E M P T Y;

I’m really just not feeling like jumping to my VLD blogs anymore and I’m really tired of ppl ignoring rules pages on my main VLD muse so I’m moving _all_ my VLD blogs to another blog. Only folks that speak with me ooc will know where these muses are moved. As of now this blog is

I can’t believe this betrayal.

Grimmjow grins roguishly at Kuron, high on the adrenaline from his victory - thought the expression presses at the bruising in his cheek uncomfortable -  and slings himself over the fence to the cheers and jeers of the gathered crowd. His boots splash mud and shit everywhere, but he pays it no mind, and comfortable accepts a few pats on the back from the onlookers who had placed their bets on the right fighter.

Grimmjow, despite his status, cares very little for the luxuries that royalty affords. He’s found more often then not, covered in grit and out with the ‘rabble’. His father and his fathers royal advisors had very little patience for this kind of fraternization. They think it it a waste of his time and attention. Grimmjow enjoys it though, so fuck them.

“Yeah, yeah,” Grimmjow waves off, brusquely poking at the blooming bruise on his cheek, “but you don’t hit back. You’d get in the shit if you fucked up my nose.”

He pats Kuron easily on the chest, casual and familiar, and then breaks away to start leading the way back up the hill towards the castle. They’ll have to sneak in the back way. “What’s the old fuck got you playing courier for anyway? Whats he want?”

Shit, he hope he didn’t forget about some important courtly thing or something.

              The guard shifted his weight, armored fingers flexing a little in hopes that he can keep them from falling asleep while he waited to walk with the prince. Though he knows his training only handles a good half of the stuff the other would know.. he also knows how to fight dirty. “I wouldn’t need to go for your face, your highness.” He knows other forms of fighting too--though he has a pattern in his regular fights.. he wouldn’t need much to swap out his form real fast. “Though I’m sure it’s nothing like the ‘training’ you’ve had, I assume?”

            There’s a soft snort at the question, however the guard shrugged. “I don’t ask questions when it comes to your father. I know better.” He shifted, following the other up the hill while keeping an eye out for anyone that might try to follow. There’s no way to tell for sure that anyone really was paying any attention to either of them as they walked along. He’s not the kind to make it obvious that he’s checking the surroundings--not if he can help it.. but he does know that he can at least do his job..

Brother pls.

              Blinking in mild surprise, she listened closely to the two of them and wondered why on earth Touma would be so startled by this man. For what she could see, what she could feel, there wasn’t any sign of ill intent. Then again, she wasn’t there and she didn’t know everything that happened, so all she could do was stand there like a protective hell hound ready and willing to tear this giant apart all the same. That is, until Touma piped up and she nodded. “Of course, c-come inside,” she hesitated before slowly unwinding herself from him to open the door and let the two of them in. After they were all inside, she made sure no one else was in her shop before locking the door and putting up the Out to Lunch sign up followed by closing the blinds for better privacy. 

Shiro was looking worse for wear if anyone knew what he looked like before. More scars, far more battered, had gone shock white and a lot had changed. Due to the dimmer lighting (since most the lighting in the downstairs shop was all natural from the windows) with the blinds closed, that much became obvious with the faint glow in his mouth and the flecks in his eyes. With Charlie so enraptured in staring, Shiro took the opportunity to talk to Touma. That glee hadn’t faded, that softer and warmer smile still present as ever. “You’re blaming yourself still, aren’t you?” The question rises from his mouth but he simply shakes his head. “There’s no reason to do that and no reason to expect our meeting to be violent at all.” 

Because he wouldn’t bring himself to harm the person he tried so hard to save. If anyone should be blaming someone, Shiro expected Touma to be blaming him for not doing more. For not making it work somehow. “W-Wait… What a-are you talking a-about?” Her curiosity got the better of her, she was always looking for ways to help her love heal but sometimes it was almost impossible because she wasn’t there. She wasn’t someone who could heal him from incidents she wasn’t present for. “That’s for him to tell, ma’am. It isn’t my place– but I will say that there’s no reason to do so. You tried your best, y’know. I saw it all, even if I wasn’t able to do more for you, I know you tried your hardest. I know you hesitated, even through all that was happening,” he’d seen that split moment, that lingering second where Keith had shouted words of grace and the other had paused briefly for it. 

“If anyone is at fault, it’s myself. For not being able to get through to the team or you at the time in order to take preventative measures and help you,” with that being said, Shiro suddenly bowed deeply to the other. “I’m sorry I failed you.” Whether he was dead or not, he could’ve done more. Screamed louder, clawed harder, did something. Charlie almost scattered at that, she didn’t really know how to handle the situation but instead she simply stood beside Touma and offered reassurance by gently wrapping her fingers in his sleeve.  

     He was sure to let his hand slide off her shoulder when she pulled away, heading into the shop after her though it feels strange knowing the conversation to come. the gloves are quickly removed and stuffed into a pocket of his jacket before he shifted to glance between Charlie and Shiro.. He wasn’t expecting the changes that had occurred to the other.. Though he wondered before how much they had been through.. it’s only confirmed how much be the look of the other. They both had more scars now--he’d accumulated some new ones of his own when he was foolishly recaptured by the Galra on his way here..

