Just Deserts [Yaksha/Hepaestus]

"Sorry if I get a little distracted, ladies and gentlemen.  I can already hear some heckling in my head.  Pesky voices in my head.  I think I might just have to..."

Yaksha tilted his head to the side, closing his eye and tapping a palm against the side of his head.  As he did, an egg seemed to slip forth from nowhere, perfectly white and round, unblemished in the slightest.  That trick had, at least, been simple.  Sleight of hand and a bit of luck had allowed him to hide it in his ear canal for just the right moment, and just his luck!  He'd already attracted one of the cursed dead, an unwelcome intruder on this little display.  Still, a man couldn't afford to be picky when he was building a fanbase.  Yaksha waggled his fingers, allowing the egg to tease between his slender knuckles for a few moments, as he began to reach his other hand into an oversized case just next to him.  The two hands moved entirely independently of each other, and damned if one of them didn't appear to have fingers that were just slightly longer or shorter than they were the last pass of the egg.  He met the gaze of most of the audience, allowing his brows to rise once more as he withdrew a few vials of what looked like water.  But with a single faint tugging motion, the acrid fumes of acid began to fill the area.

"Unfortunately, I won't be able to stick around too long this time.  This is highly illegal, you see.  It's very pricy and very prohibitive to get a permit to perform publically.  Poppycock, I prevaricate.  I'm a positively pulchritudinous presence, parching the plentiful masses.  A pussycat, in fact.  This is just a little...demonstration."

He began to tease and tousle the bottle of acid along with the egg, the movements growing harder and harder to follow.  Only the unexpected presence would've been able to follow and watch as Yaksha's hand seemed to move with a mind of its own, enfolding and covering and ever-so-gently leading things along.  He stared at the people and their expressions of boredom, of slack disinterest.  Was this not enough for them?  What in the world did they -expect-?  He inhaled slowly, ever so slowly, and then tossed the two items into the air, tilting his throat back to capture the egg...only for a cloud of steaming fumes to pour over his face, creating an almost audible sizzling sound.  The cloud was filled with the sound of muffled screaming, from Yaksha's own mouth, sounds of what appeared to be agony and pain, of extreme discomfort...

Until his head extended out of the cloud, looking only slightly red for the wear, as if he had just had a bit too much to drink.  He spoke slowly, with great care as he enunciated, and unfurled his tongue, to reveal...an egg.  Or rather, two halves of a deviled egg, expertly hidden away beneath his tongue all this time.

"Damn.  I hate mayonnaise."

A loose flap of skin rested in his free hand, the bottle of acid already laying forgotten at his feet, as he turned to survey everyone present, coiling the eggs back and swallowing them with an audible gulp, then exhaling heavily.  Beneath his feet, his own shadow began to elongate and stretch, catching onto the ankle of a passerby.  Yaksha never once looked down, as he spoke in an almost lazy tone.

"Oh, pay him no mind.  A regular attention whore, I swear."

A single solemn stomp...and it was back by his side in an instant, roiling ever so slightly as his shadow placed on hand on its hip, giving off a look of pure disappointment.

"What do you think, ladies and gentlemen?  Have I gotten your attention?"

Yaksha was on a roll.  He was on fire.  While most of the humans did appear relatively bored, a few did seem to have that faint gleam to their eyes that seemed to say they were desperately hoping for something to go wrong, for his act to falter and his entire display to turn into a waste, an embarrassment.  But Yaksha was entirely immune to the ravaged of embarrassment.  As he heard and noticed the flickering, he glanced upwards, only to see his hat had ignited spontaneously.  Really, there was only one proper explanation; that someone spiritually aware had decided to try and sabotage his show.  Yaksha, to his credit, had no intention of letting this continue.  He plucked it off in a single swift motion, exhaling and watching the flames catch and spread, sweating profusely.  Damn this body, and its bad habits!

He stomped down on it with one foot, spiralling around to meet everyone there with that same expression of insouciant glee that he'd maintained this entire time.  It seemed to be catching, at least a bit; a few of the people were smirking and murmuring, elbowing each other good-naturedly.  Yaksha nodded slightly, then glanced down at his own shadow, rolling his eyes in an expression that one could almost have called frustration.

"I swear, he'll be the death of me.  Don't know why I even keep him around."

He knew that his first performance would, at best, be a niche display, the kind of thing no one would take that seriously.  But he could see the slack and ashen faces of a few in the crowd, a few who seemed to be more than slightly aware of just what was going on here.  He nodded slowly, taking in the gazes, the presence...and the expression of a few very serious, very large people approaching, trailed by the tiny rat-like figure he'd snatched with his shadow.  He pointed towards them speaking once more in that booming, rich magician's tone.

