"don't flatter yourself. no one else paid him any mind." it comes out naturally, the teasing lilt, as though she hasn't been gone over a week. as though she's not trying to extract him from herself as carefully as she can right now. 

"what do you mean stop? i'm going to get us home. i have to get us home."


"home? there's no gettin' home, freya. this is our life now. accept it like i 'ave. it's easier that way."

"it's - " she struggles for words. the complicated doesn't feel right. it won't stop his wondering and that will undoubtedly lead to remembering. 

to pain. 

to the realization that she's failed him before. over and over and over again for twenty years, she's failed him.

"you don't need to worry about that. please give it back."

KING WAYLAND

☉

he drifts closer. she drops a hand in warning as he peruses her things, but grips the edge of the duffel bag rather than his wrist. he pulls the crown up and her gaze flickers from it, to him, searching for some semblance of recognition. worry knits in her chest; it was painful remembering, in the beginning. it was painful writing it all down. 

more than once, she'd had to blot the blood dripping down her nose. 

"i've been in ever grande. i would have come to get my things sooner, but there's a chance fernando's watching me." she raises her chin. "matias brought you - us - up in the aqua meeting. fernando...followed up."

a glimmer of fear, blinked away just as quickly as it comes. she shifts her weight.

"you can tell her what you want. it doesn't - " concern me anymore. the words dry up in her throat. no, no, no. no cracking. 

"can i have that back please?"

KING WAYLAND

☉

she could crumble under the weight of that gaze. but it's not his piecing it together that hurts. it's the way he looks over her, through her, looking for something. not finding it. instead, likening her to the very person who seeks to see her, and by proxy him, burn. 

a flinch, but she doesn't have the fight. an argument means an attempt at a resolution. an attempt to salvage.

"yeah. yeah, maybe it is." 

she shivers, remembering fernando's thrusted palm, the nauseating panic in her throat. works the grimace down before it can come up, keeps pale eyes quieted, maelstrom bottled tight. 

"but i don't care," she lies. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

her lips curl faintly. the ghost of a smile. and then it fades to a look of weary complacency. hours before, hours, she'd spent working out all the knots in her feelings, hammering her temper around the edges so if, for some ungodly reason, he happened to be here, she could remain composed. 

she could do this. because she has to. 

"i put myself in the spotlight. and you. and delta. and now it's not safe." she gestures to the bag. "so i'm fixing it."

KING WAYLAND

☉

her pokeballs first. the ones she kept under the bed, on a rotation with her dragons, in case the worst happened and she couldn't access a pc. those in a leather bag and tossed in the duffel. the photo of herself and her family on her bedside table, fingertips lingering on the frame beside it - of herself, arm wrapped around king's waist, his hand on delta's shoulder. the only picture they have of each other. 

and then in the closet, moving aside shoes to grab the shoebox. the hand towel discarded on the bed, simple crown in hand, cold in her fingers.

she's still holding it when the floor creaks. her shoulders hunch and she doesn't turn. not until the crown is safely packed under a few shirts. and then she faces him, thumbs the hood down. 

"you were right," she says. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

that explosive green light envelops his untamed dragon, singeing feathers and fur alike. they go down screeching and for the umpteenth time this combat, the rocket rider tumbles from his mount's back. ready for this, lyune ripes through the space where the hydreigon was, fangs bared to catch the rocket in his jaw. 

but freya jerks him to the side and he's left snapping at air. he turns tightly, tail lashing in frustration, pupils narrowed in concentrated bloodlust. her snarls tear through the wind and the dragon's own curdling growls, taking control of his weathered mind. 

another brood, this of lyune's own ilk, fills the space. expert eyes rake over its form and she knows the battle is won. 

the creature is not used to its new body.

resentment twists in her gut. already, one of his own pokemon have fallen. if he hadn't withdrawn the hydreigon, it would have met the mandibuzz's same end. and now he dare challenge her in the sky, dwarfed as his salamence is by lyune's shadow?

lyune hovers in the air, muscles rolling. freya could order dripping molten fangs to rip away the salamence's underbelly, to burrow into the soft flesh underneath and end this once and for all, but instead she releases the reins and reaches for her hip. 

the double-edge collides with a hexagonal barrier of lyune's own making. the glasslike substance cracks, splinters, and then bursts in bright white light and as the protect fades, the rocket operative will realize he's surrounded on all sides by four larger, hungrier dragons. 

"you're an insult to your dragons," she says. lyune turns his head, exposing freya so she might meet him eye to eye. "go - before more needless blood is shed."

Kouji Matsubara

salamence uses protect

☉

her wounds have healed, for the most part. the bite marks from her dragons are silver needlepoints on her arm and with time, those too will fade. several days have passed since she made her bed, several days of sleepless nights in ever grande's hotel room. 

she couldn't go home and everything that had happened with the tunnels was enough of an excuse to stay nearby. 

on a cookie cutter table, under art of ever grande's local flora, freya puts the bones on the table. she digs her fingers into the carcass and reads the grooves of calcium decay, the scorch-marked innards that don't make the future unintelligible - they make it final. 

the truth of it? she did not build a home for him inside of her. she built a prison. 

so it's under the purview of night that she returns, hoodie drawn up to hide her starlit hair. he's a man of his rituals. he should be at his warehouse, several blocks away, training, when she arrives. she slides her key into the lock and climbs the stairs, treads as quietly as she can up to their shared bedroom and once inside, she drops her duffel bag and starts packing. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

gunmetal falls over gold and all he will find is the last fleeting bit of anger and frustration as coolness draws tautly over her like a film. there is an uncomfortable, forced resignation with which she holds his gaze, and a muscle in her jaw flicks as he speaks. 