     He would admit he was caught off guard by the glow from the other, though it didn’t warrant the staring. Arms are crossed over the man’s chest, shifting somewhat before making sure he wasn’t moving too close to one of Charlie’s planters.. He’s well aware this place was run by people shorter than himself. he had to be careful not to hurt himself or their hard work by accident. His attention was dragged back to Shiro after a moment, the man’s organic hand forming a light fist when it was pointed out that he blamed himself. Of course I do. He waited for the other to finish speaking before shaking his head at the bow, arms uncrossing to wave off the apology. “There isn’t anything more you could have done, and whatever bit you had done was as much as you could given the situation.”

     His nose wrinkled some before he gave a weary look to Charlie, chewing the inside of his lip a moment before letting out a light sigh. “I told you I was a clone made to look and behave exactly like someone.. This.. is the guy I was meant to look and behave like.. before whatever happened to cause the way he looks now. What I didn’t tell you was why my prosthetic is weaponized.. I was made to infiltrate their group.. win their trust as him.. and destroy them from the inside. They all nearly lost their lives. I.. found the files explaining Project Kuron before I destroyed one of the ships I escaped.. I can give you more details later if you want, Charlie. That’s the short version.” He feels so heavy, but he remained grounded where he stood.. rooted in place. “That’s why when you first found out about my prosthetic I behaved the way I did.” Because I have hurt people with it before..

The fist catches Grimmjow across the jaw, his head whipping to the side and the force sending him staggering into the chest-height wooden fence surrounding the pig pen currently being repurposed as a makeshift bare-knuckle boxing ring. He’s covered in mud and shit and bruises. He might be bleeding. He definitely cut open the scars on the inside of his cheek on that last hit.

He blinks stars out of his eyes for a second, fingers flexing against wood and squints up at his much taller guardsmen with a grin that suggests he probably took one too many hits to the face today, “Nawww, all the noble fuck up there don’t wanna bruise m’ pretty face, none of ‘em fight dirty enough.”

He turns to the side to spit blood into the sty and eye up his gloating opponent who’s taken to making crude gestures mimicking that of pushing a head down. Grimmjow glowers and pats at the banister between him and the head of his royal guard (and the only one worth knowing, if he’s being honest. None of the others would have hidden their armor and crests just to save Grimmjow his fun. Even if he’s kinda annoying a lot of the time.) 

“Gimmie five minutes,” he grins again and whirls suddenly, not waiting for permission (he is the prince after all, he makes the orders), giving as good as he got from his ‘opponent’.

     Well, he already knows there’s going to be a problem with the king when they got back by the looks of him. Fathers and their children. Nonetheless, the response makes the guard snort, brown eyes watching the other and remaining in place before he rolled his eyes some. “Personally I think they’re more afraid of what your father might do if they do harm you rather than the acts themselves.” The guard stated bluntly, though he knows there are few that would work with teaching a prince to fight--though it didn't seem to stop him from learning.

     Gimme five minutes.. Yeah he can’t interfere at the moment anyways without giving away that he’s here for this specific person. Or that he was a royal guard. If he gives these things away, he might cause more harm and draw attention from those that he isn’t keen on having to fight his way out of here through. There’s no doubt that there is a reason that the royal guard existed thought he’s somewhat grateful that it’s easier to hide the majority of his armor’s emblems and.. eccentricities. “Be quick.” He can’t give the formalities if he wants to keep this low key. It shouldn’t entirely matter, thought he guard was already looking around to make sure the area was going to be no issue.

     He shifted his weight to patiently wait for the other to finish his fight, fingers lightly tapping the hilt of the blade. He doesn’t mind the wait, it means if he’s asked he can correct any mistakes. “Don’t let him get in your head, people don’t think when they’re angry.” He shifted to lean against the fence, a small frown on his face until he is sure the fight is over. Once the other is done with his fight, he may be easier to convince to go home, after all.

     He’s worked as a guard for a short time now.. not so short that he hasn’t been around long enough to know the ongoings of the castle but not long enough to know all the tricks.. It’s not until he hears the king raising a fuss that he stiffened his stance, squaring his shoulders while he listened. The prince.. he’d picked him for a guard--gods only knew why but he didn’t care.. it was a job and it meant he didn’t have to worry too much about what he was going to do next. It’s not until His Majesty pointed a finger at the guard, causing him to all but jump out of his skin--blinking in astonishment at the man. He should really pay attention to what was being said.

     Ah--the prince had vanished again--as he does.. So he was the one being sent to find him and bring him back before something happened to him.. “Yes, your majesty..” and he moved quickly off to the first place he could think of that the prince could have been found.. anywhere he could easily pick a fight.

one / ( alias / name ): Jet two / ( date of birth ):   July 22 three / ( zodiac sign ): Imma cusp between a leo and a cancer four / ( height ):   5′7″ five / ( hobbies ):  Writing, video games, reading, sketching, guitar and not in that particular order six / ( favorite color ):  Purple seven / ( favorite books ):  The House of Night--far better than Twilight I’ll tell you guys what eight / ( last song listened to ): Escape-- Rupert Holmes nine / ( last film or show watched ):  Avatar I think (The Blue people not the show) ten / ( story behind url ): "vuoto” meaning empty, or a void eleven / ( inspiration for muse ): I had a few personal headcanons for the clone and decided to make a blog for him to portray him with those headcanons.