Deserted Ambitions [Dellapero/invite]

Sandstorm in the eternal night...

...long howls the darkened breath of despair.


Lone wanderer stalking the night, perched high upon the crystalline treetops in the desert of Hueco Mundo visible in the shimmering moonlight. Hair pitch as the sky itself, yet gleaming as the absent stars would, chilling green eyes looking upon the gray horizon that shown the deathly walls of Las Noches with a contempt so few could ever gleam an understanding of, the Legionnaire King without a kingdom sat in solitary silence. What could such a lonely being ever gleam a thought of in the life of despairity so many of his kind experienced but hatred itself? One would wonder, if they themselves understood not the plight of his kind. Yet one of his kind? Yes, they would know the feeling, the sensation one feels in a life of power that straddled also the life of powerlessness, powerlessness against the sad fate that led those of the Hollow mind to live as Hollow-kind.

Low had the station of his kind fallen, and so did his own place of station fall in the like. How he longed once more for the place in which his brothers and sisters had felt the sensation of hope, the sensation in knowing that they had finally found a kingdom in which they could cast off the shackles of their self fueled stereotype. But such a place was stolen in the light of crimson and bloodied flames, the product, not of his own self-decided Legion, but instead, the product of those whom Marcus had loathed for as long as they had existed, the most corrupt arrancar who selfishly and arrogantly proclaimed themselves as the strongest, the Espada. Yes, it was because of THEM that the place in which hollow hope had been made was destroyed, all for the selfish greed of ten meaningless mongrels whose power existed only in their numbers. How he loathed those foolish children, and how he so hated the fact of his self-admittance in the fancying of the fact that he longed for their destruction in only the bluntest of ways.

So often had he lost himself to such, not to the despairity of his kind, but instead to the thought of the matter altogether, and to the very depths of his animalistic hatred reserved for those bearing numbers as he did upon his chest. Often had he sat outside of the walls as he was at that moment and thought of the very concept of using every ounce of his strength to launch cero after cero against those walls in a valiant yet hate-filled effort to destroy and kill every living being within. Of course, such notions were always cast aside, for, were they not, his very purpose and desire would be made null by the very hypocrisy of his actions. Nay, instead, he could only look forever onward, watching for the most opportune times in which he could damage the rank and file of the Espada, be it by picking away single persons from the walls and outer properties of the stark castle city. Such were the methods, until of course, a time and place presented itself in which he would be able to steal away the opportunity of a greater infliction of his desires upon the seemingly indomitable walls of Las Noches. But, until then, he would remain outside those skyward walls, looking on with a hate that would boil the insides of any other incapable of bearing the weight and load of his desires. So, what could await He, the Legionnaire King until such a time would come? Few would know, except He who experienced it.

Intimidating gaze of green hue gleamed away from the walls of the stark city, a look of recognition in the presence of another, the spiritual entity's footsteps across the sands echoing against the spiritual sensories of the man perched upon his crystalline seat so casually. Who came across the desolate sands celebrating his presence like a fool? One could only guess, but, just as the senses of the approaching entity spoke to him, so did the senses of Marcus speak to him of the power of he who was foolish enough to approach an unknown with such an audacity. Yet, more audacious was the appearance of the man, or rather, of the arrancar. Marcus' chin fell to the support of an open palm leaned atop his knee, his overall appearance being that of exceptionally casual as he continued to seat himself upon the top of the tree itself. Yet, if ever a thing did seem to change, it was the direction of his gaze and the intensity behind it, a look of stoic silence befalling the man that was Dellapero, the small sensation or feeling of irritation able to be gleamed in only the smallest of ways from Marcus himself.

This boy was boorish, young, arrogant, and far too immediate in his interrogation process, no skill had at all, but such was the lot of the youth of the worlds in such a troubled time. Such thoughts would populate Marcus' mind as he listened on to Dellapero speak and ask that which he held no lot to question. In that, Marcus merely kept the look of an impassive and uninterested forced listener, or rather, until the mention of those despicable ten with whom he was immediately affiliated, the twinge of a brow so barely visible on his face, the slightest hints of an irritable man. Yet, such notions and signals of a less than disciplined man vanished as quickly as they came. After all, the individual before him was an unknown, his station, his entire identity was completely shrouded in mystery, yet, given the direction by which the man came and the exuded reiatsu level, there was little doubt in believing the possibility that the arrancar before him heralded from Hueco Mundo, so, instead of hapeless irritation, wise caution was the necessary reaction. The faintest smirk appeared at a singular corner of his mouth, chilling tones of voice that came with a deceptively malignant politeness, giving warning of thin ice for the man foolish enough to approach Marcus so brutishly.

"You speak as though power is to be limited to a place of singularity or not be allowed to roam as it so chooses. But, more importantly, you speak as though I am one of power..."

The smirk which seemed accompanied by a tone of impassive aggression came then with a mild cock of the brow. Low was the content of knowledge by which Dellapero came with, the only question was if he himself knew his limitations.

"...Needless flattery is just that, needless.

