misplaced faith

In a palace as big as his own, all that kept the Espada company from his room above were the lonely echoes of noise below. Sound carried itself so far a thousand feet deep, and it had the sort of paradoxical effect of creating loneliness while abolishing it at the same time. A reminder of how far one lay from another, though reminding that there is another to begin with. Romantic poetry, and Medieval history, only kept alive in such a place by the fleeting thoughts of an Espada.

And because of those echoes, and the sheer mass of foreign reiatsu that he felt in his bones, Ezel knew he had a visitor before any announcement was necessary. In a composed and gallant fashion, he rose, and proceeded from his room and down the hall. Above his jet garbs that fit just before skin-tight, was a a cape as white as marble, fluttering behind each step, kept together by a silver pendent just before his shoulder, and on his chest. As always, he presented himself with divinity and that in-and-of-itself carried the regal air with it.

Ezel would be found just crossing the side of the ivory throne, absent of a king, approaching the visitor. Head in hand, he tossed it, at the Frenchman's feet, it bobbled and weaved, leaving behind a wake of crimson to contrast the marble floor. A small crack in the tranquil expression was made as he upturned one end of his mouth to say, "Mercy hardly ever favors fools. I do not understand their persistence in guarding what need not be guarded." It was a clause not directed to anything, a brief soliloquy.

Icy eyes met Nabill, though peaceful in their message, "By all means, Lord Primera, please share." He showed no animosity to this action, nor this man, though in Ezel's eyes, he assumed Nabill had felt differently.

Ezelrik rose a brow at the accusations, and his eyes only briefly followed the flailing book as it met its company at his feet. He spoke nothing for a moment, letting the Espada before him finish his words, all that seemed sharped and threatening. It was nails on a chalkboard to Ezel, to be accused of such wickedness, and to have his own faith tarnished by another's mouth. However so, he did not hesitate on holding his peace, knowing very well the orders and parameters he works under.

"Words are wind, Primera. And lies are beneath that. I didn't think such gossip would overcome you; but I suppose that has been the downfall of any great kingdom, us mortal beings are subject to such. Doubt runs amok outside of the walls of Heaven." Ezel droned, sighing at the situation. "I do not spread the word of thy Lord, I only enforce his justice on the damned. I care not for converting, only punishing." the Espada waved off the notion he had any sort of foot in this idea of foul-play. Integrity was not only a code of a moral man, but it was written deep in the pages of chivalry.

Ezel bent down to pick up the bible on the floor, the disrespect still stinging. It was true that most of these words were oft false, but they held the expression of those just as devout as him. "You are mistaken in your duty as an Espada, or I must have overlooked the fine print when being recruited. No where is it mentioned that I am to worship the Godking. He is a lord, our leader, and ruler - not our God." The blonde moved his foot to kick the head away from the throne, recognizing how it humiliated the obelisk erect in his Lord's name. 

In a casual step, he moved away down the four-step rise that the throne set on, joining the side of the man before him. With a slight irritation to his tone, he continued, "I have shown no leisure in my service under our king, and as we stand now - you are the only one that can be accused of traitorous action. Entering my domain, killing my subordinates, threatening me - another one of our king's swords." Those same blue eyes bore deep into Nabill's, frustration an animosity growing. With a slightly shrug, he waved it all off, "But, my God commands forgiveness, and so I must share that every now and again. So, Primera, you are forgiven for your misdeeds." 

Despite being employed by the same man, there was nothing in the contract to say they were to get along, and Primera seemed to flaunt that loophole far too much.

"Primera, I have forgiven you, and you shove my generosity back in my face." Ezel complained with a slouch in his shoulders. "And now I believe you have overstayed your welcome. "

"Maybe another day I will answer your questions, but, at the moment, I am quite fed up with your insults towards my Lord." He had no intention of actually fighting, but the man seemed to lack proper manners, and only threats would get him to act as intended. And at the same time, Ezelrik felt suspicious that this would not end without some form of conflict. "So, if you would kindly remove yourself from my domain-."

The man showed no intentions of backing down nor leaving. But it was his next action that he wasn't prepared for. "The are threats, nothing but threats. He wouldn't dare..." he mused with furrowed brows in the direction of the Primera. And when he completed such an action, it was far too late for Ezel to react. The energy ripped by him, connecting with the marble through and erupting into a field of dust. The force ricocheted against his body, and it shredded the walls of his palace with ease. The ground shook from the magnitude of the attack, and the plumes of dust and the shrapnel of debris littered his vision and motioned off of a stunned body. And in that moment, he hopped forward in rage, swinging a balled fist straight at the chest of the Espada. If he failed to move, it would send him sprawling hundreds of fit, bouncing him off the walls of the cliff and castles that lined the canyon. 

