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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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NOODLES

NIKOLAI
HE/HIM
TWENTY-FIVE
CYBER BOY
GYM LEADER
37 height
37 height
i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.
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241 posts
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TAG WITH @nikolai
NIKOLAI PETROV
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POSTED ON Nov 8, 2018 15:51:52 GMT
NIKOLAI PETROV Avatar

it comes in flashes. one moment he's living his ordinary life that's far from perfect but it's his to live, and the next he finds himself struggling to breathe, gasping for air like a feebas out of water, left to die with a hook still in his mouth because some fishermen are simply vicious.

fuchsia, kanto. he remembers their screams the most; their cries for help that escape in frantic outbursts. it slices through the air right into deaf ears. the constant ringing keeps him in the zone. it makes sure he's focused because he needs to keep up this facade. he can't break. not here. not even at home.

he sees familiar faces: his neighbors; sees how their pokemon resist. he also sees the hurt and rage in their eyes. he clicks his tongue to send nidoking and nidoqueen forward. words don't escape him but his eyes speak for him.

he's sorry. 

victory road, hoenn. he remembers the searing, white hot rage that builds inside him as he's confronted. white turns to red as he lashes out for a punch. nidoking and nidoqueen do the same. blow for blow, attack for attack, it seems as though they've met their match but he always comes out on top.

the man's almost beaten to death, broken beyond repair and that's when he snaps out of it. red fades away for guilt as he stands over the man.

he's sorry.

---


he doesn't feel like himself. in fact, he hasn't felt like himself since the incident. the problem isn't the fact that he almost killed a man, no. it's the mere fact that he can't remember anything beyond the start and the end of their confrontation. and that's unlike him.

a person can only bear so much guilt before it eats them up, before it tears their insides apart until nothing's left but a shell of a man. a ghost. he's hurting; he has been for years; but he's hurting because he remembers. he always remembers.

: the gray cardigan that was lost in the thrills of their night is what reminds him of her. he finds it behind his bed; reaches down for it only to be hit with a flash of white and the next thing he knows he's holding her ripped cardigan in his hands. he's slinks onto the floor, out of breath as he tries to remember why.

: everything reminds him of her: the beige carpet in his living room that they picked out together; the white mug in the cupboard she always uses; the toothbrush in the bathroom that belongs to her. flashes of white hit him in every instance but he remains in control. he doesn't see red because she means too much to him. still, he tries to remember why.

in both instances, he can't.

---


a council meeting looms in the near future and while he's invited, he has no intentions on going because things aren't the same. he isolates himself from the rest because he can't trust any of them, not anymore; for what reasons exactly, he isn't sure. all he knows is that he doesn't trust them.

not even @sveva. after seeing her in the hospital, he has been actively avoiding her because despite what he might feel or what he once felt, she's trouble for him in more ways than he can imagine. 

but it's not just her. it's all the gym leaders, and he doesn't know why.

---


he remembers trusting at one point. she was one of the only few in hoenn that believed he could be good; that he was good. it hurts him to think anything otherwise but that's the bitter truth of it.

he stands outside her office with his hand balled into a fist, knuckles hovering over her name on the door. he can't bring himself to knock, to trust her enough to tell her.

he lowers his hand and leaves.

---


he reminisces about the past so he watches a video of one of his gym battle that features a kanto native named victor lee and his solid rhyperior that seemed to be immune to water, perhaps after years of training.

the crowd cheers but that's nothing new. what's new is the escavalier and bisharp that stands on his side of the battlefield. he leans forward in his chair, brows furrowing at the sight of the steel-types.

they battle for him. they answer to him. they won the battle for him. and yet, he doesn't remember.

he flicks through more videos and they're featured in every single one. by the time he reaches the oldest video he has he's sat on the ground with his legs extended out, defeated as his head hangs low.  why can't he remember?

and if he doesn't remember them, then there might be more. he checks his pokedex. there are more.

---


despite being discharged after four days, he's had to return a few times because despite him looking healthy, his body tells a different tale. various scanners and pokemon hint at what truly happened to him during the incident.

they tell him that he's fine but that his body's been through something traumatic and like a body in the morgue, he's been stitched back together at an immense rate that's only capable with certain pokemon.

he knows of none that heals.

---


there's more to the face of the blue-haired man than he remembers. he embraces every little flash he gets because he needs to remember where he's seen him before. digging deep into his memory bank, he fishes for something, anything that might tell him more.

naturally, he thinks back to rocket.

saffron, kanto. it's one of the last cities they take because of what it stands for. it's the biggest city, or was the biggest city, and leaving it for last gives kanto a little bit of hope until it's inevitably ripped away from them.

his line catches on something and he holds on for dear life. it takes him to a tower, not just any; it has significance that's lost to him at the moment. nidoking and nidoqueen are there but they're always there. he storms the building, taking it by force and flushing out all the rats until he reaches the very top.

and then, he remembers.

silph.

---


he finds himself in league hq, in a small room that's filled with rows and towers of cabinets that houses a variety of files. there's a computer that has everything digitized, no doubt, but he can't leave any trails. he has to be more careful now than he ever has been.

it takes him hours but eventually he finds it: a single file that tells him everything.

