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

[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. ]