"My bones can be scorched from fires..."
Woman are pathetic. They are weak; unable to hold a sword, unable to defend themselves from the male predators in this sandy wasteland, unable to best a man in battle.
And yet Nelliel did all these things and more.
And it pissed Nnoitra off.
And it only made Tesla worry more.
He had been defeated yet again that evening, although at this rate Tesla figured it was a more mental defeat then a physical one. His Espada walked through the door of Tesla's room, and threw Santa Teresa with such force and precision that the unique blade carved into the wall and perched itself along the sides of Tesla's throat, just barely breaking the skin.
But he was used to these outbursts, so he calmly closed his book and put it aside and simply watched as Nnoitra proceeded to break and destroy the already small amount of items in Tesla's room. But he was used to this, so he calmly waited for his Espada to settle down and use his energy to the point of exhaustion. Then he would tend to the other's bleeding head and the small scrapes along his arm, did the tattered sleeve on the uniform of his Espada.
The worst part was, Nelliel wasn't the one to cause those wounds with a sword. She would often use Nnoitra's utter and absolute hate for the woman to destroy the pillars around him. Tesla witnessed this once and couldn't help but feel hatred for the Tres Espada. She was the pitiful one.
Once Nnoitra punched a hole in the wall, smashed Tesla's only table, and successfully created a crack in the single window of the room: he simply stood in the middle of the destroyed room, heaving and puffing as he shook his now bloodied hand to get the feeling of his own blood off his hands.
Tesla slid underneath the deathly embrace of Santa Teresa and guided Nnoitra to the tattered bed, setting him down on the edge, and left him to wait while Tesla fetched the medical supplies. The room was so silent, Tesla could feel the blood pooling in his bed's sheets. Might as well take care of the Octava while he drowned in Despair.
Tesla began to treat the gash when Nnoitra spoke.
"She called me a beast." Utter and absolute hatred poisoned those words at the mention of a woman. At the mention of that woman.
"That's because you are." Tesla replied. And before Nnoitra to crush his skull or force a Cero down his throat, Tesla brought a finger to the other's dried lips. "Forgive me for speaking so loosely, but if Nelliel-sama calls you a beast with the intention of labeling it as an insult, why take it that way?" Tesla finished wrapping the gash in bandages and moved to clean the minor cuts along the arm. "She likes to think she rides atop a high and mighty horse that is above everyone else. Just because we're Arrancars now; we must fight with reason, with a purpose, not with instinct. Yet instinct is what fuels the desire to fight. Without instinct, there would be no reason. Because Nelliel has no instinct, she has no reason." Tesla quickly finished disinfecting the cuts and scrapes, not bothering to wrap them due to how minor they were and moved on to the blood soaked hand. He took his master's silence as a sign to carry on. "To be honest, i think we are all beasts. But there is only one king. And no matter how much that foolish Numeros Grimmjow likes to brag and boast about it," Tesla finished dressing the damaged wrists and cleaning the dried blood and stood to his full height once more.
"He is no king."
The grin he would receive lit a fire in his stomach.
Nnoitra lost again. Tesla dressed his wounds.
Nnoitra lost again. Tesla dressed his wounds.
Nnoitra lost again. Tesla dressed his wounds.
Nnoitra lost again. Tesla dressed his wounds.
But no matter, how hard he tried; he couldn't fix his Espada's pride.
That was their routine.