NEW SLAVES PT. 2 [FEAT. MINERVA]

There was nothing but a chuckle exiting his mouth upon witnessing her reaction. For the first time since they’d met, those syllables were the only ones that exited his mouth that were purely factual; or at least he believed it himself. And as she graced herself off the ground utilizing the strength of his limb, his smile would open to accentuate his jesting jubilance, “That’s kind of my style, being a failed mastermind and all.” Following the culmination of the gesture, he took a pace backward to allow her some trusting room; as well as allowing her to take a minor verbal bite into his charming tongue. The latter of her verbiage went unnoticed, for the moment.

“If I called you the Goddess of Beauty, you’d start blushing.” The snake of a male winked his red eyebrows at her, raising his palms into the air as if he hadn’t the slightest clue why she’d say such a thing. “Besides, it is your nam—what?” A hint of confusion pinched his visage, his chin taking a downward tilt as he thoroughly investigated the environment. In that concurring moment, he usurped the chance to disregard whatever reaction she had to his harmless flirting.

“This is…” Ashton crouched and cautiously examined the equipment with his palm before continuing his speech; astonishment unconsciously increasing the volume of his deep voice. And for reason, even he felt an eerie sheet layering over them, overpowering the beautiful ambience of nature. “This has the Le'Valiér crest, do you see it?”

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The Syndicate executive’s eyes failed to part from the ground as his temporary partner’s delicate hands outstretched to seize the foreign object. Beyond her visuals were fair-skinned lips commixing their brother curling with pure malevolence; it was perfect. He knew exactly what that object was, and he could sense the familiar energies emanating from it. The consequences of her curious actions would be left for her to excogitate upon later, for a fated opportunity leapt into both of their hands.

“My Goddess of Beauty, I don’t litter.” He chuckled, his tone ever so lightly verging upon mockery. He rose from his lingering position, and showed his back to her as he began slowly striding through the midst of the forest. Through his spiritual awareness, he could already sense constructs of pure sin approximating them all too quickly. In retrospect, the action that she just performed could be considered a liability; though with his morality it was nothing but intrigue. “Darling, do me a favor and crush that. Then come here.” He proposed, the sound of his cordial flirtatiousness corroding as he furthered into the woods.

Should she have followed, the young woman would have heard a katana being plucked from bark, and would have saw the Shinigami lazing his shoulders upon a tree, both of the purple katana gripped casually within either hand. The male stood comically, staring at the exquisite heaping prairie from the outer edges of the forest. Before their eyes, a demonic piece of art would distort the air, dozens upon dozens of eyes creeping out of the dimensional darkness—and one gigantic pair. And while his eyebrows awkwardly soared, his lips couldn’t help but chuckle, “And that my dear, would be ‘Hollow Bait.’”

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By the time the young female reached him and began inquiring, the redhead’s face sculpted in bewilderment. He found himself wondering just how sheltered she was, and if he really wanted to enlist her as an agent. Though the day was still young, she could end up impressing him. “…Yes and no. The terms of the Shinigami and Quincy pact state that violence between the each other is prohibited, the Shinigami just dislike when the Quincy fight these…evil spirits; these Hollows.” He explained, nonchalantly examining the various two dozen Hollows roar their way into the world like a pack of deprived lions. “The difference between you and I, is that when I kill a Hollow, I send their soul back into the reincarnation cycle. But if you were to kill one, you would extinguish their soul forever.”

He disallowed the technicalities of the situation to leave his lips, as to not overload her mind. Turning his head away from the blustering storm of sin a multitude of meters in front of them, he cast his softened amber eyes upon her tensing person, “But if these creatures threatened the lives of your mother and father, wouldn’t you do anything you could to stop them?” While the vicious howls of the beasts soured the sound waves, Ashton laid his eyes upon the pendant she wore, staring intently.

Would the Goddess of Wisdom spread her wings away from strife, or fight for everything she cared about?

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Whether either of them recognized it, this was the make or break point for Minerva Alanis. She would become a slave to fear and shackle herself forever, or she would use this experience to blossom into a beautiful, unstoppable creature. Ashton turned his head to her, sheathing both of his blades as the beasts continued to ready themselves, analyzing every molecule of fear and hesitation that crept along her anatomy—that she literally jabbed away.

“Apologies are unnecessary,” his smiling lips said, turning his gaze back to the sinful creatures to lessen his intensity, “And I almost never have a strategy.” He chuckled softly, shrugging his shoulders before crossing his arms. The eased redhead noticed that she readied herself with a dynamic spear; perhaps her spirit weapon, and she would receive ample opportunity to utilize it—the stage was hers. Ashton would see her liberated from any mental and emotional shackles; he wanted the gorgeous young soul to soar.

The growling beasts began to prowl the prairie, yet they elicited no hiccups in the executive’s volubility, “There is only one strategy you need.” Every bit of malevolence that the man exhibited prior seemed to drain away, that empty space filling with benevolent support as his chin rose. “Compartmentalize your life, for once you are in control, Minerva. I’m not giving you praise or counseling you; I’m simply helping a young woman unshackle herself.” He took a step forward, staring at the amassing of Hollows like a painter would a canvas.

“You’re in control,” he reiterated, “You didn’t let fear control you just then, and you won’t let these Hollows stop you from saving your parents, will you?” Ashton rhetorically inquired, turning his eyesight to her for a last time. He could only wonder if she was ready—if she was worth it. Perhaps the plenitude of his speech would fall upon ego-deafened ears, he knew not until the moments to come.

