#* &. asks.

[cavaeaquilae-blog]

He threads the earring through the newly-cleaned hole in Abirama's right earlobe, doing so from behind to get around the mask. When he's done, a small, fang-shaped piece of bone, carved from the very tip of the large incisor Abi had brought him for his birthday, hangs against his cheek for his own.

Why he allows Grimmjow to do these things to him, he’ll never understand.  

Why he trusts that a split second of pain would not lead to more, or perhaps worse, is beyond him, but whatever the reason he’d sat still and let Grimmjow maneuver as needed to pierce the lobe and in the end, secure his apparent birthday gift into place.  Much of it remains hidden beneath the mask, but he knows it’s there. He feels it against his skin, in the added weight in his ear, in the way catches on the bony plate veiling it. Not something he ever thought he’d be wearing, but now that he is, he can’t imagine being without.

He cannot help but dip beneath the mask to run his fingers over its form, immediately catching the shape of a fang not unlike that which he’d given Grimmjow the month before.  “You didn’t…” He turns slowly toward Grimmjow, and for a split second, finds himself unable to meet those eyes. No, Grimmjow didn’t have to do it. Surely no one knew that better than the man himself, yet there he was, doing it anyway.  There IS a question of why the Espada might care to do it, but that is soon overshadowed. Grimmjow gave him something. For his birthday, no less. Something that appeared to have been designed personally, if not crafted as well. Maybe he’s mistaken on that assumption, but it sure as hell seemed that way and that’s good enough for him.  Needless to say, he loves it. Again, it’s a modification and adornment he never thought he’d have, but that makes no difference. Soon he’s practically beaming at Grimmjow … but there is one small issue, as his opinion is not the only one to consider.  

Would Lord Baraggan …?  

For a second his enthusiasm dampens.  Wide eyes, still yet to leave Grimmjow, falter, softening as the thought really hits him.  What if…what if his lord did not approve of it? What if he really didn’t like it, or worse, ordered Abirama to remove it?  It breaks his heart to think of that, but it is a possibility….

Yeah, well, that’s a bridge to cross when it comes.  Right now he has time to enjoy it, so he won’t go spoiling the moment with worrisome thoughts that may or may not have grounds. Give him a second to shake it off and that excited gratitude is right back in place.  “You really didn’t have to do that…but thank you, Grimmjow.”

[cavaeaquilae-blog]

" If you and I were the last men on earth, I bet we could do it in public."

“Even though we’re not, I bet we still could.”

[cavaeaquilae-blog]

"I didn't expect you to improve this fast."

There was no denying it this time.  It pissed him off to no end, as it would until things changed, but he still couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d lost yet again.  The only thing that keeps him from plunging a frustrated fist into the sand is the fact he’d gotten closer this time.  Struck harder, held out longer, may have even kept Grimmjow on his toes for the full duration, if he’s not mistaken.  The duel may not have ended in his favor, but he’ll still count that as a win, albeit a small one.  It means he’s getting better, or maybe he has simply grown accustomed to Grimmjow as an opponent, learning his tactics and tendencies and using it to his advantage.  Hard to say.  It doesn’t matter, anyway.  It still ended the same way it always had, with him picking his ass off the sand and Grimmjow standing above him.

There’s a frustrated growl in the back of his throat as he shoves off the ground, brushing sand off bare skin and, for a moment, refusing to look at Grimmjow.  At least, until the other chose to speak.  The sound of his voice instantly raised hackles, as Abirama expects another taunt and….wait.  Wait, hold up…

Did he really just…?

A few minutes had passed, and only then does he finally opt to face Grimmjow.  For perhaps the first time that day, surely the first time since they’d come out to their battleground here, he was silent, gauging the…compliment?  Is that what that was?  It sure as hell seems like it, and the second it sinks in, it’s obvious.  The confusion he’d turned to Grimmjow gradually turns to something lighter.  A smile.  Not the smirk or cocky grin he’d often flash, far too bright and gentle to be considered either.  The parts that are considerably less obvious are the surge suddenly rushing through his veins, the momentary flutter of butterflies in his stomach.  Yeah, he knew he was getting better, but to hear it from Grimmjow...

Right, but he’s revealed a little too much, thus it’s quickly tempered into something more common, into narrowing his widened eyes and sharpening the grin he wears, but still it lacks its usual edge.  He can feel that much, but yanno what?  At the moment, he doesn’t give a damn.

“Grimmjow, c’mon.  It’s me we’re talkin’ about here.”

[cavaeaquilae-blog]

Aguila is missing from his quarters when he returns there. In its place is a note saying "you can get this back with your fists. waiting behind building 27."

