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— i'll say a prayer, as i cast it to the flame
WHO: set & others
WHERE: around the netherworld
WHEN: check headers for specific dates/times
WHAT: a catch-all for everything during his time in-game
WARNINGS: physical violence, mentions of sexual abuse, hanahaki syndrome, etc.
WHERE: around the netherworld
WHEN: check headers for specific dates/times
WHAT: a catch-all for everything during his time in-game
WARNINGS: physical violence, mentions of sexual abuse, hanahaki syndrome, etc.
no subject
admittedly, he isn't used to entering a battle without the intent to kill. survival has always enforced that an enemy must be defeated and consumed, lest he be the one to meet such a fate. but he made a deal with ichigo and he is gonna keep it, no matter how hard it'll be (and it will be hard, trust him).
he arrives with no weapon in hand, wearing his typical white attire with a black graphic t-shirt underneath his jacket to conceal the hole in his abdomen. )
Are you ready, you old pile of shit? ( only a coward would ambush another. he is here for a fair fight. )
no subject
[ He laughs as Grimmjow approaches him - honorable, in that he announces his presence, rather than taking hold of an advantage or exploiting a vulnerability. It speaks to Set, that they come with no weapons alike; that this man who contacted him solely to duke it out is so straightforward. He, too, has made a vow against causing death. Mayhem is on the table, disorder is in his nature, but slaying others and potentially threatening the throne of the gods? No more.
Like his hair, he has a redness to his approach, his attitude. As wild and vicious as the arid desert lands, he stretches his arms up and over his head, cradling one elbow in his palm and then the other. Limbering up a body that does not need the warm up, as it gives him time to briefly take in the size of the other, his general build. He's eager to see what Grimmjow brings. ]
I'm ready, you little rascal. I hope you give as good as you get --
[ His thighs bunch, just below the dark edge of his shendyt, heralding his gap-closing leap, cat-like in his own way. He's aiming cat-like claws for the widest span of body, eager to rake them through Grimmjow's shirt and gouge through the meat of his chest, if he connects. ]
no subject
perhaps, he can be grateful to oblivium for one thing — it has given him a space to grow stronger outside of the restrictions placed upon him in hueco mundo as one of aizen's espadas. here, he can fight whoever he wants whenever he wants. here, he can focus solely on the only objective he has ever had.
to find the strongest among the litter and defeat them in battle.
although he no longer sees it as a fight to the death, destruction remains his core nature, so he won't be satisfied until one of them is left within the inch of his life. pantera has been acting up ever since he stepped foot on these lands though. it would be too early to try summoning it again. but it's just as well that he battles this god without reliance on his zanpakuto. it will only prepare him for future encounters when pantera is not an option. )
Speak for yourself, you old goat! ( he blocks the downward slash of set's clawed hand with his arm as he reels his own claws back to swing them upward towards bare abdomen. he always did enjoy the proximity of close combat, how much more thrilling and brutal it can be. )
no subject
His opening bid is a broad swing, an attempt to gauge the sense of Grimmjow's attitude towards combat - does he fight defensively? is he aggressive at the expense of his own form? does he think faster than he acts, or act before he thinks? Set is the god of war, and unlike the vast pantheon of the gods of Hellas, he does not divide his domain between other gods of battle and strife. Bloodthirst and tactics are both his.
While he finds Grimmjow's lashing hand with the free slide of his own, tangling their fingers and claws together into an oddly intimate hold that still leaves his wrist and palm scored viciously by the force of the other man's blow, he locks them into this close-range combat. Hand-in-hand, pressed in close and wild-eyed together. He's not shy about the proximity of their forms. To some, looking from afar, they may appear to be dancing moreso than brawling. He stuffs the bare jut of his knee into the angle of Grimmjow's hip, using it for leverage as he half-climbs the other's form --
It tears his wrist free, the glide of claws through his own skin obvious as the blood that flushes the injury and begins to flow in bursts and fits, scattering red across the ground. ]
So. [ He rasps, delighted: ] What do you fight for?
[ He's going to try to hook his ankle behind Grimmjow's knee and TAKE HIM DOWN!!!!! ]
no subject
if it was before he met ichigo, he surely would state that it's for power and survival. in some way, it still is, but now his motive lies less in wanting to be the strongest of them all; rather, he wants to grow stronger and battle against ichigo as equals.
it's a sentiment that he isn't willing to divulge, however; so instead of giving him an answer, grimmjow wraps his arms around the deity's lower body, pulling him tight against him even as he is swept onto his back. he hits the floor with a soft grunt but wastes little time in attempting to roll him over.
if successful, he will grab him by the hips, digging his claws into his flesh as he yanks him towards him in an effort to trap his inner left thigh beneath the weight of his knee. this would go far more smoothly if he could use cero but he still has yet to gauge this self-proclaimed god's capabilities and he is supposed to keep the battle nonlethal.
who knew fighting not to kill could present a challenge in and of itself? )
'fraid you're gonna have to earn that answer. ( he bites out. )