Canon Omake: Night at the Museum
Revlid
blob of bugs
- Location
- England
This took too long, so now I hate it.
Night at the Museum
Ren sat, and enjoyed the silence.
It wasn't as though the Red Chamber was especially noisy at the busiest of times. The Thunderwitch entertained only the occasional visitor and hadn't bothered with Numero servants since they'd first moved in, and her little minion was quiet even when she wasn't locked away in her workshop.
(privately, Ren did not consider himself a Numero servant - surely he was more of an advisor, and he hadn't been demasked in Las Noches at all)
The Pillar Room's vault (vault was better than basement, right?) had been pretty well sound-proofed, but it could only muffle the noise of sonic booms and falling columns whenever the Thunderwitch got in one of her moods. She'd said she was training, but Ren rolled his eyes at that excuse. When he was safely facing the other way. And there was a wall between them.
But for now the lady of the castle was out, and her loyal second with her, so it was time to enjoy the silence. Ren slumped in a chair, padded by ratty cushions, and thought of nothing in particular without threat of interruption. He hummed a few bars of a tuneless memory, then broke into a coughing fit that soured his mood. When that calmed and his muttering ceased, he idly considered dusting some of the trinkets arranged around his quarters, then dismissed the idea. He wasn't a servant, after all.
(nor were his quarters a storage room - he simply happened to live in the area where it was most convenient for him to do his work)
Eventually it occurred to him that he might want to actually do some of that work, just in case the Thunderwitch came back from her trip in another foul mood. She'd want to take that out on someone, and it probably wasn't going to be her squeeze. Better to have something to hand that he could distract her with. Luna's moon-mask had been a neat trick, but her girl had come back empty-handed even if she had found it, so he doubted that counted for much.
Not that Nemo had seemed too upset by her failure, when she'd shared the story. Probably the real treasure had been inside her all along, or some crap.
Instead, he limped over to a cabinet of blackened, fossilised wood, pulling out three different drawers before he found what he wanted. In theory, he could afford to unfold all his maps, pinning them up on the walls of his quarters. In practice, he kept a bunch of them rolled up in a satchel. Sure, he had an Espada's patronage, but how long would her interest last? Besides, New Las Noches might be scary as Hell, but most of the Hollow empires had been pretty scary in their day. They were all sand these days. Staying ready to move was just smart.
Another hour passed. Ren made notes on scraps of parchment. Blew his nose on others. Shuffled around to retrieve references and double-check his thoughts. Walked his fingers across a map to gauge distance. Used a petrified Hollow horn to pin down a scroll.
"Wow, how interesting."
The map went flying as Ren hurled himself over and behind the heavy desk, ducking for cover with a strangled yell. There was a slow silence, broken only by panicked breathing and, eventually, an amused giggle.
Ren stood hastily from behind the desk, brushing himself down and glaring at the androgynous young arrancar leaning over the desk across from him.
"You shouldn't be in here. Alright? I get it, you want to look at all the shinies, but these aren't toys, so just head on back up top and find your way out, okay."
"Oh?" The arrancar's eyes widened in mock surprise and hurt, sleeve raised to his mouth. Then he smiled, waving the objection away. "Don't worry about it! Cirucci and I are very buddy-buddy. We had a nice chat just the other day. I'm a great admirer of hers, seriously."
"Yeah, well, the lady's not at home right now, so-"
Ren's voice cut off with a strangled cough as the pressure of the intruder's soul crashed down on him. No, it had always been there, he just hadn't felt it, like fog condensing into a drowning tide in his lungs. Slowly, casually, like a strangler losing interest, the weight dissolved. Gone, again, but… now that Ren knew it was there, he could still feel it, like a shadow creeping along the wall.
"Ah, sorry." Luppi had wandered a little further into the vault, peering at some kind of stuffed red mouse with a dried yellow flower for a robe. Even Ren didn't know about that one. He glanced back at the older arrancar with a grin. "I wasn't paying attention. I'll bet a big strong Fraccion like you wasn't bothered, though, right?"
Ren caught his breath, and stared. So, it was one of those, huh? He was finally becoming collateral damage. "The boss doesn't exactly keep me around as muscle, kid."