So, perhaps, instead of a reference and request of power and station, one instead asks for the identity of the man who approaches him? Or would you rather the equal question in my asking you as to your station and whether or not you shall confirm my questions of the matter of your number, should you have ever received one?"

Marcus straightened from his seat, sliding down from the peak of the tree that had supported him so easily, the soft landing of his feet kicking up the slightest bit of dust as his arms crossed over chest. Green hues looked at Dellapero with a presence of expectation, the keen eye would know, edge and benefit would only be gained by the man known silently as Marcus, for so low would the chance be, for this arrancar before him, to be able to gain that which he desired, without giving that which was equal.

Revelations of deathly identities...

...the result shall be?

Expected identities made themselves known, the man who stood so arrogantly before the man of green hue was indeed a member of that which was the very eye of Marcus' hatred. A sensation of welling hatred and animosity surged within the man, a slight tensing of the shoulders and a calming breath doing all capable to restrain the sudden urge to slaughter the man before him with naught but hands of steel and eyes ablaze. Instead, his eyes fell to a half-aware state, near closed gaze glancing away with a seemingly uninterested appearance about them, aiding in the air to be exuded from this very man, a look that gave an air of little to no care of Dellapero's station or name whatsoever.

"So...ka?

I was unaware that my evolution were so obvious, or rather, I had no idea you yourself held the place to assume my nature."

Slowly the gaze which held itself at half-mast turned back upon the now revealed Espada, that which came as uninterested accompanied by a look of cynicism about it. How lofty were the ideals of this Espada, to readily approach a man who he knew not, and not only speak of Marcus' power, but speak against the Espada? The answer came simply, it was an interesting man. True, the sensation of lofty arrogant ideals and stature this man brought with him were unsightly, the manner in which he made such apparent made him as interesting as a youth who simply knew little around him but decided that regardless of his lack of knowledge, that he would influence all about him. An interesting, yet dangerous combination to be had in a first impression. How well would this Espada act in the presence of a man who was mentioned throughout the legends of Las Noches as the sole hunter of Hueco Mundo, the arrancar who had slaughtered the countless generations of Espada since the Winter War? One would merely have to find out, gilded tongue and eloquent speech the tools of the investigative man who was approached so easily.

"Identity is a matter of perception, young Dellapero-kun...what you may call me is not what another may, or what I myself may claim to be. Already, you know me as something that I may not necessarily be, for you have undertaken the route of assumption, a dangerous and slippery slope to travel.

But...for the sake of pleasantries, you may know that which many have called me on prior in my days as a Hollow....Legion came from that which was commanded, or Victor by that which was my given. Either is well enough and both will equate similar response.

So...what is your purpose, have you come to recruit that which was cast out once before? Or is your intent that of mere personable means?"

The child was far more arrogant than already expected, careful eyes watching the young Espada with a hidden sense of self-gratification. So the boy thought he could identify a hollow's nature by a simple look or feel? Rather presumptuous and all too foolish of a thing to think himself able to be confident in. But, there was no reason as to why it simply couldn't be an addition onto the long list of possible clinches usable in completely assessing the young and ambitious man before him. Though, for what end was yet to be seen at such a moment. Nevertheless, the boy's speech was less than enthusiastic, even more so as he spoke of a following off to a new location and, more importantly, of a proposition. Perhaps the young Espada thought himself the plotter for a higher purpose? His nature was certainly on the lines of overly polite at the recognition of a fellow arrancar of power, and his speech in regards to the other Espada and their current leader, that was something of a bit all too convenient. The boy's plots were not yet completely known, but if the boy were going to attempt to keep his machinations covert, he was certainly not doing a fine job thus far.

"Confidence in an ability you do not have is nothing short of arrogant, Dellapero-kun.....my own identity as a hollow prior is nothing known to you, for I may very well be nothing more than that of an Adjuchas who has lost his mast and climbed in status, as insignificant a status as that very well may be."

Perchance it was a culmination of luck and ill-fate that Dellapero came upon Marcus, luck in that of a meeting with an arrancar whose initial reaction was not outright aggression, and ill-fate in the same meeting being with one whose very desire was to put an end to the very foundation of the Espada as a whole. So, how would the young Espada be met in return? Just as he himself turned away with an offer, Marcus himself glanced with an upward brow, his own chuckle of amusement hidden within the depths of his mind, the boy before him was far too trusting indeed.

"Very well then...I'm more than willing to humor the youth."

In turn and in like, just as Dellapero himself came to vanish with the less than loud thrum of sonido, Marcus too followed, nigh on the heels naught but seconds later, the sound of his very own sonido cracking with a thunderous sound, the sands caving beneath the feet and the sounds of the Legionnaire King echoing throughout all of Hueco Mundo. In following, his mind filled itself with various plots and ideas. Perhaps the boy wished for control of the Espada? It was likely, very rarely did an Espada exist that did not vie for a total control over the rest of the Espada. But, more often than not, the motives varied and differed. What of the boy he was following after? What fuels your ambition...Dellapero-kun? The question rang silently and unspoken in Marcus' head, each step of sonido made drawing him ever closer to the revelation of Dellapero's machinations.

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