-> He, someone's ghostly image who Lyric has never met face to face, thinks they are an arrancar; clad in horns and tail and glittering scales but no mask, no sword, Lyric thinks the silhouette of their clothes does its job well. But only if the person on the other end does not intend to harm them. Instead, it has now branded Lyric as potential prey and foe——or at least... that's how they think he views them. Lyric's eyes flick from his face to the sword on his back to the hands at his side; could they run faster than he could draw it? Probably not. Behind them they think they can still see the jutting, uneven skyline of Las Noches no further than 15 minutes away at a run. Enough to deter Hollows but not other, sentient things. Not stronger things.
"... ... is a Hello what you want to hear?"
-> Darkness nigh encroaches on them, swallowing up the universe where fake stars should be. Lyric is all oil-paint color in the desert, but if he moved too quick, he would vanish from their sights. Lyric could not hide so easily. Their palms open and close at their sides. How to fight. How could they? Throw their weight around sure—sink their teeth into him. Hope it bites unlike with Nnoitra, his steel skin keeping fangs at bay. Their hands come to fidget with the hem of their overcoat along their torso.
"Is that what I look like to you?"
@killerinstincts from ask.