"Oh? Then what are you, old man? From what I can see, Cirucci doesn't exactly take on charity cases. Even her weak little Fraccion has her uses. Aizen himself just sent the sneaky little waif on a burglary, and I couldn't help but notice a studio a little ways up with a temptingly locked door…"
"Trust me, I'd prefer not to be here at all", Ren groused. He wouldn't kill you, he thought. Not here, not in her sanctum. Another, unhappier thought, chimed in: you're right, it'd be a waste of a surprise attack. "I'm an archivist. She brought me in to, y'know, pick through the clutter around here. See if any of it was actually useful. It wasn't, really."
"Oh? I'll bet you must know every story behind these knick-knacks, right? What about this one?" Slender fingers pinched at a small doll of petrified wood, its faux Hollow mask shattered. Ren thought it was mostly interesting for its eyes, which were a kind of rare topaz you didn't really get in Hueco Mundo any more. He also knew that a bored Arrancar was a dangerous Arrancar.
"See, I don't know exactly where that- stories, yeah? Alright, I've got a pretty basic one... there's this little girl, right. A real piece of work, rich brat born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a gold nappy on her butt. She's got these dolls, right? Cute little things made out outta porcelain and silk and sugar and spice and all things nice. Whatever, I don't make dolls. Anyway, she loves these dolls just about more than anything in the whole world, even more than her parents 'cause she's an ungrateful brat. She holds them real tight, dawn to dusk, and squeezes and squeezes until one day their cute little heads pop clean off. Don't make them like they used to, I guessed. Anyway, she screams and she cries like she's had her head cut off - or her arm, or something, anyway - and throws their headless rags right in the gutter, and when her parents ask her where it hurts, the kid says her heart. When they ask who hurt her, she looks them dead in the eye and says her dolls hurt her... because they were just too fragile."
Luppi, who'd perched on the desk with one hand pressed against his cheek, rolled his eyes. "Really boring, sorry. The perfect story for a guy like you, I guess. And it wasn't even about Hollows, was it?"
"No, it was! It's a metaphor, don't you get it? What's the first thing every Hollow does, when the Chain of Fate finally decays? Go after their family. The thing they love most. And rip 'em apart. Now, why'd they do a thing like-"
"I wouldn't know." Luppi's response was flat.
"Huh? Oh, right. Adjuchas, right. Guess you can't really relate, then? Well, you think you've got a better story, right?"
Luppi sat for a moment, scowling winsomely. Then he shrugged with a smirk.
"Well, duh. I'll tell you a real story. Have you ever gone to the sea?"
The older Hollow just shook his head. "I heard some rumours about sunken treasures, that sort of thing, but... no, I never could find the sea. Didn't have the knack. Can't swim, either, so I guess it didn't really matter."
"And you don't exactly have a beach body, right?" Luppi giggles at his own joke. "Sorry. Well, you didn't miss much. it's as empty and boring as the desert, just darker and colder and wet. And not much in the way of castles. It did have ships, though. Any Hollow that couldn't swim was vulnerable as a chained soul out on the waves, but there ways around it. Carved out stone trees, Gillian masks worked into canoes, big slave-barges made from Hollows fused together… So many losers who can't cut it on the sands seem to think the sea's a better bet."
He settled back on a display stand, long sleeves folded over his chest. "Anyway, once upon a time, a ghost ship was sailing across those black waters, trawling for lost souls. One sailor, peering out at the horizon through the sockets of his mask, saw a slender shape slipping between the cresting waves of the dead salt sea. He leaned over the side and peered down, and as the ship drew closer he saw a beautiful boy of the sea, a merchild calling for help, the moonlight just shimmering off his skin. He reached down, his claws snatching onto the boy's own long, slender arm. He gave one mighty tug to haul him up onto the boat… only to feel his own feet scrape against the bone planks of the ship, the slender fingers clamp around his own, and see the waters rush up toward him. And as he hit the water with an ice-cold splash that drove the air from his lungs, clasped tightly in that grip, he heard a voice call out… and it asked…
"Can't you breathe the water? I'm so sorry..."
Ren leaned back from Luppi's casual pantomiming. "I think I heard that one, yeah. There's a few local variations, too, like the Hollow sees a beautiful tree under the sea or whatever. Which is, y'know, where you'd expect to find trees. Cabin fever does things to those guys, I guess."
"So you do know some actual stories from Hueco Mundo? Why not share one of those?" Luppi batted his eyelashes mockingly, folding both hands beneath his chin. "Tell me a fairy story!"
