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TAG WITH @chryssa

POSTED ON Aug 14, 2021 1:03:32 GMT

John Sullivan likes this

Chryssa closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of the ocean waves.

"Ooh... yes, yes, very good." The wavering voice of Dr. Footsy, her family doctor, reached her ears anyway. "...You have the footprint of a perfectly healthy young woman, Miss Chryssa!" She could hear the creak of his joints as he straightened, releasing the tape measure he'd been holding with a snap. "Whatever you found out there in Hoenn, it's astounding. All traces of the disease are gone!"

"Did you hear that, darling?" Chryssa's mother cried, holding on to Chryssa's father's arm. "It's an Arceus Miracle!"

The two began to sing one of the Hymnals, their voices blending and dispersing into the cries of Wingull and distant Pelipper.

They were caricatures. Fake people.

Real parents didn't trust quack foot doctors on the beach to diagnose their daughter's medical problems. Real parents weren't so quick to believe their God had arbitrarily visited miracles upon their child. Even Dr. Footsy Chryssa was skeptical of-- could he really be called a 'doctor' when she'd never seen so much as a high school diploma?

Arceus works in mysterious ways, they'd always told her.

If he was just going to cure her, why had he cursed her to begin with?

"Now, to cast the toe-knuckle-bones..."

Dr. Footsy rattled a bag of carved, rune-covered bones and tossed them high into the summer sky. "Arceus, will this change last? Has this girl, a child of your following, escaped her feet-- I mean, fate?"

It was low tide on the beach, and she and her parents had just come back from a day of swimming, sunbathing, and texting the technologically-inept Zac Ramsay . Now a sunburned Chryssa stood in the center of a giant Arceus wheel that her parents had painstakingly carved into the wet sand, awaiting Judgment.

The bones rained down, falling into the shallow footprint.

"What does it mean if they're blank?" Chryssa's father asked, fearful.

Dr. Footsy was quiet for a moment.

"Well. It means, no."

^{John Sullivan | MISSION}

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Dr. Doug

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20 (40)

March 3

Viridian City, Kanto

It just works

AQUA, Combat Medic

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5' 11" (181 cm) / 180 lbs (82 kg) height

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POSTED ON Aug 14, 2021 6:12:14 GMT

dead girl walking

The Curse's first strike; fall of the jinxed

Suddenly, a small, fluttery shadow appeared over the couple's daughter, before something gently fell upon her head.

A construct of straw and colorful checkerboard fabric had somehow found its way atop Chryssa's head as a clap like thunder rang through the beach, rattling the sands and throwing the bones into mayhem as a large sand cloud was whipped up around her.

The sound of roaring wind filled the air as a bizarre silhouette descended from the sky, gleaming lights shining down upon the brunette as glowing blue eyes focused on her, a psychic aura attempting to enwrap and gently lift her off the sands.

A hopefully familiar silhouette unceremonious popped off the side of the massive saucer shape, black hair fluttering wildly in the wind as he leaned his chin atop his palm.

"Hey you." He said fondly, grinning as he held up a rectangle. "I got a phone now."

First things first.

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murk

Not-Chryssa

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May 1

Eterna City, Sinnoh

Panromantic

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as flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport

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TAG WITH @chryssa

POSTED ON Sept 4, 2021 16:57:00 GMT

John Sullivan likes this

When the winds of the world came whispering, they promised change.

Chryssa finally opened her eyes, tuning out the sounds of people making choices beyond her control, as sweet-smelling ozone stirred the sands around her bare feet. A fine mist rose from the surface of the water, pale as seafoam.

One breath.

The hat fell like the first leaf of autumn. Drifting. Tumbling. She caught the brim with one hand, its woven texture rough and familiar beneath her fingers. She'd sewed these patches from broken pieces, from scraps and samples and the softest silk.

Something fierce and flammable dawned in Chryssa's eyes, transforming her subdued expression into a terrible triumph. It tugged at the corners of her mouth, blossoming into a radiant smile that stretched just a little too wide.

"John!"

