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is it feasible for rocket to have changed much since taking over sootopolis? would they break the city down piece by piece and mold it to their desires?

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she's uncertain they'd have the gall, perhaps.

[break][break]

"i've received intel that there's a tunnel system attached to the cave of origin."

[break][break]

she doesn't quite mention where she received it, using a slight of hand to distract and keep his attention on the important pieces.

[break][break]

"the league could potentially get into the city through those tunnels if we can find where they start."

[attr="class","oocnotes"]ALEXANDER STONE [break]
warnings of war.

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she stares, unwavering, as she hovers over his desk. her presence isn't imposing, per se, but it has a different tone than before. something less timid and more otherworldly.

[break][break]

the slow blink, while noticed, is not touched upon. she allows him the comfort of having things to himself, perhaps.

[break][break]

"and i believe you might find it interesting."

[break][break]

unlikely, given his lack of general interest in anything else other than work, but that makes no difference. this is not a matter of interest, but of vindication.

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"palkia showed back up to stop kyurem."

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FERNANDO SILPH [break]
smile

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"yeah, the plan is likely no longer feasible like it was in the past."

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no matter... they'll find a way through. she has faith in those above them to make it happen.

[break][break]

she takes another few bites of food, eyes glazing over slightly in thought as she stares down at the schematics. she believes, in a halfway confident sort of way, that there's a different path inside sootopolis - they simply need to find it.

[break][break]

and briefly, like a small sparking flash, the conversation she had with Cillian Quinn on the shores of mossdeep city comes back in tiny little whispers. cave systems. tera crystals. could that be the key?

[break][break]

"i was going to be part of the strike team as support."

[break][break]

now, she can't hide behind triage symbols and medical supplies. she is no longer a toss-able piece of the board. sometimes, she resents it.

[break][break]

"you're familiar with sootpolis's landscape, right?"

[break][break]

after all, his former gym was there.

[attr="class","oocnotes"]ALEXANDER STONE [break]
warnings of war.

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his question makes her pause, hands stilling mid repair. what do they want? is it something simple or intricate? preservation or eradication? the pink glow fluctuates slightly as if spurred on by her spiraling thoughts. she has to stop them, has to refocus, before she's sent too far into an abyss of her own making.

[break][break]

"no, but whatever it is? it's not good for us."

[break][break]

not just us as in the universe, but avatars... she suspects her idle spoken prophecies to Isaac Merlo may yet come to pass. will people believe her in the end? the loss of avatars in an all out war, the reckoning foreseen in the future terminal of the cloud. would she be cursed to be ignored, forsaken, labeled crazy and locked away in a hollow prison?

[break][break]

"i don't think we've seen the worst of their actions yet, but we will."

[break][break]

soon, even, if the foreboding sensation in her bones is anything to put faith in. she feels the coming fallout, the end of ages as they know it. it feels, vaguely, like the breaking of human laws and morals in favor of the superiority of the divine. it will end in blood, destruction, death - a regular greek tragedy, if you will.

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the rift she had been working on finishes stitching together with a final sizzle of spatial energy cooling and she shifts to the one a few feet away. she hears him, briefly, as she idly works and her eyes follow for a moment as he begins to depart.

[break][break]

"okay."

[break][break]

with him searching for any additional tears in reality's fabric, she seals the second and the third. they exhaust her, she realizes, but it must be done. time is no longer on their side and even if it was, it has just about run out.

[break][break]

his voice returns. it beckons her attention. her hands still and her head pivots like clockwork. she blinks, focusing not on the glass panel beyond but on him, her lost brother, her lost other half.

[break][break]

"last one..."

[break][break]

she holds her breath in concentration. palkia drifts closer to aid in the final sealing and with both halves of space brought together, she feels atlas's burden lessen against her shoulders. the last spatial wound screams its way into a newfound closure and she hisses through the strain of keeping control, of struggling and failing to maintain barely tethered control.

[break][break]

the world fluctuates around them. the labyrinth rearranges itself into something whole, stitched back together despite the last grain of sand falling victim to the gravity of the hourglass. before the countdown could end, they succeeded... but at what cost?

[break][break]

"done."

[break][break]

palkia roars - a sound akin to shattering glass - and she tenses.

[break][break]

this doesn't feel like it should. there's a hollowness still persisting even with the universe now restored... for it is the beginning of a long-coming pyrrhic victory and no amount of alchemy can prevent the inevitable from coming for her holy head.

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jayden cross [break]
palkia follow up.