"Okay, so… so I heard this one. Once there was a princess locked away in this... tall tower of white sandstone that stood out like scar on the night sky. Or maybe they were a prince? Whatever. They were hidden away in a tower, so how could you even tell? But they were royalty anyway, so masked knights came from far and wide across the endless sands to rescue them from the tower and win their love. Or their riches. Or maybe just eat them like knifing an oyster out of its shell, I don't know, we are Hollows. Anyway, the last and best of those adventuring Adjuchas came on a bright moon. The desert was littered with the broken masks of those who'd come before, tangled in the thorned vines that choked the tower."
Luppi had been wandering the aisles of shelves and stands, but paused and turned to listen more closely.
"He hacked and gnawed his way through, until he got to the foot of the tower. No front door. Fine. He looked around for a handhold, and saw his quarry's hair hanging from some high window in the tower, dangling like ropes. So he grabbed it and started climbing, like a real gentleman… and partway up, he got tangled. He tried to tear the hair, it just wrapped around him tighter. Arms and legs and every limb he had, binding him like chains, and he turned his head just enough to realize that the vines gripping the tower were more hair, that the sweet perfume of the prisoner was the smell of their flowers. And this sweet little voice rang out, and all it said was 'I'll have to find a new tower soon. This one's cracking under the strain.' Then the mask-knight's bones started to shatter and twist, and the last thing he heard was the monster-princess laughing:'Sorry, I guess you weren't stronger than stone'."
"...that's not how it happened. I wasn't laughing."
"Huh?"
Luppi's frown dissolved into a pout. "I'm just saying that's another silly story. Who told the tale if the guy died, hm? Did he have a convenient squire hanging around who wrote it all down instead of helping him? Sorry, but this trip has been a real disappointment. No Cirucci, no Nemo, a grubby old timer in the basement… not even a secret super weapon I can grab. You've been no help at all!"
"What are you… I can't- I'm not going to just up and betray the Diez!" The title felt unfamiliar on his tongue. Still an outsider to Las Noches.
"Hey, there, Ren, who said anything about betraying Cirucci?" I never told him my name, thought Ren, as Luppi continued to ramble, prodding random objects just slightly out of place around the room. Who would he have even asked about that?
"In fact, I'm hoping to work with her. There's nothing better than having something to support you while you put the squeeze on little people with big ideas. She might disappoint me, though. That's a betrayal, too, disappointment. There's so many different kinds of betrayal, you know? Your friends can betray you. Your heart can, too. The world can betray you, when it doesn't meet expectations. You can betray without even meaning it. If your hands are too strong, and crush something fragile? If someone's too weak to survive, when they said they would? If you give something away, without realizing it? The way you hesitated there, that betrays you. It tells me maybe you're not as ironclad loyal as you say. I wonder what Cirucci would think about that?"
He raised a sleeve to his mouth, eyes narrowing in amusement. "About the only thing that can't betray you is an enemy. Are we enemies, Ren? I guess not, since you already disappointed me."
Ants don't get to be enemies for dragons, was what Ren wanted to say. Given the chance, he'd have probably said something sarcastic instead. As it was, he just shook his head, mouth dry, and croaked "Why did you come here? I mean, really? You had to know that Cirucci isn't going to leave anything important down here."
"You included, right?" Luppi chuckled, pausing against the door frame. "Sorry. I came here for the same reason as any of the Espada." His voice continued to echo out from the corridor. "Whoops, I guess I'm not one yet, though!"
The Espada, huh? Ren thought, hours later, slumped in his chair after the shaking had subsided. The Swords of the Night. The Faces of Death. What were they all after? Power? Authority? Freedom from the hunger, like him? Snazzy white uniforms? He flexed his withered hand, working out cramps that shouldn't exist. Old Barragan, who worships immortal kingship. Time. And Starrk, who doesn't go anywhere without his Fraccion… Isolation. What were the other ones? Granz, the man of science and reason… Madness? Cirucci was Love, obviously.
...so, what, the wannabe Espada (it was astonishing how much more liberal Ren became in his descriptions when his knees weren't threatening to qualify as a percussion instrument with all their knocking together) wanted something so loyal it wouldn't betray him? Or something so strong it'd never fail him? Or both? Hell, maybe he ought to go wrap himself around that Reaper king, like the one-eyed girl who'd come over to the Pillar Room to shout at him that one time. Nothing stronger than that guy around here, even if trust wasn't exactly his forte, based on Cirucci's rants.
Ren shook the speculation away. Nothing lasts forever, he thought, refocusing on his maps, sifting for clues of long-vanished kingdoms. Not gods, not towers, not this job, and sure as hell not trust. If the kid was holding out hope otherwise... he was just as young as he looked.
