http://chocolatefetish.livejournal.com/ (
chocolatefetish.livejournal.com) wrote in
paixaorpg2007-03-16 11:08 am
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Entry tags:
"All Hope Abandon...?"
Character(s): Mello, Grimmjow, open to anyone else
Content: Mello arrives and wonders where the heck he is
Setting: Niflheim gates
Time: Late morning
Warnings: Cursing, Death Note spoilers
Mello opened his eyes, wondering when he'd closed them. Last thing he remembered... oh. Right. He extended his arms in front of him, examining them, then looked down. Well, it could have been worse; he could have been stuck wearing that stupid disguise for all of eternity. Funny how corporeal he felt, though, as if these clothes were real, actually worn on a physical body. He hadn't counted on that. It could be a promising sign or a really ominous one; which remained to be seen.
The gate nearby wasn't a surprise; he'd expected something of the kind, though he'd been expecting fire instead of ice. For all the hand closed protectively over the cross of his rosary, the sharp edges felt even through his glove, Mello wasn't a fool and he didn't lie to himself, not about things like this. He knew what he was and knew he deserved no less than hell. He'd known that for a long time, accepted it, refused to be afraid of it, even now that it was here.
As he got in line (lines, what else could you expect in hell?) and looked around, however, he wondered if that were really where he was. It seemed too quiet for that, lacked the aura of foreboding he expected. Maybe it was really true that one who had used the Death Note couldn't go to Heaven or Hell. But if that were the case, where was he? Had all these people really used one? That seemed highly unlikely.
He closed his eyes, remembering: just before he had died... Matt. His hands clenched into fists and he almost wished he could forget. If this were an afterlife, maybe even the only one, he'd find him here, though he wasn't sure what he'd say to him. "Hey, man. Sorry I got you killed" was just fucking ridiculous. Maybe Matt wouldn't even want to see him and Mello wasn't sure he could blame him for that.
Almost before he knew it, he was through the gate. They didn't even make him give his real name. Lousy security, but if this was the afterlife, why would they need it? Not like they'd be leaving and it was entirely likely no one here could die, not again.
Mello fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar, unwrapping it rapidly and thinking how glad he was that it was there. Though he'd have to find a source for more soon enough. For now, he looked around for a place to sit. He wanted to examine this device they'd handed him at the gate and then he had plans to make. Here he was (wherever that might be); what the hell was he going to do now?
Content: Mello arrives and wonders where the heck he is
Setting: Niflheim gates
Time: Late morning
Warnings: Cursing, Death Note spoilers
Mello opened his eyes, wondering when he'd closed them. Last thing he remembered... oh. Right. He extended his arms in front of him, examining them, then looked down. Well, it could have been worse; he could have been stuck wearing that stupid disguise for all of eternity. Funny how corporeal he felt, though, as if these clothes were real, actually worn on a physical body. He hadn't counted on that. It could be a promising sign or a really ominous one; which remained to be seen.
The gate nearby wasn't a surprise; he'd expected something of the kind, though he'd been expecting fire instead of ice. For all the hand closed protectively over the cross of his rosary, the sharp edges felt even through his glove, Mello wasn't a fool and he didn't lie to himself, not about things like this. He knew what he was and knew he deserved no less than hell. He'd known that for a long time, accepted it, refused to be afraid of it, even now that it was here.
As he got in line (lines, what else could you expect in hell?) and looked around, however, he wondered if that were really where he was. It seemed too quiet for that, lacked the aura of foreboding he expected. Maybe it was really true that one who had used the Death Note couldn't go to Heaven or Hell. But if that were the case, where was he? Had all these people really used one? That seemed highly unlikely.
He closed his eyes, remembering: just before he had died... Matt. His hands clenched into fists and he almost wished he could forget. If this were an afterlife, maybe even the only one, he'd find him here, though he wasn't sure what he'd say to him. "Hey, man. Sorry I got you killed" was just fucking ridiculous. Maybe Matt wouldn't even want to see him and Mello wasn't sure he could blame him for that.
Almost before he knew it, he was through the gate. They didn't even make him give his real name. Lousy security, but if this was the afterlife, why would they need it? Not like they'd be leaving and it was entirely likely no one here could die, not again.
Mello fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar, unwrapping it rapidly and thinking how glad he was that it was there. Though he'd have to find a source for more soon enough. For now, he looked around for a place to sit. He wanted to examine this device they'd handed him at the gate and then he had plans to make. Here he was (wherever that might be); what the hell was he going to do now?
no subject
A deep scowl on his face, the arrancar looked up at the large gate. He had decided to station himself here and wait as the people walked in. There was no point in leaving, he felt. Aizen was here so then logically, Grimmjow should be here as well. It didn't stop the place from being anymore boring. His assignment was stupid anyway. There were dozens of people in this place, why didn't Aizen just kill them all? Or better yet, let Grimmjow kill them all.
Damn, he wanted another bird to slaughter.
Casting an unimpressed gaze over the people coming in, Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at one who seemed to be eating something. It was strange that the human began to eat first, of all the things. As an arrancar, Grimmjow didn't require food and sometimes forgot that humans needed it to eat. They really were pathetic things.
