the urshifu is big, but it's damn fast, and unless he's in the air, he has little hope of avoiding the bear's attacks. so he doesn't. a hexagonal barrier glitters over his scales, sparing him the brunt of the attack, but allowing him to keep him close. his slit eyes fixate, neck squirming, and the brutal triangular shape of his head lashes out like a blur, fangs seeking flesh. 

he's ripped apart vertebrate by burrowing into flesh, splattered his mistress with viscera let blood fall from the sky like unholy rain. freya's gaze darts to him, but she does not urge him to hold back.

navy can take it, and so can his urshifu. 

"someone asked me once," she starts, bittersweet smile, "what i'd do instead. if we didn't have to fight. and i couldn't think of anything. then, i was still content to let myself immolate on the battlefield for the sake of martyrdom.

"raising a few dragons proper doesn't sound so bad anymore." she bares her teeth. "but first we need to take sootopolis back."

Michael Navidson

☉

so the story unravels. she wants to pick at it, to uncover just how many people knew before this all came out, but that would only lead to more frustrations. and a pockmarked past that could not change the present or their futures. so she lets it rest. 

the grander scheme of it all can't be ignored. distrust with the league, she can understand. she'd been there herself. were it her two years ago, she may have kept it to herself. were she in his position, traveling alone, a child, she would have without a doubt. 

she grabs beakers and trinkets, goes about setting the place ablaze because he already knows what's happened should they fix it. 

"i can forgive that. thank you for telling me." words without bite. "at the end of the day, aqua is a decision. skyler and angelo were free agents for a very long time before they signed on." and now they're gone. like so many others. 

"we don't ask anyone to do anything against their will. we're meant to be the antithesis to rocket." unspoken lay the truth - that they are not always. 

Hideo Kino

Destroy it and the workshop.

☉

she wrings her hands together nervously. they'd been up early, spending a considerate amount of time in the air above ever grande general. she'd done most of the talking (of course), but even that had been scarce. and it was like this - 

"i'm sorry that it's taken so long. that we couldn't do better. that i hurt you. that i let you get hurt." he had been affronted. he had rolled his shoulders, threatened to toss her off for the blasphemy. "that i hadn't been stronger then."

and that satisfied him. 

now, outside the hospital, with him back in his ball because he's simply too big and this is, after all, a hospital, her anxieties needle her. she is stuck in a constant loop of but doug trusts it. doug can do this. it will be okay.

John Sullivan

☉

she wears her sygna suit and the metal gleams strangely off the lights in the ever grande offices, but she doesn't receive any looks. officers and rangers are too busy running on too little sleep and too much coffee.

the waterfall is familiar in a nostalgic way. she hasn't spent much time in melody's chambers, but it reminds her of home. of their home. it hurts, but not as much as it makes her think of what's yet to come. 

"melody?" she calls. the shiny dratini draped over freya's shoulders wriggles when they cross the threshold into the e4 chambers and launches itself into the nearest pool of water so it can playfully splash about. 

Melody Miro

☉

she thought this much wouldn't have changed. in the bar, over shittier whiskey than what's still on her tongue, she'd promised him her stint in slateport was an accident. she'd said she hadn't wanted to come around and he'd said it was for the better.

better for delta that she weren't around. 

her arms open and there is no hesitation, not even a flicker to king to make sure this is okay, because she has missed her so dearly. she hugs her around her sides and squeezes her until she hears an oof and then she takes her hand and she presses it to the dragon's side.

rough fur scrapes under the pads of her fingers. "nah, she's got too much fire in her." she lifts her gaze. "but maybe we give you a jangmo-o. i'll have some soon. it's breeding season and the draciary's - well, we can talk about that later. can i show you something, delta?

"we've started to call them raging bolts, but that's our tongue." the raikou-adjacent paradox turns its head, feathered frills on its head flattening as it listens. and when she whispers, "korinthir bluthel," its head snaps around, pupils narrowing until they're thin as slits. 

its maw opens, fangs exposed, and a serpentine tongue flicks out to graze freya's chin. she trails her fingertips down its front and it goes cross-eyed, relaxing. her lips quirk. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

"he knows it's necessary," she says. necessary and demeaning. the intensity of his pride is on par with her own and even after all this time, the vice grips him still. if she can gift him this happiness, at the behest of her better judgment against trusting the tapus, doesn't she owe him that much?