"And that's the end of today's show.  I suppose it's about time I vamoose."

Without a word, with less than a thought, his eyes closed, his body shrouded in a thick layer of reaitsu, and he was...gone.  Completely, utterly invisible, the man who was not a man began to expertly and swiftly duck between openings in the crowd.  He spoke through the corner of his mouth, throwing his voice to a point approximately three feet from where he'd been standing all this time.  As he moved through the crowd, he plucked one woman's hairpins, forcing the hair to fall around her in a tangled mess.  As she gasped and the crowd turned towards her, Yaksha couldn't help but smirk.

"I'll be holding my next performance outside of the Red Dog Pawn Shop.  Find it if you can, and things will get even more fun.  For now, I'm just glad I got out of this situation by a hair's breadth."

The word hair was emphasized ever so slightly, perfectly coordinated with the woman's little...malfunction.  Let the humans puzzle over that one for a bit.

Yaksha's vanishing trick hadn't been intended to do much more than buy him a proper out, give him enough time to return to Seran's shop and stow his body until the next trip.  He'd ducked and weaved through the crowds, moving at a respectable pace and dodging people left and right, quite careful not to make too much contact in the process.  It wouldn't do for him to get spotted this early on in his little display of hijinx.  Finally safely away from the crowds, Yaksha allowed his shroud of reaitsu to release, a feeling rather like loosening a muscle that had been flexed a little too far for a little too long.  He began to massage his throat and chest, then paused and stiffened as he heard someone speaking to him.

He'd expected this one to arrive first, sure enough, but to arrive before him?  That was just sad.  Improbable, in fact.  Had this one actually known about the pawn shop beforehand?  Or was he simply so strong he could find this place in little more than a split second?  Yaksha was almost disappointed by that possibility.  Why was it the stronger ones were always the ones that couldn't stop meddling in the affairs of others?  Why did this wretched shit believe he had some natural right to stand in front of Yaksha, ruining his time and his plans?

"I didn't actually give an exact time for my next performance, if you'll recall.  Let them hang around for a day or two if they like, it'll get this place the business and exposure it deserves.  Meanwhile, I've a few...new tricks to get started on learning.  I can't exactly bore my audience with the same old same old, can I?  Any good performer knows they've got to mix up their routine, or at least give it long enough for the novelty to return.  Give me just one moment, I have to..."

Walking around to the alley immediately behind the shop, Yaksha's hand fumbled over his chest, finally pressing against the familiar depression there, the anchor for his soul.  A simple twitch of the wrist, and like gravity itself being turned off, Yaksha felt his body forcefully thrust away, his true form slithering forth with a sound rather like a snake regurgitating a meal.  As the white-clad beast landed on the floor, it began to write and twist into an almost spring-like shape, all four hands folded over its chest.  Gone was most of the humor and the class, the veneer of civility.  Now he sounded like a nest of angry snakes, voicing its displeasure.

"How can I help you, oh high and mighty arrancar?  I understand you're a busy man, so let's be quick about this."

"I'm afraid I must disappoint.  -That- Yaksha was a magician.  This one is nothing less than an absolute fool."

His leering mask almost could've been called threatening, rather like a snake poised to strike...save that his tone was almost comically smug, the quintessential snake stalking its prey.  He stared at this unwarranted intruder curiously, head angling from side to side without end, as if he were hoping by changing his point of view he could change what he was looking at.  This went on for ten or twenty seconds, before he extended a hand, clearly hoping for a typical handshake.  And there was something there in his gaze now, something knowing...as if he had already figured out the punchline to a joke someone had just now started telling.  Yes, this...creature seemed quite disappointed by his little display, but he had shown nothing but loathing and boredom during the actual performance.  It seemed Yaksha had a full-on misanthrope in front of him.  Rather ironic, almost.

"I'm afraid I've had rather...unflattering meetings with arrancar, in the past.  The ones I've met have varied between the most repugnant combination of arrogant and air-headed, violent and possessive, and infuriatingly patronizing.  Yet each and every one has seen fit to treat me as a...lesser being.  A second-class citizen, as the humans would call it.  You seem...somewhat more amicable towards a simple chat, even if you did pull the most heinous act of calling yourself a god.  I mean there are so many better phrases one could use!  You're a centuries-old ghost for heaven's sake!  Can't you try to have just a -little- style?"

He tilted his head to the side, still staring at Haphaestus, waiting for something...anything at all to happen.  Would this one lash out, like most were so quick to do?  Would he actually...have a chat?  It had been so long since Yaksha had managed to have an actual civil conversation with another member of his own kind, he'd almost forgotten that was a possibility.  But now, staring at the beast in front of him with an almost bored expression, he waited for...something unexpected.  He wasn't sure exactly what, but he'd know it when he saw it.

