The Birth of Two Brothers. [Closed / R]

"Any man who hasn't complimented it is either lacking eyes or just hasn't gotten a good look at it. Lucky for me, I've gotten both." Anastasia offered a polite nod in response and nothing more. Abruptly leaving that portion of the conversation to die.  What more was there to say? And as far as the female was concerned, she'd rather not waste the remainder of the day standing here, feeding the seemingly suave arrancar more material to use to flirt with her about her appearance. Not that it wasn't flattering, mind you, though after awhile it grew rather tiresome to hear. She could have sworn that if it continued any longer she would feel the slight bit of annoyance bloom into full out irritation with the male. Even though he was at least attempting to be friendly. 

Luckily, the subject was changed back to business much to her relief. Though it concerned the lack of response of the brunette male who apparently only got involved when torment was brought into the equation. At this, she gave a sigh and shook her head slowly. Not even bothering to hide her look of sheer disappointment upon learning this. Fantastic, another bunch of meat headed arrancar among the ranks. Just what Las Noches really needs after all the chaos that had occured throughout the centuries. Upon Alistair's confirmation, a slightscowl formed on the female arrancar. Later on, she would feel rather guilty at the needless turn of her emotional tables. As this wasn't the first time she had delt with the same hard headed hollows before, yet for some reason, something about the male made her spirit cringe and twist in disgust and fury. And unlike before where she would normally keep her thoughts to herself , her displeasure did not pass by in silence this time around. " Typical, pitiful Romano warrior. Always need to stir up trouble in places that do not concern your kind. Even after death..." She reprimanded him quietly. Pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt a headache coming on along with an unexplained sense of deja vu. Though she shrugged it off in order to counter the stone set gaze of the blood thirsty male with her own pink authoritative glare that was encased in a hinge of red. As I gave my word, you may do as you please. But I warn you now, step out of moral line while I am present, and I promise that i will do everything in my power to make you sorry. Yourself included, Souta." This being said, she tore herself away from making any further eye contact, and she turned back towards the direction of the white palace that stood a couple of yards away. Walking toward it, she gestured them both to follow with a brief wave of her hand. Cutting off Souta's suggestive comment in the process as she bluntly added."The only thing that I have in mind is that you are both in much need of a proper bath, and some clothing."  

The two arrancar engaged in some chit-chat, which Alistair couldn't bother listening since he had no interest in it. He stood idly, waiting for some kind of progress. His attention was snapped back at the woman as she dared to call him a pitiful Romano warrior. Pitiful? Oh nonono, this woman just didn't know that she was daring to put her hand in an alligators mouth. Within a split-second Alistair was in front of the female, his hand outstretched grabbing on her neck, clutching hard enough to make her hurt. The look in his eyes was enough to warn her. Make one wrong move or statement and I will make you hurt so bad that you wish you'd be in the inner layers of Hell itself. I will and I can. Pathetic little whore. Alistair threatened, whispering in a dangerous manner.

No longer did he care if his brother would intercept. He turned his gaze to Souta, giving him the hint not to fuck with him right now as he had to defend his pride.

As Anastasia insulted Alistair, Souta's eyes would drift over his shoulder, looking at his brother. It was easy to see the anger in his eyes right now, at least for Souta. A look towards his brother would be sent, a look of stop, but it wouldn't be heeded, would it? He continued the conversation with her though, as she turned towards Las Noches, cutting off his flirtatious inquiry as she insinuated that they were both filthy. Of course the only part of Souta that was filthy was his mind, but he never minded a good bath.

But with her back turned, Alistair began to move, and so would Souta, the younger brother's monstrous speed bringing him to bear infront of the older one, their matched strength making it so that neither could move. Souta's right hand had gripped onto Alistair's left shoulder, his left hand clutching around Alistair's wrist. As it was, neither man would be able to move until the other relented, their power perfectly matched. Souta spoke, in a tone low enough for the woman walking away from them to not hear it. "Alistair... calm yourself. If we go with her we get food and women easily, and you'll be able to find people to torture. If we fight her, she's their leader and we've just made the whole of Las Noches our enemy. At best it'll be annoying as fuck to have to beat their asses, and at worst we have no clue how strong they are and they'll beat the fuck out of us, however unlikely that second chance is. But it'll still be annoying as fuck to have to beat all their asses. So just chill. You'll get people to torture, and I'll make sure you get the liquor you like." This being said he'd turn his head over his shoulder, never releasing his iron grip upon his brother, to call out to Anastasia. "A Roman's honor is not something to insult lightly, Miss. Could you give my brother an apology? I'd like to not start off our time as an Espada with bad air between us already." His tone would measured and calm, but more serious than he had been this entire time. For once, Souta's pervo-drives were off while talking to a woman, and he was actually fully serious. Damn, this was a rare event.

