Azrael_
After the encounter with the Arrancar and the Vizard at his now-former home, Cirdon trekked through the sands of the white desert towards the towers of Las Noches. The fortress had been standing for as long as he could remember, which was longer than many Hollows had been around. He'd been there on a few occasions, but only in passing. The one irritating factor in this journey was that he hated how the structure seemed to never get any closer. Slowly but surely, he made his way closer, and into within a few miles or so from the Western Gate. Cirdon decided that he would enter the castle tomorrow, seeing as he was annoyed with walking for the day. He found a flat area that he could rest in, and took off the pack that contained all of the supplies he deemed necessary to take with him. This mostly consisted of tools he took for nostalgic purposes, as well as the first preserved sample he had created.
Cirdon took a seat in the sand, the cloak he wore crumpling around his form to form a barrier between him and the blowing sand. He hated sand when he ventured out into the wastes. Through his visor, his eyes scanned the surrounding dunes, using his Pesquisa to double check what his eyes were taking in. Seeing as he didn't pick much up, he figured he could relax and rest. Cirdon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, going over his future research plans in his head.
Cirdon took a seat in the sand, the cloak he wore crumpling around his form to form a barrier between him and the blowing sand. He hated sand when he ventured out into the wastes. Through his visor, his eyes scanned the surrounding dunes, using his Pesquisa to double check what his eyes were taking in. Seeing as he didn't pick much up, he figured he could relax and rest. Cirdon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, going over his future research plans in his head.