Ezel did not hesitate after the strike, and did not spare a second to observe the damage. Immediately he found his weapon among the debris, embedded deep within the floor where the throne once sat. It was a feather in his hands, and the massive piece of metal would float behind his body, the edge dragging through rubble, whistling as the tip cut against the stone floor. Three steps was what he spared, his vision still clouded by the smoke from the attack. Two hands grabbed the hilt of his blade while he began a lean backwards, he then brought Cruzado over his shoulder with immense power, dropping the blade in front of him like a guillotine. 

The force of the attack itself seemed to ripple the air, sending a gust that split the fog in front of him clean in half, as if it were matter to cut. And when the blade met the floor once more, it shattered the point of contact, sending a quake in a line a hundred meters in front of him. The ground ruptured as a chasm was carved into the floor, rock and water firing up from its center. The river bled into the land's new scar, filling the rift created. 

"You have doubted my ability and my loyalty for the last time, Primera. Your folly will be made example of." He spat, the tranquility absent from his face, replaced with a genuine anger.

With the haze cleared, Ezel had sight of his opponent, stained by the hue of the Dios de Lágrima. Despite such a punch, he rose from it unscathed, only his attire ruined by the assault. Primera offered more words that Ezel would not acknowledge, instead opting to place himself in a fighting stance, sword suspended before him in a vertical fashion.

There was a moment of inspection of Ezel's opponent, following his movements as he dipped his sword into the tears below. And then in an instant, absent from sight. But vision was not necessary to read the movements of such an opponent, flow of spiritual power was all that was required to read. The movements were fast "Too fast", for any immediate reaction. His eyes could follow such actions, and only narrowly was he able to escape the body of the blade. The tip scathed the concentrated shell of reiryoku, but not enough to damage the stronghold that was he.

Ezel's right hand dragged the blade horizontally at the man's face, while a left extended out at the feet of Primera. "Cero..." he murmured with vindictive eyes. The palm of his hand ignited into a faded blue, letting lose a cone of energy. There was no moment of rest between a followup attack, as his left hand repeatedly thrust out to send bullets of concussive force to follow the tail of the cero. Soon the arrancar would flock to the scene, and Ezelrik was determined to have this Primera's body as a trophy by then.

There no longer existed a palace to call his own, only four tarnished walls and an empty ceiling that served as a looking glass for the abyss above Hueco Mundo. All due to a handful attacks from these two. The cero added nothing however, Nabill showing his own prowess when he redirected such force with the simple turn of his blade. It was just the Primera's opening attack... "What a mess..." Ezel thought, debating against responding to the Primera or not.

Taunts played well on the blonde, but Nabill's held empty meaning on him, as there existed a sound confidence within Segunda when it came to his swordplay. Perhaps the Samurai expected a reckless assault, he would be disappointed with the result.

Ezelrik shot a left foot at the floor, sending a powerful shock-wave hoping to displace the footing of the ronin. The earth crackled beneath the strike, and it would serve as a foothold for the dash that followed, Ezel swinging his his sword upwards diagonally from his hip. Once the blade would cross the mid-section, it would lower for a perfect swipe from left to right to further an attempt at bisecting the Espada. At the least,  a proper blood would send him sliding a few meters under the force Ezel swung with. 

"This fight is fruitless." was the only thing still in his mind when the iron whistled through the air, knowing that it would not be swordsmanship that dictates a victory.

Ezel's swings were fruitless, but that did not slow his pace. Two blades fired down on him, and maybe his speed was underestimated. He was slow on his feet, but his swordsmanship would not suffer the same handicap. A scream echoed as the metals met, and Ezel felt the pressure fall heavy on him. The sword collapsed into the floor, cratering the spot it hit, but its grip remained in the Espada's hands. 

As the man fled back to talk more, Ezel composed himself once again, stepping soundly towards Nabill with the sword dragging behind him. "A bout isn't decided in the first few swings, Primera. I've heard yours was noteworthy as well, but I've yet to see you have in grounds of a proper attack."

With that, Ezel stepped into a sonido, dragging his blade into an upward slash mid dash. His own swing out-sped his movement, bringing up the ground with his dash, and he'd meet the end of his advance with a cleave downwards. Ezel would not settle with such simplistic additions to the dance, and fell into a cadence of strikes.

Shoulder charge to bring the sword to my side, side-swipe from left to right, jumping knee aimed for the chin, and- Ezel designated in his head before landing with great force, bringing down his blade like an executioner's ax. It hit with a power more immense than his initial strike, the force of such a swing shattered the very cliff wall, leaving a wound against the canyon.