Gavin Merlino
he/him
36
october 28th
circhester, galar
demisexual
the harbinger
underboss
creatures of habit, carrion flowers, growing from repeated crimes.
TAG WITH @gavin
Cillian Quinn
lull [c]
POSTED ON Nov 6, 2020 6:28:20 GMT
Though his laughter is strained, it rings genuine at the thought of his former colleagues. "I'll bet. I'd have been the same if it were someone else. You'd have given the report to me, though." His canines flash in a grin that's quick to fade.
With the phone placed on the desk, his expression turns serious.
"Well, first off, it was — different than I expected." His nose scrunches as if remembering something unpleasant. "Everything was spinning, couldn't tell what way was up. It almost looked like it was... I don't know, glitching?" With no reference to how wormholes had worked before the war, he can draw no accurate comparison. For all Gavin knew, they'd always worked that way. "There were these... flashes, I guess, of... this might sound mental, but it was like seeing visions of the past? I don't know if they were real or not."
He describes them for the record: Mauville, but from the distant past, before it had been reconstructed into a modern complex. A man with Articuno, potentially an avatar. A colony in space.
"And Giratina." He breathes the name like it's blasphemous. "You heard of it?"
[break]
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