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POSTED ON Nov 8, 2020 4:48:15 GMT

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heracross

SHINY HERACROSS
MOXIE
throat chop brick break swords dance counter double-edge coaching

-250pd

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unraveled [c]

POSTED ON Nov 8, 2020 1:43:49 GMT

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IN THE[break]
BLOWBACK

JUST A MATTER OF TIME SHE FIGHTS BACK

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kyle lopez

lmfao here we go

[attr="class","bgtk-lyric2"]BUT THERE'S A WHISPER IN HER HEARTBEAT

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It freed itself from the clear glass, and she instead sought to clasp her hands around the paper-construct.[break][break]

Rather than struggle, it seemed to still in the soft crux of her palms; razor-thin appendages raised to drape over her fingers. More akin to a toy than a pokemon, the kartana was expressionless. Maybe as a product of its own exhaustion, it does not fight as one of her fingers gently touched the tip of its horn.[break][break]

Bailey would stare at the revitalized beast, and then stare at Kyle.[break][break]

“I guess?” If it was alive, then what would be done to it? Dissected? Kept in a cage?[break][break]

If it had been dead, then that would have not been an issue.[break][break]

But, now, it breathed in her hands. She could feel the tiny rise of its chest, and could not fight against her own instinct as a Trainer.[break][break]

“Um. Well. It's made of paper... and it can cut stuff...” Her mental gears would grind into motion.[break][break]

“Shredder?” Perfect.[break][break]

“If you don't mention this, I sure as heck won't mention your weird dog thing. Now you got dirt on me, so we're even.”

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and she can hear it just enough to keep her alive

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the volatile

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August 15th

lavaridge

straight

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groudon avatar

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tonight the winds of change are blowing wild and free

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POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 21:07:48 GMT

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It does fucking suck.[break][break]

But, that was not all that there was to the story. “Nothing to be done about it now.”[break][break]

Her gaze flickered back to the war memorial, noting how one of the votives had lost its flame, creasing and folding with its thin strip of smoke.[break][break]

Her hand would scoop an adjacent candle, borrowing its flame to tilt to the wick.[break][break]

“Just gotta appreciate what's still there, I guess?” And she was aware of how the conversation had turned, and the layers it threatened to strip.[break][break]

“But, that's all you can do when everything's said and done. Maybe, someone can learn something from it,” and she would shrug as she'd stack the glass back to its row.[break][break]

“Whatever that means.”

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[attr="class","euterpetag"]Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","euterpenotes"]

. . .

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played by

rascal

the volatile

she/her

August 15th

lavaridge

straight

champion

groudon avatar

372 height

tonight the winds of change are blowing wild and free

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POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 10:51:42 GMT

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She wondered if someone could ever overcome that feeling—that gut twister that was mortality.[break][break]

Every hyper beam. Every scar.[break][break]

The Champion knew how she felt when death hung at the outer banks; knew how it felt to be so scared that the brain would threaten itself in its own preservation. Better to be overcome by inner-shock than to experience the end in full, right?[break][break]

Or, in her case, to recall it in an injection of a vivid syringe that dictated her to move; to course with something unknown as she fell into a twisting, nauseating dance.[break][break]

“Someone helped me.”[break][break]

A pause.[break][break]

“They didn't make it.”[break][break]

But that death bathed her in the energy of V-Create, and she spared a sad smile to its memory.

[attr="class","euterpeline"]

[attr="class","euterpetag"]Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","euterpenotes"]

. . .

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rascal

the volatile

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August 15th

lavaridge

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tonight the winds of change are blowing wild and free

awards

850 posts

DOLLARS

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TAG WITH @bailey

POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 10:34:35 GMT

[nospaces]

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“Nah, nothing so dramatic.”[break][break]

It had plummeted with the collapse of the cycling road. By the time she had found it, it had already been scattered among the rubble and rebar.[break][break]

“I've been in the mouth of one of those things before—I don't recommend it.”[break][break]

Its breath was, somehow, the most poignant part of that memory. Not the blood that had clotted against her face, not the threat of her oncoming demise.[break][break]

But its breath; heavy with a smell of death and metal that could be tasted on the back of her tongue.[break][break]

His next comment would draw a longer pause, a longer silence.[break][break]

“Honestly? Better not to die at all,” and her laugh would be faint, light.

[attr="class","euterpeline"]

[attr="class","euterpetag"]Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","euterpenotes"]

. . .