"i don't think we're meant to," she adds. "live that long. i mean, obviously, but." she rubs her face tiredly. half a dozen heads assault her with nervous licking when she nears the nesting tree of her hydrapple. 

"i didn't tell you, did i? about the other life i lived. no, that's not right. that i watched myself live?" for so many long, arduous years. "lately i've felt...bigger than myself. so full of memories that shouldn't be here. that aren't really mine."

she stops, plops right on the grassy knoll and lets pumkin and squib nibble at the fruity treats in her pockets. and she laughs suddenly, almost breathlessly. 

"you can't remember more than the last six months. i can't stop remembering sixty years, all folded on top of each other."

ana fell

☉

another tidbit she's quick to forget. she tries not to think about the mad scientist lab ana's made out of her basement. there's enough time in her schedule to help her forget and even in her idle hours, her worries turn to other matters. 

other memories. 

"you're right," she says. of course she is. it's hard to look at ana and remember the saddest woman she'd ever seen. cygne's as dead as sima 1.0, any attempt at reanimation stamped back into the earth with a homebrew lobotomy.

so it makes sense when she asks, when she doesn't know, and part of freya is grateful she doesn't remember the flurry of claws, the vicious tearing of spine from throat. lyune's mechanical skeleton screeching as he fought for purchase on her dragon. she'd shot cygne too, in that leg. is that the one she needs replacing? 

"years ago, during the first ultra beast invasion. from a guzzlord that nearly leveled mossdeep. i was a wreck after," she says and they move as they walk. syrup-sweet fragrance fills the air and two flapple dive down to teeth playfully at their hair. 

"but alex made the harness he wears. it gives him the support he needs to move the muscle on his left wing. it's easier for him when i'm in the saddle, changing the gears." she grimaces. "manual versus automatic, i guess? but i know he hates it. he's always hated it.

"he's lived centuries in that body," she says, as though they're interchangeable. as though there's any other way to live. does he remember what it was like to be a shelgon? to be less of himself? 

"you're not cutting off your leg without me there," she says with a tired sigh. 

ana fell
( ALEXANDER STONE )

☉

she has been to so many cities in the past few hours, grazing by and touching them like checkpoints. reports are filtered as best as they can be, but most of it is noise, and her frustratoon at their lack of intel is palpable. already, she's snapped at the last two officers she's seen loitering with empty hands.

half a dozen of her roaring moons circle above them, casting long shadows. dewford isn't the only city with the flying sentinels. dragon tamers from the league's official draciary have been deployed to all major towns.

ori is behind her, the smallest of her salamence, but with him at her heels and the glinting of her silver sygna suit, she pitches an intimidating figure.

"break when this is over, ca - is that you, noel?" the barking orders soften when she recognizes him.

Noel Parker

☉

"then we have a lot in common," she says wryly. the entirety of her second stint as councilwoman has been a second chance at proving her worth, at setting herself back on a path she'd strayed from for far too long. though she's far from desiree's world, she's not surprised to hear she's had to climb a ladder of respect for herself.

"i'll have you get in touch with my assistant, Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki. she oversees my schedule."

at the offer of armor, freya's lips quirk, and amusement spills in golds when she offers a pretty, frilly dress. the last time she'd done herself up, it had been in a tight slip of fabric, chic but not ostentatious, and too quickly after wearing it the first time she'd damaged it. 

well, KING WAYLAND had damaged it. 

"if you've a sygna suit, i suggest training with one, otherwise just make sure you don't wear something that will slow you down. i'll see you soon, ms blooms."

DESIREE BLOOMS

☉

childbearing has always been given little thought. should she have wanted her family's legacy to continue, she could always adopt, as they had with her. but is it different now? her hand drifts closer to her own midsection. the blood of the draconids runs through her, but even if she wanted to - 

they put her back together again after the fall. after her body was broken apart on the bluffs by tentacruel too big for this world. hoenn's best surgeons, saving the councilwoman that would abandon them soon after, though not before telling her there were parts of her they couldn't replace.

"but if it's something you don't want, there are surgeons who specialize in this." her voice lacks force. it's a losing battle and besides, it's already been done. "can you at least tell me when you do these things so i can make sure i'm there in case something goes wrong?"

she rearranges their schedule on the tablet at her hip. they won't be able to tend to the garchomp or the roaring moons or her new paradox pokemon with ana actively bleeding. she swaps duties with some of the caretakers of the applin line and dragonair, satisfied when she sees a confirmation thumbs up from their messages. 

