Work Text:
Character: Starrk Coyote
Side-Characters: Tier Harribel, Nelliel Tu, Emilou Apacci, Cyan Sung-sun, Francesca Mila-Rose
Starrk Coyote yawned as he wandered off in the dark. Some of his men were setting up the camp, other were hunting game, and some other slacking off. That was the whole purpose off his walk or so he said. Truthfully, it was because he needed a little slacking off as well. He was getting tired of ordering everyone around when they could just turn back and go home to their welcoming bed. Who would abandon the comfort of the bed to the grim and grit of the battlefield? He shook his head, thinking of Nnoitra and Grimmjow. How in the blue hells do they do it?
Walking just a little bit farther, the man saw a comfortable-looking tree. He was just about to close his eyes when a commotion from behind the tree startled him awake. "Damn it," he muttered as he recognized the voices. They were his men's voices, and they seemed to be pretty excited about something, as he gathered from their tones.
Starrk, being the lazy ass that he was, just rolled over to find his men huddles behind the bushes. "Ara, ara, what are you guys doing there?"
Amusingly, the men gave rather girlish squeals. "C-captain Starrk!" they half-whispered and half shouted, both in half-fear and half-relief. "And we thought we were already caught," a voice piped up before he hushed.
"Caught by?" Starrk asked managing to be between the tree and his men without standing up.
"By Vice-captain Harribel, of course" the men started blushing. "You know, how she is with her girls." Another voice chimed, "She'll probably skin us alive if she notices us." "Yeah," another joined, "or worse castrates us." "But hell, I can die any moment if I can just see the Captain's body." "I'll be willing for Mila-rose's."
Their captain yawned, tuning out his subordinates conversations. He turned over to face the tree and tried to take a nap. He could care less if they saw anything. Just then tinkling laughter that was undoubted feminine sounded. He could hear his men's excited chitters as metal clanged against metal, as it dropped to the forest floor. He sighed. Sometimes his men were more like women than the women themselves.
Just then the entire group silenced, as the feminine chatter drew nearer. Slowly as if in a trance, the men began leaving. It came one by one until at last they were gone. The brunette captain turned over, confused. He knew that his men's appetite for women weren't easily satisfied. Were they really that beautiful? he thought as he peered one blue eye. True enough, the women were there, bare to the night breeze and moonlight. They were a very mixed group, from the Captain to her lieutenants. Nel, the said Captain and Third Espada, sat on the right, by the rocks. With the woman, was Tier Harribel, Demon Vice-Captain, and champion of the army, sitting down washing her bare body. Emilou Apacci, the heterochromatic First Lieutenant sitting to her right, playing with the water. Somewhere farther off, the Third and Second Lieutenants waded in the waters, dipping themselves into the crystal clear waters. There was another one though just off to his left, sitting, idly, washing her black hair. Sooner though, he realized that it was the Gilga knight, honorary Espada.
It wasn't their beauty that caught him off guard though, as Harribel turned to say something to her captain. He could see a slight discoloration on her side. However, unlike most discoloration caused by the sun, it was jagged. The man blinked slowly. A lesser trained eye wouldn't have noticed, he thought, as he noticed the lesser ones on her arms and legs. He looked at the other women, it was there as well.
They were scars. They were battle scars, weaving and caressing their luscious and seemingly delicate forms, entwining it, hugging it, as though a vine that fed on them, or chains that kept them in. They were women of the battlefield, not the dirty whores form the brothels, though at times they do act like that, or delicate little maidens in their dainty little dresses, though some of them could look like that in proper clothes. They weren't the prissy, stuck-up snobs in the high society, though some of them belong in it. No, they weren't ordinary. They were battle hardened warrior who would fight to the death if needed be, without fear of injuries or anything to their vanity. They were different, and yet no less than women.
He sighed at the contradiction, closing his eyes, standing up, careful not to rouse any sound, lest the women notice. He had heard of what the Vice-Captain did to the men who dared to cross them, and he's not very keen on knowing if it's true or not. He shrugged at least his men now know that there is something to respect of the women.