the Harbinger
he/him
37
october 28th
circhester, galar
demisexual
the harbinger
underboss
I want corruption, I think I'm the devil in disguise.
TAG WITH @gavin
Cillian Quinn
science fiction [c]
POSTED ON Apr 4, 2021 12:06:27 GMT
Void and sand swirl around their lonely island, and Gavin shields his eyes with an arm as he turns to answer his sister's question. Voice raised over the whistle of wind, he replies, "Sootopolis, according to Walsh."
And Gavin believed him, doubt and concern washed away by Declan's competence in whipping their scattered organization into shape.
"Abiatti — former councilwoman, Celeste's sister if you've met her — was poking around down there, supposedly, and I guess she stumbled across where it had holed up after the Nihilego did their work."
He lifts a bracing hand, a request for calm, and Lugia grumbles deep in its throat before the storm subsides. Dusting sand from his blond hair, he meets the red eyes of the legend with his own, steady amber, and wonders if it understood what the Ultra Beasts had done.
"Rocket nursed it back to — well, as healthy as a shadow Pokémon can be." He places a hand on Lugia's neck, and manages not to flinch as he feels its muscles tense beneath his fingertips. Since Necrozma, he had made a conscious effort to treat it with every kindness he afforded the rest of his Pokémon. Touch, verbal acknowledgement, and most importantly, not fear. "Legends say it sleeps beneath the sea because it's too powerful, but I'm guessing that's just where it feels safest."
He wonders if it had been scared, as the corruption took hold. Did legends fear death, as mortals did?
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