[attr="class","frphoetops"]

[attr="class","frphoetabs1"][attr="class","ion-headphone"]

[attr="class","frphoeposts1"]

[attr="class","frphoelyrics3"]

WELCOME TO THE WAR WE'VE ONLY BEGUN, SO PICK UP YOUR WEAPON AND FACE IT

[attr="class","frlastconttop"]

[attr="class","frlastcontmid"]

Black slacks that were neatly fitted; white dress shirt, unbuttoned down to the rise of her collarbone; black heels with a wedge; they said she should have worn a dress, but Bailey Cooper had seen the sight of women dressed in black dresses too many times today. She hated the absence of color, hated the wailing, and even hated the small sniffles and the passing of tissues from one tear-soaked hand to the other.[break][break]

Light colored blue from the stained glass flushed its sheen across the high rising walls, celebrating customs that Bailey had never acquainted herself with.[break][break]

She sat in the back, in the farthest corner of the church, watching in a silence that felt all-consuming; white knuckles twisted at the sight of the flowers when they were arranged. White lilies and forget-me-nots, neatly compiled and appealing to the eye... but mournful to those that understood what that arrangement would have meant. The color from her skin bled out, seeming to match the pure sheen of each petal, of each twisting flower face.[break][break]

There was a wake, both within the church and within her mind–water that swelled in her chest, swelled to her gaze, and wash over her thoughts. The attempts to be recondite had failed the moment the final words were spoken, when the reality of the situation threatened to pull her beneath the surface.[break][break]

She left, leaving the funeral behind her, leaving behind a casket that she had never approached. [break][break]

Out through the tall double doors. Out to the cold air of a night that she had been dreading. Bailey Cooper listened to her heels click across the blacktop as she crossed the rough terrain of the parking lot, seeking her keys and seeking the sight of her motorcycle from the sea of vehicles.[break][break]

When the engine came to life, it roared like a storm; wheels squealing as they spun across the paved roads. Her headlights cut the dark, following through a darkened landscape that stretched out long and flat before her, letting her eyes stare out at the nothingness like a ship lost at sea, rocking with each tortuous twist as she pushed faster andfaster.[break][break]

Each mile was a victory, driving more distance between her and the mire of misery. [break][break]

The road transitioned, sloping downward into the wilds of a place that was touched by trees and windswept grass. Clear skies allowed for illumination from above, signaling that the cloud that had been following her had been left behind–for now.[break][break]

It was quiet on Route 120. The water that split through the middle of this empty place seemed to beckon the eyes; rainbow-like light reflecting across its surface, cast by the long, shadowy shapes that occupied the depths. They would surface, breaking the water and letting their soft cries carry through the night–paean to her ears.[break][break]

Becalming, even if she was lost to these waters.[break][break]

The engine went cold. The rumblings of the motorcycle died as Bailey Cooper approached the edge, feeling soft, river-made sand seep between her toes.[break][break]

It wasn't what she wanted. She had thought of Slateport–thought of the beach and the night spent there–but had known that it would have been out of her reach.[break][break]

Cold fingers sought one of the capsules from the pocket of her slacks, widening its round shape with a tap to its center; she threw the pokeball, unsure why the sight of the Milotics seemed to distract her during this trying time; unsure why their lullfull songs seemed to react to her presence, beckoning with their siren-like reassurances; words murmured against her ears, as if to say that everything was going to be alright.[break][break]

The ball spun through the air, colliding against one of the shadowy figures before it hit the surface of the waters; floating and trembling as if she had cast a lure.[break][break]

ufzZzRf7[break][break]

edit: fuck my luck.

[attr="class","frlastconttag2"]

tag: @swarm
notes: ...

persephone is already familiar with the pokemon — the glimmer of their scales, their inexplicable serenity. her own pokemon of the same species has served her well.

she's standing at the water's edge, caught within the gathering crowd. among the bodies persephone watches, expression soft with awestruck wonder, as the pokemon languidly furl and unfurl; CHRYSANTHEMUM in bloom.

seeing a few of the others attempt to throw their capsules into the water, most missing with soft plops, persephone attempts to follow suit.

please

3LBGdObA