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TAG WITH @bailey

POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 10:18:22 GMT

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Mauville conjured imagery that she was keen to ignore.[break][break]

“...Guzzlord destroyed my motorcycle,” she would say aloud, like mentioning her hell-ride at the start of the invasion would pull her back from the depths of its end. “I liked that bike, too.”[break][break]

And her insurance was still being slow with processing her claim.[break][break]

She pulled her mental leash tighter, like she was pulling at the very cords that composed the towering Xurkitree; twitching, coiled, and keen.[break][break]

“But, that's the least of the losses.” History would remember it fonder than Mossdeep, but her mind was still refusing to accept it. It still felt half-won. Half-finished.[break][break]

“Good on you for partaking in that,” but, her recollection of the event was incomplete, because she still failed to place his face.[break][break]

“What's your name?” So she could commit something to memory.

[attr="class","euterpeline"]

[attr="class","euterpetag"]Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","euterpenotes"]

. . .

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lavaridge

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tonight the winds of change are blowing wild and free

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POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 9:50:02 GMT

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She attributed the shift in his expression to recognition.[break][break]

It was hard to adapt; the way that the eyes of citizens that would alight when they would glance in her direction. It ran counter to what she was accustomed to.[break][break]

Maybe, it was for the best that she felt uncomfortable in her own skin. It kept her from accepting that blinded attention.[break][break]

“Least it's domestic,” she'd reply, visage twisted to reflect an expression of equal distaste. “It won't come out of a portal in the sky.”[break][break]

At the mention of her status, she would raise a bare hand from the pouch to wave his concern away.[break][break]

Her flesh, blackened by the contract of her avatarship, would be visible.[break][break]

“I'll behave. I won't make a job like this any harder than it has to be,” and with that wave, the charcoal stain against the flesh that would saturate in the stale air, curling with the faintest hint of steam.[break][break]

“I'll be leaving soon, anyway.”

[attr="class","euterpeline"]

[attr="class","euterpetag"]Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","euterpenotes"]

. . .

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played by

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tonight the winds of change are blowing wild and free

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POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 9:16:54 GMT

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Her tired eyes would try to avoid the stare of the beam.[break][break]

The champion would return the cellphone to her pouch, like the loss of its presence would snap her from her stupor. As she'd turn, her hands would fold in this middle pocket atop her phone, fingers snared.[break][break]

“No biggie,” and her violet eyes would carry with a detached gaze, rising to meet him only when the flashlight was redirected.[break][break]

There was no hint of recognition. No shift in her posture or expression as she remained closed tight in stance and in lungs.[break][break]

“Visiting hours over, or something?”

[attr="class","euterpeline"]

[attr="class","euterpetag"]Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","euterpenotes"]

. . .

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MEMORIAL MAINTENANCE

POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 8:19:37 GMT

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performing this as an open

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POSTED ON Nov 7, 2020 8:18:52 GMT

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Empty was air that she breathed, tasting its cold bite and wishing for snow.[break][break]

Wish for something like a blanket, something clean and clear that could smother; Bailey Cooper breathed and watched her breath as it rose like her spirit. Rising, twisting, and then to lose its opacity as her air was lost to the gray skies.[break][break]

A hedge of gravestones. At this hour, candles lined their row and illuminated their faces; cold-cut stone tight into an unloving groove, where names and once-people laid.[break][break]

A bundle of flowers in her hands. They were wrapped in clear plastic, and water freely dripped down the stems of the unorganized arrangement.[break][break]

They were laid, resting beneath the list of names that always seemed to stretch longer and longer.[break][break]

Like Mt. Pyre, she found the oppression of gray to be stimulating to her thoughts; stimulating to a thought of her own suffocation.[break][break]

In a plain, pale hoodie, she drew its hood and checked her phone; something to stimulate, and to distract her from words that lingered and begged to be spoken to long-gone ghosts.

