[ Jugram moves briskly through the dark and musty corridor, following the sound of the footsteps distantly ahead of him even though they've long since disappeared from sight thanks to the nigh-impermeable mist. Those are the only two senses that give him any real idea of who else is here: the ability to hear footsteps and the ability to see a few meters ahead of himself, sometimes more when the tunnel is graced by the presence of something bioluminescent.
It's the same blinded feeling from before, but much worse: he knows by now that his ability to sense reiatsu comes and goes in its usual strength, but here, even further away from the prison's holding cells, he can detect absolutely nothing. There's no way to tell where the guards are, no way to tell where Kurosaki is (though he's hardly a threat, even with his abilities, he can't shake the sense he needs to keep an eye on his whereabouts and activities.) It's a strange glimpse into what it would be like existing as a human for someone who has no interest in knowing.
Jugram listens carefully as he moves: to the hushed voices, the dripping of condensation or groundwater from the ceiling, the faint scuff of footsteps on the damp cement floor. His head still throbs from the initial blow, or what he suspects to be one or two more after that: it'd take a lot more force to knock out most beings with a spiritual body, himself included. Maybe he has a concussion—probably. He probably has a concussion.
He doesn't get any further with the thought before a hard strike hits the small of his back from directly behind, entirely eclipsed within the new blind spot. Jugram falls forward and turns as he does, landing the brunt of the fall on the bony prominence of an elbow to at least give him the chance to see and kick out at the attacker before he can shove himself upright despite the pain of the impact—
And it's not a guard but that Arrancar that killed Askin. ]
Get out of the way. The guards will find us if we fight here.
CLOSED ➣ for grimmjow
It's the same blinded feeling from before, but much worse: he knows by now that his ability to sense reiatsu comes and goes in its usual strength, but here, even further away from the prison's holding cells, he can detect absolutely nothing. There's no way to tell where the guards are, no way to tell where Kurosaki is (though he's hardly a threat, even with his abilities, he can't shake the sense he needs to keep an eye on his whereabouts and activities.) It's a strange glimpse into what it would be like existing as a human for someone who has no interest in knowing.
Jugram listens carefully as he moves: to the hushed voices, the dripping of condensation or groundwater from the ceiling, the faint scuff of footsteps on the damp cement floor. His head still throbs from the initial blow, or what he suspects to be one or two more after that: it'd take a lot more force to knock out most beings with a spiritual body, himself included. Maybe he has a concussion—probably. He probably has a concussion.
He doesn't get any further with the thought before a hard strike hits the small of his back from directly behind, entirely eclipsed within the new blind spot. Jugram falls forward and turns as he does, landing the brunt of the fall on the bony prominence of an elbow to at least give him the chance to see and kick out at the attacker before he can shove himself upright despite the pain of the impact—
And it's not a guard but that Arrancar that killed Askin. ]
Get out of the way. The guards will find us if we fight here.