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as chaos descends upon the prison, she feels the tides shift. it's subtle, barely more than a faint tug toward one side of the conflict... but it's enough, perhaps, to evolve a spark into a wildfire.

[break][break]

and she tries to stay close to her allies, to Roy Aker, paxton concordas, and PENELOPE LIVY, but everything goes purple and her body begins to feel like fire with each step she takes. her teeth clench as if that'll stop the pain - futile, she fears, for the searing sensation of burning from the inside out spreads and spreads until she's not certain what could remain viable.

[break][break]

with the onslaught of poison descending upon her body, her strained grip on control wanes. it falters, slipping from her fingers quicker than ever before. it results in small purple bursts of toxic spatial energy radiating out from her body with each step. they're smaller, slightly more contained than the bigger bursts... but she feels one of painful destruction building in the background. it's akin to a swell of waves - smaller at first until the giant tidal wave gains enough momentum to come in from the sea.

[break][break]

"go."

[break][break]

she mumbles the plea to paxton concordas, PENELOPE LIVY, and Roy Aker as she stumbles a little ways away from them. the further she can get, the better...

[break][break]

it leads her closer to the gaggle of nihilego trying to take down other prisoners (DESIREE BLOOMS, Genevieve Cromwell) and with a pleading look for them to run, to escape, her purple power begins to grow further. she sinks toward the ground, folding in on herself in an attempt to keep it contained until they're out of harms way.

[break][break]

and once she swears she no longer sees blurry outlines of other people, her control snaps.

[break][break]

with a pained yelp, a large toxic spatial eruption immediately blossoms out from the alchemist's body (it looks like this hehe, pls click for a reference). it spreads in a large radius toward any nearby bodies, though she feebly tries to direct the main decay to the nihilego.

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after, her body slumps into exhaustion and pushing herself back up onto her feet is a painful endeavor she hisses through. even standing, in the end, proves to be difficult for her body sways and falters, staggering toward whatever semblance of an exit she can conjure up in her poisoned delusion.

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toxic chain ability:[break]
toxic spatial eruption - illeana's spatial powers struggle against the toxic chain and result in a pulsing eruption of toxic spatial energy from her body/the chains that is a corrupted version of her normal spatial erosion, essentially lacing the erosion with radiation and toxins to cause the rapid acceleration of decay to the landscape (and megalopolans) around them.

[attr="class","oocnotes"]8WUq3lDR [break]
Roy Aker [break]
poisoned smile, losing control more rapidly,[break]
trying to keep a distance between herself & others,[break]
unleashes another toxic spatial eruption at the nihilego,[break]
exhaustion is settling in...

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they might prove useful, perhaps, but she wonders if they'll be utilized in the end... for there's too many options to choose from now with war looming on the horizon. do they still go for surprise with a distraction? do they strike from underground, sea, or sky?

[break][break]

there's too many moving pieces and it frustrates her, she realizes, to not have a semblance of control.

[break][break]

"what are the other options?"

[break][break]

she takes the outstretched container from him with a small, grateful smile before grabbing her own utensils and beginning to pick at the top layer of food. it tastes amazing and she can feel the rumbling of her empty stomach slowly begin to subside.

[break][break]

"there was going to be two operations with two teams - one small team designated for striking the submarine and a larger team for distracting the sootopolis population with a secret concert held by Melody Miro."

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she pauses to take another bite of food. after chewing and swallowing, she continues.

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"CIAN MAHER had discussed the weakest parts of the submarine with me. they're marked with x's on the schematics, but they would be utilized as entry points for the strike team to get in, disable the submarine, and get out."

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now... she suspects it'd be worthwhile for the league to go with a different option - one that is less subtle and more heavy handed aggression.

[attr="class","oocnotes"]ALEXANDER STONE [break]
warnings of war.

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as time seemingly ticks by, she feels each staggering crawl into the dream world a little clearer. at first, she hadn't noticed it, but now? she's certain: there's no spatial disruptions at play here. whether its simply not within palkia's domain due to being a dream or something else, she can't be sure... but there is no denying the oddity.

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she wonders, briefly, how time could exist without space's influence tethered to its sandy grains, but the thought doesn't go much further as her real body startles into a new day of waking. the thought is replaced with echoes of a very faint familiarity, one that sows whispers of willpower.

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and when she blinks sleep from her eyes, she feels a slight surge in her veins. it's subtle, not like the comfortable torrent of spatial power she's grown used to, but it's enough...

[break][break]

Roy Aker 's voice cuts through her stupor and after a moment, she rises. the chains flex, but they feel different, as if they're embedded with newfound power.

