#oschvank

|| Meme || @oschvank ||

[ Send “ ✿ ” for 2 headcanons about our muses' relationship. ]

“Presumptuous and pompous to think that you even can , Sexta.”

I can. One day I might. He doesn’t say it. It’s true, but not yet. She still outclasses him, for as brief a period as she needs to rely on Kisuke’s little bracelet.

The joy on Nelliel's face gave Jewel a brief pause.

Nell's smile lit her features, soft and bright as a fair spring breeze. Relieving too, maybe? Soul Society was a foreign realm, home to exceedingly few Arrancars, so a familiar face must have gone a long way. A comforting glimpse within a sea of unknowns...

Jewel appeared at her side with a Shunpo, gummed out grin glinting in the light.

He looks at his hand instead of her when she speaks, he currently sits next to her on the bed. Her hand rests against his forearm, surprisingly strong fingers curling around the tensed muscle of his forearm. His anger, one of his worst qualities at times, is the thing which has driven him for so long. Righteous indignation at a world which seemed intent on abusing the good and growing the evil.

Nelliel has always seen past that. No, that isn't right. She hasn't always seen past that, she has seen past it by effort and time. In all these years they have nursed one another.

"For what purpose was I given strength, if not to use it? For what purpose was I chosen, to be the man of the hour time and time again and yet fail to rise?" It is silent insecurity laid bare, the hardened shell of a warrior-soldier falling to the wayside in her presence. He may be soft, and vulnerable, within her presence. He has to be, he must.

"Given so many chances, Nelliel. And I still feel the same young man who has not accomplished anything." He leans into her, his head tucks down onto her shoulder. Emerald eyes close softly, his chin turns against her bare skin. Her touch is soothing.

|| Hc + A Word || @oschvank ||

It can be difficult to pin where Jewel’s loyalties lie because of how she treats other people.

Everyone is a blank slate whose actions define how she’ll reciprocate, and that can raise some eyebrows depending on who she interacts with. Enemies aren’t enemies if they haven’t bothered her (and her bestie circle) personally, and allies can become targets if they get in her way.

“Whose side on you on?!” Is a valid question. The short answer is her side.

Few wish to work with Jewel because of her reputation for losing soldiers on missions (sometimes through legitimate means, sometimes through her own hand though it’s never been proven.) She works alone as often as possible.

I’ve noticed that Jewel can talk to most people. She’ll interact with just about anyone, and casually too. Her willingness to engage isn’t correlated to her emotional investment of a person though, even if they seem like friends. Jewel is the type of woman to happily have a conversation/share positive experiences with someone and turn her weapon on them in the blink of an eye if they cross a line with her. One is not Jewel’s friend just because they get along, nor do they have her respect by rank alone.

Her social circle is small. Those closest to Jewel understand and respect her boundaries, and in turn receive her loyalty. They’re allowed in her mind more, to be close to her person, and to touch her without violence. They know she would show up for them whenever it was needed, that she kill for them if she needed to.

Her loyalty is not bound to any given faction. Jewel used to strive for a high rank because she cared about her division and wanted to bring positive change to it, but she’s long since become disillusioned with the Gotei as a whole and maintains her position out of convenience and the freedom it affords her. Her emotional investment actively dwindles the longer she’s there, which is why she makes sure to be stationed Living World side TYBW on because she’s happier there.

|| Starters || @oschvank ||

"Makiri... komgep makiri..."

Jewel's gaze hardened as her digit smoothed over the small carved sheathe. Patterns overlapped and wove between other intricate details in the aged wood -- familiar somehow, like the haze of her dreams.

The pressure under her fingers built, as though rubbing at the object could have uncovered something long buried.

She scraped at the old metal. If the blade wasn't rusted, would she have been able to remember?

Why do I know this object? Never seen these markin's, but...

The forever moon hung brightly over the abandoned hollow settlement. The cliffside caves shunned the light, their inky blackness mocking the holes of memory in her own mind.