❝ He loves you , you know . ❞ It comes as a whisper of sound , the soft approach of the silver woman carrying a porcelain cup akin to that of a spectre . A visage that could dissipate from your grasp should you exhale too sharply . Smile paints across the sweep of her lips , gaze downturned towards the drink before they turn towards the blue devil . Hands lift , offering the cup to him ( darjeeling , a mentioned favorite ) in hopes that it would prove sufficient enough as a notion of peace between them . ❝ I can't remember a time he didn't speak highly of you . Even after you – ❞
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 , the way that she moves , the murmur of her heart ( too soft , too weak , to be beating within a living humans chest ) , the scent of DEATH that clings to her skin & very being . The Devil knows she's there before she speaks , head barely turning aside to glance at her , before lowering gaze to the cup held within her hands ( scarred , obscenely so , yet hers are the hands that string together delicate arts . A master of her craft ) . Her voice , the promise of spring's bloom after the cold winter nights , a balm that smooths over the ravaged parts of a soul . It's mesmerizing , the effects she has on the world around her , yet memory reminds them of Grimmjow's words , of the smile that never dissipates & the kindness that is given to a world that turned its back on her . How curious , that there had been no attempt to turn against it all , to forsake humanity with the knowledge that there would be little to no opposition ( or so the Devil would believe ) . The time that trods between them feels too long as the cup remains within her hold , & he can tell that there is that moment's deliberation of whether or not she had made the right call to approach him when lost in thoughts . The building tension soon enough dispelled as gloved hands lift to take the cup , fingers gently grazing over her own ( skin as cold & lifeless as bitter stone , though their seeming frailty akin to that of fragile porcelain ) , an acknowledgement of what it was that she sought , though keenly aware of the needlessness of it when faced with the growing familiarity between them .
Colorless gaze lifts to hers , searching , allowing a soft exhale from lungs in the form of a gentle SCOFF . Silence ensues in the seconds after , drawing the cup closer & lifting rim to lips . Darjeeling . Curious that she would have known to bring him this blend without prior knowledge of those few teas that were highly sought after . Though , is it so strange ? As they listen to her continue , it dawns on them that the knowledge would have had to have been imparted on her by someone that knew the Devil's particular tastes ( as close as Dante claimed to be to the elder , the particulars of loose leaf seemed to often elude him ) .
Grimmjow .
Single sip taken before it begins its descent , though it pauses momentarily in its trajectory as he glances back over towards Ebony . Jaw setting at the hesitation of the word's subject that surrounds them day in & day out . A quiet prompt to give voice to the weight she fears bringing to their conversation as bottom of cup CLINKS against saucer .
❛ ──── Died . ❜ No reason was there to shy away from the truth they both were well aware of . The black STAIN that had smeared a large majority of their life , the hollow knight that followed the orders of none other than the being that had carved out the humanity that had resided , molding it by hand into something more PALLETABLE & OBEDIENT . Remnants of a soul remained regardless , with the looming threat of being consumed , eradicated , forgotten . The only mercy , was the destruction of the walking prison & near destruction of their soul . A final HEARTBEAT drowned out by echoing screams & the strike of metal against the cold stone ground ( a brother left without half their being , without having known the grave sin until it was too late ) . In one place , events led to another , in juxtaposition ? Two souls had continued to bond even in the face of ABSENCE .
He looks to her then , carefully scanning her features as she glances to him ( shock ? Astonishment , perhaps ? at the brazen admittance of their brief departure from this life ) . Low hum exudes from them , shifting gaze towards the cup in their hand & allowing finger to uncoil from the handle , thumb & forefinger gently rubbing together pensively . That Grimmjow continued to hold the Devil in high regard is what struck him at most , ODD , if only due to the nature of disappearance , to have effectively been left ABANDONED by the Devil ( through no intentional means , especially not for so long ) .
❛ I believe he may underestimate how sentimental he can actually become . Counterintuitive to the claim that he has no heart . ❜ Harshness is immensely dulled , left only with the soft ember of warmth that tone oft finds itself bereft of . Softness had never been familiar to them , a foreign behavior that was all too often attributed with WEAKNESS , yet here they stand as living proof of where true weakness had lay ( a contusioned heart being the last thing to contribute to those baseless accusations ) . Form gradually SHIFTS from the woman , though not without the brief hesitation that stutters movement . He deliberates on whether or not there should be words of COMFORT exchanged in the prompted topic , that perhaps she sought confirmation from the Devil himself on the state of their feelings towards the arrancar . ❛ To be speaking of me even in absence , it's difficult to imagine . ❜ Voice lowering to a near murmur , fingers gently running over the ridged design adorning the side of the teacup in hand . There had been those mentions , where loneliness had set in & company sought in the form of a particular tender-hearted woman . In a past not too long ago , there would have been the harsh judgement of such a FOOLISH desire , in seeking companionship in another rather than finding the capability to stride forth & dispense of a memory that no longer maintained its tangibility . Now ? Vergil finds no fault in the the decision ( had come to mistakenly accept the passage of time & the growth of another ) , though now it continuously seems to shift & change as days are spent in company of two souls rather than one . An unprecedented development , but one that he did not find himself opposed to the more he came to learn of the melancholic woman .
Eyes drift back towards her , as hands lightly fold before her in meeting the Devil's gaze . Where he would have expected her to look away , she instead maintains eye contact even as her posture ever so slightly changes under the weight of the Devil's piercing eyes ( as if they saw right through , yet this time they're met with those that understood souls ) . This time , it is the Devil that lowers their gaze , releasing a quiet exhale .
❛ What I have done , should have drawn his ire . That he still found it within himself to ── ❜ A pause , looking back at the pale woman with slanted brows . ❛ ── You should realize that he has learned to love you , as well . Do not doubt that . ❜
@aevyternal
