antihibikase2
"i see the truth."
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Pokemon Blur - Chapter 3 : The Empress
In the winds of Floccesy lies an air of unease.
Divine dragons of Truth and Ideals, heed the prayers of a foolish heart.
Return to us what was once lost- and guide those led astray back home.
...
The wind of spring carries a tune like no other.
Amidst the ambience of the ranch- bleats of Mareep, barks of Riolu and Lillipup, the occasional cry of an Azurill or the flapping of Pidove, there is a cry unlike any other piercing through the air.
Webs of static cling to the trees, having stuck themselves into a few of the local Pokemon unfortunate to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time- and a colt whines underneath the makeshift net, as figures in black loom over its trembling form.
"Keldeo has been secured!"
"Quite an easy feat. Careful now, don't underestimate it. Have another two help you carry it back to the ship."
"Roger, sir!"
He rubs his temples- these new recruits were far too eager, unlike the rest of the grunts that had been there since the beginning; or stayed despite what had happened two years ago.
The shadow is approached by his own doppelganger in the blink of an eye, hands tucked into his pockets.
"The mission with Keldeo?"
"Success. Currently reporting to our lord-" There's a tinkering on the device attached to his wrist. "-and from what I've heard from Tres, preparations at Virbank are all set."
"Perfect. We need to go."
They raise an eyebrow.
"What about your mission? Was it a failure?"
"There's been a change of plans. The Heart is not alone. The Scholar and The Warrior are here as well, and-"
They take out a black stone from their pocket, warm to the touch and radiating with a red energy.
"-it's been like this since we arrived."
The other shadow does not hesitate. "Reporting that to our lord. I doubt he will be displeased about The Heart, but Zinzolin may have.. reservations."
The other snorts.
"That old fool- whatever, Keldeo was our priority anyway. We can accomplish that once the preparations are set."
"Yes, it's not like The Heart is going anywhere."
The eager grunts from earlier successfully tire the Keldeo from struggling even further, encasing it into a cocoon of Electrowebs as it loses the will to fight.
"I'll handle the Pokemon. You gather your troops and return to Virbank. I think we've caused too much of a fuss around here."
He doesn't wait any further. He places a palm on the cocoon and vanishes in an instant, leaving the other shadow with the rest of the grunts.
He's about to call them over to his side to quickly move them one by one outside of the ranch, but-
"Oh, um, mister Uno sir?"
One of the new recruits- dragons, he could not tell them apart nor did he bother, shyly taps on his shoulder.
"Um, you see, Dave-"
"I do not care for his name."
"R-Right, well, um, one of the other grunts went deeper into the ranch and hasn't returned yet, so-"
Normally, he would leave without a second thought- those grunts usually learned the hard way about defecting from orders momentarily for their own gain.
But in this case, they had to make a clean escape.
With a quiet hiss between his teeth, Uno vanishes from their sight- but not before leaving them with a stern warning.
"Do not let any of the party see you."
...
As opposed to his Tepig, green and still immature, the Herdier that Nate follows after is no doubt a seasoned battler- and a respected one amongst its peers.
It does not bother to lock eyes with those that seek a challenge, and local Lillipup find themselves barking happily at its direction as opposed to barking and growling at it for dominance.
Kind as it may be, Herdier remains focused instead of playing with the pups- and barks at the direction of Pokemon that try to jump at Nate.
"Whoa, you're kind of a big deal around these parts!" Nate rests his arms behind his back. "I bet if you knock some sense into my Tepig, he'd grow to be as cool as you!"
Herdier huffs- not out of pride or annoyance, but out of acknowledgement.
"You're quite big for a Herdier, aren't you? I mean, I know you guys get fairly big as Stoutland, but you look like you could lift a small kid- well, not me, of course-"
Herdier stops in its tracks.
"Hm? What is it boy?"
Nate lifts his head, and sees they've reached the end of the ranch- a river separates them from the rest of Floccesy, stretching out into Route 20 where he could barely see the smoke of the ships from Virbank in the distance.
But more importantly, Nate sees something- or someone, on the grass.
Someone somewhat familiar.
Herdier nudges him from behind, and Nate finds himself approaching the sleeping figure on the ground.
Slate-gray hair, skin as pale as porcelain- breathing not quite ragged, but not quite steady either.
If Nate didn't know any better, he'd think there was a corpse.
Something about this person seemed awfully familiar to him, but he couldn't tell; all he knew was that something was amiss.
"Someone's- someone's fallen asleep? No, that's not quite right-"
Hesitantly, he reaches a hand out to the other's cheek, crouching down-
"Bwark!"
Nate whips his head to Herdier- barking at something at Nathaniel's direction.
Turning around, Nate sees a grown-up in a black costume approaching him, a Scolipede trailing along.
"Oh, The Heart- he's still here? I thought sir Dos would have gotten him by now."
As if Nate or Herdier wasn't there, the strange man continued to approach them; and Nate couldn't help but crouch protectively over the sleeping body in the grass.
He wanted to ask who he was- but strangely, his voice caught in his throat.
"I didn't take him to be the sloppy kind, he always seems to be as stiff as the other two- wasn't this kid a big deal?"
Scolipede glared down at Nate as the adult continued to ignore him.
"..well, it could be my lucky day."
Just as their hands were reaching out for the body, instinctively, Nate slapped their hand away.
For a moment, Nate thought he had simply been invisible, and the man was acting out of goodwill just as he was.
But with how quickly their expression morphed into something unpleasant, he doubted that was the case.
"You're a dumb kid, you know,"
He hissed.
"I thought you'd take the hint and realize we're bad news. You should have ran- and I would have let you go without a problem. I would have pretended I never saw you in the first place."
"You-"
What was he supposed to say?
"..you can't touch him."
He spreads his arms out, trying to cover the body from the view of the other. It didn't matter if he himself was scared out of his wits-
"I'm not going to let you have him!"
The Scolipede hisses, and its trainer barely holds it back.
"I'm going to give you one last warning, brat," He snarls. "Get your nose out of my business, and you get to run home without a single hair out of place."
Sweat trickles down his forehead, his heart pounding in his chest.
But if Nate was anything, he was stubborn.
"No! I don't know who you are or what you want, but-!"
"You don't know who I am?"
For a moment, their rage seemed to have subsided- but it was replaced with a terrible laughter, one that Nate could have sworn he heard in his nightmares.
"Have- have you been living under a rock? Kid- you've never heard of Team Plasma before?"
It doesn't take Nate longer than a second to recognize that name- and realize why he finds that black costume familiar.
He doesn't wait for Nate to say anything else.
"Whatever. Scolipede,"
The bug Pokemon readies itself as he points a finger directly at the young trainer.
"Megahorn."
...
He shut his eyes as the barking of Herdier got louder, bracing himself for the attack.
"Protect!"
But nothing comes- other than the sound of a barrier shattering and an explosion.
...
The grunt coughs as he waves away the smoke, his Scolipede regaining its balance.
Nate opens his eyes- and sees someone's back turned to him.
