[attr="class","tagarden"]

[attr="class","gardenBG"]

[attr="class","main"]

Restless slumber. Cold sweat. A struggle for every breath. All of these are things Mars is familiar with. All of these are the consequences that come whenever that terrible dream interrupts his sleep, and this night is no exception to it.
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The memory comes just as he has grown to know it over the years, but is cut short: Mars waking before even reaching the worst point. One second he’s opening the door to his old home, the next he’s opening his eyes to all-consuming shadows.
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Is this a dream too?
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It could be, but the sense of urgency that overtakes him is too real. The exhaustion, the shortness of breath, the sweat causing his shirt to cling to his back – it’s all too real. Real and not right. Why is the air so stagnant? Why is it so dark?
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Too long has been spent in the darkness to be fearful of simple shadow, but there’s awareness of the vulnerability that comes with the lack of light. He could find himself in danger if things remain this way, yet the lamps don’t work, and neither does his phone. A blackout at the establishment he had been spending the night at? Unlikely, or his phone would still work. Something planned, then. Something purposeful. Something meant to leave him vulnerable – a suspicion that’s confirmed when his pokéballs also offer no response.
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’Out’ is the only route. He’s being herded – doing exactly as they wish for him to do – and the realization of this makes annoyance rise within him. He’s being watched, and when he opens the door, he readies himself to face whatever may await him...
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Take a man who has named himself after an ancient god and make divinity itself knock upon his door. That sure is bound to knock his hubris down a few notches, no?
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There is silence.
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There is calm.
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There is awe.
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He wants to speak, to demand an answer and an explanation from this mysterious creature, but his body offers no response. He holds the visitor’s gaze, eyes as if made of amber meeting those of light and gold, and without making a single sound, it’s into his mind that it speaks portentous words:
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They are watching. Is this a warning of impending doom? Every flower dies, every seed perishes – these are things of which Mars needs no reminder of. This cursed blood that flows upon his veins has killed every flower he has ever touched and destroyed every seed he has sowed. It has taken everything he ever loved from him. It has left him all alone. It will continue to take and take until there’s nothing left but what it has carefully turned him into.
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Is this a reminder that he’s more than that, then? That he’s more than them? That there’s more to him than what his family has made? That he can break through these heavy shackles they have bound him with and become something greater?
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There is a certain irony to prophetic words that speak of defying fate when they themselves foretell a seemingly unavailable destiny.
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Look to the stars.[break]
We are watching.

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Has he been chosen?
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In the blink of an eye, the creature is gone, and with it, so is the darkness that surrounded him a second ago.
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Out of all people in this world, there's only a foolish few who would stand resolute when being told to defy what should not be defied, and of course Mars is among these fools. Whatever forces exist in this world may be trying to pull at the strings of his destiny, but at those moments, he knows the creature’s words are true: his future is in his own hands, and no one will take that away, even if he has to defy the world itself.
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Take a man who has named himself after a god of ancient wars and tell him fate itself will be his opponent in his upcoming battles. What could go wrong?

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[attr="class","gardenBG"]

[attr="class","tagarden"]

[attr="class","gardenBG"]

[attr="class","main"]



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Even before Spring officially ends, the heat is no joke in Slateport City, and Nifitsa the Linoone finds herself hiding from the unforgiving rays of sunlight beneath the shielding canopy of one of the garden’s trees. It’s when she’s just about to get up and go have a sip of water from the nearby fountain that she hears it: a rustling sound coming from the bushes.
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Is it one of the bank’s Meowth? One of the gardeners? Perhaps another human visitor?
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At first, Nifitsa dismisses it, since there’s plenty of pokémon and humans alike that visit the garden on a day-to-day basis, but when sniffing the air she realises that none smell like this one.
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A thief!
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Her keen senses allow her to easily find the intruder, and when she sees the Lombre trying to take one of the nearly-ripe Salac berries, she immediately goes on the offensive. There’s a hiss, the Linoone charging with FURY SWIPES from her sharp claws. But, instead of engaging, the Lombre runs, and of course Nifitsa won’t stop until the thief is caught.
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A chase ensues, and when she finally catches the uninvited guest, she brings it to the entrance of the garden and waits, as if a feline delivering her prey to her owner as a present.

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[attr="class","gardenBG"]

[attr="class","tagarden"]

[attr="class","gardenBG"]

[attr="class","gardenBG"]

[attr="class","main"]



Sun shines down upon Slateport City, its warmth resulting as soothing as the way the ocean breeze sways the hammock. Some people spend their downtime going out with friends, enjoying hobbies, and filling their days with activities. Slateport’s Ranger Captain, however, likes to spend his days off like this: relaxing in the comfort of his own home.
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Not everything about his home is always relaxing, though.
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It’s not the sun that wakes him. It’s not the wind and it’s not the noise. It’s the way the nameless Leafeon that spends most of its time among berry bushes and trees suddenly jumps on top of him, sitting on his chest. Its paws are as muddy as always.
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”...Hey.”
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When he reaches up to pet the pokémon, it nibbles his finger before unceremoniously jumping down, and at that moment, Tam knows well what this means: follow me.
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All he can do is let out a sigh, especially after seeing the state in which the Leafeon leaves his shirt, but after a moment, he does get up and approach the berry trees. There’s only two of them: Nomels he uses for cooking.
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”Ah, these are ready, huh? Thanks.”
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[attr="class","main"]



It’s not a particularly large yard. Not at all, actually. There’s only a few deciduous trees, and yet by the time autumn comes, the ground always seems to end up completely covered in fallen leaves.
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Yellow, orange, maroon, and even crimson red… A plethora of colours greets the Ranger Captain steps out of his home, clad in sweatpants with a leaf rake in hand. Most people would think the coastal winds are to blame for carrying with them leaves from nearby trees, and while this may be part of the truth, Tam’s sky blue gaze falls upon a different culprit.
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”It’s that time of the year again, huh?”
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The Sawsbuck, proud and tall, stares at him, chewing on a leaf from one of the berry bushes. It moves its head, gently shaking its antlers, and when it does as much, a couple of crimson leaves fall from the abundance that grows on them.
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Tam sighs, yet upon his lips there’s a faint smile.

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