her fascination borderlines obsessive, which only sparks gabriel's interest more. what kind of man was FERNANDO SILPH to surround himself with those so willing to die on his behalf?
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was that something he needed to be concerned about?
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how could he not be?
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"that's... very passionate of you."
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it's all he could say, and the rigid wall of his character nearly cracks. instead, his lips hide behind the rim of his liquor, while his hand beckons for more.
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"something stronger."
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vodka and sprite wouldn't do for this conversation. not any longer. now, only top shelf scotch would work to fan the flames in his belly; the hunger.
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"you've lost someone."
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an observation. a question?

[attr="class","ooc"]freya morningstar[break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-pyroar"]

"we've all lost someone." she's no one special. hoenn's been at war for years now. so what right does she have to throw everything away? because she's jaded? because it's just too much? oh, if alexander could see her now. 

she rolls the edge of the empty glass against the table, leans back into her chair. it's replaced shortly, alongside his, with a darker liquor, shimmering brown in a crystal glass. 

she raises her own to his, lips loose now that the dead and gone haunt her shoulders, reminding her that she's still not found solace since their passing. 

"a lover," she says, thinking cruelly back to Emma Wolfe , to the only woman who's ever truly known her love. 

"a friend," she says and the visage of ALEXANDER STONE appears before her, smile soft, eyes kind, expecting the best of her, receiving it in return. 

"and," she starts, stops, the hand not outstretched to clink against gabriel's glass clutches at her own heart. her lips tremble, though, as she thinks but not you. not yet. because you are bound to him. he found you and he graced you this new body, this new mind, and he is yours and you are his, and so you are not lost, freya. you've never been lost. 

she blinks, forgetting her last word, memory hazed over. she blames the liquor (but is wrong in doing so). 

GABRIEL BLACK

☉

the aroma of the liquor grounds him, pulsing back a memory of a crackling campfire and melted chocolate. it nestles in his chest, and for just a moment, gabriel absorbs himself in the rich memory. then, their glasses clink, and he's back.
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silence greets her toasts, gabriel letting the woman get lost in her own memories, and past sorrows. when she falters, a hitch in her breath and a stillness in her fluid movements, his brow raises.
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"is everything alright, freya?"

[attr="class","ooc"]freya morningstar[break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-pyroar"]

"yes," she says, tongue lying for her as her nerves catch up. she looks down at the liquor in her hand. pink steam curls within it. she blinks. it's gone. 

"did you ever have the pleasure of meeting ALEXANDER STONE ? you'd have liked him, i think." she sips again. the headache spreads through her temples. she has trouble recalling the color of his eyes.

"he was a good man."

GABRIEL BLACK

☉

she could very well be a good liar, but here and now, freya was an open book. gabriel takes a sip, stifling the questions that rise with a liquid stopper.
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"i didn't."
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former head of the devon corperation, if he recalled correctly. former champion. dead.
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"friend of yours?"

[attr="class","ooc"]freya morningstar[break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-pyroar"]

that's a shame. probably for the best. she turns the tumbler 'round and 'round, going back to that moment on the island, where she was lost and then she was found

made whole, transmuted from iron to steel with righted nerves, a fractured mind put back together. it was blue eyes above her, not green, with broad shoulders and steady hands and the curling of a mist that she can still taste upon her tongue. 

"he was," she says, all signs of grief gone now. she responds plainly, unaffected. "but such is life, with all its sacrifices. we move on."

she drinks.

"what will you do after this?"

GABRIEL BLACK

☉

her ability to shift her demeanor to something regarding placidity was both impressive, and disconcerting. every bit a composed woman on the surface, but beneath the surface, as shifting as the titanic plates beneath the earth's crust.
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"think." he answers her question plainly, and truthfully. she'd given him much to ponder on. the nature of his position, of avatars and their heralds, of her and the connection she shared with a powerful man.
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"what will you do?" report back to one fernando silph? drown herself in memories and liquor? he wasn't quite sure. not knowing made him uncomfortable, and agitated.

[attr="class","ooc"]freya morningstar[break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-pyroar"]

she laughs at the response. not at him, no, but at the irony. "i considered myself a philosopher once," she explains. oh, how she'd whittled away her days, pondering life's opportunities. its obstacles. its bounties. but philosophers thrive in the golden age, in a renaissance where evil is imagined, not realized. 

what will she do? 

she will fight. she will embark on this mission to the tree of life that fernando demands of her. she will throw her body before his and she will burn, but she will go out like a dying star - catastrophically so. 

she simpers, flashing teeth, and knocks back the rest of her whiskey. 

"stay in touch, gabriel black. i hope you find what you're looking for."

GABRIEL BLACK

☉