"Beebles,"
They speak to their Xtransceiver as their other arm remains outstretched- a gesture to command the Simisear standing for battle, locking eyes with the Scolipede.
"There's a situation in Floccesy Ranch. I need you and Alder quick. Bring reinforcements if you have to. They want him."
The sound of their voicemail comes through.
"Now-"
A pair of reddish brown eyes meets Nate's- and this time, it's a familiar face he can put a name on.
The shining star of Nimbasa, a battle prodigy, the Battle Subway's strongest challenger-
"Hey, kid. The name's Hilda. Do you think you can carry Cheren?"
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“Ready?”
From across the field, Slater holds a Pokeball close to his chest. Steadying his cold breaths, he flashes a nervous smile to his partner- who now serves as his opponent, his teacher in the art of battle.
“Please be nice.”
“Don’t worry,”
His glasses shone under the summer sun, a hint of mischief in his tone.
He knew Slater would get upset if he held back- and Slater, as much of a liar as he was, would poorly hide how a loss affected him, with flushed cheeks and a thinly-veiled lie.
Regardless of how this battle would end, Descante would get what he wanted- but, realistically, he felt that the battle would go in his favor.
“I’m very nice.”
“Scary.”
[ Battle! Vs. Slater ]
They sent out a pair of mirror images- Descante’s Tornadus against Slater’s own.
Through the mighty roars of the beasts and the howling beasts, it’s unknown to any spectator whose voice resounds.
“Knock off!”
“U-Turn!”
The same two commands are repeated twice for each trainer; and as soon as they appear, the soon they pivot out of the field.
Taking his Tornadus’ place, Slater’s Rotom whirls out of its Pokeball and into the battle, leaving a trail of static and droplets of water.
“Washy! Hydro Pump!”
A swirl of sand forms around Descante as he calls out his next Pokemon.
“Hippowdon! Stealth Rock!”
After one Hydro Pump follows another in quick succession- and Descante’s Hippowdon is out of commission.
He flicks his glasses, adjusting them to his face. “Wait- how do I,” He holds onto his headphones, still clinging on the side of his head. “How do I deal with Rotom-?”
“I don’t know!” Slater cries in a panic, holding his cardigan around himself in the midst of a sandstorm. “You picked this team for me!”
“Oh, I did,”
He grabs onto the next Pokeball in his belt, sending out his Stoutland, undeterred by the weather conditions.
“Washy, come back!”
“Stoutland, Return!”
“Bunny, go-!”
She doesn’t get a chance to Mega Evolve, either. Mimicking her trainer’s panic, Bunny is caught off guard as Stoutland rams into her, sending her flying and crashing against the walls.
Stoutland shakes its head from the impact, a silly little smile plastered on his face as the other Pokemon is recalled.
Descante is barely able to hold back an amused smirk. It was adorable to see both Slater and his Lopunny flustered. “Well, Doggy fell in love it seems. I would have too.”
“That’s not funny!” Slater squeaked out, cheeks flushed red as he sent Tornadus to the field. “I panicked!”
“You did. And it seems you’re still quite nervous,”
Stoutland shakes off whatever lingering thoughts it had about Slater’s Lopunny, ramming into the legendary without much of an effort. Amusingly, it’s blown into the spot just next to where Bunny left a dent- this time leaving a hole.
“Lesson number one, angel- always keep your cool.”
Holding the side of his face with one hand and a Pokeball in the other, Slater murmured. “Easy for you to say. All this, and you still have time to be cool- mentally and physically."
“You flatter me.”
In his flustered state, he sends out a Pokemon befitting the situation.
Magearna twirls into the field as the sandstorm subsides, its rabbit-like ears clicking like the antennae of a bug-Pokemon. Perhaps it was trying to calm its trainer.
“Stoutland, go.”
“Let’s, um,” Slater pats his own face, trying to steady himself. “Okay, let’s see where my luck takes me now. Um, Focus Blast-!”
It withstands the attack, pointed feed skidding through the soil and leaving a trail on the grass.
Before Stoutland can retreat to its position, the cannon in front of its face fully charges- and Stoutland is blown away, just as it had with Slater’s other two Pokemon.
This does little to deter Descante- his angel, thankfully, was lucky. The last thing he wanted was a one-sided beatdown.
“Good, good,” He takes another Pokeball. “I suppose you can make up for inexperience with faith.”
“It’s all I have, you know.”
Tornadus is once again sent out on the field.
“Heat Wave!”
In a show of irony, Descante’s attack misses.
In the split second he was utterly dumbfounded by the comedic timing of it all, Slater pointed his finger at the Tornadus. “Dolly, Ice Beam!”
A thin laser of ice blows through the field, striking the heart of Tornadus.
He sees Slater smiling a little behind his sleeve-clad hand.
“..faith, huh?”
“That-” He adjusts his glasses again, trying to hide his own embarrassed expression with his hair. “That was a cruel joke.”
“Now that’s funny.”
A Beast Ball is sent out next- he had gotten Slater “acquainted” with the Ultra Beasts much earlier on, so as to not completely overwhelm him with their presence in their battle.
But perhaps, that was a mistake on Descante's part as well.
“Earthquake!”
He had expected the piercing rocks to instantly one-shot the automaton- but, holding onto a single glimmer of hope, Magearna persisted, its cannon ready once more.
“Volt Switch!”
With that, Slater takes down three of Descante’s Pokemon in a row- at the cost of Soul-Heart being reset.
Slater’s own Hippowdon emerges, setting up the Sandstorm once more.
“Remain focused,”
Was it to himself, or to Slater? It didn’t matter.
“I can still win.”
Toxapex takes the stage, a little creature many in Descante’s college were fond of, despite its cruelty to Corsola.
“Stealth Rock!”
Predictable!
“Toxic! Then Scald!”
Toxapex hurls a purple pile of sludge at Hippowdon, immediately followed by a burst of boiling water.
“Whirlwind!”
Finally, Descante’s last Pokemon was forcefully sent to the field.
Another angel just like the one standing across the field, Nihilego.
Descante raises an eyebrow.
“Sludge Wave.”
Resisted, as expected. But with the buildup of Toxic, and another Sludge Wave, Hippowdon would be no more- and both Nihilego and Toxapex could make do with the rest of Slater’s party.
That was the plan.
Until-
“Earthquake!”
Wait!
And unlike Slater’s Magearna, Nihilego faints in an instance, its body nearly shattering into a thousand pieces of glass.
Droplets of venom splatter on the field, nearly brushing against Descante’s cheek.
Wide-eyed and mouth agape, Descante could not help but raise his voice in wonder at the sight of Slater, who seemed to have realized something.
Victory was in his grasp.
“Your Hippowdon-” He sputters. “It runs Earthquake?”
“Um, yes-”
“Why?!”
“It-” Slater waves his hands around. “Um, I had a battle before, it was against a Clefable- long story short, she didn’t have any attacking moves and all Clefable did was stall, so-”
In the midst of his amazement, Toxapex returns to the field, his last Pokemon standing.
“Baneful Bunker.”