Night at the Museum
Ren sat, and enjoyed the silence.
It wasn't as though the Red Chamber was especially noisy at the busiest of times. The Thunderwitch entertained only the occasional visitor and hadn't bothered with Numero servants since they'd first moved in, and her little minion was quiet even when she wasn't locked away in her workshop.
(privately, Ren did not consider himself a Numero servant - surely he was more of an advisor, and he hadn't been demasked in Las Noches at all)
The Pillar Room's vault (vault was better than basement, right?) had been pretty well sound-proofed, but it could only muffle the noise of sonic booms and falling columns whenever the Thunderwitch got in one of her moods. She'd said she was training, but Ren rolled his eyes at that excuse. When he was safely facing the other way. And there was a wall between them.
But for now the lady of the castle was out, and her loyal second with her, so it was time to enjoy the silence. Ren slumped in a chair, padded by ratty cushions, and thought of nothing in particular without threat of interruption. He hummed a few bars of a tuneless memory, then broke into a coughing fit that soured his mood. When that calmed and his muttering ceased, he idly considered dusting some of the trinkets arranged around his quarters, then dismissed the idea. He wasn't a servant, after all.
(nor were his quarters a storage room - he simply happened to live in the area where it was most convenient for him to do his work)
Eventually it occurred to him that he might want to actually do some of that work, just in case the Thunderwitch came back from her trip in another foul mood. She'd want to take that out on someone, and it probably wasn't going to be her squeeze. Better to have something to hand that he could distract her with. Luna's moon-mask had been a neat trick, but her girl had come back empty-handed even if she had found it, so he doubted that counted for much.
Not that Nemo had seemed too upset by her failure, when she'd shared the story. Probably the real treasure had been inside her all along, or some crap.
Instead, he limped over to a cabinet of blackened, fossilised wood, pulling out three different drawers before he found what he wanted. In theory, he could afford to unfold all his maps, pinning them up on the walls of his quarters. In practice, he kept a bunch of them rolled up in a satchel. Sure, he had an Espada's patronage, but how long would her interest last? Besides, New Las Noches might be scary as Hell, but most of the Hollow empires had been pretty scary in their day. They were all sand these days. Staying ready to move was just smart.
Another hour passed. Ren made notes on scraps of parchment. Blew his nose on others. Shuffled around to retrieve references and double-check his thoughts. Walked his fingers across a map to gauge distance. Used a petrified Hollow horn to pin down a scroll.
"Wow, how interesting."
The map went flying as Ren hurled himself over and behind the heavy desk, ducking for cover with a strangled yell. There was a slow silence, broken only by panicked breathing and, eventually, an amused giggle.
Ren stood hastily from behind the desk, brushing himself down and glaring at the androgynous young arrancar leaning over the desk across from him.
"You shouldn't be in here. Alright? I get it, you want to look at all the shinies, but these aren't toys, so just head on back up top and find your way out, okay."
"Oh?" The arrancar's eyes widened in mock surprise and hurt, sleeve raised to his mouth. Then he smiled, waving the objection away. "Don't worry about it! Cirucci and I are very buddy-buddy. We had a nice chat just the other day. I'm a great admirer of hers, seriously."
"Yeah, well, the lady's not at home right now, so-"
Ren's voice cut off with a strangled cough as the pressure of the intruder's soul crashed down on him. No, it had always been there, he just hadn't felt it, like fog condensing into a drowning tide in his lungs. Slowly, casually, like a strangler losing interest, the weight dissolved. Gone, again, but… now that Ren knew it was there, he could still feel it, like a shadow creeping along the wall.
"Ah, sorry." Luppi had wandered a little further into the vault, peering at some kind of stuffed red mouse with a dried yellow flower for a robe. Even Ren didn't know about that one. He glanced back at the older arrancar with a grin. "I wasn't paying attention. I'll bet a big strong Fraccion like you wasn't bothered, though, right?"
Ren caught his breath, and stared. So, it was one of those, huh? He was finally becoming collateral damage. "The boss doesn't exactly keep me around as muscle, kid."
"Oh? Then what are you, old man? From what I can see, Cirucci doesn't exactly take on charity cases. Even her weak little Fraccion has her uses. Aizen himself just sent the sneaky little waif on a burglary, and I couldn't help but notice a studio a little ways up with a temptingly locked door…"
"Trust me, I'd prefer not to be here at all", Ren groused. He wouldn't kill you, he thought. Not here, not in her sanctum. Another, unhappier thought, chimed in: you're right, it'd be a waste of a surprise attack. "I'm an archivist. She brought me in to, y'know, pick through the clutter around here. See if any of it was actually useful. It wasn't, really."
