she ought to have done worse,if only to feed her pride in the helplessness of it all——her victory a temporary mottling of the skin that she won't witness recede,instead glancing sideways at the horizon,wavering in the heat.
six thousand waterfalls met with an adamantine grit only someone like casca could wield——𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞: the curve of her palm,hardened to the mold of her sword's hilt,strikes aizen's cheek with a resounding 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑐𝑘 that speaks for her.