[attr="class","euterpeline"]

[attr="class","euterpetag"]Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","euterpenotes"]

memorial maintenance

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tonight the winds of change are blowing wild and free

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pr training [c]

POSTED ON Nov 3, 2020 8:25:41 GMT

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[attr="class","bgtk"]

[attr="class","bgtk-top"]

[attr="class","bgtk-top2"]

IN THE[break]
BLOWBACK

JUST A MATTER OF TIME SHE FIGHTS BACK

[attr="class","bgtk-mid"]

[attr="class","bgtk-mid2"]

[attr="class","bgtk-img"]

[attr="class","bgtk-left"]

dahlia goode

monka

[attr="class","bgtk-lyric2"]BUT THERE'S A WHISPER IN HER HEARTBEAT

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Groudon's name eluded her.[break][break]

Bailey had never bothered to ask. The mythos of legendaries—the worship of these once-deities—had never been a topic of her interest.[break][break]

She could barely identify normal pokemon.[break][break]

“The red one. It has all these lines all over it, like me.”[break][break]

Her fingers reflexively flexed shut, curling to a loose fist. “I didn't think to ask for a name, ya'know?”[break][break]

She had just been happy to be alive.[break][break]

“They don't hurt. Just... itch?” She was familiar with that discomfort. “It's like... when your arm falls asleep? It's like that. Tingly and numb, and you can barely feel your own skin.”[break][break]

You could only feel what was underneath it.[break][break]

“I wouldn't want to attract attention to this. Not when we got a war coming. I might want to unleash it as a surprise, I guess?”

[attr="class","bgtk-bot"]

and she can hear it just enough to keep her alive

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August 15th

lavaridge

straight

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tonight the winds of change are blowing wild and free

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you gotta look out [mission]

POSTED ON Nov 2, 2020 23:30:37 GMT

SPIRAL and BERNICE ALBERS like this

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Normality used to bore her.[break][break]

The Champion walked the urban sprawl. As seconds dripped away, she watched the transition to night as the surrounding stores dimmed their lights. Employees hustled to lock their doors, and the mall slowly bled its occupants as last-minute shoppers sought the exit; the dying of the day as everything prepared to close.[break][break]

In her hand, she nursed her cup of coffee.[break][break]

This mall was still standing. It was further down, by the Cycling Road, that repairs were still being conducted.[break][break]

The miles of cables, still coiled and recollected, sometimes materialized in her mind with a thought of their reanimation. Xurkitree could have made short work of this place.[break][break]

She could close her eyes and reconstruct the scenario with vivid detail; how one stomp could have leveled the very foundation of the buildings surrounding her.[break][break]

But, that had never happened.[break][break]

This place still stood, and it was because it was allowed to exist that the Champion could allow her shoulders to unwind... if only for a moment.[break][break]

She blew on her black coffee, trying to coax it down from scalding as she approached the fountain in the center of this place.[break][break]

And, with her arrival, she sought the eyes of the lone trainer.[break][break]

“Yo,” because Bailey had figured that the normalcy of this job could be just what she needed. “I'm late.”

[attr="class","euterpeline"]

[attr="class","euterpetag"]BERNICE ALBERS

[attr="class","euterpenotes"]

. . .

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the volatile

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August 15th

lavaridge

straight

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tonight the winds of change are blowing wild and free

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whittled [c]

POSTED ON Nov 2, 2020 8:15:40 GMT

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Sometimes, it felt like the air could cut straight through her.[break][break]

The champion stood, arms folded, as the scene before her began behind its filtered screen; transparent and clouded glass, where observers could stand separated from those they loved.[break][break]

The surgery had begun.[break][break]

Small and white; they had extended the fairy's wings outward, letting the pokemon rest atop a emotionless, cold slate. She squinted to pierce the distance, unable to fill the gnawing hole in her gut as Tink's procedure began.[break][break]

Her nails sunk, seeking to burrow into her own flesh with twisting urgency.[break][break]

She had made it to Evergrande in time.[break][break]

Her other pokemon rested in their capsules, fully healed. They had not required extensive treatment to overcome their injuries.[break][break]

On a wall-mounted television, footage of the war played like static. The sight of a champion atop a legendary bleeding red like a stain to the mind, marring the land and her own standing as they beheld the truth.[break][break]

Bailey Cooper had cemented herself, now.[break][break]

Officials gave her a wide berth. Maybe they had seen the raw force, or maybe they had seen how her gaze continued to condense beneath a mountain of pressure that threatened to crystallize.[break][break]

Or, threatened to explode.[break][break]

Marks flared. While they ran black, there were moments where the heat would radiate, and she missed her cape of flames and desired their warmth.[break][break]

In the end, they only aggravated her shallow wounds... and reopened deeper ones, which bled in her silence.

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[attr="class","euterpetag"]Noelle Lane

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. . .