firstritter

[firstritter]

HE

[firstritter]

"That's... quite a gun you got there," Bazz noted after materializing his own bow. Pure energy, but not looking as real as Lilles. "How do you..."

   ‘  discipline.  ’   is lille’s sure,  immediate response,  cutting and dry as wind.  he cants his head,  slightly,  fiery green eyes tracing the white-light curve of bazz-b’s bow.  diagramm,  well-placed on his right shoulder and light as a feather,  looks massive and quietly threatening compared to it.   ‘  you have your fire.  most of us choose to rely on other kinds of abilities.  i chose to hone the primary quincy skill.  ’   it was always his primary skill,  all things considered.

   ‘  my bow used to look like yours,  centuries ago.  ’

[firstritter]

“Maghreb, Artisans de la terre”, texte de Jamal Bellakhdar, photographies de Cécile Tréal et Jean-Michel Ruiz. Hazan, 2002.

[firstritter]

"it's good that you are trying to socialize with your comrades." says lille, who doesn't really try to socialize- but his tone betrays a shade of concern. / for kugo

@firstritter.

“Oh?”  He would look back at him, Lille stepping in right after he had hold a small conversation with some soldiers. There was still a certain difficulty, and he had still not managed to really feel part of them again, if ever. Though when seeing Lille, those doubts tend to vanish. Grinning even at his comrade now, who could barely manage a smile half the time. Not showing too many emotions certainly had it perks, but this would be a bit too extreme for him but at the same time, he really did not want to imagine the other losing it completely now, that would mean nothing good. 

“Well... personally I think, I still need more practice,”  Lips curled into a smirk upon saying that, eyes not leaving the other’s. Clearly Lille was doing far worse than him, but he held a far different position and he was not even sure, if the other was even the type for forming small bonds. Considering what tied their entire race together though, Lille's lifestyle seemed a bit too lonely. And he was here since almost the very start. How could someone live like this for so many years and not completely break apart?  “Perhaps, you can help me there a little bit?”  Giving him a second before chuckling.  “No, no worries... but have you actually eaten yet? I certainly didn’t, so why not give me some company?”  Not much awaiting a response, simply walking past the other and subtly pulling on his wrist to make him somewhat turn around before letting go.  “I would quite love that, y’know?”  Turning his head towards him one last time, before continuing with his path. Such difficult man, but he was loosing up a little, that much he could tell. Far more important matters laid ahead but when looking at him and perhaps he did again, he completely forget about them. 

[firstritter]

“God or no God, there seemed to be nothing to hold onto.”

— Jeanette Winterson, from Lighthousekeeping (via wishbzne)

[firstritter]

[firstritter]

“Have some of this. You’ll feel better.” from lille @ kugo

@firstritter.

“Is that from Nakk Le Vaar?”  he questioned upon seeing the foreign drink. Still surprised about the other’s visit. Perhaps he had noticed his decrease in activity, though never overly high anyway. His body was still the one of a human, despite his hollow side. It would still take a little bit, till he was fully recovered, though the Quincy certainly have done some formidable work. Basically bringing him back from the dead.

“Are you this observant towards every Quincy?”  Ginjo dared to question in a playful tone, while taking the drink finally into his hand, getting into a sitting position as he had been laying in his bed. On top of the bed sheets though, giving the impression, he was merely taking a short nap. Honestly, this was mildly embarrassing, that the other would see him like this. He had never liked to show weakness, and even less when he had become the leader, everyone had relied on him after all. Now it was different though, basically in the role of a mere pawn now. So it was even more surprising, that Lille seemed to somewhat care about him. Perhaps, simply because he was a special case and currently was no one really badly hurt anyway. The war had yet to fully start. He would look up at him for a second, before down into his drink. Lille was one handsome man and he could not deny holding a certain interest towards him, simply because of that, though what confused him was that it did not feel overly sexual this time. For the first time, it even felt wrong to just see that in someone, and not more. And Lille was so much more. It was almost frightening.

A small sip was taken, tasting rather herbal, before placing the cup upon a nearby table. Once again his eyes would wander up to the other’s face, one could almost get the impression, he was acting shyly around his comrade. Almost. Ginjo reached for the other’s biceps, partially because he always wanted to feel that part, but mostly to pull him down, making him sit beside him.  “Why not join me for a lil’ while?”  he suggested right before it, smiling at the man.  “Already with you being here, I feel so much better,”  Ginjo added and slightly leaned against the other, before suddenly placing a small kiss on top of Lille’s shoulder. Quick were his fingers entwined right above it, as if this little form of intimacy never happened in the first place.  “You sure do wonders.” 

[firstritter]

“Oh, to draw a bow and fire it through his black heart and watch it explode black blood, and to watch his eyes for when they stop blinking, when they look but stop seeing, and to listen for his voice croaking and hear his chest heave in a death rattle saying, Look, my wretched spirit leaves this most wretched of bodies, and to smile at such tidings and dance at such a loss.”

