Short drabble written as a challenge, for a friend xD
Light Ulquiorra/Grimmjaw, nothing much.
Enjoy!
Sometimes, Ulquiorra wondered.
It wasn't something he usually did. Not in his nature, not really.
Not like the Sexta Espada, anyway. There were many times he believed that that was all the prowling Arrancar did.
But like he said, he did wonder still.
Perhaps it was their real nature that distinguished them fully.
The bat that ruled the twilight skies, capturing its prey with uncanny precision versus the stealthy panther that stalked it, both patiently and impatiently.
The small plant in his hand had a curious scent indeed. It didn't bother him in the least. But Grimmjaw? That was another thing completely. Again, he believed it was because of the difference in nature.
"Oye, Ulquiorra! What the hell are you doing here?" the rough, angry baritone of the turquoise haired male made itself heard, loud and clear.
They were both outside, under the pale glow of the moon.
Green eyes did not move. They merely stared ahead. Pantera was outside its sheath, the blade dark. Dark with blood.
He had been hunting.
Ulquiorra only did one single gesture. The fingers of his right hand, the one holding the petite flower, crushed a few of its leaves.
And the effect was immediate.
Sensitive nostrils flared. And a different gleam made its way into the blue, blue eyes. Different from just the constantly angry, constantly destructive one that was always present.
This one was wild. Unbridled. Uncontrolled. And the owner did not even make an effort to control it.
Small sparks were set loose in the cool air, coming from the contact of metal against metal, zanpakutou facing another zanpakutou.
Being two seats ahead of the taller Arrancar meant that Ulquiorra did not need to fully take him seriously. This was but a mere warm-up.
It lasted for some more time. It managed to cut off a few wisps of ebony hair and land a clear cut to an uncovered left cheek, drawing blood.
And it let him observe some more. Observe the angry beast he faced against, pretty much like an attacking bull immediately going for the kill of the matador.
Only if it could.
And like every other time, it ended in the exact same way.
Warm lips captured a pair of cold ones, hard and unforgiving and still wild and still unbridled.
The plant?
Catnip.