"Oh? I'll bet you must know every story behind these knick-knacks, right? What about this one?" Slender fingers pinched at a small doll of petrified wood, its faux Hollow mask shattered. Ren thought it was mostly interesting for its eyes, which were a kind of rare topaz you didn't really get in Hueco Mundo any more. He also knew that a bored Arrancar was a dangerous Arrancar.
"See, I don't know exactly where that- stories, yeah? Alright, I've got a pretty basic one... there's this little girl, right. A real piece of work, rich brat born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a gold nappy on her butt. She's got these dolls, right? Cute little things made out outta porcelain and silk and sugar and spice and all things nice. Whatever, I don't make dolls. Anyway, she loves these dolls just about more than anything in the whole world, even more than her parents 'cause she's an ungrateful brat. She holds them real tight, dawn to dusk, and squeezes and squeezes until one day their cute little heads pop clean off. Don't make them like they used to, I guessed. Anyway, she screams and she cries like she's had her head cut off - or her arm, or something, anyway - and throws their headless rags right in the gutter, and when her parents ask her where it hurts, the kid says her heart. When they ask who hurt her, she looks them dead in the eye and says her dolls hurt her... because they were just too fragile."
Luppi, who'd perched on the desk with one hand pressed against his cheek, rolled his eyes. "Really boring, sorry. The perfect story for a guy like you, I guess. And it wasn't even about Hollows, was it?"
"No, it was! It's a metaphor, don't you get it? What's the first thing every Hollow does, when the Chain of Fate finally decays? Go after their family. The thing they love most. And rip 'em apart. Now, why'd they do a thing like-"
"I wouldn't know." Luppi's response was flat.
"Huh? Oh, right. Adjuchas, right. Guess you can't really relate, then? Well, you think you've got a better story, right?"
Luppi sat for a moment, scowling winsomely. Then he shrugged with a smirk.
"Well, duh. I'll tell you a real story. Have you ever gone to the sea?"
The older Hollow just shook his head. "I heard some rumours about sunken treasures, that sort of thing, but... no, I never could find the sea. Didn't have the knack. Can't swim, either, so I guess it didn't really matter."
"And you don't exactly have a beach body, right?" Luppi giggles at his own joke. "Sorry. Well, you didn't miss much. it's as empty and boring as the desert, just darker and colder and wet. And not much in the way of castles. It did have ships, though. Any Hollow that couldn't swim was vulnerable as a chained soul out on the waves, but there ways around it. Carved out stone trees, Gillian masks worked into canoes, big slave-barges made from Hollows fused together… So many losers who can't cut it on the sands seem to think the sea's a better bet."
He settled back on a display stand, long sleeves folded over his chest. "Anyway, once upon a time, a ghost ship was sailing across those black waters, trawling for lost souls. One sailor, peering out at the horizon through the sockets of his mask, saw a slender shape slipping between the cresting waves of the dead salt sea. He leaned over the side and peered down, and as the ship drew closer he saw a beautiful boy of the sea, a merchild calling for help, the moonlight just shimmering off his skin. He reached down, his claws snatching onto the boy's own long, slender arm. He gave one mighty tug to haul him up onto the boat… only to feel his own feet scrape against the bone planks of the ship, the slender fingers clamp around his own, and see the waters rush up toward him. And as he hit the water with an ice-cold splash that drove the air from his lungs, clasped tightly in that grip, he heard a voice call out… and it asked…
"Can't you breathe the water? I'm so sorry..."
Ren leaned back from Luppi's casual pantomiming. "I think I heard that one, yeah. There's a few local variations, too, like the Hollow sees a beautiful tree under the sea or whatever. Which is, y'know, where you'd expect to find trees. Cabin fever does things to those guys, I guess."
"So you do know some actual stories from Hueco Mundo? Why not share one of those?" Luppi batted his eyelashes mockingly, folding both hands beneath his chin. "Tell me a fairy story!"