The sky clapped, and sand and thunder burst across heaven and earth. An otherworldly saucer shape descended and Chryssa rose into the air to meet it, hair unbound and floating around her shoulders like a wild wraith. Bright, infectious laughter was lost in the roar of rising sand.

Whatever miracles her parents had promised, nothing compared to this.

"I was expecting the buffoonish Zac Ramsay!" Chryssa said, making a neat landing that only someone well-accustomed to Psychic lifts could have mastered. "This is a very pleasant surprise."

Below, her parents were pointing up at them, clutching one another for support. Their screams were the distant, discordant cries of birds. But birds didn't make life-and-death decisions without even asking the subject what they wanted. Birds didn't rob agency and ability.

Only God did that.

Her parents were compromised. Some part of her had always known.

Chryssa tossed her hair, perfectly composed. "Brilliant," she said brightly without a trace of irony as Doug presented his new phone. It felt natural-- ordinary, even, like two teenagers showing off their latest tech to each other on the school bus. She pointed up the beach towards the little cluster of villas clustered on the beachside. "Mine's still back at the cottage. Quick, let's stop by and grab my things."

Without Pokemon of their own, her parents would never make it back on foot in time to stop them-- and even if they did, it was too late.

In her heart, Chryssa was already gone.

^{John Sullivan | MISSION}

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Dr. Doug

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20 (40)

March 3

Viridian City, Kanto

It just works

AQUA, Combat Medic

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5' 11" (181 cm) / 180 lbs (82 kg) height

You're being healed. Please do not resist.

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POSTED ON Sept 8, 2021 5:35:30 GMT

dead girl walking

The Curse's first strike; fall of the jinxed

Don't screw this up.

His personal little mantra as he watched Chryssa rise, doing his best to look calm, composed and in control of himself; almost like he knew what he was doing.

As it turned out however, it was completely unnecessary.

"Well then... look at'cha. Charming as ever." He said as she landed, a flush painting his neck and cheeks ever so slightly, his smile becoming genuine.

Months of unfounded fears and uncertainty began to dissipate along with his stress under her radiant smile, inevitably drawing him into her laughter.

"Just happened to be'round when yer SOS reached 'im. Nearly blew both my and the monkey's eardrums, but... Couldn't well let anyone else come in my place once I knew, could I?"

He was long ways off from being actually helpful, after months trying to solve everything on his own and accomplishing nothing.

He tuned out the screams from down below, offering the people little more than a glance before turning his attention back to their daughter.

"I'm sure they won't hold this against me for too long."

Her parents' opinions on him fell entirely off the priority list as soon as she pointed out a particular villa amongst a cluster in the distance- were her phone was to be found.

"Phone? That way? Definitely need to go there." He said as his gaze snapped towards the villa, his hand slapping the top of the Orbeetle as his grin broadened.

Regaining her phone was of utmost importance. They couldn't exchange contact info without it. Well, they could, but that wasn't how they did it in the movies! It wouldn't have the right feel to it.

As if Chryssa's parents hadn't suffered enough just seeing their daughter get tractor beamed by aliens, they got to see the saucer kidnap her off into the distance as well... A terribly familiar distance.

The aliens were kidnapping their daughter AND robbing their house as well!?

"Awright then... spill!" He said in a low, gossipy tone, leaning his cheek against his fist with a toothy smile as wind whipped past them at high speed. "Last I heard from ya, ya were gone with the wind. Zippy! Turned to nada! I would never see you again! Or something like that. Charades with Accelgors are pretty hard; they don't have fingers... can't speak either."

He tapped at his chin thoughtfully, before turning his dark gaze back to her.

"So... Where in the world have you been, Chryssa Glasgow?"

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Not-Chryssa

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May 1

Eterna City, Sinnoh

Panromantic

radio host

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as flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport

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TAG WITH @chryssa

POSTED ON Sept 8, 2021 16:48:47 GMT

John Sullivan likes this

A strangeness fell across Chryssa's eyes, shuttering them like a curtain of lavender. "I've been traveling," she said vaguely.

