"Pale like the eye's of a Siberian husky dog. Human beings just didn't have eye's like that."

-Anita Blake (Cerulean Sins)

Grimmjow mumbled incoherently under his breath as he carried the little scrap of a human to her new room. She weighed nothing compared to his immense strength, and carrying her was like carrying a feather pillow. It wasn't the weight of her that bothered him though, but the scent she gave off. He couldn't quite place it, but the more he breathed it in, the more irritated he became. It took everything in his power not to toss the mortal away.

Were it not for Aizen's insistence that this human be unharmed, he would've done away with her himself. As it were, he'd been put in charge of her wellbeing. A stupid mistake on Aizen's part, really. What did he, an Espada bent on revenge, know about taking care of someone? Especially someone with such a fragile existence. If she managed to survive the night, he'd be amazed.

"Mmm," he heard her groan softly.

Looking back at her on his shoulder, he realized she was beginning to wake. A smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as he thought about how she would react to her new surroundings.

Coming up to a solid white door, he uses his foot to push it open. The light from the hallway illuminated the room just enough to show that there was little to no furniture. A small pallet on the floor would act as her bed, and a single chair sat near the only window. Of course he wasn't worried about her attempting to escape from the window, not unless she wanted to fall hundreds of feet to her death. And really, if that's what she wanted, then he wasn't going to stop her. Aizen couldn't punish him for something she'd done to herself.

Entering the small room, he drops the girl uncaringly to the mattress. Turning away from her, he moves into the shadows of the room, concealing himself from view as she starts to come around. Watching and waiting for the panic he knew would follow. Humans were always scared in situations they couldn't control, and he thrived on the fear of those around him.


Opening her eyes proved to be one of the most difficult tasks she's ever had to accomplish. It didn't help that the air around her was so cold that it bordered on freezing. Maybe that was why she couldn't open her eyes? Maybe it was so cold in here that they were permanently frozen shut. Unfortunately, she didn't know if the room was cold because the temperature had been set to below freezing, or if she'd lost control of her powers after she'd been knocked out.

Suddenly everything came flooding back to her. In a rush, Ciara sits up on what could only be called a "bed" as anger floods her veins; heating her blood. Subsequently, the entire room starts to heat, forcing out the cold.

"That pink-haired bastard!" She yells, her hands balling into twin fists. He had been following her! He even followed her home, where he knocked her out and obviously kidnapped her. "I swear to the Gods that when I find him, I'm going to kill him."

As sweat began to bead on her forehead, Ciara quickly realized that her anger was starting to get out from under her control. If she didn't get a handle on her powers, she was likely to start a fire. And while she could control the weather, she couldn't control fire. Closing her eyes, she takes several deep breaths to center herself. Which turned out to be more difficult than trying to open her eyes moments ago.

It takes several minutes, and several deep breaths, but eventually Ciara is able to push her anger down and level out her emotions. When the cold returned, she realized that it hadn't been her powers at all, but the room just naturally seemed to be cold. With her emotions in check once more, she crawls off the bed to get to her feet.

Taking a look around the dark room, she didn't see much. With no light switches to be seen, the crescent moon streaming in from the window, was her only light. It was a good thing she wasn't scared of the dark. Turning away from the window, she spots a closed door on the opposite end of the room. Knowing it was likely locked, Ciara approaches it anyway.

Just as she reaches for the handle, the sound of breathing catches her attention. And, just like before, the feeling she was being watched suddenly comes over her. Body stiffening, she turns around to face the shadowed corner.

"Who's there?" She calls out, trying to keep the fear she felt creeping up inside of her, out of her voice. No need to let whoever was standing in the shadows know she was scared. Straightening, she holds her head high as she addresses her stalker. "If you're trying to hide, you're doing a terrible job."

What stepped out of the darkness wasn't what Ciara expected. Her eyes go wide at the man, or creature, or monster, whatever he was, standing in front of her. Taking a step back, as her heart picks up, she tilts her head back to look up into his face.

Eyes unlike anything she'd ever seen before looked back at her with disgust. They were blue, like hers, but not at the same time. There was something different about them, and it wasn't the underlying aggression. The color of the sky on a warm summer day was the closest she could describe them, and even that didn't do them enough justice.

They held her captive.

When she was finally able to pull her gaze away from his eyes, she took in the rest of him. Those hauntingly beautiful eyes were underlined with what looked like teal colored mascara, but were more likely to be permanent tattoos. Most men, in her opinion, couldn't pull off the "make-up" look, but on him, it just drew further attention to his eyes. And attached to the right side of his face, was what appeared to be the upper and lower jaw bone of some kind of animal. If Ciara had to take a guess, she would say it looked like it belonged to the big cat family. Though she couldn't tell which species exactly.