The next Earthquake that Slater hastily commands doesn’t hit.
He knew he was going to repeat that action- and by that next turn, Hippowdon would succumb to the effects of Toxic.
Still, he had three remaining, one of which was-
“Earthquake, your last one!"
“Recover!”
Hippowdon’s last hurrah barely left an impact. His Rotom once again appears, but just as Descante plans his next move-
“Volt Switch!”
“Toxic!”
“Dolly!”
Steel was immune to Toxic- but Magearna faints upon arrival, courtesy of the rocks Descante had set up earlier. Toxapex’s attack fails, and it whines over the feeling of leftover static dancing around its body.
Rotom appears once more, and after two turns of Baneful Bunker, another Volt Switch lands, to be followed by a Recover.
When Slater sends his last Pokemon, Descante couldn’t help but stare.
Big eyed and sweet like a tart apple, with two small wings fluttering on its back- Victini looked just like Slater as much as Lopunny and Magearna had; but Descante supposed that should have been obvious, given that he had themed Slater’s current party over Pokemon he would love.
And Pokemon that resembled him, but neither Slater nor NEO PRO needed to know that.
“Baneful Bun-”
The shimmering crystal in Victini’s hands glows, floating out of its hand and shining a heavenly light down upon it and its trainer.
The Z-Ring Slater had borrowed started to glow in tandem with the crystal, and, with a flustered expression, he strikes a pose.
“Z-Celebrate!”
Oh no.
The wrath of two angels descends upon him and his Toxapex as Slater’s finger, directed at the both of them, points downwards.
“Stored Power!”
…
Laying on the grass, covered in a mix of poison and sand, Slater fusses over Descante with an apologetic expression.
“I, ah-”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry, I had Hippowdon’s moveset changed a while back, please don’t be mad-”
“Angel, you didn’t tell me how much you improved!”
He’s caught off guard when Descante suddenly stands up, lifting him off the grass and twirling him around in an uncharacteristic public display of affection.
“Oof, Descante-”
“You were training so hard all this time-”
Admittedly, he would have thrown the match if he was overwhelming Slater, but-
“-and it really paid off. I’m so proud of you.”
The other’s eyes lit up. “..you are?”
“Absolutely. I- you’re really good, you should train with me, and-”
He was cut off by the beeping of Slater’s Xtransceiver- a notification to remind him to prepare dinner.
“..let’s do that tomorrow,” Descante cuts himself off with a smile, rare and fond; something he reserved only for Slater. “How about we go out for dinner tonight? As a treat for you.”
Slater’s ears perked up at the sound of a reward.
“We can, ah,”
Slater immediately thinks of his options, barely able to conceal his excitement.
“Take the subway to Black City. A little further down there, we can eat at that seafood place in Undella I keep telling you about, if it’s okay?”
From behind him, the only Pokemon that wasn’t a rental, Bunny, chirps in agreement. Her fur slightly tousled, body still vibrating with the adrenaline from earlier- she was exactly like Slater in every way.
Though Slater was the one getting rewarded, Descante found a prize of his own in that pleasant smile.
Anything for his angel- as long as he was happy, Descante was happy too, whether he won or loss didn't matter.
“Sounds good.”
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Pokemon Blur - Chapter 2 : The High Priestess
At a ranch in Floccesy, a bleeding heart is found.
Divine dragons of Truth and Ideals, heed the prayers of a foolish heart.
Give us the strength to seek hope in despair, to unite when divided.
...
It was already nearing noon- but Bianca knew that she would have a long day ahead of her regardless, so she took what little rest she could in-between, savoring the quietness of the Pokemon Center; even in a far-away place like this, far from her home of Nuvema, there was at least someplace familiar.
The quietness doesn't last long, however- not when the shrill voice of a young girl rings through the air, disrupting the rest of the patrons.
"Hey, hey! You're miss Bianca Alabaster, aren't you?!"
Bianca readies herself mentally with a sip of her hot chocolate- this conversation could go two ways.
Either this was a young girl who had seen her league challenge two years ago, or she was one of those studious children that had taken note of Bianca's recent appearances in television as she climbed her way into the ranks of the scientific community for her recent discoveries.
No matter what, Bianca remained cordial- and forced a sweet smile on her lips as she lifted her head. "Oh, what can I do for-"
A hand is lifted out in front of her.
"You gave Natey a Pokedex, didn't you? I want one too!"
..or perhaps, it could go a third way.
"Rosa!"
A boy comes running in through the doors, bowing his head and apologizing to those he meets- and grabs the feisty girl by the ear, cheeks flushed red.
"Rosa, that's rude! I told you to wait until she came out!"
"Ugh, but she's taking forever! Hugh-"
Quickly, she assesses the scene happening before her; a girl with a pair of buns atop her head, a shiny new Xtransceiver on her wrist, and a hastily clasped Pokeball strap around the handle of her bag. The boy behind her, slightly taller but just as baby-faced, had hair like a Qwilfish and eyes as piercing as a Gigalith's.
Seeing their muddied shoes and matching jackets- one from an outdoor brand, she recalls from one of Hilda's magazine, she comes to a conclusion.
"Oh! You two- are you Pokemon Trainers?"
The boy- Hugh, was caught off guard by her question. Rosa, however, shoves him off of her and squeals in excitement, her eyes sparkling.
"Yes we are! Well, we just got our licenses last winter, but-"
Now she holds both of her palms out.
"We heard you were coming to give our friend his first Pokemon and a Pokedex! We figured you'd be willing to give us some too! The professor needs all the help she can get, right?"
Straight to the point; so unlike Bianca when she was her age.
She liked this girl.
"Rosa!"
"Come on, Hughy! It's not that bad to ask!"
"We can just share Nate's-!"
"Is that all you need?" Bianca interrupts. "If that's the case, I can just ask the professor. She's not really too strict about who gets one and who doesn't- truthfully, it's rare when trainers approach us, so we'd really appreciate all the help we can get when completing the Pokedex-"
"Oh, I don't really care about that part."
"Rosa!"
Bianca blinks.
"Maybe Natey does, and so does everyone- but I wanna use the Pokedex to, you know, learn about Pokemon and their moves. And Hughy here wants to-"
"That's enough!"
Covering her mouth with a gloved hand, he locks her head in his arm and tries to drag her out of Bianca's sight.
"Wait, wait, wait-"
And obediently, Hugh stops in his tracks, while Rosa struggles to break free from his grip.
"It's- it's alright, Hugh was it? It's fine, I promise! It's true the professor markets the role of a Pokedex holder for data completion, but-"
She digs out her own Pokedex from her bag- an older model from two years ago, with a cracked screen and a few bumps and bruises.
What stood out to the two kids, however, was the lower part of the Pokedex- slightly charred, and not from a simple fire-type move.
"-really, it's.. more of the professor's own way of getting kids to set out on a journey, especially those who don't plan on taking the league challenge."
The two kids look at each other for a bit.
"Oh! But of course, it's for learning too! You don't need to complete the Pokedex if you don't want to, but-"
"Then that settles it!"
