JULY 9, 2014.
Post by Niccolò Vespucci on Jan 29, 2014 1:47:07 GMT -5
Cause when niggas start equippin'
And throw the clip in
Your blood drippin'
And got you slippin'
Another victim
Don't know whats hit them, through his spinal
Just another man who defeated by survival
Greed is a powerful thing; the desire to do, own and see everything was the motivation for Nico’s entire existence. In his centuries of undeath he had never let anybody, save for his recent encounter with Luucio, hold him back from acquiring anything he wanted. Here he stood now beside something he wished to possess, at least in this particular moment, his lust-filled eyes ravaging the form of the Octava Espada as she accepted Nico’s offering. He wasn’t one for formality or manners, a messy man in all aspects of the word, and this drew him to the woman at his side. Her complete disregard for Nico, combined with her lack of eating manners, sent familiar pangs of want through his body. These cravings were a familiar, yet usually short-lived, feeling for Nico. He had decided. The Octava would be his.
As Nico opened his mouth to initiate his seduction, something more interesting than the Octava started to occur, his head jerking violently to the side. He had sensed it before the others, attributed to his god-like perception and his affinity for dimensional manipulation, a humongous power approaching through a tear in space. The Godking himself had stopped his approach to the Cero Espada, the building spiritual pressure of Alastar immediately diminished to his titular zero as two blades pierced his body from a rift, his body disintegrating as the strongest Espada perished.
“I told you, your faith was misplaced.”
The unfamiliar voice of the man, who Nico deduced to belong to the final, and previously absent, member of the Espada, came from beyond the cracks in reality. A shiver went up Nico’s spine in the presence of the power wielded by this man, something comparable to Luucio’s own, though he didn’t let his body show any sign of it.
“My Godking, Alastar Ullr has died.”
That much was obvious, though Nico guessed it would have had more impact if he’d actually known who the fuck Alastar was. It would be quite the significant blow to Luucio’s, and now technically his own, army to lose a monster like Alastar. However, with the arrival of this man, the interest that this Alastar fellow created had dissipated and there was no particular reason for Nico to continue giving the scene his attention. Yet, he felt something was amiss. Something in the back of his mind told him he should continue watching, as if something was lurking out of sight and waiting to pounce, which was almost immediately confirmed. From the shadows leapt a childish Arrancar, frail and weak in appearance, apparently choosing his moment to strike.
Nico could had easily intercepted the boy and cut him down where he stood, only refraining because he had no particular reason to do so: his allegiance to Luucio was tentative at best, he wasn’t going to do him favours for the sake of it. The boy proceeded to absorb the essence of the late Cero Espada, his own Reiatsu skyrocketing past Nico’s own power, something Nico had never considered possible. The adverse reactions of the other Espada implied this act was not a very desirable one, tensions among the most powerful Arrancar in Las Noches rising as a few pledged to beat the ever loving shit out of this newly empowered being. Nico didn’t pique up himself, one again he had no reason to do Luucio any altruistic favours, though he continued to silently watch the scene. He had made the right choice in coming here, he hadn’t seen such interesting shit in centuries: it was like theatre.
