Sonic Visage [Open]

[Sven Delacroix]

The soft thud of the individual's feet could be heard as his form drifted through the silent marble halls, gliding around the outer perimeters of his own chambers. His robes were pristine, not even a speckle of dust or debris on them as they shown with a radiant gleam every time the figure would shuffle his feet. His hair hung down the back of his uniform, straight and flowing though well maintained like the rest of what most would consider impeccable hygiene. As the figure turned around, one could catch a brief glimpse of the fair features of his face. His eyes stood out the most, his irises gleaming a silver hue, though rather bored. The rest of his profile seemed rather nonchalant and seemed to indicate neither excitement nor irritance. All in all, the individual kept his nonchalant style of composure. As he moved, an elegant rapier style blade wavered just within arm's reach.

He was Sven Delacroix, the Segunda Espada and among the strongest Las Noches had to offer. But turmoil tainted the interior. Yes indeed, even such a figure had his demons, and war brewed constantly inside him, old memories haunted him and plagued him like a horde of biting insects, devouring him from the inside out. Yet he shown none of this on the exterior. To reveal such a fatal flaw would no doubt be his own undoing.

I had been such a long journey for him, that it had felt like eons ago that Akumainu, the little Adjucha hound had removed its mask and as a superior being of evolution, became inducted into the Espada. Even though he no longer required the will to feed like he once had, the urge to was still very well alive in his mind. Even though he was an Arrancar now, the traces of Hollow were still within him.

[Methias]

Wandering through the halls of Las Noches was a favourite pass time for the significantly deranged, Methias being little different. His depravity granting him full access of all chambers in the Espada's castle. This being the Tercera Espada, it appeared that today was a good time to find himself within his superiors chamber. Superior being a some what subjective term. True, he was lower in rank. And true it was that he surely didn't care. He liked the number three after all. But why was he in the Segunda's private quarters? Strangely enough there was no answer to this question. The arrancar laughing to himself as numerous questions ran through his fragile mind.

Running his hand across the marble stone by his side, an eerie screech revealing he had come to see his 'ally'. "A silly term used by silly people." His laughter errupting in a cackle echoing through the entire building. His location being revealed to anyone in the immediate vacinity. Perhaps today he would get a good slap. Kinky and ever so enjoyable. The thought causing his eyes to roll into the back of his head in sheer delight. Shaking his head and finally removing his nails from the wall, the slaughter of the ears came to an abrupt halt. His head suddenly coming to a rest in both palms.

The insane cackling then evolved into a bloodcurdling roar. Only coming to an end after a good five seconds. His face stretching in all directions as he came back to a more stable frame of mind. "Boy, how I love the decorations in this place![/color]" Shouting ironically at the unedited state of any of the chambers he had decided to visit. "De-La-Croooiix! De-La-Croooiiix! Where are you?! Come and entertain me![/color]" A gesture that could have been considered as a taunt. Contrary to what it actually meant. The truth was he thought little about what he said, normally speaking a bucket load of crap regardless of how it could be interpreted. He wanted someone to harass.

It was at that point a sudden realization hit him. Around fifteen feet away from him stood the man he was after. The figure of the Segunda standing around fifteen feet away from him. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned to face him. "Now where were you hiding all this time? Hiding from me? Why? Do I scare you? No, you're too... Up your own arse to care about a threat from me. How I disgust people...[/color]" His mumbling resulting in a general impression of madness. His voice gradually growing quieter as he spoke to himself, then completely oblivious to Sven's presence once more. His silver hair falling infront of his face as he crouched in the floor with his hands on his head. His eyes enlarged and staring at the floor with a menacing gaze.

[Sven Delacroix]

Sven's frame halted at the voice of his fellow Espada, his flowing silver hair falling over his right eye as his skull swiveled around to meet the lower ranked arrancar.. A certain emotion flared in his irises upon viewing the Espada with his own silver eyes, but the emotion was soon stifled, Sven's lower lip curled into a slight smirk.

