Post by Calamitae Tsunderveis on Jul 17, 2016 5:31:11 GMT
Calamitae Tsunderveis, or Calamitae for short, could be found perched atop its normal resting place, high amongst the trees in the Forest of Menos. Calamitae, though not a particularly keen and perceptive individual, was capable of causing enough mayhem and destruction that there weren’t many whom would venture up and into the darkness in order to seek out the powerful Thunder Drake of Hueco Mundo. It was never clear, even to the Hollow of the foreboding and dark forgotten afterlife, if these monsters were required to sleep - but Calamitae felt that it’s particular ‘gears’, so-to-speak, only ever ran from terse and imminent destruction to a persistent and nagging lethargy that it struggled to shake. Now was one of those latter times.
With both of it’s tails wrapped, overlapping themselves, around its body, Calamitae laid its mask on its claws. The large Hollow’s wings provided the rest of the creature’s support, giving it a place to rest its large head and the stylized mask that it wore. Reptilian eyes fluttered open and closed, alternating between a horizontal and vertical view, before fully opening into a cross-like, topaz emblem in the holes that held its ‘eyes’. These eyes tracked the area in front of it, and Calamitae watched on as lumbering, hulking beasts continued to saunter occasionally past him. The Menos Gillian, as Calamitae eventually learned, were far more common than a being of its own caliber. Calamitae, after all, was once a Gillian before undergoing its evolution into a feared Menos Adjuchas - capable of matching a Shinigami, even with its famed ‘Shikai’ release. That, however, was so long ago that the creature barely remembered its own hellish past - at least the specifics of it all. The one thing that Calamitae did not forget - and could not forget - were the constant whispers in the back of its mind: the sound of thousands of other souls vying for superiority beneath the now-adjuchas.
Even now, Calamitae could hear them - quiet whispers threatening to overtake him were it not to continue its steady feasting of its peers, and of the prey that walked past it now. That hunger and those whispers created the fear that all Menos held - the fear of being enveloped amongst the mass of its own souls and reverting back to the form of a Menos Gillian. It was a terrifying prospect that did well to motivate even the most lazy and apathetic of Hollow. Calamitae was no exception. As multitudes of Hollow traversed the cavernous forest beneath his perch, it sat in waiting. It was waiting for something very specific - not only its next meal, but something to potentially offer some type of challenge - some type of energetic warmup before Calamitae went on in search of greater prey. It was waiting for a Menos Gillian with a unique mask - one that might have, were it not to run afoul of this flying beast, become an Adjuchas of its own.
Calamitae Tsunderveis © All rights reserved, 2015-2016.
With both of it’s tails wrapped, overlapping themselves, around its body, Calamitae laid its mask on its claws. The large Hollow’s wings provided the rest of the creature’s support, giving it a place to rest its large head and the stylized mask that it wore. Reptilian eyes fluttered open and closed, alternating between a horizontal and vertical view, before fully opening into a cross-like, topaz emblem in the holes that held its ‘eyes’. These eyes tracked the area in front of it, and Calamitae watched on as lumbering, hulking beasts continued to saunter occasionally past him. The Menos Gillian, as Calamitae eventually learned, were far more common than a being of its own caliber. Calamitae, after all, was once a Gillian before undergoing its evolution into a feared Menos Adjuchas - capable of matching a Shinigami, even with its famed ‘Shikai’ release. That, however, was so long ago that the creature barely remembered its own hellish past - at least the specifics of it all. The one thing that Calamitae did not forget - and could not forget - were the constant whispers in the back of its mind: the sound of thousands of other souls vying for superiority beneath the now-adjuchas.
Even now, Calamitae could hear them - quiet whispers threatening to overtake him were it not to continue its steady feasting of its peers, and of the prey that walked past it now. That hunger and those whispers created the fear that all Menos held - the fear of being enveloped amongst the mass of its own souls and reverting back to the form of a Menos Gillian. It was a terrifying prospect that did well to motivate even the most lazy and apathetic of Hollow. Calamitae was no exception. As multitudes of Hollow traversed the cavernous forest beneath his perch, it sat in waiting. It was waiting for something very specific - not only its next meal, but something to potentially offer some type of challenge - some type of energetic warmup before Calamitae went on in search of greater prey. It was waiting for a Menos Gillian with a unique mask - one that might have, were it not to run afoul of this flying beast, become an Adjuchas of its own.
