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polyarmory2007-04-16 09:39 pm
shortitude.livejournal.com) wrote in polyarmory2007-04-16 09:39 pm
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FIC: The Twisted Tales Of Two Strangers [UlquiHime] [1.3.]
Title: The Twisted Tales Of Two Strangers: 1.3.
Author: Cella [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stereotype_vamp]
Fandom:Bleach
Ship: Orihime x Ulquiorra
Rating: Teen
Summary: She’s the brightest light in Hueco Mundo. He’d rather be blind to her the rest of his life. ORIHIME. ULQUIORRA. A tale of love, and the unlucky bastards that try to ignore it.
Spoilers: Up to where Orihime gets kidnapped. Afterwards, consider it AU.
Dedications: Toangelshadows, my Orihime’s one and only Ulquiorra. Kun.
A/N: Everyone is allowed to ask me where the HELL this chapter came from. But I can’t guarantee an answer. I have the outline of this fic settled in my mind, but sometimes, Plot and Muse get together for tea, and they shove these little bits at me. Really. I have nothing to say, except that Ulquiorra’s snark is still there, but things are getting a bit more…serious.
Excluding this chapter, which isn’t that serious. I think.
But really, I guess all my chapters have a bit of humour in them. Right? I can’t figure out why, right now…Maybe a bit OOC, but not really. And before any of you make the assumption that he is IN LURVE with her already, I have FOUR words for you: YOU’RE ALL WRONG. SUCKERS! =P (Now, can someone please convince Ulquiorra not to kill me in my sleep? Please?)
{when in Rome}
[iii. like the sound of bells at a funeral]
It’s not that he hates her. Really.
He doesn’t want her to die. Really.
He doesn’t want her to shut up, either. Really.
Maybe. Maybe he’s become a better liar, because of her. He knows it’s true. For some reason, whatever events come to happen while he’s guarding her, he keeps a secret. For some reason, him, the Fourth, el Cuarto, death, the lackey, the ripper and the eye that sees it all…doesn’t show all. He’s lying to Aizen-sama, which he has no doubt, the master knows. It’s not a big lie, really. Probably why his head isn’t separated from his body—that and he really is more useful than the rest. They’re tiny omissions: how she asked him to call her by his name, her curious blush, the way she apologized for calling him a monster. Small details that he doesn’t really want to share with Aizen-sama, for no reason than to feel like he owns something.
They’re not his thoughts. They’re not his desires. They’re something weird, and strange, that he doesn’t need, or want, or have any use for. Why is he keeping those details a secret? Why does he erase them from his memory, before splintering his eye in front of his master? Maybe her stupidity is contagious. Probably.
She’s making him lie. And she’s making him lie to Aizen-sama. Which is, probably, why he feels disgusted. Not at her, but at himself.
And he’s changed his mind again.
He does hate her. Really.
“I’m bored,” she declares, poking at her food one day, and looking up at her small window.
“Good.” He doesn’t care.
“There’s nothing to do here. Aizen-san knows I won’t leave…so why can’t I at least exit the chambers, for a li—“
“No.” He doesn’t care.
She sighs, scratching the skin right under her eye. (If that were his skin, it would pull, twist, and the eye would come out and show stories.) “It’s been a week and a half since I last laughed.”
He doesn’t care.
She looks at him with interest, like he’s a new toy—and it makes him uneasy, it makes him want to cover her eyes, or slap her silly, because:
She’s still the prisoner here. And he doesn’t care for her needs. She’s fed, he watches over her. It’s all he’s told to do. End.
“Do you ever smile?” she asks, her voice scratching over the silence of the room. Chalk. Her voice is like chalk on a blackboard. Irritating. So irritating.
“No.”
“Could you?” she asks, tapping her chopsticks against her lips.
He doesn’t answer. Because…she has a point. It’s weird, really, that she actually has a point. But he reflects on her question, and finds himself at blanc. Can he smile? He knows some Espada smile—not happy smiles, of course, but they’re smiles nonetheless—so it shouldn’t be impossible for him to—“No.” He can’t smile. It’s not that he won’t. He just can’t. Probably never. It’s what he symbolizes, for the Espada, for Aizen-sama. He’s the statue, the one that imparts death without expression, without discrimination, and without second thought.
“That’s sad,” she says. He’s not inclined to agree.
“The need to smile is superfluous. It’s based on biochemical reactions that the human body creates. I neither experience, nor do I want to experience them.”
There is silence. He closes his eyes in a silent thanks to whoever for this silence. But as usual, she manages to break it, somehow.
By poking him in the side. He opens his eyes and looks down at her.
“………what are you doing?”
“Trying to see if you’re right,” she answers simply, fluttering her fingers against his side. And up, her face concentrated, and down, her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. And poking his sides, doing something weird with her fingers that—
He doesn’t understand. “What are you doing?”
“Tickling you. Or…at least, I’m trying to do that…”
This time, a long, suffered sigh escaped his lips—and dies half way there. He hisses, and swats her hands, his eyes wide. “Stop that!”
She blinks up at him. There’s a pause. Her mouth widens in a stupid, silly grin—
And he just knows this will be another one of those things he’ll hide from Aizen-sama, even before it happens, because—
“Ulquiorra-san is ticklish!” she quips. The laughter follows. It follows and it flows out of her mouth as if it were a Cero. And then it’s sucking him in.
The little idiot woman-child is laughing at him, as he stands, surprised, at her discovery—because he didn’t know that himself—and more surprised at the sounds of her laughter. Like bubbles, or chimes, or something as equally loud and lively and impulsive. It draws him in. For a moment, he wants to hear more.
But the moment is over.
