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Ishida Uryu ([personal profile] shiro_megane_kun) wrote2016-07-04 03:39 pm

Locked to [personal profile] thynameisfrailty

[The last thing Uryu expected to receive, after all these years, was a letter from his grandfather. Sokken had one last wish for him, his final gift. His hand has been promised to a woman – a Quincy.]

[Over the course of the past year, Ishida has learned the ugly truth of the origins of the Quincy and chose to side with his friends over the Vandenreich, but although the nobility of the Quincy had been a lie, in Uryu's eyes, Sokken changed that. The way forward for Uryu and for the Quincy would be to live up to the principles Sokken had instilled in him, to aspire to that virtue and nobility.]

[He has to at least give this a chance, to do everything he can to fulfill his grandfather's last wish for him.]

[Still, he can't help but feel a little rueful, realizing that this, meeting the woman to whom Sokken promised him, is more daunting to him than fighting for his life against a Hollow, with the destruction of his very soul at stake. But despite feeling apprehensive, he does his best to maintain the appearance of composure as he scans the rose garden from the gazebo, searching for traces of Quincy reiatsu.]

[It isn't reiatsu, though, that makes his eyes go wide, but the sight of a familiar face.]
It couldn't be... [It's been years, but he's never forgotten her.]

[Though he knows he should wait, that he should be focused on finding the person he's waiting for, before he realizes it, his feet are carrying him toward her.]
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[personal profile] thynameisfrailty 2016-07-07 11:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[Those who lack it, crave it. Those who have it, disdain it.

Or, she would at the very least trade her power level for something more manageable on a daily-hunt sort of scale. Being outstanding just makes you stand out to all the wrong types, in her experience. Whether it is her echt blood, or part of what renders her body naturally delicate, all she knows is that she hopes it will not trouble him.

Your foremost duty is to pass that strong blood down to a child who can properly wield it, her own father had told her, before walking her down the aisle. She banishes the thought.]

Ah, my name is Tricia Kamelot. Pleased to meet you.

[She ducks her head, fighting the urge to use a more Continental greeting just because he looks about as foreign as she does, at first glance. She was raised better, after all.]