Bending down to pick up a pebble, Grimmjow walked closer to the feeding human. He threw the pebble at the human's head with prefect accuracy, watching with sick satisfaction as it knocked the blond upside the head.
"Hey you, are you interesting?"
[OOC: Hope you don't mind Grimmjow hopping in and being... violent. 8D;;]
no subject
He looked over at the asshole who had thrown the damn rock, already in a foul mood. "Interesting enough that I don't have to throw rocks at people to get them to talk to me," he snapped. Christ, what kind of loser was this?
Which actually seemed a damned good question, now that he got a closer look. What the hell was this guy? Gravity-defying hair, some bizarre sort of mask stuck to his face, and a hole in his body? No way he could have survived that; he must be dead. Not that Mello hadn't suspected people here were dead anyway, but why didn't he see anyone else with gaping wounds? Had no one else died of violence? Which made him wonder about Matt, if he were here, but he brutally squashed the thought. Not now, he could wonder (and worry) about that when he was alone.
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What could he say? One of his favourite past times was irritating others. While he wouldn't even make a step toward Ulquiorra's direction (not that he knew where the other arrancar was) without his zanpakuto, he had no problem with ruffling the feathers of any humans that crossed his path. One could say that he was immature like that but Grimmjow would just rip that person to pieces before the final word left their mouth.
Tilting his head to the side and blinking in boredom when the human responded to his pebble by being upset, Grimmjow shrugged. He had found someone interesting. Now he could investigate him and then be on his way to kill some more birds. (Grimmjow had to say his choice of hobbies was really deteriorating.)
"What's your name, age, and where're you from, human," he sneered, before attempting to grin nicely which only proved to maniacal. No one could say that he hadn't tried to be nice.
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He walked closer, though still not too close. He wasn't stupid and he wasn't about to be too reckless, especially after he'd just fucking died. "You can call me Mello." Like hell he'd give some rock-throwing weirdo he'd just met much information about himself. "I don't see why the hell the other two matter. You?" Mello took another bite of his neglected chocolate bar, regarding him warily.
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He didn't like it when beings weaker than him didn't do what he asked. In fact, he barely liked it when people stronger than him didn't listen to him. However, an interesting person was an interesting person and an assignment was an assignment and Aizen had not said anything about killing anyone. Of course, he hadn't said anything about not killing anyone...
"I'll you my name if I decide to kill you," la sexta continued, "which I'll do if you don't answer my questions."
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He shifted his weight and braced himself before answering. "I told you, I don't see why the fuck those matter. Why the hell do you want to know?" Age, especially, wasn't something he gave out for free. And where he was from? That all depended on what you meant by the question.
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Frowning at the lack of cooperation Mello was showing, Grimmjow flashed so that he was behind the blond. With one arm around the boy's neck and the other around his body, fastening his arms where they were. He really didn't feel that it was worth so much effort to get some answers.
"Because I'm fucking investigating you. Can't you tell?" he growled. "Now, age and your previous location."
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"So, you're dead," he repeated. "And you're not a shinigami or hollow or a ghost apparently."
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He looked down at himself, almost relieved to see he hadn't changed, become something disgusting and inhuman like Shidou. Nope, still him. This guy, though... the mention made Mello wonder if that were the explanation behind his strange appearance. "Are you a shinigami? You don't look much like the one I met." Not that he would normally talk about that, but since he'd brought it up, why not? Mello resumed eating his chocolate, trying to recover his composure. If they were going to talk about this, he'd need it.
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"No," Grimmjow replied curtly. Staying silent for a moment, the teal-haired man wondered what to ask next. "You've seen shinigami before? When? Why?" He paused raising an eyebrow, noting the scar on the blond's face. "And what did he look like?"
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The teal-haired arrancar raised a subtle eyebrow. He knew they were stupid but he had not known that they were complete idiots. Then again, judging by Mello's description of the shinigami it sounded more like a hollow. Obviously he had encountered a different type of shinigami. This brought up questions of alternate dimensions. Grimmjow wondered if they were to leave this place, would they get back to where they had left? It seemed like an interesting question.
"I'm an arrancar," Grimmjow announced after a few moments of silence, "I'm dead so chances are, you can't fuck my shit up. If you see one like me with a hole through his throat and lines going down his cheeks. Feel free to try and kill him, though."
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He took a bite of chocolate, and looked up at the arrancar. "So we're both dead. Congratulations. But what the fuck is an arrancar?" Maybe they were common as dirt wherever this freak was from, but Mello had sure never heard of them.
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Raising an eyebrow at Mello's second question, Grimmjow pondered how to answer. He wasn't quite sure how to go about explaining what an arrancar was. Then again, he thought, he didn't really have to answer any of the smaller boy's questions. It wasn't as if the human could do anything to threaten him, while he was interested in the shinigami from the other world.
"I'm an arrancar," he said, arrogant smile on his face.
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He really was an asshole, not that Mello had really doubted that. He sighed and gave him a sarcastic smile. "Sure, right. Fine, I'll find out for myself." He turned and started to walk away, dismissing the encounter as unimportant. If he were done threatening and refused to give any useful information, why should Mello bother staying around? Surely he could find other sources that were more cooperative.