Because every single beast murderously charged forth!

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The smiling redhead raised his hands defensively, taking a few paces backwards as she initiated her dynamic movements. He analyzed her entire stance, form, weapon, and body as she began to attack. Whether or not she mentally consumed the words he spoke was of little consequence, for the seeds had already been planted. However more so than anything, he was curious to about her combat proficiency. She wielded a spiritual pressure currently comparable to his, yet he had over one hundred and seventy years of experience to her one day.

And as to be expected, none of these creatures held a candle to the fire blazing within her palms, though he kept himself alert in the odd case of emergency. And before she knew it, the vicious growling of the six charging beasts turned into a fading whimper as her spears cleaved their animalistic forms and masks, leaving them to everlastingly fade into the ether. However rejoicing was premature, as the last six corrupted animals began to converge upon the pureblood girl as if they hadn’t a meal to spare in weeks! However in the lingering rift, a skyscraper-sized silhouette curiously awaited, a devilish red hue amassing about the optics.

“Bravo, bravo!” Ashton clapped, resting his back upon a tree as he watched. To the perceptive eye, one might have noticed a semblance of malevolence converging upon his lips. He wasn’t impressed, yet he was most definitely intrigued from her abilities; and from the justified carnage they invoked. If the extent of her powers failed to defeat the six remaining demons, there was a high chance he’d commit seppuku.

OOC: Haven't been able to post that well lately, forgive me cutie.

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Clink.

Before Minerva would even turn to acknowledge the beast that accosted the redhead, she would only hear the guard of his prototype Selee Schneider resituating inside its scabbard, and nothing less than a bifurcated creature wailing in its last moments. It would have been morally correct to purify his assailant utilized his soul-forged blade, but that was kindness that long since strayed from Ashton’s heart. The beast that leapt for freedom over the white-haired girl received no differing treatment; it had been impaled by a vibrating blade and defeated before it had a chance to sour the Earth—the redhead leaving whooshes of air in his wake, appearing few paces to the right of the young woman.

“That wasn’t too bad at all, Minerva.” He approved, nodding his newfound brotherly smile at her, no doubt elucidating her agitation with him. He introduced the vibrating steel of his purple katana to the enjoyable climate, thwarting his vision from her as he continued, “My Goddess of Wisdom even scared away that last one, but I’ll handle this one.” Ashton joked, fluidly twirling his armaments before him like a Shaolin Monk.

Within seconds electricity began to spark about the lieutenant’s blades, and before the young woman could respond, he leapt forth and visually became a bolt of lightning! From Minerva’s optics, the redhead would have disappeared within milliseconds as the creature’s silhouette came to disperse—revealing a full-grown Menos Grande! Beads of demonic red energy swiftly assimilated about the Hollow’s mouth, preparing to turn the young lady and her environments to ash and ruin. And yet only echoing wails of agony were to be had as a ruthless bolt of lightning made a plethora of cameos within the distorted square of atmosphere.

The Cero retired early, and with ease the beast was vertically bisected from the mask, then horizontally trisected from the body, before being quadrisected, and soon shredded into uncountable pieces! The howling pain soon became a perverted pitch of failure as the spiritual pathway gradually began to close. That familiar bolt of lightning came blaring outward, just escaping the enclosing by a thin, red strand. A static shock boomed five meters before Minerva, the huge amassment of electricity dissolving to reveal the redhead’s grin, his grips upon the purple handles as they returned to their proper homes. Nonchalantly, his hands returned to his pockets with simple musings escaping his lips.

“I can sense her, she’s close. Are you ready?”

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According to the extra pinch of agitation layered over Minerva, she highly disapproved of him speeding up the combat engagement. Although, he was sure the young lady would be grateful for his actions once she caught sight of the more important developments—if she saw them at all. The Death God silently turned to see irritation skewer the pureblood’s navigational skills; in many manners of the term. He hadn’t the slightest clue what she was saying in her treks, and he knew less of where she was going—he was the radar for this operation. Though, it was amusing to examine her trunk shake off to the middle of nowhere.

Ashton cupped his curled lips with one hand, failing to move a muscle in his legs, “Oi, Goddess! You’re going the wrong way.” He laughingly hollered with a tamed volume. By the time she turned around, the Shinigami would have torqued to his left and began steadily pattering against the grass. He blinked twice, initiating his cybernetic implants to survey the sights ahead for miles to come. “Hmm?” He stopped with a good collection of meters, tilting his head to the left as his glowing red orbs twitched with inquisitiveness.

His right hand lifted into the air, two fingers denoting for his companion to follow—and he was gone. She proved yesterday that she was capable of following his flash steps, and she would do so again lest she bask in confusion. With a couple of whizzes through the air, the redhead was knelt a plethora of yards forward in the midst of a prairie, a gorgeous lake to the left with a momentous mountain to the right covered in sky at the highest of altitudes.

Before his curious form was a single, broken parachute with a small puddle of blood next to it. He dipped his fingers in the liquid and pooled his thumb into it, carefully analyzing the evidence. “This is what I was sensing.” He mused, “This was spilled no more than thirty minutes ago.” He peered at the mountain to his right, noticing a line of red droplets leading towards the mountain. An eerie feeling cascaded upon him, and yet his grin did not falter.

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