angel, rogue bastard
he / him
twenty-six
july 21st
alto mare, johto
heterosexual
pilot
nautica owner
TAG WITH @angelo
angelo vestri
HOENN HISTORIA
POSTED ON Oct 27, 2020 21:39:59 GMT
Is this what a shooting star – a minior – might feel like as it plummets down through the atmosphere into a world new world? One that feels so distant and yet so familiar, all at once. He’s falling, falling, falling… Only the wind caresses him soft and warm, rather than sharply chill like he envisions breaking through the clouds must feel like, his mind numb after plummeting and tumbling through all of these different skies. If it weren’t for all of the startling things Angelo has seen, all of the fire and carnage, perhaps he would have been lulled into a dream-like state as the clouds envelop him.
Then suddenly his feet touch the grass, almost stumbling as the world trembles, although Angelo cannot tell whether the shivering of his surroundings is from the world itself or his own dazed, sensory overloaded, brain. Releasing a breath, around him the forest seemed to explode into life, ghostly figures looking more solid and muffled cries becoming sharper, slicing through into his chest like shards of glass. But that was nothing in comparison to the shadow, the long stretch of cold that befell upon him from behind, Angelo turning on his heel to look at the creature that blocked out the light. Up, up up, his neck cranes, taking in the full height of the beast that summons images, faint and blurry, of some long-ago news coverage.
“That… Fuck, that can't be! The hell is going on?” Had it always been that large? Those hazy memories of him staring wide-eyed at the news felt a lot smaller…
If the situation had been any different, perhaps Angelo would have let his fascination, his bewildered intrigue, guide him towards the ethereal spacecraft. CELESTEELA, however, did not leave him with the luxury to elicit such reactions. Just a desperate need to act and a scratching, sensation of angry coals sitting in the bottom of his stomach as crimson blooms like flowers all around, with him useless to stop its spread. His fingers squeezed around a red-white capsule until his knuckles paled.
So many people appear frightened, injured, as they begin to slowly increase in clarity around him and Angelo finds himself lunging before he can register his actions as a young boy, probably no older than nineteen, stumbles on a favoured leg where red soaks the fabric of his trouser leg. “Woah there… I gotcha,” he shoves the lumps of burning rock down his throat, his voice deceptively calm as he reaches out to catch the boy, who’s image shivers at the corners. His fingertips squeezed a little too tightly into the man’s shoulders as he steadied him, his heart racing like it was attempting to kick through his ribs, yet his expression remained trained. He’d spent too many years telling jokes after a sibling took a nasty fall and muttering hushes assurances of scrapes not being so bad, his face does not betray his pained chest. “It don't look too bad but stick with me, just in case. We'll get out of here before you know it.”
The huge bamboo creature suddenly seemed to loom closer and, instinctively, Angelo pulled his arm back and whipped a pokeball through the air, releasing an angry water serpent towards their advisory in an equally furious red beam. As if the Gyarados was channelling both of their anger into one war cry, Volans lifted his head proudly and, with bared teeth, channelled his power; an explosion of water bursting out from the ground underneath the launch pokemon’s right appendage, waterfall attempting to knock it off balance or slow down its advance. Angelo takes a step away with the boy leaning into his side, eyes sharp like shars of ice fallen from a comet, unable to look away from the invader...
- angelo lands in the mossdeep forest where celesteela is - helps a league bystander - gyarados attacks the celesteela with a waterfall to try and knock it off balance
|
|