Five minutes.

He could not have been gone more than five minutes, and this is what happens.  It’s his own fault for leaving his weapon behind, or maybe for failing to bar the damn door on his way out.  Regardless, he’s crushing the note in hand, turning on his heel to head right back out and track Grimmjow down.  Normally he might be quietly wondering what the hell the other was up to, and excited by the prospect, and he would be this time were it not for one little detail.  That detail being the fact that nobody touches Águila.  N o b o d y.  That Grimmjow had not only done so, but taken it as well, is...not maddening by any means, but surely annoying.  Barring that, though, what’s not to look forward to?  Any chance to throw down, he’ll be there with bells on.

So, alright, game on, Grimmjow.

Honestly, if Grimmjow wanted Abirama to punch him in the head that badly, he could have spared himself the added effort and just asked.

[cavaeaquilae-blog]

✿ ✞ ✍ ✎ ☁ ツ ∞ ✺ ✆ yes this is serious

 ✿ - Does your muse like nature in general?

More or less.  He may not fall into the category of nature lover anymore, but seeing as he’d much rather be surrounded by the natural world, whether that means Hueco Mundo or (if someone would drag his butt there) the living world, than four walls, there is a certain appreciation for it.

✞ - Does your muse have any kind of religion?

Baraggan is love, Baraggan is life–

No, but really, the closest thing he has to religion at the moment is his unwavering devotion to His Majesty.

✍ - Can your muse write? How well?

Writing is a skill like any other, and his is…shall we say, nonexistent. When someone doesn’t utilize a skill, it inevitably becomes lost.  It’s been a long, long time since Abirama has had to write anything.  So…

✎ - Can your muse draw? How well?

If he had the patience to park his ass and work out details, he could be pretty good.  But he doesn’t.  And he’s not-rather, he’s okay.  Okay, as in, if he were to doodle something, someone else could probably figure out what it is with relative ease, but he’s certainly no artist.

☁ - What kind of weather does your muse consider the best?

It’s a tie between two, both of which he’ll need some further exposure to before he’ll realize that they’re the best.  In his opinion, at least:  cooler days with lots of sunshine (this dude will bask like a fuckin’ lizard, if he has the chance), or thunderstorms.

ツ - Can your muse speak any other language other than their main one?

Indeed he does.  His native tongue is that of the Skiri Pawnee, and English he had started to pick up and perfect prior to his death.  Spanish, he began learning after, and Japanese he understands to a certain degree, but he’s not what most would consider fluent.

∞ - Does your muse believe in the afterlife?

All things considered, we’re going to go with yes.

✺ - Something your muse finds pretty

Something?  The view of Hueco Mundo from the highest point he can find.  There aren’t a lot of frills that go along with it, but the moonlight on white sand is awfully pretty.

✆ - What is your muse’s phone gallery filled with?

Abi here isn’t one to take or save a ton of random pictures, so compared to other people’s, his is probably pretty bare, though he’d undoubtedly have a least a few of him and the people he hangs around with most–and weird shit.  Like, omg, I need proof of this or no one will believe me if I tell them kind of weird stuff.

[cavaeaquilae-blog]

"A hole. Y'know, like, a piece missing? Thought all you guys had 'em."

Oh.

“I know what a hole is, smartass, “  And with a second to process a spontaneous question like…that, what they’re actually talking about here clicks.  “Just ‘cuz you don’t see it doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

[cavaeaquilae-blog]

👀

Oh.  So he does have an audience.  

The sensation of eyes watching every move is difficult to mistake, difficult to place in some cases, but this time, he caught the blue gaze studying him so intently with a snide remark burning at the back of his tongue.  What is the problem now?  He is minding his own business, stretching muscles tense with inactivity, only to find Grimmjow relentlessly staring his direction. It does not seem like a challenge of any sort, strangely enough, nor does it seem like he’s unhappy with Abirama doing his thing.  It’s far too lax to be either, yet it’s been a while since that look had wavered…

Indeed there could be a number of reasons behind such dedicated interest, but he’s betting on one in particular. 

He stretches arms over his head, angling to give Grimmjow a view of the muscles of his back and shoulders, and the way his broad chest tapers down to his waist.  Arms drop, tensing as he shifts to display his sides, the muscles between his ribs and, of course, the swell of bicep.  Then he faces Grimmjow fully, every line of muscle in his abdomen pulled tight.  Shoulders roll, as if he is indeed just stretching, but the image is obliterated the moment pecs flex - left, right, and both simultaneously - and he meets the Sexta’s eye with a grin.

So, who wants who, again?

send 👀 for my muse to show off their body to yours