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POSTED ON Aug 24, 2021 0:47:11 GMT

they have made this dance a hundred times over. they have explored each other's bodies in every manner of speaking. they have lusted and they have hungered and they have used each other recklessly, shamefully. they are wrapped in velvet sin, draperies of scarlet.

how odd, she thinks, while spent and panting like a babe and mewling for more, that this fog settle over her. how odd that it clings to her hair and her nose and her teeth and her breasts. and that she is content with it there, with its shroud (that's all she's ever wanted - to stay in the darkness, to thrive in the darkness).

how odd, too, that she has always thought him a god when she knows, and even more so now, that he is a demon.

she speaks only truths - it is at the core of her very being. and she loves him, though what sort of love it is she does not know. it is necessity. it is safety. it is fear.

the fog begins to clear around her brain. her vision sharpens. the mists that cling to her fade away and she pulls back with a start, suddenly wishing to do it all over again, to go back to that moment on the precipice, where pain and pleasure became one -

(where she could see the little girl, so that she might ask her her name.)

but the logical part of her brain is working again and it's asking the question why did this stop? because their forays into this realm of desire usually last for several hours.

she plunges her hands into the water and grasps his arm. and then she pinches his fingertips and says, urgently, "do you feel this? can you feel what i'm doing right now?"
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POSTED ON Aug 24, 2021 1:23:52 GMT

GESTATION

ACCLIMATE SUBJECT #WT001

REPENTENCE COMES WHEN SINS ARE PURGED. A transfer or power leaves him weak in the knees. Dizziness plagues his head; none of which come from the mist. That’s just their exertions, typical, albeit a tad more dramatic with the inclusion of his aerosol stimulant.

Her wiles become powerless. So too does Tapu Fini’s boon. They all leave him as he’s left to wallow in self realization. Disgusting. He’s absolutely disgusting.

But even that take a backseat to the objective.

His arm remains limp. He feels nothing out of the ordinary. Whatever pounding that had irked him before is gone. No amount of pinching will change that.

“Indeed.”

Business as usual.
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POSTED ON Aug 24, 2021 2:58:23 GMT

there is a change in him. she can feel it in the air, can feel it on his pulse. and her head has cleared; an anger, born from fear, sits like a snake in her belly. that heady mist turned her into someone else. she wove in and out of her body, watching someone.

she can't remember now.

it doesn't matter.

"what's with that sorry look on your face? give me more than 'indeed.' what's happening, eliard?" she slowly moves her fingers up to his wrist, presses her nails. "you feel this? can you move your arm?"
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POSTED ON Aug 30, 2021 11:49:13 GMT

GESTATION

ACCLIMATE SUBJECT #WT001

WHATEVER ‘LOVE’ THEY SHARED IS DEFLATED WITH THE NEEDLE TIP OF THE TASK AT HAND. Fernando’s eyes narrow when she persists but he submits. Fingers curl, his forearm tenses as muscles rise with movement.

“Nothing.”

He repeats the movement for good measure. Control has been returned and for that he is thankful. However, whatever had wrestled him for command earlier proves dangerous. Losing himself is one of his few fears.

“It’s back to normal.”

By his standards, anyway.

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POSTED ON Sept 1, 2021 16:04:01 GMT

it's back to normal. this isn't normal. suddenly losing feeling in your arm isn't normal. her worry is tethered to an unknown part of her. a part that cares. not for the man who sits before her, but for the thing with a heartbeat in his arm. for the monstrosity with an insatiable appetite sitting in their shared lab.

she drops the arm back into the water like a petulant child. and then she gives him a berth, holding him at arm's length while she sits back, reaching up to grace the light purple mars that ring her throat.

"your misty terrain has grown stronger," she says. she opens her mouth to say more, to ask did you know that child in those visions but something stays her words. she swallows them instead.
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POSTED ON Sept 3, 2021 9:17:44 GMT

GESTATION

ACCLIMATE SUBJECT #WT001

“I’M WORRIED ABOUT THAT, ACTUALLY.”

He can’t peel his eyes off the marks he’s left her. The way her fingers gloss over them only accentuates the sight. It’s out of character for him. Goes against principle as well. But in the moment, he could feel the wrath lash out.

He could’ve ended her.

And, knowing his affliction, he may have done it.

It brings a frown to his face.

“As they grow so too does my bond to Tapu Fini. To what extent and what price I’ll have to pay—I’m not looking forward to it.”

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POSTED ON Sept 3, 2021 17:24:16 GMT

he's losing it, she thinks. that he could be so callous with this, that he would withhold these worries and put her in this position regardless is irresponsible. it's a stark mistake and it makes her wary because she had thought him in check of this madness, thought him above it all.

she floats back over to him and snatches his hand, eyes narrowed as she dimples his fingers upon her throat. "do not forget which one of us is the scientist," she says. "i'm not your fucking experiment."

she squeezes her hand, forcing his own to tighten. "you're mine."

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POSTED ON Sept 3, 2021 17:36:26 GMT

GESTATION

ACCLIMATE SUBJECT #WT001

“BUT YOU ARE MY LIABILITY.”

He struggles in her grip for a moment. Snatches agency back when he tears his hand away. Her marks sicken him and he will not be one to enable such degeneracy. He is his own.

That’s all he has.

“You’re a brilliant, Fowl. Which is what makes you precious. I can’t afford to risk losing you.”

