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POSTED ON Feb 4, 2021 23:29:54 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]her lips curl and she stays her hand. it is always pain that brings the most human essence from them. in this lavish office, with its decor of a man with an insatiable taste for pleasure, of a man who so desires to be above all, and one she enjoyed as the fantasy he'd spun for himself---here, he becomes lesser.

here, he becomes human.

her disgust, she swallows. it will pass, she thinks. later, when he is in control of his wits, when this glitch in his system is locked back in the secure vault that is his genius of a conscience, he will become again what she lusts for, what she has come to desire (to need).

his crazed yells have not answered her question forthright, but they have run out of time. she swears under her breath as brackish blood pours anew from the wound--a reflexive response as the alien tendon burrows its severed end back into his arm.

she drops another ball and her zorua emerges, fur fluffing at the tinge of blood in the air. "imprison him," she says tersely. "moscow, come." the fennekin drops its telepathic force as soon as her zorua takes up the mantel.

"you should have come to me, you fool," she mutters and holds out her #10. flames gather at her fennekin's mouth and it blows wisps over the metal; her face scrunches as the rest of the flat scalpel heats up, burning her fingers.

still, she handles it as though it were cool as before and presses it unceremoniously against the invasive flesh. it writhes and a nauseating smell stings her eyes. that's the best i can do for now.

she drops the scalpel and it plinks onto the ground. her burned hands continue to work, quickly now, expertly sowing the wound closed and staying the blood flow. when she is finished, she applies an ointment and wraps his arm in gauze.

the two fox pokemon release their hold and she sinks back onto her legs, back hurting from crouching on her knees. she wipes her brow with the back of her hand, smearing blood across her pale skin.

their prize sits, waiting, on the table.

"well, willingly or not, you've now become my newest experiment," she says, lips tilting.

FERNANDO SILPH

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silph

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POSTED ON Feb 5, 2021 1:10:51 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]"Fuck."

IMPRISON binds him anew. The tether provides him little recourse so he exudes his frustration in in the only way he knows. Whatever she may think of him, as unbecoming as he is, matters not. The only thing that matters, the only thing that ever matters, is the objective and the reward that comes with it.

"God fucking dammit!"

Cauterizing the wound brings their impromptu extraction to a close. No matter what Pokemon Ditto ferries into the room the HEAL PULSE can never quite quell the pain. It's more supplemental treatment than anything else, used to dress her treatment with an assurance that his flesh will regrow properly.

Utter disgust paints his features and he can't bear to look at Jirachi's Wish Tag. By now, it reverts to nothing more than mere paper. His flesh, once a piece of him, curls around it, giving it new life. Why they conjoin remains unknown but it's evolved.

It's something new.

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POSTED ON Feb 22, 2021 20:37:36 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]"mm, no. we'll do that later, darling," she says blithely as he drops an obscenity from his lips. she gathers her strength and stretches her sore legs by coming to a stand. her eyes make careful avoidance of his--she does not wish to see that wild, hurt pain in his eyes, that human side of him.

instead, she skirts to the table, fingertips against the edges of the mahogany. she doesn't dare touch it--not without gloves and rigorous testing verifying her own safety--but she watches it rise and fall, as though it has a heartbeat of its own.

as though it breathes.

the poipole, meanwhile, has opted to collect anya's instruments from the ground. it holds the scalpel in its stubby paws, tongue flicking in and out as it smells the bloody contents that mar it. she does not bother it.

"are you coming to your senses?" she finally asks as she leans against his desk. she fishes a pack of cigarettes from her purse and lights up. after a stretch of silence, as the nicotine strokes her nerves, she holds it out to him.

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Feb 25, 2021 11:37:04 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]Dry humor, while otherwise amusing, is overcast by the glaring sun of searing pain that covers every millimeter of his exposed flesh. The cut, as precise as it is, outlines the perimeter of where it hurts the worst. Even after being addressed, the last thing on his mind is anything physical.

He takes his breather with a scowl, fuming.

“Yeah.”

The volcano goes dormant once the eruption ends. Like harden rock, his expression dies down as the extremities of his pain increase his threshold for tolerance. The way it continues to bleed in suffering and torture seems tame in comparison. Slowly, he comes to.

“Shitty timing.”

His gratitude is told behind the softer glimmer of his eyes. The lack the poignant intrusion they usually thrust at his company. Instead, the recoil until he can take a long enough drag that the embers flicker. What he exhales is solid MISTY TERRAIN, more gel than vapor, holding it back out for her.

“Bloody tag is unpredictable.”

His eyes narrow.

“Or something is coming.”