"meru and inari have reproduced with him before, but that was years ago. he hasn't mated since his wing was damaged, but - " she starts and scratches her cheek, "i think i found someone who can help me heal him. to make him whole again."

no metal supports. no special saddle. no pain with every beat of his wings. 

ana fell

☉

she doesn't yet know if he has it in him to tame dragons. he's timid and easily flustered. not good signs to start off with, but not impossible. people like Gwendolyn Conway have flourished here, working among the dragons. still, maybe she's better off starting him with a goomy than the cross salamence and its anxious hissing. 

when the empoleon emerges, freya is satisfied and nods to him before stepping away to join lyune's side. his presence will keep the smaller female in check. 

"you can't hold back," she says. "salamence - they're ruthless. she won't respect you until you beat her. really beat her."

porter holmes

☉

a burden she hadn't realized she'd still been carrying is lifted from her shoulders. of all the regrets in her life, of which she has many, that has still remained one of her most painful. trust had gone up like smoke paper and the ash will never be wiped clean from her slate. 

the rest of the sanctuary is still abuzz with activity. nesting season is almost upon them and with the threat of an unruly roaring moon passed, tamers and breeders go back to rearranging items in their vicinity. 

freya takes them to an outdoor sink so she can properly wash her hands. she frowns down into the sudsy water. 

"my family taught me. they weren't draconids themselves, but - " what? what were they to the zinnia? to the family she never knew? had they known her birth mother? her father?

she realizes she stopped talking and finishes with, "they kept their traditions alive. and when they adopted me, they taught me too."

annalise henderson

☉

some sembleance of a plan, pitiful as it may be, begins to form. her cellmate's the engineering type and as she grows excited at the prospects, she achingly reminds her of ana fell . just as quickly does she burn away the budding likeness. wondering about the whereabouts of her loved ones will not serve a purpose here.

only working and waiting and planning for opportunity. in the end, they don't take from the pile of stones, an agreement made of practicality. they fear the retribution, having no idea the rules of this place, and when their fears are realized, freya closes her eyes and wishes she could unhear their screams.

"it's freya, by the way. my name. freya morningstar," she admits to her partner, an invitation to a pact.

but before all that - before the dripping viscera and the crowning of their accomplishments, she sees a mark of her own making. silver and rough, in the shape of her own teeth, and then it takes only a heartbeat to remember him.

as he was -

they stand on a patchy knoll. grass tries and fails to grow through the rotted soil, this far from the inner walls. bodies lay around them - twisted limbs and macabre shapes that bleed more poison into the earth. her hand drifts from an iron crown on her head and down, without looking, to find his. they don't talk much, the two of them. they never do. but sometimes they reach for each other.

a small comfort for the touch-starved souls they are.

as he is -

an amalgamation of hatred, god-touched and stripped of what little humanity had once remained. rocket's wolf had died in galar, but that fading watercolor ink had been his resurrection. the memories on her conscious are riddled with holes. too long she's gone without reminding herself of the history, tracing logs in a blood-stained diary.

he's better off forgotten.

the hours blur together and firstly, she clasps hands with her cellmate, trusting her because who else is there to trust? "stay close to me," she urges and then another's hand slips into hers. she knows him before she sees him and emotion burns way to logic.

he has the strength to get us out.

she turns her head and behind her mask, golds glimmer. wordlessly, she squeezes tightly, holding onto him as though he were a figment to a forgotten world, just as he had been in that faraway dream.

their warden presents them a game. two stand out to her with their familiar voices, both fighting their inevitabilities. frustration knifes through her. indignation and refusal has come back on others seven-old. do they not understand that there is no fair here? that they might make it worse yet for them all?

"the weakling ward," she says loudly, voice thick with conviction and so very staunchly, recognizably freya.

her decision is made with ease. had that been Isaac Merlo up there in the dummy ward, beaten within an inch of his life?

PRISMATIC PENITENTIARY
ugly ward

SPOILER: Click to show

tells aurelie her name
mostly fluff about jayden hey bestie
angry with yuina and navy (though she doesn't recognize them)
chooses weakling ward. feel free to recognize her.

☉