Post by Machie on Jan 10, 2018 0:39:51 GMT -5
Machie wrapped her braids into a high bun and secured them with a hair tie before she left her bedroom. Slender, dark brown fingers swept over the fabric of her uniform to make sure it was neat and wrinkle-free before she stepped through the front door. Although coming back from missions with her shihakusho in relative disarray couldn’t be helped, this did not mean she should embark on her duties unkempt. Confident in her looks, the feline woman left the Fifth division barracks without checking her appearance in a mirror. Her mind was elsewhere. Solo missions like the one she had chosen were not the most common in the Fifth, but low level grunt work like this was available for most shinigami. Though Machie had the impression most of her fellow combat specialists wouldn’t ordinarily choose a simple mission to perform konsou for themselves, the quiet woman didn’t mind. This would be a good chance to see a bit of Earth and commune with her zanpakutō. Despite the few words Nasima had graced her with a few missions ago, the spirit had grown quiet and standoffish since.
Hopefully using her as often as possible will encourage Nasima to talk.
Machie arrived at the senkaimon with little fanfare, holding out her arm to receive a hell moth. A black moth landed on her outstretched forearm and flapped its wings a few times. With a faint smile, Machie moved to step through an open portal. The shinigami was deposited in Karakura Town atop a tall building. The tallest buildings here were nowhere near the size of the ones she had seen in New York City and it was much quieter, the background noises creating a quieter hum in comparison to New York’s obnoxious cacophony.
The feline shinigami smiled. She liked this place.
The combat specialist hopped down from her rooftop perch, using reishi beneath her feet to make her way down through the air. Below, several cars had stopped due to a crash. The cars involved in the initial collision had been pulled apart and were being loaded up to be towed away. They resembled crushed soda cans. Blue and white vehicles with flashing lights on top stopped traffic. Crowds of humans stared and whispered to each other as they passed by, although none were so rude as to point.
Machie’s smile faded as she neared the scene. The tinkling of plus souls pulled her attention away from the mess: the body bags that were freshly zipped, the live human strapped to a stretcher moaning in pain as he was wheeled to an ambulance, the police officers standing around the scene and alternating between muttering into their walkie talkies and each other’s ears.
The plus souls whined, bobbing in place like balloons on chains.
“It’s alright now,” the dark skinned woman told them softly, stamping them on the forehead with her tanto. She felt a tightness in her chest as they faded from view. She sheathed her weapon and glanced about the scene, dully, eyelids at half-mast.
505
Hopefully using her as often as possible will encourage Nasima to talk.
Machie arrived at the senkaimon with little fanfare, holding out her arm to receive a hell moth. A black moth landed on her outstretched forearm and flapped its wings a few times. With a faint smile, Machie moved to step through an open portal. The shinigami was deposited in Karakura Town atop a tall building. The tallest buildings here were nowhere near the size of the ones she had seen in New York City and it was much quieter, the background noises creating a quieter hum in comparison to New York’s obnoxious cacophony.
The feline shinigami smiled. She liked this place.
The combat specialist hopped down from her rooftop perch, using reishi beneath her feet to make her way down through the air. Below, several cars had stopped due to a crash. The cars involved in the initial collision had been pulled apart and were being loaded up to be towed away. They resembled crushed soda cans. Blue and white vehicles with flashing lights on top stopped traffic. Crowds of humans stared and whispered to each other as they passed by, although none were so rude as to point.
Machie’s smile faded as she neared the scene. The tinkling of plus souls pulled her attention away from the mess: the body bags that were freshly zipped, the live human strapped to a stretcher moaning in pain as he was wheeled to an ambulance, the police officers standing around the scene and alternating between muttering into their walkie talkies and each other’s ears.
The plus souls whined, bobbing in place like balloons on chains.
“It’s alright now,” the dark skinned woman told them softly, stamping them on the forehead with her tanto. She felt a tightness in her chest as they faded from view. She sheathed her weapon and glanced about the scene, dully, eyelids at half-mast.
505