[break][break]

"okay."

[break][break]

where he breaks through the bars with little effort, she takes a few steps forward and begins to feel the crumbling of restraint. it starts slow, like a trickle of water struggling to break loose from a crack in a dam. a few more steps and there's more water - less a trickle and more a steady stream.

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by the time they're out into the hallway, she feels the dam break and she hisses, body folding slightly beneath the sudden onslaught of warring powers. the spatial powers are so close she can taste them on her tongue, but they're corrupted... tinged purple instead of pink and leaving a bitter taste on the tongue. she tries to squeeze her eyes shut, tries to focus, but she knows it's too much.

[break][break]

"PENELOPE LIVY , where are you?"

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her voice sounds erratic, strained, panicked. it echoes against stone walls and when she opens her eyes, she swears she sees erosion.

[break][break]

"follow us!"

[break][break]

Roy Aker leads them toward the feeding pit, closer to the bottom of the prison, but she can't leave PENELOPE LIVY behind. she keeps trying to turn, to look over her shoulder for the councilwoman, but every movement causes another ripple of purple.

[break][break]

and as she turns back, she sees the cost of losing control.

[break][break]

purple bursts of corrupted spatial energy begin to emit from her body, almost like her normal spatial erosion, but she can tell it's wrong - unholy, sacrilege... she bares teeth at the sight of it. the toxic chains on her body pulse as they try to fight for dominance over her own spatial powers - the only thing she had desired in recent times, perhaps - and the result is a toxin filled version of her power. she can smell the metal in the air as radiation and toxins leak out from her body in a fucked up spatial erosion wave.

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the megalopolans screech as they try to stop them. she wants to warn them to get away. she wants to scream and shoo and plead for their retreat... but it's no use. they - like the landscape around them - slowly succumb to the rapid acceleration of a decaying reality. she has to turn away from their purpling bodies and keep moving as she struggles to keep powers under control with white knuckles threatening to break.

[break][break]

toxic chain ability:[break]
toxic spatial eruption - illeana's spatial powers struggle against the toxic chain and result in a pulsing eruption of toxic spatial energy from her body/the chains that is a corrupted version of her normal spatial erosion, essentially lacing the erosion with radiation and toxins to cause the rapid acceleration of decay to the landscape (and megalopolans) around them.

[attr="class","oocnotes"]338Ons6h [break]
Roy Aker [break]
senses no spatial disruption here,[break]
feels willpower trickling in & listens to roy's warning,[break]
calls for penny as they begin to leave their cells,[break]
struggling with control as powers try to come back,[break]
erosion smile.

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at the sound of his familiar voice, her eyes drift up from work to find him making his way into the lab. a moment later, a smile rises.

[break][break]

"ooh, perfect, thank you."

[break][break]

she can't remember if she even ate lunch, but the food smells heavenly.

[break][break]

a beat passes and she blinks at the question. her eyes take a moment to drift from him down to the schematics.

[break][break]

"yes, CIAN MAHER gave them to me for the sootopolis attack a while back."

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unfortunately, it has yet to come to fruition... she tastes a slight bitterness on her tongue.

[attr="class","oocnotes"]ALEXANDER STONE [break]
warnings of war.

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their life becomes nothing more than a meaningless routine - endless, boring, continuously going through the motions. she's tired of how easy it is to lose oneself in this type of schedule, as if it's all they've ever known.

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she despises it, really, but what else can they do?

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for the most part, she stays close to Roy Aker throughout the day. they do their tasks in distracted silence and when they return to the cell, she quickly slips into a restless sleep...

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the dream world is the only place she really feels like life comes back in small pink sparks.

[break][break]

here, she speaks with annalise henderson, paxton concordas, and Greyson Connors... as well as hunts down THEO BECKETT and jayden cross. she's wild, free, able to be everything or nothing as she damn chooses. there's no chains, no restraints keeping her as one single entity or as a prisoner of whoever their wardens work for. she falls asleep each night and awakens into this dream more alive than ever.

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every night - like clockwork, really - she visits the cryostasis chambers where her pokemon rest. her hand rests against the glass and despite splitting open the skin on the back of her knuckles, she still has yet to break her way into getting her team out. even with a pleading look toward the sleeping azelf, she has been unsuccessful for now. she suspects, soon, that perhaps things will shift and her luck will change.

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and as days blend together, it's the only thing keeping her fully sane now... well, aside from Roy Aker's familiar and comforting presence throughout each day. they work, they dream, and she plots nothing but escape after escape.