The entire time he's talking, he's going through the situation as the mind of a fighter. He could hold off his brother for as long as he needed to, that much was for sure. He matched him in strength, as they'd found out, and bested him in speed. If somehow a fight fully started though. . . he'd definitely side with his brother. Could both of them beat this woman? She'd said she was the first of the espada, and offered them the spots of sixth and ninth, meaning she thought they were either far weaker than her, or the numbers above them were occupied with people who were also presumably stronger than them. Or possibly both. His arrogance, of course, fully believed that both of them could best her in a fight, probably him alone, but what little caution this fighter possessed beat his arrogance over the head pointing out that he'd seen nothing of her.

Souta realized fully how much he hated unknowns. Annoying things.

As soon as her back was turned, all the muscles in her slender body tensed with each step in anticipation. She did not have to even turn around to see the anger in the older man's expression. She already was well aware that he had taken the insult with malice. After all, that would be uncharacteristic of a roman to not defend his low life pride. Sure enough,  a sudden flare of his spiritual energy as well as the sound of a faint shift of his footing across the sand had made her certain that she would be attacked at any moment. And if he wanted to fight her, she figured that Souta would step in to side with him in the long run till the very end.  Witthaare conclusion in mind, her hands balled up into tight fists, clenching them so hard that the skin wrapped around her knuckles turned stark white in contrast to the rest of her olive toned complexion. Despite being the first espada, she questioned the true immensity of the power of two men behind her. Despite her status as primera, she had to ponder over an unspoken reality. Could she really take the two espada classed men on her own? She recalled the event from earlier, remembering the explosive charge of spiritual power that had caught her attention, and how it shifted with each and every sudden movement that they made in what seemed to be in a matter of seconds. Strength, would not be an issue.  She could easily match up against them in armed and unarmed combat, if not, maybe even overpower one of them individually while their guards faltered.  But in speed, now THAT is where she would have a problem.  Of course, she could easily take on damage and counter strike and still remained unscathed for awhile, but how long would it take for them to realize that weakness and overwhelm her in the process? Despite her relatively low opinion of Alistair so far, she doubted that he was entirely ignorant when it came to finding openings.  He was a roman after all. Even if he couldn't find one, he wouldn't stop until he made one. And if he didn't figure it out for himself, she didn't doubt for a second that Souta would immediately inform him of it the moment he took notice. If a fight were to break out, Anastasia decided that she would have to plan out every move that she would make. Keep an eye out for openings, analyze each movement that their bodies would make, and most importantly, keep track of their spiritual makeup that both seemed to spark up a little.  Even if she had a disadvantage, she didn't care. Even though she really would rather not engage in combat, if it came down to it, she was determined to win. Prove herself to be the dominating force in which she claimed to be. Now mentally prepared, she closed her eyes. Waiting for the first strike to land...


Yet nothing happened.  Dumbfounded , she snuck a look back over her shoulder to see what was the cause of Roman's hold up to see that he was intercepted by the blue haired arrancar.  Anastasia had stood there, certain that the two were planning on ripping her to pieces. Yet there Souta was. Resisting against  his brother. The muscles along his exposed back, rippling as if straining equally against the older male who also seemed to be pushing forward in an attempt to counter his firm hold in order to lash out against her. Seemingly matched, and unable to take a further step.  She could not make out what either of them were saying, though she knew that  they seemed to be conversing over something. As they spoke, her fists unraveled in a sigh. She wasn't entirely sure why he had prevented his brother from striking out on her. Perhaps he feared the outcome of what would happen if they were to fight. Or maybe he knew that the argument was petty and not worth shedding blood for. Whatever the cause, she was secretly grateful for the intervention. She turned her head back once again as Souta called out to her. Politely requesting an apology for his brother's sake and pride. Which she internally scoffed for despite herself. Her head lowering as she felt a wave of nausea come over her as she thought to herself. " I apologize to this man, and I am sure i will be personally taken to the realm of hell by the vengeful hands of my own ancestors." She tore herself from her thoughts to lift her head. Eyes hardened completely as she spoke. "I will apologize. Not for what you think, but for my inability to pardon any Romano.  All I can remember from my life before this one, was how I lived on the verge of death in constant fear because i lived in a place that was overrun and worn down by the demons in the dark red plume helmets that willingly killed and raped for the control over our territory. Kidnapping people of all ages off the streets to fight in an arena all for the amusement of the emperor and his Roman brothers. Compare that agonizing century of suffering and trauma that still haunts me to this very day for the past eight hundred years  to a small clash of words, my friend, and what I have done is absolutely nothing in comparison." At this  point, the burden of her memories had made her heart heavy from both rage and familiar bitterness that soured her mouth and  made its way to subtlety  dampen the corners of her eyes which she swiftly brushed off with a ginger swipe of her pointer finger. "Unless you are an exception to your ruthless kind, Aliastair, I will be more willing to take back what i say. If not, then do not expect an apology, for if I do it will hold no real meaning.."