Sven's body soon followed his head, as he turned around to fully face the Tercero, taking note of every feature of the Espada's posture and the mousy features of the hollow's face. Smirk remaining on his face, Sven's lips parted, a distinguished accent clearly resonating through the chambers of his esophagus as it reverberated itself into syllables at the arrancar.

"What a surprize, Methias. Zis is razher unlike you. What brings you here of all places?"

Though he didn't let it cross his face, Sven was in actuality very curious as to why the Arrancar was here. As far as Sven recollected, Methias was by far the social sort, but a certain hidden maliciousness was hidden within the fiendish rat. Sven hadn't talked to the man very much frequently, but all he had to go off of were various observations made of the Tercero's defining attributes. a slouching posture, eccentric and psychotic eyes that never seemed to stay still, and leered at things that remained nonexistent. while Sven felt more at ease with himself, he noted that the evolution for Mezzias had possibly made him more deranged and manipulative, not the sort to be trusted.

Exhaling, Sven's eyes remained surveying the fiend as he hunched over and begun muttering to itself again, seemingly forgetting the presence of Sven in all, though Sven's exceptional ears heard every last syllable, flickering slightly as he almost felt a sort of pity for the man. But washing that away, Sven was by far more curious.

"Sooo, Mezzias, why do you seek me out?"

[Methias]

The world was spinning around him. An itensity so great it quite literally took his breath away. Through his eyes the blood of those he had feasted upon began to rain from the ceiling. Dripping all over his body. The delusions of a crippled mind. His very own figure rising from the pool and ripping the Segunda Espada limb from limb. Slowly. Perfectly. A hint of pleasure revealing itself through his eyes as the events his mind played out began to truly take form. He was living the moment he witnessed as his fantasy took an even greater hit on his very being.

But as quickly as it started he snapped out. His form returning to that of a standing position, back held straight as if he wasn't the rat his furless tail revealed. His gaze turning from that of a mad man to that of a civilized and intelligent man. Aside from his earlier outburst it would have been rather difficult to guess he had the stability of Iraq. His hands falling from his face as a sigh escaped his thin pale lips, he looked over at Delacroix once more. How he loathed the man. For no real reason in fact. But that was a sentiment that rang true for all the members that made up the spiritual world.

"Well, Delacroix... Where do I begin? I wonder, I wonder... Ah yes, why are you here? It is my understanding that Canaan and Nero have left this place. Gone to play a game in the land of the humans I would imagine. So why are you here? Hm? Don't you want to go play with the humans too? Or are you too scared? No no, it would be a terrible idea to leave me alone. Am I right Delacroix? I do wonder.[/color]" His excessive ranting asking a series of seemingly rhetorical questions. Truth be told he certainly wasn't here for an answer to anything. He didn't even want to talk to the Segunda. Yet here he was, where his feet had placed him. A blank stare fixated upon his face as his speech came to an end, he sudden turned around and beckoned his 'ally' to follow him.

Regardless of what he did, Methias began to speak once again. Either to himself or Delacroix it didn't really matter. "We should have some fun. Perhaps I shall cut up a few Arrancar today. That would be fun. Do you not agree? Excellent, I thought you would. Or perhaps you have a better idea?[/color]" his second question being the only one he wanted answered. He was either going to take the life of a meaningless Arrancar or perhaps even consider following along with any scheme Sven came up with. His next actions being dictated by how Delacroix responded, if he had even followed him at all.