[attr="class","oocnotes"]t8FsW|BT [break]
Roy Aker [break]
routine is boring, dream world isn't[break]
keeps trying to wake up palkia...

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once his explanation is laid out in the open, along with each of the beasts in question, she nods in understanding.

[break][break]

"okay, though i'd caution against calling them hoennian forms... we're still conducting research into their correct origins."

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something about their existence, about the area they call home, feels entirely different than anything related to this region. they feel ancient, reminiscent of hisuian pokemon yet not exactly the same. they're a new discovery she's been working on sinking her teeth into, one day at a time.

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palkia watches each of the beasts with narrowed eyes. she feels the change in demeanor well before its tail flicks more forcibly at her side. irritation bleeds through the dragon, she notes with a quick glance.

[break][break]

"you can test them against us as long as that's alright with you."

[break][break]

he mentions something else, then, and her eyes drift to the small rainbow feather pinned to the fabric of his outfit. right, she had seen that email. she remembers it well, in fact.

[break][break]

"we can focus on that once these three have been tested."

[break][break]

one thing at a time... easier to digest when the mind is not pulled in several different directions, she reasons.

[attr="class","oocnotes"]Josh Devlin [break]
social - avatar studies.

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she can't put her finger on it, but something feels wrong. each wound closes between her and palkia, sure, but it feels like a feeble patch on a gushing wound... destined to keep reopening if the body twists the wrong way. sand trickles down in the hourglass - not much longer now, she suspects - and instinct screams for more time.

[break][break]

they can't do it all. they need help.

[break][break]

space continues to break without its counterpart, its companion against the eons of immortal existence. she steals a glance at the spatial dragon as it seals yet another open wound.

[break][break]

is it lonely in the sheer nothingness and every thingness of universal expanses? does it call for its brethren when it can no longer bear the weight of its single existence in this world? is that why it called to her and she to it? she suspects loneliness reaches even the holiest of beings in the end. watching things begin, end, and repeat all over again must wear on the mind after decades and ages but where is its counterpart? where is dialga to help return the universe to its divine glory? why is space working without time? how -

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jayden's voice breaks her line of thought and she turns, almost startled in her distraction.

[break][break]

"the drk triad, for one."

[break][break]

always watching, always meddling...

[break][break]

"the creator, too."

[break][break]

how else could they possibly explain how the father could simply sit back and watch its creations burn? how could arceus watch the universe decay unless it wished for it to be so?

[break][break]

she feels a flare of primordial rage - palkia's, not quite her own - and she tenses slightly. ice forms, then, by jayden's hand and they're traversing it to get closer to the next open wound. she propels herself forward a little faster with small bursts of pink energy firing from her hands, expecting him to match her hurry...

[break][break]

for time seems to be against them here.

[break][break]

"these look like the last ones."

[break][break]

she counts three, maybe four, but the rest seem to be sealed by mysterious ore glittering red next to her and palkia's pink spatial energy. they have little to no time left, she fears, but perhaps they'll succeed even without time's help. her head turns quickly to find jayden, to implore him to focus, but she suspects her endeavors would be in vain - he's already present, willing to help aid their spatial cause.

[break][break]

"if you see any new ones, please call them out."

[break][break]

and she gets to work on the closest wound, pink energy once again rising to begin the sealing process.

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jayden cross [break]
palkia follow up.

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the conversation carries itself as any of them do - rotating in a circle of input until something jams up the system.

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and as she turns, as she catches sight of the man she sees as echoes across all lobes of her brain, her expression cracks into a mangled snarl. it sounds like glass shattering beneath a fist.

[break][break]

"you."

[break][break]

pink energy flares up like an open flame absorbing too much oxygen.

[break][break]

and despite annalise henderson stepping between Greyson Connors and THEO BECKETT, despite her body being in the crossfire, illeana loses sight of reason. control snaps with a crazed lunge forward and she's nothing more than a whip of pink and white, lurching herself across the street with a hissed, "i don't give a shit."

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she's careful - barely, but enough - to avoid annalise and greyson in her rampage of bruised and scabbed punches, but the spatial erosion that begins to seep from her body in waves is not. it licks at these imaginary streets, gorging itself on cobblestone and dim lighting until pink flecks of disintegrating ash float up and dissipate.

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sand drops in the hourglass. time is close to running out, but if she could just get one good punch in... call it a taste of long-coming retribution.

[attr="class","oocnotes"]annalise henderson Greyson Connors [break]
THEO BECKETT

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