— Marlon James, Black Leopard, Red Wolf

[firstritter]

i would kill for you :')

   ‘  i appreciate it,  but ... i can very well do my own killing.  ’

[firstritter]

   STERNRITTER X

[firstritter]

@ skyvar :

“I guess that is easy to say as long everything goes smoothly,”  Ginjo commented, unbothered at the other’s tone.  “It was never a dream of mine,”  he admitted after a short pause, allowing his thoughts to wander upon that matter. Had he ever dreamed of a better future? Oddly enough, not. Always more stuck at the present.  “But it does sound nice…”  Not sounding too convinced yet as his mind was still troubled with other, more personal goals. Something, that hopefully would be fixed soon once the war was won. Ginjo would smile at the display, amused and intrigued how the other could take care of the rest with just a small gesture.  “And I am definitely thankful for that…”  His gaze would go down, fingers pulling upon the fabric of his collar. It still felt so surreal for him.  “…it’s just quite a change.”  As he looked up at him, just for a moment,  he seemed a bit lost in the other’s gaze. 

“He is no fool, but he sure a bit prideful as well from what I recall, or stubborn would actually fit better, but I have not really seen any Quincy pride in him.”  Not a single mention about it, though their interaction was rather short-lived anyway.  “Oh, what did he do?”  Asking about the mentioned grandfather. Curious about the reasons of his exile.  “It does not really matter anyway, Kurosaki’s friends are rather loyal towards their group, it makes no sense why he would suddenly decide to move over, especially if it means to fight Kurosaki.”  No way in hell, he was ever here because he believed in Yhwach. While Ginjo still had his own goals, these would not threaten the plans of the Quincy. 

“You are more kind than I thought.”  There really was barely any doubt in the other, trusting his Majesty completely, even in Ginjo’s case.  “And that almost sounds like, I should be happy.”  But he felt none of that. Not yet at least.  “I’ve lost my group… twice now, … but I don’t really feel anything at the moment, … even though a close friend was under them.”  A decade ago, he had told himself to no more cry, so this is what he became?  “I feel like I lost my connection to my roots, being a Quincy as well that is. So I am not really sure, if I really belong here anymore, even though his Majesty clearly accepted me.”  But he had not accepted himself yet.  “I kind of want to relearn what it is like to be a Quincy, but I cannot do this alone.” 

   at first,  he does not object.  ginjo is right,  and his struggles speak to a long buried part of lille he thought had died long ago;  he remembers the hard,  wary looks one gives foreigners.  they had softened,  in time,  and lit up with admiration and obedience,  but the strive to fit in had been real nonetheless.  quite a change,  he repeats inwardly.  what an euphemism.  it is commendable of kugo to accept with such readiness,  or at least attempt to,  his new life of holy servitude;  for an instant,  lille looks about to say something to praise him,  but he’s cut short by ginjo’s curiosity.   ‘  apart from minor disagreements over the fate of our progress,  in regards of power and techniques,  souken ishida was a traitor of his blood.  ’   he begins,  folding both his arms over his chest.   ‘  he was convinced that we could coexist peacefully with the shinigami.  cooperate,  even.  history had already proven us that such belief is foolish,  but he never changed his mind.  he wasn’t fit to be among us.  how he wasn’t executed at the time is still beyond me.  ’

  as the other speaks,  lille raises his only open eye to look at him;  a gleam of interest torching the green of it.   ‘  we’ll keep an eye on the boy.  ’   he concludes.  we.  ginjo will have to learn to speak in plural,  in spite of wherever he feels his belonging to actually lie.  for a while,  lille listens without speaking.  helping a fellow comrade find his place in their ranks is part of the duty,  he considers;  what room is there for kindness when it’s only another gear in the mechanism.   ‘  we all have to know our role.  i cannot remain indifferent before a comrade’s struggle,  so if ...  ’  he pauses to choose his words.   ‘  if i can help you connect to your roots again,  i gladly will.  i must warn you,  though ... i’m not too social.  ’  

  the addition would sound almost as a joke,  and though lille does not really smile,  his stern expression seems to lighten a bit.   ‘  have you started training for your vollständig?  ’

[firstritter]

[firstritter]

🤧 from lille

Send 🤧 to find my muse with a bloody nose / @firstritter

Oh, he could only think upon seeing the tall Sternritter, knowing full well how serious he took his position and the laws inside the Wandenreich. Quickly he would wipe the red streak away but it only caused a slightly bigger mess.  “Fuck,”  he murmured as he looked down at his fingers, that guy hit him harder than expected. And Ginjo was not even fully innocent here, as he had been provoking this. He was not really sure why, if he had simply desired to feel a different kind of pain, or if the guy had just looked wrongly at him. Thinking too much about it now was no solution anyway, but standing nearby Lille now, gave him an odd sense of guilt and usually, he was very free of that feeling. 

“I was...”  Words remained stuck in his throat. He did not like the idea at all, that the other could possibly think worse of him.  “...”  

[firstritter]

[firstritter]

lille's postwar mood is more viscerally gaping than defeat, more haunting than feeling lost; it's not just personal. the mood is a grounding guilt. he's inconsolable, angry, and feeling deeply, deeply responsible for all that went wrong. it would have been easier to lose his faith in yhwach as some sternritters did, to hate him, because hate for another is linear and easy while self-hate is inextricably tangled, but he did not. he keeps his hopeless faith, and that probably feels worst than everything else.

[firstritter]

lille has quite an imposing presence and his authority within the hierarchy of the wandenreich is absolutely unquestioned,  butttt ... he would never,  ever want to be taken in consideration as yhwach’s successor. with yhwach gone, haschwalth dead and ishida a traitor, he’s technically the next in line to rule over the remaining quincies post-war, but he adamantly rejects the idea of being called emperor. he’d probably put himself in a ruling position out of sheer duty, not because power holds any appeal to him. 

[firstritter]

Lille Barro