Fire, burning at the hem of her dress as she staggered through Fortree City, the sound of Rocket orders buzzing like black flies in her ears.

"Staying with friends."

Driving Muir through the guard's chest like a ghostly hand, feeling his life energy tremble at her touch. Could she kill God with this power?

"And lying, of course."

Her last line was unexpected. It struck like false prophecy, running counter to the conversation. She looked at Doug with eyes filled with secrets, but also strength.

"Lying is natural," she said, turning her head away suddenly to watch where they were going. The beachside villa grew ever-closer, the cluster of faded, pastel buildings promising release. "It's just another part of acting. I suppose you understand that."

Chryssa handed Doug's hat back to him. "I'm cured, by the way." She spoke plainly, her words unfocused, joyless. They rang hollow in the wake of Dr. Footsy's prophecy. "I found a Plate, and I didn't throw it into Mt. Chimney." That hurt her more to admit than she cared to show. "I used it."

She took a deep breath. "It was like... John, it's like he gave it to me. After everything he's put me through. I still don't understand."

The beach villa drew close in their sights, mere minutes by Orbeetle taxi. Her parents were distant specks up the beach, reduced back to the sketches and shadows they'd been before.

They're not real people.

Chryssa refused to believe someone could be real, could care so much, and could hurt her so effectively.

Arceus is cruel.

But Arceus had saved her. How could two things be true, and exist simultaneously? It wasn't possible. Only the random workings of a world without fate explained the holes in logic behind Chryssa's last few months, and it had led her to an inextricable conclusion.

Arceus is gone.

"I'm going to bring him back," Chryssa said simply, suddenly, as they pulled up outside her open bedroom window. "I have to ask him why."

^{John Sullivan | MISSION}

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Dr. Doug

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March 3

Viridian City, Kanto

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AQUA, Combat Medic

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5' 11" (181 cm) / 180 lbs (82 kg) height

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TAG WITH @bugcatcherdoug

POSTED ON Sept 11, 2021 0:05:50 GMT

dead girl walking

The Curse's first strike

He was mostly silent during the flight to the villa, serving as Chryssa's captive audience as she very vaguely alluded to her activities with a distant look in her eyes.

Before his curiosity could get the better of him and he tried to pry, however-

She declared herself healed.

Having apparently deemed that very moment as the perfect time to return his hat, it promptly slipped off his numb fingers and flew off into the distance while his slackened jaw dropped.

He stared at the girl in silent, shocked awe. Then he threw his arms around her.

If they hadn't been riding atop an UFO at dangerously high speeds, he might have yanked her off the floor for a spin. As things were, he simply hugged her firmly, a broad smile on his lips.

"A- Are you serious?! Empress, that's, that's-! T-that's..."

His words slowed down as his mind managed to catch up to the tone of her words.

After a moment of contemplation, he slowly disentangled from her, staring at her with a worried frown.

"... it's Great. Empress? ... Chryssa?"

By the time they had reached the girl's open window, he had learned of the caveat attached to her miraculous healing, both the plates and the name of the Lord having once again reared in their ugly heads.

Something felt... off.

A silent, pensive Doug leapt through the girl's open window before turning around to offer a helping hand towards her.

More than likely, he was overthinking. But...

After a moment of standing in her bedroom in silence, his arm rose in the air, before landing on her shoulder.

"Chryssa."

His brows pinched together in askance, head tilting slightly.

"If Arceus was going to give ya the cure... why would he curse ya in the first place?"

Despite the question, he was not casting any doubt Arceus involvement into all this.

He was asking for a reason.

Even now as they spoke, The Gods were still picking and choosing their pieces in Hoenn; Chryssa was talking to one right now, and she would find out soon enough.

Who was to say that Arceus, omniscient as it was claimed to be, hadn't chosen his piece long before the game even started? That it wasn't playing a long game?

Or maybe his paranoia, long applied only to Rocket, was finally beginning to seep into others aspects of his life.

A moment of silence followed as he tried to articulate his thoughts, becoming keenly aware of just where he was standing as he did.