With a wide grin, Rosa closes the space between her and Bianca, pushing herself up on the coffee table as Hugh tried to yank her off by the hood of her jacket.
"Please, please, pleaaaaaase Miss Bianca! I'd really like a Pokedex of my own, and Hughy does too-"
"Shut up!"
"-so can we please have one? We'll make sure Natey completes his, I promise!"
Most of the patrons seemed to have gone back to doing their own thing. Bianca could only assume that whatever was going on, and who these two kids were, it was a normal occurrence in the city of Aspertia.
She couldn't help but laugh at the familiarity- almost two years ago, she had done the same over Professor Juniper's desk, as her friends tried to pull her away and apologize for her enthusiasm.
"Well, as the professor says,"
She takes out a couple papers from her briefcase, where two of the remaining Pokeballs resided.
"The more the merrier!"
...
Another Lillipup falls to the power of his starter's Ember, something that Nate had been cheering over a few battles earlier.
But, as his Tepig gets stronger and learns more moves, Nate finds himself in a dilemma in the midst of his training in Floccesy Ranch, something that Bianca recommended he do first as a bonding exercise with his starter.
"Hey, Tepig,"
The little Pokemon snorts up at him curiously, wondering why it was no longer basking in praise as it was over an hour ago.
"I don't think we're gonna catch any Pokemon like this."
It doesn't seem to particularly care, however- it's too busy celebrating its consecutive victory, and Nate would too, if he could use any of the Pokeballs that he had been given.
..well, he had, but-
"Missed shots. And if they did land, the Pokemon would break free," He groaned. "And when we try to weaken 'em up, you end up going all out!"
Tepig raises its nose out at him.
"Don't sass me! Miss Bianca asked us to catch Pokemon too, you know! Winning battles ain't the only thing a trainer can do!"
"Bwark!"
Both trainer and Pokemon turn their heads to the sudden noise, much bigger than the cries of other Pokemon they've heard in the ranch.
Not too far from where they were was a Herdier, its posture alert, but not quite hostile.
"Wait, a Herdier?"
He glances at his Pokedex's habitat feature for a second.
"They're not common 'round here. You're not a wild Pokemon, are you?"
The Herdier glances at him almost expectantly. Nate would know if it was expecting a treat, or even a pat.
But with the way it was waiting, it seemed to be calling Nate over for something.
Nate and his Tepig glanced at each other for a moment with the same dumbfounded expression- but Tepig returned to sniffing the tall grass for more opponents to fight, eager to stroke its ego.
With a sigh, Nate rose from his spot on the grass.
"Alright, you stay there. I'll go help this little guy out, alright?"
And as expected, as soon as Nate started making his way to the Herdier, it turned around and started trotting deeper into the ranch.
...
Somewhere in the ranch, a figure clad in black- a shadow with no vessel, stands before a sleeping body in the grass.
Hands on their chest, their skin deathly pale, a red ribbon on their collar blowing in the wind- they looked like a corpse.
The shadow crouches before them, eyeing the pin they wore on their cardigan- the pin of a league member, specifically, a gym leader.
"It would be easy to just grab you like this, but-"
Almost on cue, their Xtransceiver begins to ring- and he hears the sound of a ship from the distance, all the way at Virbank City.
Glancing at the body one more time, they sneer as they disappear in a puff of smoke.
"-you'll find your way back to us, just as the legends foretold."
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"Please leave a message after the tone."
Grimsley's hand shakes for a moment, his composure slipping and his facade cracking; no one would fault him for doing so, not when the cameras were no longer on him, not when he's hidden in the shadows of the room.
Alder holds back what he wants to say as Marshal places a palm over his shoulder. With a little push from Caitlin, and an even quieter encouragement from Shauntal, Grimsley begins to speak.
"You bastard, are you finally going to come home now?!"
He hates the way this makes him feel- like he was fifteen again, like his mother just passed away in front of his eyes.
"I've been trying to reach you all day- you were like this too last year, weren't you? When I was asking you to just get something for Cheri's birthday-!"
The birthday he had alone in Castelia Heights, the birthday he had far away from his friends.
"-you've really got no sense of urgency when it comes to your family, huh? It's always been like this with you; and they say you're a family man,"
"Grim-"
"It's not the time," Marshal speaks quietly. "Master Alder."
"Fine, I'll let the birthday thing slide, it's not like I didn't call you at the last fucking minute, but-"
He takes a deep breath; and Caitlin covers her ears.
"For dragon's sake, your child is dying! How is that not urgent enough?!"
He could only imagine the look of horror that would cross Noland's face; the thought of his youngest child, the splitting image of Lillith, withering and disappearing before his very eyes.
But the cycle continues, and history was doomed to repeat- Grimsley was more than determined to not allow it to, not any further.
"You want to lose mom again? She'll be rolling over her grave if Cheri dies, and you didn't have the gall to show your face to them at least once-!"
"Where am I?"
The small voice from behind the hospital curtain speaks, awakened by the sound of Grimsley's voice; and his rage quells, even for just a second.
Shauntal leaves his side to tend to them with reassuring words, Alder following not too soon after; if he couldn't be there for Grimsley, he could be there for Cheren once more.
Defeated, Grimsley looks at the phone in his hands once more- and he pleads.
"Just come home, dad."
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Angel
Sequel to Seer.
"I wish I could be her,"
Sleeve clad hands conceal his face, muffling his voice as he crouched on the floor in an effort to make himself small. If he tried hard enough, he could shed all his tears until he became one with the earth, a mere footnote just as he's always been.
"With the way I am now- I can't expect to be loved as myself,"
It's always been that way- to think of this time as an exception was foolish on his own part.
He should have known better.
"Slater,"
Warm hands press against his shoulders, squeezing him in an effort to calm him.
Descante knew he wasn't good with voicing his feelings- and though Slater had been patient, it was only a matter of time until Descante had let it slip, until a single phrase could shatter the trust he's built; but it wasn't fair to Slater, who had been trying to reach him all this time,
"You remind me of-"
Only for Descante to place another pedestal for him to step on, another image to embody.
"If I could become her- maybe I could be of use to you," He sobs. "But I can't, I can't replace her-"
"Maybe you can't,"
Gently, he cups his cheek, his warm touch against cold porcelain. Another corpse in his hands, except this one had not crumbled into ash.
"But you don't have to be. I promise, I-"
He pulls him close, letting him bury his face on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You don't have to become her, and you shouldn't replace her."
"Then what am I to you?"
The lamb at the slaughter, the space between black and white.
"An angel,"
How peculiar- he was choking on smoke and tears, like that faithful day at the tournament.
"You're an angel."
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Word Count: 333
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He has lost count of how long he has been wandering the earth- or if he ever started.
He was sure he did, no matter how hard he had tried to deny himself the right of humanity.
“I told myself that if I was anything but human, then it would be easier to accept my fate,”
He stretches an arm out- the white sleeve of the kimono he wears slips, exposing his cracking skin to the spring breeze.
They haven’t been tended to in awhile.
