An Offer You Can't Refuse

Whomever sat on this throne before had likely been long forgotten by now, given the state she'd found this place. A ruined city, half buried in the white sands of Hueco Mundo, abandoned by all but a few who attempted to make it their hunting grounds. None of the hollows shed encountered here has been worth her time.

Bashira had taken the liberty of stripping any of the last remaining vestiges of her former post from her clothes. She'd done so the moment she'd left the Seiteitei behind so that she could finally set her plans into motion. It has taken no small amount of effort to rebuild as much of this old city as she had. As she lowered herself on the throne of this empty hall, her Zanpakuto rested on her lap. She wasn't here to fight, rather she was here to talk. Any poor hollow too weak for her standards would perish. But if a strong one were to appear, perhaps, they could talk.

She allowed her reiatsu to flow freely here, letting it waft through the city, a scent of something unusual in Hueco Mundo just waiting for someone to come and find it. Her hope was to catch something big, but so far it had just been small fries, drawn in by greed and hunger in equal measure. Hopefully something worth her time would show up at some point, or else she feared she was just wasting her time. And this phone wasn't exactly comfortable.

Loki hissed, and trembled. He stared disdainfully at his sword, which stuck out from the alabaster sand several meters from him. Its broad blade reflected the moonlight tauntingly, as though daring him to pick it up.

For a moment, he thought he'd been lost. But somehow, he escaped. For the last thousand years or so he'd been trapped in a whirling miasma of wraiths and lost souls, screams echoing through his mind, but he made it out. And now he was here, staring at his palm, wearing naught but a shoddy cloak under the starless Hueco Mundo sky.

He did it. He had control of the sword.

He stood up, shambling towards it. He was exhausted, to tell the truth, but now he could finally tell who he was... and who he wasn't.

His short steps made it take a moment for him to stumble over to the weapon. It was longer than he was tall, although that wasn't saying much, diminutive figure as he was. He put his hand on the hilt of the sword, immediately upon doing so hearing the howls ring out from the abyss of his mind.

"I am Loki." He began, looking at the sword, grimacing, trying to keep his fragmented ego from shattering once again. "And you... you... are Fenrir."

He knew the sword's name instinctively. Devorador del Sol, it was. But the beast was something else entirely. It was him and it was not.

He took his hand off the sword, stepping back. He almost turned around, but then, inexplicably, he was drawn to the weapon again, pulling it out of the sand.

Loki fell to his knees as the howling recommenced. He took a deep breath and concentrated, slamming his free fist into the soft earth.

"Hush, you...!" He demanded, standing up. Only then, did he turn around.

Bashira wasn't quite sure what to make of this one. He was definitely powerful, more so than most she'd encountered up to this point. But he seemed a little... Unstable. It was as if he were arguing with someone, though she and him were the only ones present. Was he talking to his sword? Quite strange behavior from an already anomalous hollow.

She'd heard of hollows that had somehow surpassed even Vasto Lorde status, though even this was incredibly rare. Almost unheard of even. And yet she'd managed to find one, demanding his sword be quiet as he finally noticed her presence. Perhaps a bit more negotiation would be required here, since she wasn't about to let such a rare find like this get away if she could help it. The faint sound of jingling bells echoed from her sword, Hinode in agreement with her plan.

With a soft, low chuckle, she stepped forward with her hands open. "I wouldn't suppose you had time for a little chat, would you? You seem like a bit of a conversationalist."

Bashira made no effort to hide the nature of her shinigami reiatsu, figuring it would do one of two things. It would either pique the interest of this individual, or prompt him to attack, which would allow her to ascertain his physical prowess. Either way, she'd get what she wanted.

Loki became silent as he heard someone approaching. He shivered, his spiritual pressure fluctuating enough that the sand beneath them shifted, but with a deep breath, he managed to find a small semblance of stability.

He saw Bashira and looked at her with an expression full of nothing. It seemed that the newly minted Arrancar wasn't sure of the nature of who stood before him, so he regarded her with careful curiosity. An oddly human expression, and something not at all common here in Hueco Mundo.

And yet, the nature of her reiatsu incited an instinct within him. The character of it, and the potency, prompted fear. He knew -- Fenrir knew -- that there was no devouring this one. And there was no fleeing this one. So he did the next best thing.

"... conversationalist..." He mused. Speaking to someone other than his sword was... bizarre. "Conversationalist..." He repeated as though molding the word on his tongue. "Is that so?"

Ok, maybe he isn't quite a conversationalist after all.

"It seems so. You were having quite the talk with... Well, someone." Bashira's eyes scanned the room, peeled for signs of anyone else who this strange man could've been talking to. Perhaps it should be concerning that no one else was nearby, that this fellow may or may not have been talking to himself. Then again, while arrancar were far beyond any hollow, some of them could still be... Unstable.

Hinode, the spirit of Bashira's Zanpakuto, materialized behind her as she stepped forward, the spirit's priestess robes flowing in some unseen slow breeze. "Oooh this one's already evolved. And he's got quite an impressive sword..." Hinode muttered, resting her hands stop Bashira's head and her chin on her hands. Bashira jerked her head and waved a hand dismissively. "Not helping."

"Now then. Let's talk about you. It's not often that arrancar come into existence naturally, at least as far as I've seen. That makes you quiet... Interesting, conversationalist or not." Bashira offered a pleasant smile that just barely reached her eyes as she stopped just out of reach of the strange man before her. "If you're not particularly busy, I'd like to talk to you, make you an offer of sorts."

Loki tilted his head. "I was having a talk with..." It was hard to put into words. "Myself, I suppose." He remarked. That wasn't exactly the right way to put it, but he wasn't really quite sure of the nature of his relationship with this other being himself, truthfully. That surely gave off an assuring sign of stability. He shook his head, pushing the remainder of that ego out of his mind, for now.

"I don't know what an arrancar is... but if that is what I am now then maybe that can explain some things." Loki looked at her intently, his face neutral but his eyes intense. "Tell me more."