She'll get down on her knees just this once, she supposes, and kisses the back of his hand -- after all, it is a special occasion. "Happy birthday Aizen-sama.' she murmurs, and sea foam green eyes stare up at him. "I hope your day remains without a headache to be seen." was that a joke she tried to make? perhaps.
happy birthday, aizen! | birthday asks
it is not something he truly demands of his espada, obeisance. he is generous, tolerant of their foibles and quirks and faults. they do not need to respect him to follow him. he does not command respect; he commands fear itself, his ten blades. but today is an interesting day, it seems, leaving him to gaze downwards to the tres.
his gaze was not shy in meeting hers before his mouth was curving into a smile of rich mirth and he chuckled quietly, his hand turning gently in her grasp to leave those long fingertips of his to press mildly against the slick surface of her mask, feeling the weight of those sharp teeth. a predator's teeth.
❝ thank you, hallibel, ❞ came the murmur in that rumbling baritone. ❝ i rather hope it will be a quiet and rather peaceful day myself. perhaps a touch naive to hope for such a thing -- yet i can wish it all the same, can't i? it is my birthday. ❞