“But I find myself coming back to where I was before. As if there was always something guiding me home, calling for my return,”
His open hand closes itself.
“Was it not the same for you, when you breathed your last? Were you scared?”
He could envision the flustered expression, the obvious mask of a lie.
And he missed it.
“I am certain you were- and I am certain that it was only temporary,”
As all things were.
“Your mother, your father, your brother- they were good people, and so were you.”
He had no doubt they were together; just as they should have been all those years ago.
“I walked for thousands of nights- and it seems I’ve meet my end,”
By his bedside, his Beheeyem, still like a doll, remains leaned against a stack of books, ones he’s read over and over. Flowers bloom from between the cracks.
And soon, he shall be the same.
“Giima, it was an honor to be the one to close your coffin.”
Beside Beheyeem, a well-tended soundboard plays one of its many melodies- the voices of those that passed, and their hopes and dreams for the future.
“I had wished for you to do the same for me- a foolish dream, I am aware,”
Bringing an arm down to cover his eyes, Nikolai hears the clicking of heels against the wooden floors- and weeps.
“At the very least, wherever you are, I hope you can welcome me with open arms.”
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Many years ago, when little Nathaniel found himself lost in the wet market of Driftveil, he’d cup his small hands around his mouth and yell as loud as he could for his mother- who would come running instantly in tears, admonishing him for wandering off and hugging his small body as tight as he could.
Last spring, big bro Cheren had told him to do the same, his hand squeezing his own as he led the trio to the crowded streets of Castelia.
He’d be safe with Pokemon by his side; but he was still a child, his mentor reminded.
“If you lose me somewhere,”
Cheren had looked at him sternly- but it was a look Nate felt safest with.
“Just call my name. I’ll go get you.”
“And if you can’t reach me?”
“Then I’ll let you know where I am,”
Then came a smile.
“And you’d come running- won’t you?”
I would.
He takes that advice to heart; and cups his hands around his mouth as Bishop soars higher and higher, avoiding the attack of the sorrowful ghost below them.
There was no shame in running; he was told that, even through tear-filled eyes.
“Big bro Cheren!”
His voice echoes throughout the corridors.
For a moment, there was silence.
Until the gentle whistle of a forgotten song rings in his ears- and guides him home. A melody familiar to the phantom, whose form melts away, revealing a face that nearly resembled his own.
Nate pats the side of his Bishop, who takes the cue and follows the source of the music.
And from the floors below him, the others had taken their cues; Hilda soars through the windows with Mandibuzz, quickly followed by Bianca and her Swoobat, Hugh and his Flygon, and Rosa and her Swanna.
At the bottom of the castle was where The Heart was laid to rest- where The Hero of Truth was weeping for all of eternity.
Nate holds his breath; and dives deep into the abyss.
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The gray December passes in a blur, with skies of snow and ash.
For thirty nine days, he weeps in the darkness, cold and isolated from the moving world around him.
And on the fortieth day, a blessing comes in the form of frostbitten fingers and a burnt jacket that still reeked of smoke.
In the new year, he makes his resolution- to never leave his side once more, to abandon that foolish self who reached for the sun.
For the next seven days, life resumed as it had before- but he had yet to budge from his spot on the floor, much less acknowledge his return.
In the crevice between life and death stands a lonely lily, never to wilt or to bloom.
On the eighth day, the disgraced champion takes matters into his own hands, gentle like the winter breeze.
Upon his icy cheek was a warm hand, alive and well-
And if that had been the case, had he been mourning for nothing? Did his heart lie in the empty casket buried deep into the dirt, overgrown with jasmines?
“No,”
He lowers his eyes.
“He’s gone.”
“Perhaps so. The him from before, who flew close to the sun, who burned his wings,”
He leans against his hand.
“But he’s been reborn, good as new.”
“And he’s home?”
“He’s home.”
His tired eyes gaze upwards, meeting with ones he had thought he lost that day.
“I understand, however. You’re still mourning- and suddenly coming back here won’t fix everything.”
“It won’t,”
He places his hand atop Descante’s, lips finally stretching into a small smile.
“But living in the past is,”
He glances up at the framed photo, one in black and white. The him before the tournament; the him that was a mere pawn.
“Not the way to live. I’ll manage.”
“I’ll help.”
“I know you will.”
The dam breaks once more, and tears he had thought he no longer had streamed down his cheeks.
“I’m home, Slater.”
“Welcome home, Descante.”
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“I have long wondered what became of The Doctor in those tales- they say he simply vanished once he worked his miracles, a miracle that could not even save The Heart from fatal poison,”
Nikolai glances away from him, to the shadow by his side- the shadow with the Accelgor gives him a look, perhaps one of pity. Being subjected to Ghetsis’ whims was a fate worse than death after all- but it was worse when he opted to talk and talk.
“We now know The Doctor did save him, the forbidden fruit was not what killed him- but what did happen to The Doctor? Surely, even if his hard work went to waste, he had more to offer to the kingdom?”
He glances to his right this time; the shadow with the Accelgor does not entertain him, rigid as a Roggenrolla- though Nikolai knew better, as this shadow in particular had earned the ire of their lord recently, having lost his footing during a battle with one of those Subway Bosses and drawing the attention of the public.
His stoicism was a facade, a shield against the wrath of his master.
But then again, so was Nikolai’s.
“The Doctor was a traitor, you see- and what’s worse than a traitor is one who does not mean to, one who only betrays those they swear loyalty to out of, what, fear? Feeble emotions, painfully human-”
And right behind Ghetsis, the shadow with an Absol watches with little to no interest. His eyes, however, dutifully follow each and every move Nikolai makes, no matter how miniscule they may be.
“-but his body had succeeded that of the mortal’s. He was subjected to punishments many would perish from- but he remained, body and spirit.”
“Body.”
Nikolai speaks out of turn.
“Just the body.”
“So it seems.”
He is not punished; but Ghetsis walks to where Nikolai sits, a chair unfit for a king- but perfect for a pawn.
“Now, Nikolai, I need you to listen closely. You are the new ruler of Team Plasma after all,”
The shadows from his side vanish, appearing behind Ghetsis as he lies through his teeth, as if Nikolai didn’t know.
“Do not fall into the same sin as N had. That foolish boy who strayed from his path, who wanted more than what I could give him-”
They were not so different then, the thought passes through Nikolai’s mind- but it’s something he shakes off with ease.
Ghetsis grabs his face harshly with only one hand, the porcelain threatening to break underneath his fingers.
“Do not wander off, do not meet their eyes, do not believe in anyone else.”
“And who can I trust?”
“You are a man of faith, aren’t you?”
There’s a smirk on his face- the same smile as it had always been, when he had taken his mother’s precious pendant.
“Put your trust in the lord.”
It was unintentional.
But the words mirrored that of the village elders as they reassured him before his departure, their careful hands combing through his hair.
With a stiff nod, Ghetsis pulls his hand away, turning on his heel while the shadows follow after him.
In the darkness of the Plasma Frigate, a delicate beam of light shines from the window, just as it had during his days in the dungeon.
