If I did own this, I highly doubt it would've turned out as well as it did.
She was thinking.
Not the most common pastime for an Espada such as her.
Most of her fellows probably wouldn't really believe it; as the only woman amongst the Diece Espada many of her compatriots, they probably thought that she didn't think beyond service to "his high-mighty-ness" and to the destruction of the Shinigami.
Fools.
The greatest of warrior constantly thought, pondering battles past and battles to come, war and philosophy swirling in a mad intellectual dance.
And sometimes, in moments of peace, she would come across a memory of her first experience with the power of a soul.
They were brief; fire and crystal and showers of sparks as steel met steel.
Sometimes they were of dusty books lit by candlelight in a small, dark room.
But the clearest were the memories of a weapon.
Sometimes it appeared as a sword. In others, it appeared as a whip; every time, she knew it was one and the same.
And once, she even remembered its name.
Glancing at her own weapon, the Espada called Halibel whispered it once more:
"Valentine."
