Sugar Coated Skirmish [Saphy]

To be granted that honor so soon, of course there would be a tinge of guilt growing within her. For now, she did not have any long term goals in mind, but since she had only been a Vasto Lorde for a couple of days  it would come as no surprise. For now, training was all Trael needed, and who better to teach her than one who knew the ropes, and was considered to be one of the most powerful entities in this dimension? That of course, brings to mind that she'd actually attempt to ask others for advice and help as well, perhaps starting with the woman who enjoyed sitting on her throne of skulls. They had gotten along fairly well during their first encounter, and Trael knew better than to treat her superiors with disrespectful actions, so maybe that's why they didn't mind her presence during those meetings.

"I will stop.. o-only.. when I feel.. I've deserved it, Mistress." Maybe that day wouldn't ever come, but for the time being, until she feels as though she's done her Mistress proud, she would continue referring to that young lady with that term. It felt kind of awkward, but then again, Kurisu was the one who helped her. She was the one who gave her a second chance, and though her clueless self still had no idea as to what that second chance entitled her to do, her loyalty to the Cuatro Espada would remain endless until the day she perishes once more.

With a small nod as her only response to the first challenge issued by her savior, running seemed easy enough, right? After all, she only had to move her two feet, and she's been doing that ever since she achieved her previous form after what seemed like an eternity of being a giant stick figure. And there she goes, beginning with a normal pace, but picking it up right away, reaching her destination and back within thirty seconds or so. She certainly could have gone faster, even without the aid of her abilities that have yet to be discovered, but this was a warm up, wasn't it? Thus, without warning, she made another lap towards the dune and back, this time approaching a much more satisfying duration of twenty seconds, give or take. Perhaps it was weak, compared to the standards of other Arrancar, but Trael was certain that with more training.. with more time devoted into this, she might actually be able to do better.

Blink she did not. Obviously, when it came to the powers and abilities of an Arrancar, the only thing Trael actually knew how to perform was a cero, but even then, her's was still as weak as a newborn baby's- which she was, on a technical term. As mentioned previously, it hadn't been a long time since she's learned of what she really was, and it sure as hell would take her a much longer period of time before she could even get close to Kurisu's level. In a way, it was kind of disheartening, especially after witnessing what that little girl could do, but at the same time, it could be counted as a form of motivation, just so one day, she could actually achieve the same thing.

Still, that didn't stop a tinge of disappointment from showing on her face, and as per usual, she pulled the hood of her cloak down even further, as if to conceal those emotions from showing. Trael was eager to learn, there's no doubting that, but the distance between her current state and the goal in which she wishes to achieve seemed lightyears away. No matter how many Hollows she'd continue to devour, the tiny increase in power wouldn't help, as she'd still lack the control and understanding in the end. 

Trael nodded in response, nonetheless, as it would be rude to leave a question hanging in the air for so long. "I.. sorry.." Truth be told, she didn't really know what else to say. Apologizing for her weakness was probably one of the more logical options that she had, and hence that's why she did it. She didn't know what kind of responses Kurisu would have, but even with such a simple task, Trael felt like a complete failure after not even managing to do a fraction of a fraction of the time her Mistress had.

Strong wouldn't exactly be the most accurate term in the world when it came to describing Trael's powers. Sure, her potential to grow was an undeniable existence, but at the end of the day, how long would it actually take before she manages to reach those potentials and meet up to the standards that her Mistress had set? So yes, the entire ordeal was disheartening, but even so, she knew better than to sulk and mope about it when she could actually be spending that time to actually achieve something. In a way, her own cloak represented the insecurities that laid within her, but if you look at it from a different perspective, it could also be labelled as a symbol of power and extraordinary beauty, so much so that you'd keep yourself from being seen just to prevent having those qualities tainted by the unworthy. Two completely different views, yes, but who's to say that it couldn't be a combination of both?

Once liberated of her hood, the bright glow of the full moon illuminated the sadness in Trael's eyes, though that itself didn't last very long, what with the proceeding compliment causing a faint blush to manifest on both her cheeks. And that in turn, didn't last long as well, what with her new task announced. Thirty consecutive laps, with the length of the trail being as long as the two previous runs she made. To be honest, Trael had no idea how this would benefit her in the long run, especially considering how she might not even be able to continue the training session after this due to the impending fatigue and complete and utter exhaustion with her name written in bold.

The look of disdain for this task was evident in the expressions on her face, but she began anyway. The first twelve laps went by without much of a hitch, but after those, she evidently began slowing down. The sweat, mixed with the dry air of the endless desert, that was what made it increasingly hard for her to continue. It might not be evident now to her or to anyone else, but her affinity laid with icy cold weather. Around the twenty-fifth lap, Trael felt as though she had expended way too much physical and mental strength, but while she did not stop running- and by running, her version had speed that would rival that of an old man in a Segway, she felt dead. Lap twenty-eight, her legs started giving in and that's when her knees buckled. It took her several seconds before she is actually able to regain a semblance of energy to pull herself back up to her own two feet, but she was hurting. Badly.

Nonetheless, she managed to pull through and finish all thirty laps, but upon doing so, she'd slump down, face-first against the sand. She couldn't move, she couldn't feel her legs, she had difficulty breathing, and she felt as though she was being cooked by the sand with each additional second spent in this location. In a way, she'd still be conscious, though her disoriented vision and blurry hearing says otherwise.

"Hey, do you honestly think its right for them to take advantage of you like this? You know, you're not exactly in the safest position because of your status."

The entire scene was blurry, almost as if someone had purposely ripped a few bags of flour apart and tossed it in the air. There was no clear cut view on what was happening, and despite this being a vision of her dreams, Trael had no idea either. She did, however, feel a sense of deja vu, like the cloudy scene before her had happened before and she just couldn't remember. For now, she was seeing the world through the eyes of someone else, apparently, as the conversation went on.

"Je le sais, Maxwell, je le sais, but people look up to me. They are paying more attention to this sport than they've ever had! Children.. ask for my autograph wherever I go, and.. its flattering. If they see me as a role model, then shouldn't I be one? I will represent my country. I will win the Olympics. I.. I just have to."

And that was when the entire vision faded to black, and she was greeted with a different light altogether - a light that blinded her eyes temporarily when she opened them, because she'd been asleep for a full day. Trael shot up from the bed, immediately ending up in a seated position, rubbing her eyes and groaning at the sensations her entire body was feeling. For some reason, she'd expected more from that vision, as though she planned on waking up to find another clouded up conversation between two familiar strangers, and not a wave of fatigue to suddenly overcome her senses. Her forehead was drenched in cold sweat, and she was breathing heavily. The female's voice that she'd just heard in the dream, she knew for certain that it came from whomever was in her perspective, and it had a certain tinge of familiarity in it to give off another feeling of deja vu. Could it be.. herself?

Whatever the case, those visions weren't going to stop her grogginess and swelled up legs filled with small cuts and bruises from healing anytime soon. Wait.. swelled up legs? ... Fuck.