Light blue strands of hair were slicked back from his forehead, though a few pieces had escaped product's hold and were now hanging over those striking blue eyes. She'd never seen anyone with their hair dyed such a light blue before, and considering the type of people she liked to hang around, she'd seen plenty of different shades of blues and other unnatural colors. He'd even gone so far as to make sure his eyebrows matched the rest of his hair.

Briefly, Ciara wondered what dye he used and where she might be able to find some. Moving away from his hair and face, she takes in the rest of him.

The white jacket he wore did nothing to cover his chest, leaving it exposed. With the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, and the collar popped up, he gave the impression of a gangster from one of those movies her dad used to like watching. But the pants he wore looked more traditionally Japanese than Italian mobster. And with the Katana sticking out of the black waist band, Ciara could assume he was probably some kind of cosplayer.

Was there a comic con in the city and she wasn't aware of it?

He didn't exactly look like what one would assume a cosplayer would look like. But this was 2022 and cosplaying wasn't just for the nerds anymore.

Her eyes soon fell on the hole in his stomach, and she swallowed hard. Either he was amazing at using special effects, or he'd taken on hell of a hit to the stomach by something. Ciara wanted to ask how he survived such a wound, but didn't think it was the appropriate time.

Ciara was certain about one thing when it came to this man though, he was aggressive. She could see it in his eyes and feel it in the air around her. Something instinctive told her that this man was walking the fine line between sanity and completely losing it. She needed to be careful. Unfortunately for her, being careful with her words wasn't her strong suit.

Shaking her head, she meets the man's gaze once more, and narrows her own eyes. "What the hell is going on here? Who are you and where am I?" She looks around him into the shadows he stepped out of. "Is Pinky hiding with you in there?"

The man in front of her raised a brow. "You're a mouthy one, aren't you?" He says, his voice deeper than any man she'd ever encountered before, and it sent a chill down her spine. When those blue eyes took her in, goosebumps broke out along her arms and back of her neck. The way he eyed her was the same way a hunger lion eyed its prey.

Fighting down her growing fears, Ciara stands her ground. "I asked you a question." She says, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to show no fear. "Where the hell did that pink bastard take me?"

He ignored her, walking closer, but remaining an arms length away. Slowly, he began to circle her. Ciara wants to follow him, knowing the worst thing someone could do was give the enemy their back, but she needed to keep an unbothered exterior.

"And you're a fighter." She can feel the heat of his gaze on her as he takes in every inch of her form. "I don't think Aizen realized that when he sent Szayel out to fetch you."

"Hey!' Ciara snaps, jerking her head around to him. "I asked you a damn question. Where the hell-"

Before she could even squeak out a sound of surprise, she felt strong hands around her throat and her back slamming painfully against a wall. Her breath felt her in a sudden rush, and she struggled to get enough air in her lungs to speak. Not that she could, not with his hand wrapped dangerously around her throat. The strength she could feel in his hand made her blood run cold. He could easily snap her neck with a single move. Ending her life in an instant.

Her wide eyes found his narrowed ones, and she saw glee in their depths. He was enjoying this.

"I'm only going to tell you this once, so you better listen and listen well." He said as his thumb stroked her pounding pulse point. "Watch the way you speak to me, or I won't hesitate to cut your tongue from your mouth, and I'll gladly take whatever punishment Aizen dishes me." His hold on her throat tightens to show that he meant every word.

But Ciara was a fighter, just like he said, and she wouldn't be so easily intimidated. Lifting her own hands, she wrapped them around his wrist and allowed the fear that she felt rise to the surface. In an instant, a thin layer of ice began to stretch along his wrist and forearm. Before it could increase any more, her captor drops her to the ground below. Her knees hit hard tile, and she just barely keeps from hissing at the pain.

All around them the room dropped well below freezing and their breaths turned to mist. It was his turn to look down on her with wide eyes. "What the hell did you do?" He demands, flexing his fingers and wrist to shake away the ice.

Coughing, Ciara covers her bruising neck with her hand and glares back at him. "That's my secret." She manages to croak out, wincing at how hoarse her voice sounded in her ears. "If this Aizen guy didn't tell you what I could do, then that sounds like a you problem."

He stands there in silence for several seconds. His eyes roaming her face, and she could see that he was trying to figure out what she'd done for himself. Whether he was unable to come to a conclusion or not, Ciara wasn't sure, but he quickly dismisses her and makes for the door.

"W-wait," she calls, clumsily getting her feet. When he stopped in the doorway with the hallway light spilling in, Ciara hurriedly said, "I still don't know your name or where I am."

He doesn't answer right away, and she got the impression he still wasn't going to, and when he did, she was surprised. Over his shoulder he gives her his name. "Grimmjow," He says, voice a low growl. "And this is your new prison, Pet. Better get used to it." Slamming the door behind him, he leaves her alone in the near darkness.