Private Conversations

[dominioned]

The confessional before you is ornate and well maintained, ebony colored wood embellished with the visage of two angels. A jet black curtain separates the confessional from the rest of the Church, offering a surprising degree of privacy to any eavesdroppers nearby. Unlike the rest of Krakow, the inside is dimly lit by a small light bulb securely attached to the ceiling which emits a faint red light. While the atmosphere isn't exactly cozy, it is private.

A smooth voice calls out to you once you've sat down, familiar enough to identify the speaker despite the partition between you.

"Welcome welcome. I take it something is on your mind?"

We're in a museum now, Harry.

Comments

[dominioned]

Give me one moment then. [ Civility will get them far, it seems. With a nod he walks towards the doors of the Church and locks them, the bolt making an audible thud. Having someone spoil their fight wouldn't be very fun. ]

I will not be able to returns yours to you at the present moment, so you'll have to make do with a substitute. Let me see... [ It happens in an instant, all the candles in the church extinguish for a second and then two, before they coming roaring back to life. In that small interim, Rembrandt has procured a sword from somewhere. ]

Here you are. [ Closing the distance between them again, he offers the blade hilt first. ]

1/2

[p_q]

So it is among the things you took from me.

[He'd guessed as much -- there's not much else that could successfully separate him from Murciélago short of spiritual destruction or other violent spiritual manipulation. Messing with Resurrecciones is an unknown quantity and he's not pleased to be learning about it firsthand. Be that as it may.

It doesn't matter for his present mission, except for the fact that he did, of course, have to ask. Ulquiorra is braced when the candlelight comes back on; Hollows expect sneak attacks, after all, and it's only after a moment that he reaches out to take the sword, hefting it experimentally.

He'll put it through its paces for a swing or two, backing up to give clearance for their bout. Eventually secures it at his side in classic battou position.]

Very well. Then let us see if you're worthy to stand anywhere near Lord Aizen.

2/2

[p_q]

[No more opening pleasantries; he may be an extra as fuck villain from a shounen manga but he's not fighting a protagonist here and doesn't need to give so much exposition. Maybe a blessing, but at the same time Ulquiorra is first and foremost Ulquiorra: he moves immediately to slip under his opponent's guard, using the sword's length and swing to compensate for his slightly shorter reach.

('Cause y'all are tall as fuq?? Why.)

It's time to see how the blade stands up to whatever defense Suzaku encountered earlier.]

[dominioned]

[ His answer is only a smile, thin and wide almost like a blade. ]

I do hope not to disappoint. [ A touch of sarcasm, but there is a genuine note to it buried underneath. For what reason specifically remains unclear, but he likely wouldn't have opened himself up to this position if he expected things to go south. Be that as it may—

The first thing Ulquiorra will notice is his speed, he has no problems following the arc of the blade or its owner. It's inhuman really, which likely isn't surprising, but what happens next is. We may not be in a shounen but Rembrandt sure is going to move for one hell of a shounen move and just move to grapple the blade between his hands. This isn't a move you should try at home, but his grip strength could be compared to a crocodile's maw. ]

[p_q]

[He lets the smile and the tone slide past him like a missed strike, leaving only the faintest of scuffs in their wake; acknowledged, for the moment, but not at all important in the thick of things. Ulquiorra's whole focus narrows to the fight -- once he's decided to do this, he's going to do it to the hilt. So to speak.

Frankly, if he hadn't had the speed to keep up with Ulquiorra in his quasi-human current form, he would have stopped the fight right there and flounced off. So it's a good thing Rembrandt is managing the basic qualifications here.

Likewise, you would have expected Ulquiorra to be clumsier with his newly-restricted body, but if there's one thing that Hollows are good at -- and particularly Arrancar -- it's adapting swiftly and furiously to new forms on the fly. Literally, in some cases. His movements are fluid enough for someone now not-quite-human, and Ulquiorra lowers his center of gravity before swiftly flipping his grip and yanking on the blade. Unless Rembrandt lets go in time, this is going to be a quick moment of unbalancing.

Either way, Ulquiorra is using the fact that he's preoccupied with the blade and using his other hand (did we mention he's wielding that blade one-handed?) to go for a palm-strike to the bottom of his opponent's chin.]

[dominioned]

[ What a pity that would have been for both parties—a mastermind who couldn't live up to a fraction of their boasting, and a survivor who didn't deem them worth of a finishing blow. It's a good thing reality is different, probably.

And the reality is that despite the fact that he opted to stubbornly hold onto the blade, and despite the fact that the blow connects true, it doesn't feel at all like connecting with normal flesh and bone. The difference between Ulquiorra and Suzaku however, is that the base was of higher quality from the start— Suzaku was only ever human. So while there's some give there, and while it's not completely like connecting with a solid mass, hitting Rembrandt is clearly and distinctly striking something that isn't human.

But independent of that, in the end the blow does knock him a back, glasses going askew. ]

My, these really are troublesome at points. [ Yet he doesn't sound dazed at all. It's likely a confusing mix of contradictions but one thing is probably clear: Rembrandt is capable of monologueing for both of them, along with taking fanciful useless gestures, like pausing to fold his glasses into coat pocket. ]