until marcel spoke, dominic remained unmoving; still and statuesque against the darkened sky. he turns his head, his gaze settling on marcel briefly and then flickering deeper into the recesses of the camp. although dominic’s brow quirks into a frown, there is a bitter smile that lingers at the corners of his mouth.

you only like it when you want something, he almost says, swallowing the words down before they are fully formed.

"why stop there?" he drawls. "we could neutralise them all, then put them down one by one." he doesn’t clarify who the we is. dominic’s shadow wavers, the edges of it feathering out like plumes and then spikes harshly, as if it itself had been listening to his words.

marcel maeda

dominic raises his shoulder in a slow, half-hearted shrug. "i didn’t mean no," he says after a moment.

he surveys marcel’s rotom-phone for a second, craning his neck to get a better view of the screen before exhaling sharply. "you have fun back here with your gadgets. i’ll be quick. in and out."

the inability to stay idle reared its head - like prickles sparking down the back of his neck, or adrenaline licking at his veins. he’s considerate enough to incline his head away from marcel before his eyes briefly shift to a bright blue glow as he summons darkrai’s gift and lurches forward; disappearing as he went ahead to scout.

marcel maeda

visuals on screens are nothing more than clumps of pixels; he needed to see it to make it real.

he thought he would retch, but he doesn't - the megalopolans had refined their process to a fine science. dominic catches sight of marbled flesh neatly stacked away for storage and it barely registers for what it is. further away, a structure of stone moves, brick by brick - one day he'll see the stakataka again.

dominic proceeds onward, shifting in the shadow.

marcel maeda

the native pokemon in their custody don't quite look right. dominic has seen any number of trainers, with their charges brought to heel using a variety of methods; drugging pokemon isn't necessarily something novel to him, and even so this looks distinct.

his vision is limited to awkward angles while he moves, creeping within the gloom. idly, dominic wonders if this is what their ghost types see when they enter their umbral forms and dissipate into nothing but wisps. he makes a few notes of the megapoloan numbers - people, pokemon, unknown beasts and equally foreign technology - and turns to make his way back to the fringe of the camp.

marcel maeda

it feels like stepping out of a pool of still water; dominic's body unfolds from the shadow beside marcel in exact place that he had vanished minutes prior. there's something pinched in his expression, eyebrows quirked into a frown.

"i've seen enough," he says after a heartbeat passes. "we should leave."

leave this outcropping of rock, leave this region entirely, leave the league to deal with it.

marcel maeda