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The strange man with green hair had told him earlier that his love would be a poison- and for once, he had learned to fight for himself, to deny the image others had wanted of him.
But perhaps, he was wrong- or perhaps that thought itself was wrong, as in this moment, he was nothing but ecstatic; he had nothing to be regretful of.
What was there to fret over, when the world finally saw his partner for who he was? Misguided, misunderstood, alone.
The gold medal gleaming around his neck was not a worthwhile prize- especially compared to what he had kept inside.
A phantom hand forces itself into the core of his being, reaching out for what was etched into his soul.
Terrified screams filled his ears, looks of horror flashing before his eyes- and the knife twists itself further, deeper, with drive and with hesitation.
Amidst the cacophony and crackles of fire, his voice is clear as a bell, a gentle drop of water that could have once healed his scorched heart.
Do not hesitate, he wished to say. It was not in his partner’s nature to do so.
With a shaky hand of his own, he cups the other’s cheek, wiping the stray tear that slid down his face.
“Rejoice,” He says in-between gasps. “Your wish has come true.”
“Not mine,”
In the pits of hell, Piper finally smiled.
“Ours. Can’t you see? You’re-”
As soon as Piper pulled his hand out, Slater’s arm limped to his side.
“-my other half.”
The artifact between his fingers was bathed in a golden light, until the mark of a Number formed on his palm.
Number 7 - Lucky Straight.
He mutters a word of appreciation to his partner, suspended in a waltz that would never meet its end. The gathered Numbers form a sphere around them, bringing truth to what was once his ideal.
What a joyous occasion it was, to finally have it all.
But why don’t these tears stop falling?
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Bringing sunflowers into his big bro's hospital room had become a routine. Freshly picked by a kind farmer at Floccesy, young Nathaniel Blake arrives with a skip in his step and a bouquet in his arms, that cheerful smile never leaving his face.
Yet, as Cheren looks away from his book, his eyes lit up- but he was looking through his student.
"Felix," And oh, he said it so joyously- the happiest Nate has ever seen him. "You came, my prince. You promised."
Did Nate really have the heart to correct him? Or the patience to ask who he was referring to, when all he had wanted was to see his big bro, alive and well?
He knows full well he doesn't.
"Of course! I don't break my promises!"
So, with a forced smile, he plays the role of the hero in Cheren's dreams, a corrupted memory mistaken as his own.
In time, Nate knows, that his mentor would break out of the bad dream he was in- and would not hesitate to reach our for his hair to ruffle it with fondness unfitting for a servant.
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His strange flowers had been blooming wonderfully as of late, pretty pink petals catching the eye of anyone that passes by.
Though many had offered, it felt wrong to put a price on his blessing- so he prompted to give one flower for anyone that asked, hoping to share his happiness.
It was the job of a florist, after all.
Descante looked up from his book and into the field before him, watching Slater tend to the flowers with the aid of his Manaphy.
He places his open book down on a surface, walking over to the sea of pink in an attempt to reach out for Slater- but he feels something warm and wet prodding against his ankle.
Looking down, he spots an unfamiliar, round Pokemon on its feet, its back formed like a shrub. The same pink flowers were attached to its body.
Curious, Descante picks it up- and makes his way to Slater as he shows him his brand new discovery.
As Slater gasps and coos over the cute new Pokemon in Descante's arms, the spring breeze flips through the pages of Descante's old book, until it lands on a page covered in fading ink, the scribbles of a desperate traveler in search of a miracle.
In the page, the familiar flower is displayed, red ink circling over it.
Gracidea, a flower of gratitude.
Though this elusive flower has been found to bloom in Sinnohan soil, many researchers debate the authenticity this photograph, and the existence of the flower at all. Samples brought back by the researchers who discovered this flower were found to have shriveled and died the moment they were picked.
Important. Must find.
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Even in his sleep, he can't escape the weight of his sins.
The smell of smoke overwhelms his senses as elegant white wings sprout from his back, ripping apart the flesh and bones, mangling his body to that of the dragon's.
As he falls from the sky, his claws reaches out to the sun.
And when he clenched his hand into a fist, he's back in his bed, fingers intertwined with someone else's.
A cool hand is pressed against his forehead, skin hot and sticky with sweat.
"It's alright, it's alright," The other hushes. "Your fever is subsiding bit by bit,"
Through his tear stained eyes and the strands of hair covering his face, he sees a serene and sympathetic smile, one that could only belong to an angel.
"It was just a dream," Slater brings Descante's hand up, placing another hand on top of it- his skin was pleasantly cool against his. "You're safe here."
His throat is dry and he's too caught up in the aftermath of his nightmare to say a word- but he mouths a "thank you" to the other, and Slater beams.
"It's nothing, really," He shakes his head. "Let's turn your pillow on the other side before you go back to bed, okay?"
Then, his stomach growls.
If Slater had a pair of fluffy ears rested atop his head like a Lopunny or Audino, they would have perked up at such a sound- but he doesn't, and his laugh is the only way Descante notices that Slater heard how hungry the other was.
"You didn't eat much at all today.. do you have an appetite now?"
He does a gesture in-between a nod and a shake of his head.
Slater understands. He always does.
"I'll make something light and warm. You should eat first before you go back to bed- oh, and do you want some warm milk? We still have some, I think,"
Milk sounded nice right about now- so he nods.
"Okay, okay! Good! I'll get your food-"
But Descante's hand was still clasped against his, refusing to let go- like the paw of a needy Lillipup.
And, without hesitating like he had in his dreams, he pulls the other close for a tight hug.
He didn't want to risk it earlier, lest the other catch his cold.
But in his dreams, before he plummets from the heavens, his hesitation leads to the demise of the other, body bubbling into seafoam.
Slater didn't need to know how much Descante feared to lose him- or he probably already knew, and kept quiet.
Regardless, he wraps his arms around his partner with a smile, humming his Relic Song to soothe his worries.
"We can stay like this for awhile too, would you like that?"
Voice hoarse, Descante speaks.
"I'd like that very much."
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He doesn't quite understand the purpose of what Nikolai does.
He sits quietly in the pews, the lights filtering through the stained glass window beaming down at the altar- all while Grimsley leans by the doorway, hesitant to enter through the doors of a God.
The chapel is empty, and service has ended hours ago. All that is held is a private session of prayer, between Arceus and his most devoted.
But he does as he's promised, no matter how lonely; in exactly an hour, he prays quietly, occasionally kneeling and standing, sometimes singing a song of praise-
The singing had initially surprised him, but he makes no comment of it.
His own mother had done the same years ago, Grimsley's hand in her's, and Little Cheri in another arm.
"In this exact chapel too," He mumbles.
"Sorry, did you say something?"
Nikolai has turned around, uncharacteristically gentle in his expression; he always seemed to be different in this place.
"No, nothing, just-"
He checks his Xtransceiver.
He is not eager to play babysitter for too long, no matter how close the chapel is to the "home" that the league had arranged to house the region's most dangerous criminal,
But..
"It's time to go."
"Already?"