FERNANDO SILPH is the most tenured. 

PENELOPE LIVY is head of accountability. 

and kyle lopez, kyle, is the one who threw him to the wolves in the first place. 

why should it be her? 

still, the idea of shoving freshly awakened wounds back under gauze (it's a children's band-aid, at best) and pretending she's not bleeding out sounds marvelous. thinking about how they nearly died is much more preferable. more familiar. 

she shoves the door open and gestures him inside. 

"so what, in your opinion, navidson, went wrong?" 

Michael Navidson

☉

she slams the door shut behind her. fire coils in her, burning at her edges, and she does not linger beside his door, but she is aware of every click of her flats, knowing all too well that he is listening. she cannot be too hasty in her retreat. she cannot run away from this. he will see this. he will know. 

but down the hall, across the courtyard, her steps quicken, and her fingers bite into the meat of her palms and everything she had and hadn't felt scathes her skin. self-doubt, held at bay because of her need to survive in front of him, rushes in like a starving wolf. 

a few steps away. she yearns to withdraw lyune, to fly away - no, toward - him, and that too could finish her. fernando could finish her.

Yer gonna be the reason I'm dragged out ta the light.

her office. she can hole up there, spit up the bones and piece through them and stop lying to herself. that it's true. they're dead and she killed them.

"You look like one of Vortigern's kids when they get bit, you alright?"

head snaps up. freedom clenched in her fingers. pale eyes dart from the half-open door to navy. she struggles to regain her fraying composure. 

"what? i'm fine. now, if you'll excuse me - " 

Michael Navidson

☉

ink bleeds around the edges, changing the shape of his face, adding greys to his hair, lines that aren't there after she blinks. she nearly yawns and takes a sip of her coffee to hide it, not wanting to be rude. his surprise, at first, makes her heart sink. so many have forgotten. 

she would rather they forget, but it does not make it any less lonely.

and then, as though reading her thoughts, he gives her a gift that strips her of her every defense. her nose stuffs up as she swallows back tears and though her eyes go glassy, it's not noticeable against the backdrop of her exhaustion. joy flutters over her lips, even as he gestures at her current state. 

"ruling kingdoms didn't allow for many pleasantries," she says, fondness dripping from her voice. "i...how much do you remember? because yeah, no one else i know can - hey! melusine, you put those rations down now."

the roaring moon slams her tail into the ground, sending a spray of sand over some folks carrying cargo. the sizeable crack she'd made in the crate of food is hastily attended to and freya sighs. snapping fingers and a low hiss bring the dragon's attention back to the matter at hand. 

"i guess now isn't really the time to talk about this." she eyes him and then looks down at herself. "that bad, mm? i'm used to the fighting, but i'm...not sleeping well. i'll recover when this is all over," she says with a wave of her hand. 

"how are we here? any issues securing the beach?"

Isaac Merlo

☉

the door yawns open. her lips purse, faint smile tugging at the corners. she will not forgive him for this - for admitting, in six words, that he has taken this last hour, her dire confession and dumped it in the proverbial trash. 

she will not forgive him for allowing her to believe, for a single moment, that he ruined her. that a man like him could ever ruin her. 

"call me anything but morningstar again and i'll cut out your tongue," she says and slams the door shut behind her. 

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

the shadow over the water really does look like a shadow, with the black-scaled charizard and its masked rider, similarly cloaked, atop it. though she can't judge for gaudy - or, more apt in his case, moody - attire. her gloves are fashioned into claws, for gods' sake. 

keen eyes and a warning snort from lyune make freya flatten herself against his neck. he tucks both of his wings and the arrow glances off of his armored chest with a shriek. 

she turns her head and spies the projectile, lips curling into an amused grin.

one hand twists lyune's reins around her arm. the other reaches for the devon tech quiver at her side. a press of a button and an arrowhead drops into her waiting palm. she pinches it between her fingers; it clings securely to the grooves in her clawed gloves. 

the salamence overtakes them with a few more strokes of powerful wings. the aerialist in her has already calculated the distance, the turning of his wings. the flat of her foot finds the release for his left wing and it's drawn in. the other launches them in an overhead somersault. 

freya's hair whips down and around her as the world tilts on his axis, the rocket no longer below, but above her as she draws back her own shot. silver gleams and the yellow-tipped arrowhead arcs through the air. 

before it reaches him, it implodes and sends out a sparking wave of electricity. 

BARNABY FINCH

thunder wave arrow
3/15 total raid arrows used

☉

lyune isn't anticipating the voracity of the dragon pulse aimed right up his keister. he spasms, tail lashing, and fires off a jet of angry blue flame. freya grips her cape, raising it above her as the flames billow by. they crackle, but wash harmlessly over her shoulder. 

below them, sand turns to rocky crag, the beginnings of a lush forest crawling over rough stone. 

a tree fells and freya whistles. lulu and her noivern have the height advantage for now. lyune levels out, circling back on micolash. freya throws a grin over her shoulder as melusine bursts from the trees and races toward the noivern with claws outstretched. 

Lulu Flint

☉