Dear God, could it be?  Was this arrancar actually about to do what Yaksha thought he was doing?  The handshake had been firm, certainly...and the look in his eyes seemed to say that he knew something Yaksha didn't.  That somehow his power and his life experiences had left him privvy to some fact Yaksha wasn't.  And so here Haphaestus stood, ready to hold a philosophical debate with Yaksha!  It was like having a rat slather itself in heavy cream and come cavorting in front of a cat!  He wasn't sure he'd have been able to resist on the best of days, and against this...man?  It was almost laughable.

"You're rather interesting, you know.  Honestly, all the talk about gods and power?  One would almost think you had something to prove.  That you were trying to...somehow improve my quality of life.  Because that's the duty of a...god, isn't it?  And the bane.  By your own definition, a god cannot exist without a...power structure.  A dynamic of existence which inherently defines certain beings as lesser.  And that means it's in your best interests to grind my head into the dust, to leave me a bloody, crying mess begging for mercy.  For my life.  And yet here you stand...trying to convince me that you're right.  Almost as if you believe there's something of intrinsic value in the act of...enlightenment.  Or perhaps charity is more up your alley."

He rolled his eyes ever so slightly, wanting so very badly to continue rambling on.  To wrap this whelp up in a veritable cocoon of words and watch him squirm, trying so desperately to find his solace.  And yet he knew that there was no point to it, no benefit to be had.  People of this sort...those who wore the mask, broken or not.  They were beyond words, beyond understanding in fact.  Hollows were an entire race of ritualized motion, of implicit memory.  An entire species, slaves to their instincts, little more than...machines, waiting for the right moment to perform the same pre-determined actions.  Over and over and over.  Forever.

"How many times do you think you've had this conversation, child?  How many...weaklings have you gone out of your way to educate as to how exactly this world works?  Can you even remember?  Do you even keep count?  Do you even realize what you're doing right now, child?  Or are you moving about on autopilot, copying something you can barely even remember, holding a nice little conversation and holding out your hand because you saw someone else do it once, and your body simply...kicked into motion?  Do you honestly think you're in control here, in the slightest bit?"

Yaksha couldn't believe what he was seeing.  What the hell was this guy thinking?  Did he had no idea where he was, or what he was doing?  This was tantamount to a declaration of war, and at the very best there would be shinigami here in half an hour!  But none of that was entirely relevant right now; Yaksha knew that half an hour was enough to kill him a hundred times over.  What he really needed was to get his point across to this wretched little child.  Yaksha inhaled slowly, glancing around at the quickly cracking and running blacktop.  Any normal human likely would've collapsed and started sweating profusely, but Yaksha was no normal human.  His body had been perfectly designed to deal with these kinds of circumstances.  His tongue lolled out slowly, eyes narrowing as he watched the display.

"Well, yes that's very impressive.  I'm sure all of the women must love you.  Leaping right into action, wiping out anything that gets in the way of your wishes.  I actually have to admit I'm a little relieved by the fact you warmed things up.  I've always been the sort to prefer things hot.  I swear, the last arrogant arrancar I dealt with made me feel so wretchedly cold..."  He seemed almost lost in his own little world, entirely unconcerned with the fact he was sinking up to his ankles in the asphalt, aside from the faintest effort to lift his clawed feet out of the muck.

This stupid beast was wasting his time, was already unwelcome, had been the moment he showed up so why couldn't he just leave!?  Why did he have to constantly deal with people of such singularly incredible power, and why did they keep clinging to his side like leeches?  What did they think, that he was going to build up some sort of mutualistic relationship?  That he'd bow before them and eagerly sacrifice everything he'd worked so hard for so he could follow a one-dimensional echo, so he could toady up to someone who didn't even understand what they were doing!

"Wolves and sheep.  You speak of some arbitrary heirarchy, one specifically designed to keep yourself in power, and you wonder why I have no interest in your presence?  I know what I am, and I will not let you define it for me.  Your attempts to...'dispel my illusions' as you put it?  It's little more than a flimsy attempt to justify your own existence.  I know...exactly who I am, know exactly what I am.  As for you, child...?  I'd suggest you look a little closer at the so-called sheep.  Pettiness and cruelty are not exclusive to hollows.  As a matter of fact, given our lineage, I think we can safely say anything a hollow is capable of, a human is.  So please...tell me.  What is so...absurd about appreciating the fact that the sheep may sometimes learn to howl?  That they in their...bumbling, ineffectual way.  Are every bit as competent as we are."