For someone who has lived so long, who has seen it all and been through what he could not fathom, who has lost his home and his family- to have something he could cling onto, to find solace in..
"I'll get you some prayer beads they're selling outside the chapel. The chapel monastery makes them. Proceeds go to a retirement home at the Village Bridge."
Nikolai's eyes lit up.
"And, uh, I guess a little wood carving. Of, um, Arceus?"
"Oh, that is perfect,"
He never smiles, and there is no change in tone from how he usually speaks- but he glows a little with excitement.
He seemed human.
"I can arrange a small shrine dedicated to Him in my home, in my bedroom. I will be able to pray to Him, even when I am not in the chapel,"
"But don't you do that already? I mean,"
He looks around.
"Genuinely, no offense, but why do you need to-"
"It is not that I need to. Do not let other believers tell you otherwise, that He will only listen to those who praise and worship Him in His home,"
When he stands, Grimsley can't help but shudder at the sight of his new fixation- a strange rock with a foreboding spirit, delivered to him by Grimsley himself under special instructions from a champion of another region.
But Nikolai holds onto it like a child would to their favorite doll.
"I only request to be taken here to feel closer to them. I used to help in services. I would often sing in a choir, but I would also give the offerings,"
His hold on the Odd Keystone tightens.
"It was a community activity, for the villagers to gather together to thank Him for his blessings."
Grimsley heard of such, even if he himself never felt accepted by the community here.
He didn't fully understand, much less to relate with how Nikolai looked forward to going to the chapel every week- but he didn't need to.
Him, and by extension, the league, knew that much.
He guides Nikolai outside of the chapel and does as he promises, taking his wallet out to stuff a few bills into the donation box by the entrance. He spots a stall selling handmade prayer beads, and another stall selling small, wooden statues depicting the chapel's idol.
As they leave together, from the corner of the chapel, a figure manifests from the shadows, dainty white gloves concealing the claws that held onto her hand fan.
"Taken prisoner once again- but they're much nicer than that bad man you worked for before, aren't they?"
She laughs to herself.
"Be patient, my child. I know it may hurt- but He has a plan, and you will be free from your sins and your pain,"
In the darkness of the chapel, the devil herself begins to weep.
"Please. Wait a little longer, my little dove."
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Reupload of the N's Castle Confrontation fic I posted in my main blog last year.
The air is heavy and cold, as the party of Truth continues onwards to the heart of the castle.
Hilda's Mandibuzz flaps away the icy mist, one that started forming the deeper they went. Bianca's Chandelure guided the way masterfully with her wisps, and the trio held hands as they stepped into the unknown.
"Beebles," Hilbert looks at his friend worriedly. "You sure they didn't hurt you?"
Bianca gives him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand. "You worry too much, Hilloo! I'm fine, see?"
On times like these, her optimism was a gift. Anxious as they may be, Bianca's idealism doesn't waver in the slightest.
Hilda, similarly, squeezes Hilbert's hand. Though her gaze is tense, she's able to easily overcome her own nervousness at the reassurance of Bianca.
"We'll be alright," she says. "All of us. You, me, Beebles, and Cheri."
Cheri who wasn't here right now. Cheri who was taken.
They'll be okay, Hilbert thinks.
But there's a sinking feeling in his stomach, one that he gets when he attempts to lie.
Once the trio made their way out of the fog, they're greeted by an audience of Team Plasma grunts lining the hall, still and almost solemn.
From the top of the staircase, N sits on his throne, sisters by his side. At the sight of the trio, ever so quickly, Anthea gives them a warm smile while Concordia waves her hand.
Ghetsis and Rood stand at the foot of the staircase; one mad with glee and the other almost regretful in his scowl.
They stop in their tracks. Chandelure and Musharna hover by Bianca's side, while Mandibuzz and Simisear prepare for an ambush. Hilbert's Pokemon rattle from inside their Pokeballs, radiating an unfamiliar heat.
No one speaks until Zinzolin, from another part of the room, makes his way to the center. Though his smile seems composed, he shines with a malice that none of them could begin to describe.
Hilda's fingers press against Hilbert in a manner of one, two, three.
She doesn't have a good feeling about this; and Hilda was usually right in her assumptions.
"The Hero, The Warrior, and The Scholar of Truth," Zinzolin says with his arms spread. "Has come to join us."
Bianca's cheeks puff in indignance, about to give him a piece of her mind, but she stops herself when she notices Hilbert tense.
"Hilbert," she says quietly. "It's alright. Stay calm. Don't lose your heart."
He nods, though his gaze maintains fixated on the man before them.
His speech is lengthy, and Hilbert's increasing anxiety builds up to the point he can barely hear a word. He catches something about the twin princes, their party, their journey..
And he mentions a character that has never been mentioned before.
"As we have gathered here today to witness the decisive battle between Truths and Ideals," Zinzolin says, finally clearing Hilbert's head from the thick fog that crept up in his ears. "Let us not forget an important aspect to this legendary tale."
The Shadow Triad appears from behind him as he says those words, carrying what appeared to be a large box.
..no, wait.
"A glass coffin?" Bianca cocks her head.
"Looks creepy," Hilda shudders. "You two, be ready."
The glass coffin, with a swirling blue mist from inside, is gently lowered into the floor.
From the looks of it, not even N was informed about this turn of events. His hands are on the sides of his throne, but he leans forward in slight interest, trying to make sense of the display before him.
Zinzolin's Cryogonal makes a haunting noise by his side, and with a single swirl of its icy body, the mist inside the body dissipates, along with the thick fog from behind them.
Once the clouds have disappeared and Hilbert takes a second to regain his bearings, he feels Hilda's hand, slightly colder now, pressing his palm anxiously in one, two, three, four, five-
Bianca shrieks.
Hilbert opens his eyes, steadying to see the truth presented before him.
And what he sees is his best friend, Cheren, inside the glass coffin, hands on his chest and eyes shut.
His panic and anxiety is replaced by something else.
One akin to a burning flame.
There are slight murmurs in the crowd, uneasy and terrified as they are, but are hushed immediately by Rood's commanding presence. N's calm demeanor immediately changes, and he attempts to climb from his throne, only to be stopped by his sisters.
"What," N gasps out. "What is this?"
"My king, though your excellence has enabled you to wake the legendary dragon of Ideals without fail," Zinzolin has a smile that Hilbert wants nothing more than to punch. "It seems The Hero of Truth is still immature and unaccepting of his role."
"Indeed," Ghetsis speaks up, looking amused, that mad grin on his face stretching by each passing second. "But not to worry, that is why we have decided to assist his party. By all means, we want a fair fight, don't we?"
Hilbert's mind is spinning.
Questions flood his head and tears threaten to form in the corner of his eyes. He tries to speak, tries to move, but none of them work.
Hilda, hand still in his, is the first to break the silence amongst their trio. "Hey," her legs start to shake as she struggles to maintain calm at the sight before her. "What is all this? What are you talking about?"
In the second of silence that passes them, Hilda's voice gets louder, a rage unlike any other.
"What did you do?!"