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POSTED ON Sept 3, 2021 18:21:23 GMT

liabilities don't last long in their line of work. he watches his own disgust ripple over his face, dimples a wicked smile of her own as he rips his hand away from her.

"so long as you refuse to accept what's happening to you, you are the liability, my sweet."

she makes a sound in the back of her throat. is it love with which he speaks these words? no, surely not. she is indispensable, integral, important, his king in this game of chess they place. if he loses her, this could all be over before it begins.

her safety assured, she becomes more brazen. "let me in," she breathes, touching his temples. "tell me what you see, what you feel. tell me how it pulses in your veins. tell me how it commands you. let me run my tests.

"let me save you."
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POSTED ON Sept 3, 2021 18:29:51 GMT

GESTATION

ACCLIMATE SUBJECT #WT001

“IF I GO,” he hesitates. “It ends. All of it.”

Once Fernando meets his end the game is over. There is no redo. No backtracking that can put all of this back to motion. Like his lineage, it ends with him. And, somewhere deep inside, he’s okay with that.

What he’s not okay with is persisting with a slanted gameboard. He cannot aimlessly allow his pieces to crumble as he fights against an uphill battle. They are precious, and mostly disposable, but his to do with until it comes time to trade them in order to capture a piece from the other side.

“It doesn’t. It’s a nuisance but the Wish Tag isn’t the problem.”

With his confession comes a pair of prying eyes. He can feel them draw upon them. It sends shivers down his spine. He doesn’t dare turn back.

“Fowl, back away from me,” he whispers. “Slowly. Calmly.”

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POSTED ON Sept 4, 2021 19:50:47 GMT

"that is the nature of humanity," she says gently. "we pass, and the rest of the world doesn't bat an eye." will their realizations matter in hundreds of thousands of years from now? no. but life is too short, too fickle, to wallow in such insignificance. because the world is too brilliant and it yearns to be explored.

the wish tag isn't the problem. she wants to shake him. they are in this together. she is his scientist, his protector, his maker. she feels as though she's watching an unruly child.

only his secrets will cost them their lives.

she backs away as per his request, but intrigue floods her eyes. "what is it?" she breathes. "what has taken you?"
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POSTED ON Sept 4, 2021 19:59:38 GMT

GESTATION

ACCLIMATE SUBJECT #WT001

“THE OTHER.”

No sooner than when Anya commits to creating distances does lightning bore through the air. A pink trident plunges for his arm, electrocuting him into a fit of convulsions. NATURE’S MADNESS has come to exact retribution for their sacrilege.

Outside the pool, Tapu Fini appears. Steam and MISTY TERRAIN part as the Pokemon reveals itself. It stays there, eyelashes pointed in an uncharacteristic frown. It may lack a mouth but its anger is more than apparent.

Its two pronged fingers come up again and it attacks again. Each bolt bounces in leaps and arcs. They don’t look for Fernando himself but instead the belly of the beast that resides within him.

He is helpless but to writhe as the attack courses along his arm.

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POSTED ON Sept 4, 2021 20:26:12 GMT

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so this is what it means to be chosen as an avatar. she has studied nearly every species of pokemon imaginable and so she thinks she can piece together its reasons. its demeanor spurs an unsettling aura that accompanies the valley of the uncanny, because there is an alien sort of humanness as its rage manifests.

and anya should leave this to god and patron, but she traces the convulsions of his body and can see its target. she comes between them then; facing the deity, she backs into fernando.

she displays herself against him, reaches back to press her hands against his sides. she will accept this creature's fury alongside him; she will share his pain, his death even. it is a raw declaration of possession.

it is her mothering instinct unfurling to protect the beast inside him.
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POSTED ON Sept 4, 2021 20:57:16 GMT

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GESTATION

ACCLIMATE SUBJECT #WT001

SHE SHOULD KNOW BETTER. Myths revere them. Trainers yearn to be graced by them. Why? Because Gods answer to no one.

NATURE’S MADNESS rattles through the air. An electrical storm manifests in their shared bath. Stray bolts leave scorch marks against polished stone and grain wood. It’s a convoluted mess that converges at one central point: the Tapu Fini’s extended hand.

And it strikes true, dead center.

FEEBLE.

weak.

FRAIL.

incompetent.

FEEBLE.

puny.

insignificant.

HUMAN.

Voices echo in her headspace. All of them different, all of them the wailings of the deceased both modern and ancient. The door confining them to the afterlife squeaks open, allowing their chanting to voice the Tapu Fini’s decree as it looks to split her brain wide open.

Only Fernando has shown the resilience to bear through it. It’s an offer he’s made to numerous people: Zac Ramsay, skyler dross, and even Raziel Beckett, but all of them had been wise enough to decline for one reason or another.

Her vision is overtaken with sequential cuts to the ocean. Waves crush her, drowning her in vivid bubbles as the crest comes to a still flatline. It repeats throughout Hoenn’s coast, hazing her in an illusionary waterboard of Tapu Fini’s numerous domains.

MINE.

mine. mine. mine.

MINE.

M I N E.

Tapu Fini’s voice booms. Enough to make her go deaf despite the echo only residing within her own thoughts. She’ll feel the warm trickle of the Pokemon’s toll drip from her nostrils, inked in crimson.

This had been a warning.

Next time she would not be so lucky.

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