[Sven Delacroix]

"Be careful, Mezzias, for your eyez betray you...."
Even the simplest minded individuals could see the turmoil and chaos stirring behind those eyes. A boiling conundrum of mental insecurities coupled with the insatiable bloodlust far surpassing any mere hollow. How they made him an Espada, Sven could still not comprehend the details. Then again, hollows worked rather differently than others. The numeral three indicated the man's strength. He was in fact the third strongest underneath the Cero Espada. How Sven detested the natural selection that took place in Hueco Mundo. Killing one another only to take their place at the top. Yes, it meant Sven was constantly in jeopardy of losing his position. But perhaps what affected him more was he was partially responsible for the thinning of the hollow race, arrancar included. He didn't care for unnecessary killing. Such malice should be more directed to the Shinigami, who more deserved such emotions. Feuding among your allies was a fool's act.

Yet even as Sven scanned the features of the Tercera, he felt pity for the man. His mentality instability conveyed his unsuccessful transformation into an arrancar. Instead he still hung onto the excruciating and devouring emotions held as a hollow. That in turn made the man dangerous, just another beast imprisoned inside a faux vessel. As the man spoke, Sven took in the words, filtering out any possible twisting of words the hollow was infamous for.

"It's quite simple if you zink about it, Mezzias. Nero and Canaan are morons. As one who previously took zey form of a dog, I know zey feeling too well. They blindly chase after anyzing zat moves or even anything zat may provide even a moment of amuzement. Quite pitiful if you ask me. I zout we evolved pazt such trivialities. Apparently not."

Sven's head tilted back as his hair flung backwards behind him, his silver iris watching Methias suspiciously as his fingers trailed through his silver mane, pulling any stray hairs behind his skull. Upon the mentioning of cutting up arrancar, Sven's eyes narrowed, if only slightly. He had touched a nerve, though Sven's eyes quickly resumed to that melancholic, piercing gaze that seemed as though they were judging in every matter of the word.

"And vhy vould you wish to attack your brozhers? Do zey ztand such a zhreat to you zat it warrants hacking zem up? Do zey intimidate you so, Mezzias? Vouldn't you razher fight someone of a higher rank, someone of your own caliber zen fighting such pointless quarrels from zomeone you know is unable to stack up?"

Sven's silver hair had fallen back over his face again, his right eye could be seen through the follicles, piercing through. Sven's right hand had already maneuvered to the hilt of his zanpaktou, the fingers caressing the warmth of the grip, as they slowly embraced the blade, slipping underneath the wavy guard of the rapier.

[Methias]

Sven's speech was indeed wasted on this malevolent soul. His mind twisting his words like a small child trying to solve a thousand piece puzzle. It wasn't doing a very good job. The fact he felt his intelligence was insulted was beside the point. His every fibre urging him forwards to kill this man. A fingernail scratched across his face unleashing a stream of blood flowing down his cheek. Dripping to the floor and gradually forming into a small puddle. With that he turned. His face to the Segunda.

"Delacroix. How long do you intend to keep ignoring the truth? What are we if not slaves to an eternal torment? A being created through the cracks in our mind. Our hatred. Our blood lust and our desires. Do not deny the things you have done to become what you are today. How many of your 'fellow Hollow' have you devoured? If we are anything we are evolved hatred. An evolved depravity."

His voice spoke with a passionate vibe, echoing through the halls in which they stood. Spoken through his teeth indicating the anger seeping within. A clear and from the heart truth on how this Arrancar saw the world. An insight into the very mind of madness. He had accepted what he was long ago. Even before death. Nothing more than a monster given humanoid form. Tilting his head to one side his hand moved seductively down his neck and chest. The very thought of a challenge granting him a momentary joy, his gaze met the eyes of his 'ally'.

"Sven, they are not my brothers.[/color]" His arms opening as he spoke. "They are simply nothing. A stain on the Hollow race. Only the strongest can truly hope to survive Delacroix. It is because of this that we are superior to Shinigami. Those who survive are strong. Those who die are nothing. It is our way of life. I merely enforce it.[/color]"

As his words came to an end the sound of static could clearly be heard. Sonido. Without even drawing his weapon his body appeared above Sven, his right back heel aimed towards his neck. "I accept, pretty boy![/color]"