All while Bianca, attempting to keep true to her hopes, starts stammering out pieces of the legend she has gathered in her journey.
"The Hero of Truth," her gaze is fixated on the coffin. "Was accompanied by his three companions throughout their journey," she can't look away from Cheren's body. "The Warrior, The Scholar, and.."
She thinks of the implications. She thinks of their first steps. She thinks of Hilda's strength, her own journey to find the truth, and Hilbert's newfound goal of stopping Team Plasma.
"The Heart."
From inside her bag, the Light Stone entrusted to her by Hilbert starts to shake.
With a smile, Zinzolin steps aside as one of the Shadow Triad opens up the coffin.
Hilbert keeps staring. At the coffin, at Cheren, at the half-eaten apple that was in his palms-
"Yes, The Heart. A befitting offering for Reshiram's Chosen."
An offering.
An offering to Reshiram's Chosen.
Hilbert himself was presented with the gift of his best friend's dead body.
The Light Stone gets warmer, Hilda begins to crumble, Bianca is about to collapse, and Hilbert feels his grip on reality loosening.
Don't lose your heart, don't lose your heart, don't lose-
But the very repetition of those words is his breaking point.
He lets go of Bianca and Hilda's hands, his feet carrying him closer to his best friend.
His Pokemon emerge from their balls without command, Emboar and Simipour by his side while Cinccino climbs his shoulder.
From N's sight, he sees the ghostly form of flames seep from within Hilbert's body, almost forming wings at his back.
The rage of the Hero of Truth finally comes out in the form of a growl, one that Bianca has never heard her childhood friend do.
"Team Plasma," The smoke that comes out from within him is not from Emboar, as he completely discards what was asked of him by his mother, by Bianca, and by Cheren at the start of their journey.
Don't lose your heart.
"I'll make you pay!"
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With his face planted against the dirt, he hears a cackle from above him.
The voice belongs to none other than the rumored witch of the village south of Snowbelle, deep in the forest guarded by angels.
Her piercing eyes barely concealed by the shadows of her hat and parasol, she keeps an eye on the unexpected guest in the entrance of her home.
Clutching onto her black dress were small, frail fingers, as well as eyes that matched her own.
"I did not think anyone would find their way to my sleepy little village," She croons. "Much less the king of Kalos himself."
The child behind her gasps- but she places a gloved hand on their head, gently stroking.
He opens his mouth to speak, placing his hands on the grass to lift himself- but the strong legs of the village's sentry slam against his spine, forcing him down into the ground.
A king on his knees for a witch- how utterly disgraceful.
"Now, now, your majesty- you need not to speak,"
Her smile is pleasant- but it is nothing short of vicious.
"You've come here to seek the aid of the witch, no? For your pointless little war?"
She pauses, one finger pressed against her lip.
After a few seconds of deliberation, she glances down at the child attached to her hip.
"My little dove,"
She speaks so sweetly, not an air of malice surrounding her as she addresses them.
"It is time for prayer. Go without me, I will be joining you shortly."
The child looks up at her, innocent and curious.
But he is obedient, and his hand is taken by another sentry- the gentler one, whose legs were concealed by its dainty white dress, so unlike the witch's.
Once the child was out of sight, she smiles yet again at her visitor.
The shadow she was casting somehow turned darker, like a void ready to swallow him whole.
"Oh, you really have the gall to come here- after my poor siblings, bless their hearts, gave their lives for your cause?"
Strange tendrils emerge from her shadow- one that was beginning to take aim at the king's own shadow.
"Oh, how dare you? How dare you come here, asking for my help- after your wars tore my family apart? After it killed so much of our village?"
His body can't move, not with how the Gallade above him was forcing him down- and just as he feels his lungs being crushed, ribs piercing into them, one of the witch's tendrils stabs into his shadow.
He gags out blood, splattering the white flowers, the symbol of eternity, with a deep dark red.
"I must say, it is quite an honor for you yourself to come here- with how little heart the messengers you sent had,"
Another tendril follows- this time, his vision turns spotty.
"But I'm afraid you came at a wrong time- it's my darling nephew's birthday today. A matter of importance- an event he should be spending with his mother and father."
Then another.
His arms give out, and he finds himself with a mouthful of blood and dirt.
"I'm all he has,"
A tear forms in the corner of her eye, glimmering like the pendant she wore on her dress.
She wipes it off with a finger, before forcing her lips into a smile.
"So please, come visit another day, hm? Or better yet, I come to you,"
Gallade lifts its leg off of the king, just as he feels his consciousness slipping.
Before he succumbs to the injuries inflicted on his shadow, the witch approaches his body.
"Keep this in mind- at the last day of autumn, just before winter comes, you will have an esteemed guest at the palace; one worthy of celebration,"
She grabs a fistful of his hair, pulling him upwards to face the devil incarnate.
Her golden eyes had turned red.
"No matter how strong your guards are, no matter how many soldiers you send to my village- you will not stop me,"
Her face is concealed in darkness, her eyes and mouth still visible.
"I expect nothing but the warmest welcome for Lady Cogita- understand?"
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Tag Updates!
Hello! Starting from now on, in regards to my verse/rewrite, there will be different tags for certain dynamics- while I won't change the already posted drabbles/fics tagged with Kuroshipping and the like, I will be using specific dynamic names I've made exclusively for my verse.
I'm aroace, and I would really like to explore these dynamics without them necessarily being reinforced to strictly romantic, platonic in the sense of family/friends, etc. Not just qprs either, but also unlabeled relationships and dynamics.
Currently, the list is;
Hilbert Blackburn + Cheren Slater = Kuro*
Hilbert Blackburn + Bianca Alabaster = Calm Mind
Hilbert Blackburn + Hilda Weiss = Heat Wave
Cheren Slater + Bianca Alabaster = Double Team
Cheren Slater + Hilda Weiss = Sucker Punch
Bianca Alabaster + Hilda Weiss = Shiro*
Cheren Slater + Nate Blake = Hyper Voice
Cheren Slater + Hugh Obsidian = Disarming Voice
Cheren Slater + Rosa Whitefield = Echoed Voice
Nate Blake + Hugh Obsidian = Wyrmwind
Nate Blake + Rosa Whitefield = Resonance**
Hugh Obsidian + Rosa Whitefield = Airstream
Hilbert Blackburn + Nate Blake = Heroes
Hilda Weiss + Hugh Obsidian = Warriors
Bianca Alabaster + Rosa Whitefield = Scholars
Natural Harmonia Gropius + Nikolai Colress = Imprison
Cheren Slater + Grimsley Slater = Trump Card ***
Nikolai Colress + Grimsley Slater = False Pretenses*
Nikolai Colress + Ghetsis Harmonia Gropius = Anti Gravity*
Cheren Slater + Calem LaFlamme = Adjustment*
Nikolai Colress + Lysandre Donnadieu = Inferno
Again, this will only apply to what I post after this announcement. The list of names are subject to change.
Finally, it will be tagged like this on this blog;
Ex. blight/blur: kuro , blight/blur: shiro
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