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POSTED ON Mar 26, 2021 1:20:53 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]in the silence that lapses between them, she pinches her cig back between her fingers. the end makes an audible sss as she takes a drag. smoke curls from her nose, swirling around that vaporous mist that rolls from him.

duress. pain. his body tremors, though only slightly.

any pillar can fall if you apply just the right pressure. her eyes narrow and she sends her thoughts scattering.

"i'll be staying the night, of course. you're to cancel whatever plans you have for the next twenty-four hours. i'd demand more, but i know this is already too much to ask for." she rolls her eyes.

the poipole, bored now, starts to swirl amid the smoke. it drifts low and anya jolts as the tag shudders, lurching upwards. her fingers snap and the poipole flips upward like a marionette, tail raising as it settles on anya's shoulders, eyes flickering with a faint blue light.

the tag settles back down. anya stubs out her cigarette. "i need to study you, see if it's made any...lasting damage."

she sniffs, scratches the poipole on the side of its head. "don't think this has anything to do with something as frivolous as worry." she straightens, arches her back like a cat, and waits for him to deny her.

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Mar 27, 2021 5:00:37 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“…”

Fernando yearns to protest. Her presence, while welcomed at first, is now infringing upon his schedule. There is far too much for him to do with not enough time to do it. Dedicating a whole day is out of the question. Yet he doesn’t have the gall to refuse her.

He had underestimated Jirachi once before. This will not be a repeat.

“Fine.”

His fever wanes the more his mind wanders. Pain is an afterthought in the recess of what’s to come. The display between scientist—no, trainer would be more adept at this point—and Ultra Beast tug at his worry but even that subsides.

“But the tag comes first. It is imperative it remains functional. Dormant if necessary, but functional nonetheless.”

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POSTED ON Mar 31, 2021 23:54:48 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]the makeup under her eyes does an impeccable job of hiding the ever-present shadows under her eyes. but the adrenaline has worn off and her exhaustion shows in the dip of her shoulders, the shaking of her fingers before she casually reaches for her things.

"i wouldn't be surprised if it outlives you through the night," she says with an arch of her brow.

still, she leans a bit closer to inspect it. it arches towards her angled face, but she keeps a good distance.

"there was another tag before this, yes? did you ever witness it act so...parisitic?" she frowns. "i'll check on it every hour, but there's only so much i can do with visuals."

if she were at her laboratory, she could put it in a cell block that could read its vitals, if it had any.

the anomalies make her head hurt. there are too many variables. the impossible is not her field of study. she's much more comfortable with the implausible.

she snaps her fingers at one of his ditto servants and they return with a cool towel. she presses it to his forehead in an attempt to ground him. her eyes stay on the tag all the while.

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Apr 5, 2021 0:35:43 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“I’ll be alright,” he insists. Another labored breath comes, this time deliberately slow, to ensure he can still strum up his MISTY TERRAIN on demand. The condensation rests on his chest, pulling apart like loose cotton candy.

“No. But the first wish was simplistic. Butchered, arguably, but easy enough to execute. Mine was a bit more complicated. It’s still being fulfilled.”

A wince cuts across his features when Fernando tries to push himself up to stand. The fingers of his good arm wrap around the armrest, digging into them, as his muscle flex underneath his grip. One, two, push.

“Indeed. Once it stabilizes I intend to move it to my lab, when I can do so covertly.”

The towel slips with his movement, caught by the same hand as he wipes it across his brow. “The sooner the better.”

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FERNANDO SILPH, anya fowl

POSTED ON Apr 5, 2021 1:01:57 GMT

[newclass=.rndBG]--rndColor:#c199a7[/newclass]

[nospaces]

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[attr="class","rndHead"]

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[attr="class","lnr lnr-gift"]

SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED!

[attr="class","rndHeadA"]

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[attr="class","rndText"]
THE EASTER LOPUNNY HAS ARRIVED! from its basket of eggs and gifts, it grants you the following item:[break]

[break]
(ooc: you do not need to engage with the lopunny icly).[break][break]

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POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 0:46:07 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]"and will you be sharing what it is you wished for?" whatever it is doesn't concern her. she has her tasks and her resources, and that's as simple as it should be. but inquiry is her achilles' heel and she can't help but burn with curiosity as he struggles to stand, as she asks herself what is it that made this worth it?

fernando is not a man that would treat his own life so dispensable.

"once it stabilizes," she says with a scoff as he sways to his feet. she slips under his arm, eyes glittering. "come. i'll make you tea and we'll leave it to rest for now."

the poipole hovers nearby, watching the exchange. anya turns to her lions. "keep your distance from it. fetch me if anything changes."

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 1:12:58 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]Fernando hesitates, not because he doesn’t trust her—he doesn’t—but out of a natural born reservation. It’s a habit older than he is, honed by an upbringing prone on secrecy.

