(no subject)

[ichimaru]

[Gin has reached an apex.

Life within Hueco Mundo is tedious, according to Gin. Aizen rules, Tousen maintains, and the every Arrancar fights and fumes and lives, all while Gin watches, the ever present ghost in white. It should be an ominous position, but Aizen says that Gin is too flighty, too free willed.

Which is fine. Gin likes the room to roam.

But there is only so far Gin can run with no purpose, and today, he waits.

He expects he'll hear something about how weird it is, his uncanny ability to just show up. How he's too sneaky for his own good. In all honesty, all it takes to find someone is a quick evaluation of the security monitors, an understanding of the halls of Hueco Mundo, and the ability to comprehend someone's typical pattern of travel. Easy.

That's how he's positioned himself at the t-junction of the halls, hidden behind the corner, counting the steps that approach. Three…

He's thrilled.

Two...

The grin is on his face.

One - and he spins directly into Grimmjow's path, invading the espada's space in an instant.]

Grimmjow.

(no subject)

[theaccursed]

[There is no announcement of Malekith's arrival. He needs no announcement, not on the domain of his own ship. The silence is his to own, and to break, at any whim or desire. It's not the first time he's returned to her, the pushing open of the double doors the only forewarning.

Where the rest of the ship, of which Jane has been strictly forbidden from, is mechanically alien, the quarters she's confined to hold a more cultured charm. There was a time, millennia ago, that their ships were used for more than just warfare. The rooms are a relic, a museum of a civilization near extinction: furniture carved from dark, ancient woods, tapestries hanging in deep red, woven with the history of the Svartalfar… The day he had opened the doors to her, a thought had passed Malekith's mind - no Midgardian mind would ever appreciate it. Every detail, only emphasized by the dim glow of blue lights, inlaid in ways to emphasize the interior architecture...

The thought, at least, lead to the collection of various illuminated stones from within the ship's hold. A courtesy, Malekith had called it, after her first night onboard. Arrange them as you will, I do not care.

This day, his approach down the entry hall comes one sure step at a time, unhurried, yet with purpose. He gives a cursory glance across the room's centered, long table as he passes - what books has she found?]

Jane Foster, wake up.