His face began to color red, his hand unclasping the girl's shoulder as if burned.

He was standing in a girl's bedroom. Scratch that, he was standing in THE girl's bedroom.

Ignore it- ignore it!

His hat was gently floated through the window and settled upon his head by his Orbeetle, the gargantuan Ufo awaiting for the two outside.

"U- um... What's the plan?"

Whether Arceus had some nefarious reasons or not, he doubted anything he said would stop Chryssa in her tracks. And if she was doing this- he did not want to stay on the sidelines and be useless again.

"Are ya going to keep searching for plates?"

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murk

Not-Chryssa

She/Her

May 1

Eterna City, Sinnoh

Panromantic

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as flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport

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TAG WITH @chryssa

POSTED ON Sept 22, 2021 7:06:35 GMT

John Sullivan likes this

Chryssa did not have an immediate answer to Doug’s last question. Saying she’d been “searching” for the plates to begin with was a stretch. After she’d found what she’d thought was the Splash Plate at the Slateport Oceanic Museum, she’d simply wanted to find out how many more were even out there in the region— how many relics of myth and magic were floating around in Hoenn, thousands of miles from the pillars of their ancestral home.

The answer had been all of them.

They were here for a reason, Chryssa was convinced. They were part of Arceus’s greater plan. That alone had been reason enough to destroy the shard of Insect Plate Doug had given her.

But now, one had saved her life.

Not for forever, perhaps, if the ‘foothsayer’ was to be believed. But Chryssa would take months, weeks, days, over nothing. Even if they were given to her conditionally. Even if it was a trap. Even if it meant her serving the very god she detested.

Her time, every second of it, was all precious. It was all real.

But was she using Arceus? Or was he using her?

“It’s not a curse,” Chryssa said as she climbed in through the window. She grabbed gratefully for the Honedge leaning up against the desk and used it to prop herself up as she wobbled across the room. She’d been on her feet almost all day while Dr. Footsy had been running his tests (or had she been the one running?). “A curse is meant to teach you something. Don’t you watch movies? A curse is a lesson. Or at the very least a punishment for rude behavior, like in Sleeping Beauty.”

Remembering her purpose for being back in this room, Chryssa crawled over the bed to collect her phone and charging cord from the headboard. “I’ve had this diagnosis since I was ten years old,” she continued levelly, “And was wheelchair-bound for years before that. I had my bones re-broken and rearranged in infancy.” A steely edge entered her eyes, but not her tone. It remained calm, conversational. “How do you justify something like that for a child? A punishment? A parable? If it’s a curse, it’s for my parents—not me.” And what had they ever done except serve Arceus faithfully all their lives, blithely worshipping the ground beneath their god’s four holy feet?

“You know, they say when they torture people, they don’t do it all at once. A person’s pain receptors get used to it if it’s a continuous thing.” Chryssa tossed a set of sundresses into a large suitcase she’d had waiting. “They start and stop, then start again. It’s random. Unpredictable. They leave the prisoner in the dark, not knowing when the pain will return. That’s the real torture. Waiting, helpless, alone.”

The girl slammed her desk drawer shut, having just retrieved her wallet and Hoenn trainer card. She seemed far from despondent— if anything, she was even more resolved. “If Arceus chose to cure me now, it’s the same reason he cured my legs back then. Call it…” she searched for the right words to capture his malice, his indifference, his cruelty.

“Dramatic effect,” she finished.

Her bags packed, Chryssa sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress springs squeaked beneath her weight. She looked tired. But when she spoke again, her words rang with conviction.

“Curse or not, I learned one thing: there are no miracles. And there are always consequences.”

^{John Sullivan | MISSION}

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Dr. Doug

He/Him

20 (40)

March 3

Viridian City, Kanto

It just works

AQUA, Combat Medic

Bug Catcher

5' 11" (181 cm) / 180 lbs (82 kg) height

You're being healed. Please do not resist.

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3,111 posts

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TAG WITH @bugcatcherdoug