He stands up, and leaves the room in a composed hurry, slamming the door behind him. Leaning against the door, he decides, as he pulls his eye out, and smashes it against the wall—he will never show this to Aizen-sama, and the sole notion on this makes him feel ashamed—with force, that yes. Yes.
He really hates the girl.
Author: Cella [
stereotype_vamp] Fandom:Bleach
Ship: Orihime x Ulquiorra
Rating: Teen
Summary: She’s the brightest light in Hueco Mundo. He’d rather be blind to her the rest of his life. ORIHIME. ULQUIORRA. A tale of love, and the unlucky bastards that try to ignore it.
Spoilers: Up to where Orihime gets kidnapped. Afterwards, consider it AU.
Dedications: To
angelshadows, my Orihime’s one and only Ulquiorra. Kun. A/N: Everyone is allowed to ask me where the HELL this chapter came from. But I can’t guarantee an answer. I have the outline of this fic settled in my mind, but sometimes, Plot and Muse get together for tea, and they shove these little bits at me. Really. I have nothing to say, except that Ulquiorra’s snark is still there, but things are getting a bit more…serious.
Excluding this chapter, which isn’t that serious. I think.
But really, I guess all my chapters have a bit of humour in them. Right? I can’t figure out why, right now…Maybe a bit OOC, but not really. And before any of you make the assumption that he is IN LURVE with her already, I have FOUR words for you: YOU’RE ALL WRONG. SUCKERS! =P (Now, can someone please convince Ulquiorra not to kill me in my sleep? Please?)
[iii. like the sound of bells at a funeral]
It’s not that he hates her. Really.
He doesn’t want her to die. Really.
He doesn’t want her to shut up, either. Really.
Maybe. Maybe he’s become a better liar, because of her. He knows it’s true. For some reason, whatever events come to happen while he’s guarding her, he keeps a secret. For some reason, him, the Fourth, el Cuarto, death, the lackey, the ripper and the eye that sees it all…doesn’t show all. He’s lying to Aizen-sama, which he has no doubt, the master knows. It’s not a big lie, really. Probably why his head isn’t separated from his body—that and he really is more useful than the rest. They’re tiny omissions: how she asked him to call her by his name, her curious blush, the way she apologized for calling him a monster. Small details that he doesn’t really want to share with Aizen-sama, for no reason than to feel like he owns something.
They’re not his thoughts. They’re not his desires. They’re something weird, and strange, that he doesn’t need, or want, or have any use for. Why is he keeping those details a secret? Why does he erase them from his memory, before splintering his eye in front of his master? Maybe her stupidity is contagious. Probably.
She’s making him lie. And she’s making him lie to Aizen-sama. Which is, probably, why he feels disgusted. Not at her, but at himself.
And he’s changed his mind again.
He does hate her. Really.
“I’m bored,” she declares, poking at her food one day, and looking up at her small window.
“Good.” He doesn’t care.
“There’s nothing to do here. Aizen-san knows I won’t leave…so why can’t I at least exit the chambers, for a li—“
“No.” He doesn’t care.
She sighs, scratching the skin right under her eye. (If that were his skin, it would pull, twist, and the eye would come out and show stories.) “It’s been a week and a half since I last laughed.”
He doesn’t care.
She looks at him with interest, like he’s a new toy—and it makes him uneasy, it makes him want to cover her eyes, or slap her silly, because:
She’s still the prisoner here. And he doesn’t care for her needs. She’s fed, he watches over her. It’s all he’s told to do. End.
“Do you ever smile?” she asks, her voice scratching over the silence of the room. Chalk. Her voice is like chalk on a blackboard. Irritating. So irritating.
“No.”
“Could you?” she asks, tapping her chopsticks against her lips.
He doesn’t answer. Because…she has a point. It’s weird, really, that she actually has a point. But he reflects on her question, and finds himself at blanc. Can he smile? He knows some Espada smile—not happy smiles, of course, but they’re smiles nonetheless—so it shouldn’t be impossible for him to—“No.” He can’t smile. It’s not that he won’t. He just can’t. Probably never. It’s what he symbolizes, for the Espada, for Aizen-sama. He’s the statue, the one that imparts death without expression, without discrimination, and without second thought.
“That’s sad,” she says. He’s not inclined to agree.
“The need to smile is superfluous. It’s based on biochemical reactions that the human body creates. I neither experience, nor do I want to experience them.”
There is silence. He closes his eyes in a silent thanks to whoever for this silence. But as usual, she manages to break it, somehow.
By poking him in the side. He opens his eyes and looks down at her.
“………what are you doing?”
“Trying to see if you’re right,” she answers simply, fluttering her fingers against his side. And up, her face concentrated, and down, her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. And poking his sides, doing something weird with her fingers that—
He doesn’t understand. “What are you doing?”
“Tickling you. Or…at least, I’m trying to do that…”
This time, a long, suffered sigh escaped his lips—and dies half way there. He hisses, and swats her hands, his eyes wide. “Stop that!”
She blinks up at him. There’s a pause. Her mouth widens in a stupid, silly grin—
And he just knows this will be another one of those things he’ll hide from Aizen-sama, even before it happens, because—
“Ulquiorra-san is ticklish!” she quips. The laughter follows. It follows and it flows out of her mouth as if it were a Cero. And then it’s sucking him in.
The little idiot woman-child is laughing at him, as he stands, surprised, at her discovery—because he didn’t know that himself—and more surprised at the sounds of her laughter. Like bubbles, or chimes, or something as equally loud and lively and impulsive. It draws him in. For a moment, he wants to hear more.
But the moment is over.
He stands up, and leaves the room in a composed hurry, slamming the door behind him. Leaning against the door, he decides, as he pulls his eye out, and smashes it against the wall—he will never show this to Aizen-sama, and the sole notion on this makes him feel ashamed—with force, that yes. Yes.
He really hates the girl.