A Forge and Remodel [Private]

The Arrancar who kept most of the day to day tasks on his checklist of things to do around here happened to be in the same room with the Quincy, a half-empty bottle of Ouzo in one hand, and a one-and-a-half shotter in the other. Did...Did she not even notice him? Theocelese watched silently and observed, unsure of the situation. The only thing he knew about Quincy were that they preferred to shoot their opponents instead of meeting them head on in glorious hand to hand, face to face combat, like all true champions of the battlefield do. That instantly forced him to dislike any Quincy met, though this one, Superia, was given the benefit of the doubt. Theocelese questioned Seran on this after getting into his dossiers and reading about the people he brought here, but Seran, like always, stayed Theocelese's inquisitorial nature. This Quincy, this Superia, had that one thing going for her. If this was not the case, she may have been thrown out, or rather, politely asked to leave. Theocelese's conflicting sense of honor judged Superia's kind as dishonorable, yet he could not simply throw a girl out into the dangerous sands of Hueco Mundo.

It was when Superia made an audible mention to herself about remodeling the area that caused Theocelese to raise a brow at her, still he kept quiet. That's right, he remembered Seran mentioning Superia's skills...and then the Arrancar saw someone perfect for what he needed. The Arrancar poured himself another shot and cleared his throat loudly. From his stool, Theocelese walked behind the counter and pulled a small drinking glass, one of the few remaining, and set it on the surface in between the two of them. He then drew his blade, and set it on the counter before pouring Superia a shots worth of the hard, black-licorice flavored alcohol.

"Drink. I am in need of your skills." He began, pouring another shot for himself. "I need to kill a god, and in its current state, my blade would shatter against him. You are our guest here, this is true, but if you are a skilled laborer your stay is not technically free. Can you do this for me?" Theocelese asked, downing the shot and cleared his throat again due to the burning sensation coating his throat. "I would pay you how you wish, Human Realm currency, gold or silver, you decide. But my question stands."

This was turning out as marvelous as Theocelese could hope it would. This one was...emotionless, something he felt not so long ago. His golden eyes remained keenly on Superia, watching as she went about in her book. This was something they actually had in common, Theocelese usually kept a journal of some kind on his person, and up until a month or two ago, had written in it constantly. Now it remained untouched inside of his satchel. Theocelese dismissed the thought of writing, and instead shifted his gaze to the piece of parchment handed to him. It was when the Quincy blade, the only one he knew of, made its appearance did Theocelese's eyes give away valuable information. He knew what it was, and he knew what it could do. The paper was set down, and Theocelese then took the Seele from Superia.



"I am familiar with this blade. An old friend of mine had one, though it was modified." He was skeptical of cutting himself, but knew this to be something Seran also would reference to be needed. The bottle in his other hand was set down, and with the same palm held face up, Theocelese ran the Seele across it quickly. He then handed the piece of Quincy technology back to Superia. "I do not care for the exact modifications, however I will take an exception to this. The being I intend to unleash my wrath upon is stronger than the both of us, or was the last time I recalled. Suffice it to say, he was noted as being a god in the ancient times, the sun god, if that information may help you. I do not think fire may be wise, but the capacity to rival the power of a Seele Schneider will prove to always have worth and use." Theocelese's hand then began to regenerate slowly. Another shot was poured on his end, and then Superia's glass was topped off to fill the glass half-way.



"Thank you for your aid in this matter. How would you receive payment?"

He went...utterly ignored. In a sense, Superia was to be commemorated for her intuitive ways and ability to start on a task and not stop until completed. However, Theocelese wished whatever pitiful conversation the two were having could finish. What he said to her was nothing but truth, if you could fight, or if your skill could aid the fortress, you were expected to help out. Then again, Theocelese once had Arrancar running dustmops on the halls and mop buckets thereafter. Though he was no stranger to cleanliness, and often took to doing a good sum of these seemingly meanial tasks so others would not have to. He would have rather had the Arrancar, Rogue Shinigami, and Vizards spend time sparring with one another to promote camaraderie and increase their battle prowess. Still, Theocelese found a way to pay back those who actually contributed. While Las Noches had no currency, and no real need for it, he would take many of the warriors aside for lessons. To the women Arrancar, who seemed more inclined to do tasks they often did in their human lives, Theocelese gave them gifts of jewelry and even worked on, and finished a replica hotsprings just for them. Though his ultimate return of service to all these people were that he would always be at the forefront of any defense, and if was necessary, he would remain in combat against any other being so all others could get to safety.

Superia was a different case entirely. During the course of her...strange, and mystifying process of reworking his blade, he thought of what he could do for her. It was also during this time that the Arrancar drank more and more, eventually killing off the bottle of alcohol and finding himself more than a little tipsy. By the time Superia finished, his eyes were bloodshot and glazed over. He picked up the blade, marveling at how...different it felt, and looked, albeit having not appeared too drastically different at all. To say Theocelese was impressed was a complete understatement. He set the weapon off to the side and drunkenly leaned over the counter, go so far as to take Superia's hands from her lap. He kissed each hand above the knuckle, then brought both of her hands up to press his forehead against them. It was a gesture as ancient as his soul, and one that died during the annals of history.

"I thank you for the service you have provided, and I am in your debt. I am not skilled as you are, my talents rest in the field of battle. Should you require such a service, you may call upon me at any time." He said the words as cleanly as a man who just drank a whole damn bottle of Ouzo could, and when he finished speaking he relinquished the Quincy's hands and receded to his end of the counter. Without saying anymore words, Theocelese picked up the blade once more only to sheath the weapon as he walked off, finding that at the current moment, his bed was calling to him. It may or may not have also been the amount of booze consumed that made him want to pass out, and potentially unleash the contents of his stomach upon awakening.

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