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 Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2012 3:05 pm
In the past, this area was where Vasto Lorde - Class menos would meet up, to discuss new goings on in Hueco Mundo. With the arrival of the Espada, this council was disbanded, and eventually taken over completely.
All that remains is ruins. A simple, flat floor mad of white marble, and a few toppled pillars. Along the middle, there are about six thrones, constructed purely out of bone. This bone is a mixture of skeletons from many races, even hollow, from the time before Hollow would turn into dust upon death. It is a barren place, and sand covers some parts of the area.
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Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2013 7:34 pm
High Clark  High cast a glance up towards the dark, hardly lit sky. This, now this right here, was the epitome of emptiness. He couldn't feel a single soul for miles. Pure, huge, empty miles. This was a place that no hollow came close to. They wouldn't dare come upon a place dedicated to the sacrilege of their own kind, of their own kin. It was where High himself had stood once upon a time, and where he had destroyed it all.
The king laughed solemnly to himself, before sauntering over to one of the thrones. He looked different now, but his energy was still the same. It had come as a surprise to a few of the espada when he had changed his appearance. It had changed multiple times, for High was a fickle man. He was never happy with one appearance or another, and would eventually change it to suit his ever changing tastes. A bit of joy came from freaking people out too, but that's just a fun little extra. His changes were almost radical. New clothes, new hair, and all that. His face hadn't changed, but the new hair and the slight change in it's color brought forth a plethora of new angles to admire on his face. Sure, he was handsome, but he wasn't any better looking than before.
High pushed the hair back from his head, before he dragged a long fingered hand across the dust and sand covered throne. It was old, so old. Nowhere near as old as he was, but still old as hell.che didn't remember what the thing was made of, but the off white color of bone hadn't changed in the least since he had last sat in the very throne. He remembered commanding hollow against some long dead regime, in his own way shaping up to be the future king. He remembered hard fought battles, and coming out stronger than before. It was all the sort of weird fun that High embodied naturally, and worked with in such an ambiguous manner as to rule this joint. Nevertheless, the memories brought a nostalgic smile to the arrancar's face. " You remember me... Don't you? " High said, matter of factory. He talked to the open air.
The king turned a one eighty, and smiled at nothingness. It was empty. So empty. Sometimes a person had to get away from the claustrophobia that made up their kingdom, and spend a while in the wide open expanses of their outer reaches. This sort of thing was rare, for High could just shut himself up in the tower he called his room for days on end, as per usual. He could just sit in that dark room, and pretend Hueco Mundo was as empty as this place felt, and just watch the going son of pretty much... Everybody. But now. He didn't go there today.
He called the expanses home today, and would refuse to return home for a while. Unless ther pe was a crazy fire, or some weirdo attack, or possibly even a weird betrayal. But who would betray him? They saw what happened to the last guy, so why a repeat of events so soon? " A Tyrant must wear the appearance of unnatural devotion to a religion. Mine is Apocalypse. "
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