So It Begins.
In the eternal light of the mid-day sun, a figure loomed outside the doors of an infamous restaurant where a meeting of unknown origin and purpose had been organized to take place privately between himself and another. The thoughts of possible outcomes raced through the individual’s mind as they stood directly before the door to the building. The place wasn’t too crowded, but there were still a decent sum of people inside. That was to be expected from the place’s reputation throughout town, Pushing the door open with his right-hand, he stepped inside, the door closing behind him. It wasn’t hard to find out who had called him here, as only one individual had any spiritual energy worth noting. Once inside, it wasn’t hard to detect. His own power was suppressed to the level of a novice taicho (1-1), and all traces of hollow energy were sealed away as well.
The man was fairly well-built, standing at a towering height of six feet and four inches. Starting from the top, His hair was pitch-black, the style of it composed of several strands of hair being brought together into these thicker clumps of hair that ended in a point. This reached from above the forehead to the back of the neck. The man’s facial expression was one of boredom; his crimson eyes staring at the individual he had assumed called him here like a common T.V viewer would stare at a television. His nose was slightly larger than normal, but not really to a noticeable degree. His body was fairly muscular, more-so than most males. This could be seen along his right-arm and the center of his chest, since those remained uncovered by clothing to a degree. The man wore a casual black-leather-jacket common for people from a few decades back. The jacket hung down his back, covering it and a portion of his chest and stomach. Though, a line was left visible, as the article only covered half of his frontal-body. It had no sleeves, so the right-arm was left bare as well.. The left-arm, however, was covered in a series of bandages, as if the appendage was damaged. This was further supported by the fact that the normally-white cloth that composed the bandages was blood-red. This wasn’t just a stain, but a sign that it still was bleeding. Though, the male seemed to entirely ignore it, as if not even an existing injury. For the lower-half of his body, he had on black-leather pants, matching the jacket. They reached down to the ankles where his boots met with the lining. The boots were also black in color, making it clear that the man’s overall style of clothing followed a black theme, though not exactly goth or things often associated with the color. Lastly, attached to his waist was his zanpakto, tied into the side of his pants to keep it from falling. The sheath, unlike his clothing, was a brighter silver color, reflecting the sunlight to an extent. Hidden inside was his zanpakto, only the black guard visible while concealed.
The man began to walk toward the table where the discussion was to take place, walking at a steady pace like it was any other activity. Once reaching the table, the man began to speak toward the one that had invited him to this discussion, his tone deep and filled with the same lack of interest that his expression showed. “
I suppose you’re the one that called me here? I don’t sense any other spiritual entities, and no one else can see me, so yeah. Anyway, I’m Zoran Zazaravitch, just what exactly did you want to speak about?” Zoran didn’t seem to care about the racial identity of the one he was meeting with, acting like he would with anyone else of his kind. He pulled out a seat on the other side of the table, sitting down with his back pressed against the chair.