It takes a conscious effort to spell out the words. Each syllable leaves his mouth drier than the last, a testament to how much he’s invested into her asylum.

“To simplify it, I wished for the continued and lasting survival of mankind with us nestled near, if not at the top, of the food chain.” So far, so good. The everlasting threats that appear in Hoenn have been sufficiently trounced. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t something worse out there. In fact, he knows it exists. “It comes with the stipulation that the world exists and a balance is maintained but who knows how the tag will interpret it.”

In more ways than one, he is grateful for her presence. Their relationship, fragile prior to their mutual partnership, has grown on his infatuation and appreciation he has for her talents.

“The tag is merely a piece of the puzzle, a means to the end.”

He heaves one final gasp. That’s enough floundering. The rest becomes bearable. He still leans into her though.

“It will be the basis for the world’s contingency.”

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POSTED ON Apr 16, 2021 0:50:02 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]while he wishes for it his own means, while he wants it so that he can be king above something more than ash and bones, she still marvels him for his voraciousness. so flippantly does he discuss his part in bringing the human race into a new age.

they don't discuss much aside from his wants and his needs from her, and so she has no idea how many pieces he's collected, how close he is to forming the entire picture. all she knows is that her research is but a small part of it, important nonetheless.

these moments between them, however affectionate, are still veiled with a necessary need.

she takes him to his couch and upon his moment of rest, glides over to the kitchen to put a kettle on. she rifles through his cupboards, surprised at her own familiarity with them, and raises a brow at his assortment of teas.

"last i was here, you had slim pickings," she says as she plucks some phoenix jasmine from the shelf.

while it steeps, she settles back onto the couch next to him, curls her knees into his lap. the revulsion from earlier is still there, lodged like a pit in her stomach, but with every moment of strength that he gathers, that feeling lessens.

"and part of that bargain was walking away with an otherworldly growth attempting to eat you alive from your arm and onward?" she raises a brow.

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Apr 17, 2021 22:51:02 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“It’s good practice to adapt to your company. The Opal is surprisingly good.”

He reclines into the couch until his weight can push no further. It’s the first real rest he’s gotten since the tag started reacting. Fernando feels his eyes close but that doesn’t last. It never does.

“No,” he runs his uninjured hand through his hair. “It’s only a hypothesis but forcing the wish tag to work without Jirachi leads to corrupted wishes. The first instance was summoning a fake Ho-oh that turned on the wisher.”

Which makes him doubt his own endeavors. “It’ll still fulfill the wish but in roundabout ways. Mine was purposeful long and vague to avoid such issues. I can only assume this will contribute to it or that the wish tag needs more in order to fulfill it.”

How this fits into everything comes to mind but surely the wish tag doesn’t realize his more immediate goal. Having a piece of him would certainly fall within his own predictions but even that was just a washed out theory.

“It doesn’t need all of me, just a piece, I think. It needs to be able to recognize who I am and bond with me.”

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POSTED ON Apr 20, 2021 4:22:01 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]"so you're shooting in the dark." as smart as fernando is, he's studied business. and while there is an art to undercutting and skirting corners and strategic dealings, it takes a steady touch to handle the scientific process. to throw caution to the wind for optimistic fantasies...

that revulsion emerges yet again. she turns her ankles, but doesn't remove herself from his lap.

"and how much are you planning to give it?" she asks. "if it needs more?" how much is fernando silph willing to sacrifice? his pawns, his rooks, his knights--surely. but pieces of himself? of the king?

and what of his queen?

the kettle graces their ears with a squeal and she slides nimbly away from him. after preparing two mugs, she sits beside him, offers the steaming tea out to him.

"i'll need samples from you. and i'll have a list of some new equipment."

she takes a sip. "and keep in mind that when you continue to keep information from me, you raise the risk of failure. i'm an asset. you've no choice but to trust me."

she narrows her cold, blue eyes at him.

FERNANDO SILPH

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silph

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POSTED ON Apr 22, 2021 0:19:24 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“As much as it needs until it becomes too expensive.”

Which begets the question: how much is too much? When it comes to the King, his price is steep. There is no one stingier.

Which is why he puts the usability of his arm over the tag itself. The skin, flesh, and tissues that contribute nothing? Disposable. However, the muscles and nerve are irreplaceable.

It’s a compromise.

Tending to the whistle of steam gives him a moment to himself. When she returns, he accepts the cup but leaves it on the coffee table. He doesn’t dare play with fire.

“Indeed.”

Fernando fights not to win but to make sure he never loses. Ones he cannot win, he simply avoids. Her requests will be met.

“It’s not trust that’s the issue.” He scoffs. Who is she to lecture him on assets? She is one of many. “It’s timing. It’s been benign for so long I forgot about it. I can only assume the timing is far from coincidental.”