wished he could see his reflection, just for a moment. He was a monster, a monster who tried to take a life. A monster with one eye and barely a will to live.

But if he could see his face, he'd know he was still Crowe Starazo.

-
WC: 683
TWC: 3321

The surrounding simmers. The fire retains it youthful vibrancy after being fed with books. A.H was back to her spot, but this time her back was turned from re-composed Crowe. Cross legged and the shotgun resting against her right shoulder with the blade sticking upwards. She refused to glance back at Crowe and for a good reason.

She was angry. Her face twisted with disgust and hatred. Not towards her fellow Arrancar, but herself. She hated how it turned out to be. He was supposed to be dead, she supposed to have her face stained with his blood, his entrails smeared across the floor, even against the ruins. She wants the memory of Crowe to be minimal as possible. Just another face with a name that eventually fade away into the pit of many others who were consumed. She wanted to heckle, relish at the wonderous feast she had. Let her rotten off-key tune reach to others and let them despair!
But instead, there were silence. The only ambience was flicker of fire and the pop of ember escaping to explore the fleeting life before it fizzled. Is that her existence going to be? A fragrance warring beast wandered off from the warmth, only to snuffed out by nothing? Her own fear gazed back at her and bared fangs. She felt its warmth and as its warmth was slowly fading, further papers were tossed to brighten her exposure.

’By nothing?!’

Her anger dims. All this was unknown to her. Her recent actions though fresh, felt nostalgic, but where? His voice finally picked up from the ambience. That meek Arrancar squeaked more like a mouse than a bird, but there was a small spark, a flint connecting against the rock like spark of determination. His touch grasped against her shoulder briefly before retreating to his spot against the wall. She responded with a consolation prize: a bittersweet smile, an abomination of her devilish grin and distain. Of course, it’s not a prize if Crowe didn’t see it!

‘Aye,’ The Scot chimed in, the tone in her voice was calm, defeated. ‘If you can stand back up. You haven’t failed anything.’ Another piece of worthless knowledge fed to the fire for the sake of comfort. She refused to look back to Bird, ‘but you may as well be dead if ya’ did fuck all. Came here to change things‘. She revealed days before during their travels, but this time she stressed this even further. Her gaze intensifies, not even the smoke could sting her eye. ‘Rebuild this place, get rid of them dead-beat squatters, replace them with those who want to live. We’ll make Las Noches have value again.’

Finally she let out a deflated sigh. For once she conceded defeat by a union of fire and smoke and averted her eye away from the bonfire. She then finally added a question she been waiting to say.

‘Are you going to stay in Las Noches?’

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Finally, the burning pain that had ran through Crowe's mind moments ago had finally subsided, giving him much better clarity in regards to exactly what he had done moments ago - he had just attempted to kill A.H in self-defence, the realisation finally hitting him properly. But... it was different this time. Where before there was pain, and fear, and self-loathing... Well, there was still pain and fear and self-loathing, but there was something else. A tiny flame, little more then an ember of life had awakened in him. It was an alien, such an alien, alien feeling that had awoken inside him, something that very well had never existed within Crowe before - the urge to live. He'd prayed for death as an Arrancar, as a Hollow, and if his scattered, broken memories had told him anything, he'd wished for it as a human. But there was some humour in the fact, after two proper deaths, he now wished for life.

"Don't give up!"

Wrapping a few stands of hair around a finger, Crowe looked up at his first companion in hundreds of years. A.H had been turned away from him for sometime now - even if he wasn't adept in recognising body language, A.H's emotional state was apparent on her back. Just as Crowe's failure to kill A.H had fractured his resolve and view on life, A.H's failure to kill him had at the very least shaken her determination. Despite never turning back to face him, her words still reached Crowe's very core. And she was right - he'd done nothing in the seven, eight years he'd spent in the desert, being little more then a cadaver with a cause. 
"In all honesty, if I'd ever encountered someone like you in the desert, I'd probably have more then one eye missing." Crowe laughed, bitterly. "I could've made something of my life in those years, but I just became a fixture in those endless sands." The despair of his situation, the hatred for the person he was, began to trickle in. "Perhaps... I should've stayed in that hell."

And then she said 'We'll make Los Noches have value again.' Crowe looked up again at A.H's back, gazing into the bonfire next to her. Even the little usage of the word 'we' stoked that little ember in his self that little bit more, giving him that tiny bit of self worth. And, even if he felt like hadn't done anything... it seemed Crowe himself had changed A.H that little bit too. He smiled into the bonfire, feeling the warmth settle his frenzied mind that little bit.
"I think... I'll stay in Los Noches. It's funny, honestly. It looks like I found a purpose here, in a roundabout way. And besides-" He gave that little smile again at A.H's back, even if she couldn't see it. "-It'd be a waste to throw away what I've learnt here so far."

-
WC: 484
TWC: 3805

For the first time in what would seem to be forever. She felt thankful for Crowe’s words. His wanting to stay really mean a lot for her, even if it him staying for a few days. Her candours posturing dimmed like a romantic light. The relaxing of her shoulders showed. Perhaps tonight there won’t be any death.

Imagine that.

A.H had not only revealed her name but managed to tame her tempestuous behaviour even if it was ever so briefly enough to save his own life. What did she get in return? Not food, it was never food. Friendship? Well, that sort of things doesn’t gel with the warring Arrancar. Comrade-ship sounds much better for her.

“Crowe,” she spoke softly, gazing at the fire, “The revolver is now yours, a memento of what took place here.” She would normally have felt enraged for losing something that was rightfully hers, but tonight. Tonight, was different. She had lost and by his right, she should surrender her revolver to the victor. “If you lose it. I will hunt you down and kill you.”

Her nostrils flared when she uttered her threat. Normally her threats would be direct and menacing but for once her voice was lightly laced with satire. Another book tossed to the fire and there were little more to say. A flicker of fire and a pop she made her conclusion. She was hungry.

“I’m going to get some food. I’ll get some for you.” She stood upright looking over to Crowe with a neutral glance. “You don’t have to come with me, but I expect you to keep feeding the fire, comrade.”

Speaking of fire. She realised that she left a book that she was reading behind. She took a sharp turn and extended her arm out to grab the book. Her look at Crowe was once more neutral but just for a moment, just for a millisecond. The edge of her lips moved positively before shifting into a frustrated scoff before vanishing into the darkness.

Maybe Las Noches future will look awfully bright with him and that woman being there.

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