Eidolon
Murderface Murderface
With a furious sweep of its alien eyes, the hollow snapped to survey the closer pack of shinigami. A sudden, mournful howl escaped its lips and with all the might the beast could muster, it fled out and away from both the tree it had warded and the approaching pack of shinigami. Without a doubt, it was a master of sonido, racing across the sands with mesmerizing alacrity before winking out of sight. Soon enough, the silence and barren nature of Heuco Mundo became all too real.
It was then that a large wind sprang to life, the force of its birth sending vast amounts of the ashen soil skyward, blotting out sight with the fury of a sandstorm. Its existence was brief, however, lasting no longer then a minute. With certainty, the gap that had formed between the scouting party was now concrete. And for those unfortunate few that remained near the wayward Kurohashi, fate had played a dangerously unfair hand.
"I would have imagined that your 'conquest' of my home had been enough. But no, yet more of you pour forth into the sands that are mine, without doubt. Is Seireitei sinking? Is this why all the rats from that festering realm scurry into my home?" The speaker was a figure of nightmares, the absolute worst case encounter one could have in the demon plane: an arrancar.
And this particular one seemed peculiar in numerous ways. To match the fullness of his immaculate white garb, his hair was shocks of startling white. It was not the look of an albino, who simply had no color to their hair, or of an older person who had their hair fade to grey with the years: this hair was of such stark ivory that it nearly shone in the dull light of the eternal moon. His eyes carried the same feature, the iris white with such strength it stood out clearly, and his skin had no less a unnatural hue of alabaster. Armed with only what seemed a dagger strapped to the right side of his belt, the figure glided over the sands with adept steps.
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It was then that a large wind sprang to life, the force of its birth sending vast amounts of the ashen soil skyward, blotting out sight with the fury of a sandstorm. Its existence was brief, however, lasting no longer then a minute. With certainty, the gap that had formed between the scouting party was now concrete. And for those unfortunate few that remained near the wayward Kurohashi, fate had played a dangerously unfair hand.
"I would have imagined that your 'conquest' of my home had been enough. But no, yet more of you pour forth into the sands that are mine, without doubt. Is Seireitei sinking? Is this why all the rats from that festering realm scurry into my home?" The speaker was a figure of nightmares, the absolute worst case encounter one could have in the demon plane: an arrancar.
And this particular one seemed peculiar in numerous ways. To match the fullness of his immaculate white garb, his hair was shocks of startling white. It was not the look of an albino, who simply had no color to their hair, or of an older person who had their hair fade to grey with the years: this hair was of such stark ivory that it nearly shone in the dull light of the eternal moon. His eyes carried the same feature, the iris white with such strength it stood out clearly, and his skin had no less a unnatural hue of alabaster. Armed with only what seemed a dagger strapped to the right side of his belt, the figure glided over the sands with adept steps.
[355/1198]
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