...ugh, continuing their search. It was seriously unnatural, as far as Grimmjow was concerned. Sure, the menos forest had never exactly been party central, but deserted? Hell, even the slight spiritual pressure they had decided to give off in order to draw the beasties out had failed – there was nothing and no one here but themselves and the false trees.
It was distinctly worrying. Soi Fon herself had stated that the official post-war tally indicated that all but two of Aizen's vasto lorde had perished, but that still left about a dozen of them scattered around the wastes of Hueco Mundo. If they weren't in their natural habitat, then the most logical thing to assume was that they had already been recruited and were in Las Noches, which was far from a comforting thought.
All signs pointed to a looming disaster, and that it was only in Las Noches that they would find answers, an idea that none of the group relished. All of the former Espada had unpleasant associations with their old home and Soi Fon could sense it. Leading an unwilling team into an enemy fortress was hardly her favourite thing to do, and she was clearly waiting until they were sure that no other option was presented to them.
At least, that was what Grimmjow had deduced from the conversations they'd had. Emphasis, he couldn't help but think smugly, on the plural. That was the one thing keeping him from writing this off as one of the shittiest three week long ...