"Okay, so… so I heard this one. Once there was a princess locked away in this... tall tower of white sandstone that stood out like scar on the night sky. Or maybe they were a prince? Whatever. They were hidden away in a tower, so how could you even tell? But they were royalty anyway, so masked knights came from far and wide across the endless sands to rescue them from the tower and win their love. Or their riches. Or maybe just eat them like knifing an oyster out of its shell, I don't know, we are Hollows. Anyway, the last and best of those adventuring Adjuchas came on a bright moon. The desert was littered with the broken masks of those who'd come before, tangled in the thorned vines that choked the tower."
Luppi had been wandering the aisles of shelves and stands, but paused and turned to listen more closely.
"He hacked and gnawed his way through, until he got to the foot of the tower. No front door. Fine. He looked around for a handhold, and saw his quarry's hair hanging from some high window in the tower, dangling like ropes. So he grabbed it and started climbing, like a real gentleman… and partway up, he got tangled. He tried to tear the hair, it just wrapped around him tighter. Arms and legs and every limb he had, binding him like chains, and he turned his head just enough to realize that the vines gripping the tower were more hair, that the sweet perfume of the prisoner was the smell of their flowers. And this sweet little voice rang out, and all it said was 'I'll have to find a new tower soon. This one's cracking under the strain.' Then the mask-knight's bones started to shatter and twist, and the last thing he heard was the monster-princess laughing:'Sorry, I guess you weren't stronger than stone'."
"...that's not how it happened. I wasn't laughing."
"Huh?"
Luppi's frown dissolved into a pout. "I'm just saying that's another silly story. Who told the tale if the guy died, hm? Did he have a convenient squire hanging around who wrote it all down instead of helping him? Sorry, but this trip has been a real disappointment. No Cirucci, no Nemo, a grubby old timer in the basement… not even a secret super weapon I can grab. You've been no help at all!"
"What are you… I can't- I'm not going to just up and betray the Diez!" The title felt unfamiliar on his tongue. Still an outsider to Las Noches.
"Hey, there, Ren, who said anything about betraying Cirucci?" I never told him my name, thought Ren, as Luppi continued to ramble, prodding random objects just slightly out of place around the room. Who would he have even asked about that?
"In fact, I'm hoping to work with her. There's nothing better than having something to support you while you put the squeeze on little people with big ideas. She might disappoint me, though. That's a betrayal, too, disappointment. There's so many different kinds of betrayal, you know? Your friends can betray you. Your heart can, too. The world can betray you, when it doesn't meet expectations. You can betray without even meaning it. If your hands are too strong, and crush something fragile? If someone's too weak to survive, when they said they would? If you give something away, without realizing it? The way you hesitated there, that betrays you. It tells me maybe you're not as ironclad loyal as you say. I wonder what Cirucci would think about that?"
He raised a sleeve to his mouth, eyes narrowing in amusement. "About the only thing that can't betray you is an enemy. Are we enemies, Ren? I guess not, since you already disappointed me."
Ants don't get to be enemies for dragons, was what Ren wanted to say. Given the chance, he'd have probably said something sarcastic instead. As it was, he just shook his head, mouth dry, and croaked "Why did you come here? I mean, really? You had to know that Cirucci isn't going to leave anything important down here."
"You included, right?" Luppi chuckled, pausing against the door frame. "Sorry. I came here for the same reason as any of the Espada." His voice continued to echo out from the corridor. "Whoops, I guess I'm not one yet, though!"
The Espada, huh? Ren thought, hours later, slumped in his chair after the shaking had subsided. The Swords of the Night. The Faces of Death. What were they all after? Power? Authority? Freedom from the hunger, like him? Snazzy white uniforms? He flexed his withered hand, working out cramps that shouldn't exist. Old Barragan, who worships immortal kingship. Time. And Starrk, who doesn't go anywhere without his Fraccion… Isolation. What were the other ones? Granz, the man of science and reason… Madness? Cirucci was Love, obviously.
...so, what, the wannabe Espada (it was astonishing how much more liberal Ren became in his descriptions when his knees weren't threatening to qualify as a percussion instrument with all their knocking together) wanted something so loyal it wouldn't betray him? Or something so strong it'd never fail him? Or both? Hell, maybe he ought to go wrap himself around that Reaper king, like the one-eyed girl who'd come over to the Pillar Room to shout at him that one time. Nothing stronger than that guy around here, even if trust wasn't exactly his forte, based on Cirucci's rants.
Ren shook the speculation away. Nothing lasts forever, he thought, refocusing on his maps, sifting for clues of long-vanished kingdoms. Not gods, not towers, not this job, and sure as hell not trust. If the kid was holding out hope otherwise... he was just as young as he looked.