: heir to a fallen throne.

a throne he destroyed.

---


a message is sent to the silph heir. its contents will draw him out of hiding, out of his little rat hole and into the light where he'll face judgement.

he feels guilt but the cracks are far too wide to stop the flood.

---


beheeyem, cerebral pokemon. a gift given to him by his beloved intended to keep him safe. he never planned on calling it out unless he truly needed it, and he wasn't going to, but one night he comes home to see it out of its pokeball, floating in his living room with its three flashing fingers.

oddly, it's a familiar sight.

not much is known of the cerebral pokemon but maybe that's the beauty of it: not everything has to be known. only enough. and he definitely knows enough.

"can you fix me?" 

red. yellow. green.

he's out cold on the couch as beheeyem hovers over him with its three fingers on his forehead. it shifts, rolling to and fro each temple as it understands the true extent of the situation. he won't ever know what truly happened but he doesn't have to. all he needs is to be fixed.

and beheeyem knows it.

it can't look at deleted memories but it knows what's real and what's not. the confrontation. fake. his odd irritation and fear whenever he thinks of and . fake. his doubts over 's abilities as commissioner. fake.

his immense guilt over almost killing fernando. fake.

as quickly as his memories were manipulated, they soon become rectified; not with what actually happened, but at least with the truth: he genuinely cannot remember what happened, but he's in control now.

guilt turns to rage.

he awakens a new man.

"thank you." 

---


knock, knock. 

he waits for what feels like too long but it's something he has to do. he peers through the windows by the front door only to have his heart sink by the sight of an empty house. it means she's not home.

he waits and waits for to return but she never does. even when the sun sets and the stars scatter across the night sky, he's there waiting on her sofa. the spare key allowed him to get in hours ago and only when he looks at his phone does he realize just how long he's been there.

and how long she's been away.

he feels empty. lonely. but, he has to embrace it because that's what his future needs to be. in order to keep her safe he has to allow the his biggest fear to come true.

he has to lose her.

rising from the sofa, he walks over to the counter where he remembers sharing an intimate moment and leans against it. the yellow hue of the light that hangs overhead casts his shadow over the granite. his eyes never look up, not even once. 

he places a single pokeball on the counter but it's not enough. he's not sure if anything will ever be enough.

he leaves her his heart and soul.

he'll do anything to keep her safe.

even die.

---


he holds his life in his hand as he places it to his ear. it feels as though his heart doesn't beat for as long as the phone rings. it still doesn't beat when she answers.

he's silent not because he doesn't know what to say, but because he wants to remember her voice.

"i love you, persephone." 

it's all he leaves her with.

---


midnight: cave of origin, sootopolis. moonlight doesn't shine tonight; the dark clouds that loom overhead overpowers all else, setting the scene of what's to come.

the lake is still. the air is silent.

: a sootopolis elder stands in front of the entrance, guarding precious secrets that only a handful of people have ever seen. there's a solemn look on his face and also one of disapproval as he stares you down. but, he steps to the side and allows you to enter.

the cave of origin is said to be the cave where life begins. its validity will be proven tonight.

the path can barely be seen as it spirals you downwards, bringing you deeper towards the earth's core. darkness soon envelops the path as the walls narrow with each step you take. at the end of the steps that lead you down is a singular pathway. cross the threshold and you'll be there:

where life begins.



  • you are only allowed three pokemon in this thread.
  • please pm your choices to along with their details to lock them in. this means no purchasing moves or swapping your choices.
  • although this is a freeform battle, please be mindful of not overdoing it. be considerate. staff will step in if deemed necessary.
  • this thread is not death-enabled because lyre's too scared.
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played by

lyre

perse
she / her
twenty-four
november 23
sootopolis
good q
lorekeeper / elite four
elite four
185 height
185 height
my own blood pains me, the salt as much as the vein
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651 posts
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TAG WITH @perse
persephone amavi
faire chier [ closed | freeform ]
POSTED ON Nov 8, 2018 18:31:20 GMT
persephone amavi Avatar

deep in the twisting, hidden forgotten caves around route 126, the signal doesn't reach her. not until the sky turned dark, not until it was too late to stop him.

so close, so far.

the dormant volcano housing sootopolis looms in front of her, and she was moments away from latching onto her pokemon to fly over the ridge home when the phone call finally goes through.

"nikolai, hello. sorry, i missed your previous calls! i'm just outside the city, but i'll be back soon if you want to get food or something."

he's silent. she thinks the call isn't connected and needs to look at the phone again to double-check, an anxious pang in her stomach. since slateport, since the incident in victory road, unexplained absences made her tense. that he might feel the same way didn't cross her mind.

"nikolai? are you there?"

she thinks she can hear him, a shuddering breath. she has to fight to keep her voice level.

"what's wrong?"

he responds, finally, ends the call before she can answer.

the world falls away to a sheer numb panic, blinding her vision, paralysing her movement. it's more than what he said, it's what he meant between the lines.

it's a good bye. her legs fold beneath her. only when the feeling of needles pricking her eyes passes is she able to breathe again.


+
≫ play nice
≫ or i'm crashing this in the most realistic, ic way possible, and pulling a rin, i swear to god