It isn't logical, the reasoning behind her visit today. She is visiting a science laboratory, not a morgue. What questions she has, what accusations, what grief-- it isn't anything a regular scientist could possibly know about or answer.

But here she is anyway because her coping methods aren't working and she doesn't know what else to do.

The door opens with an awful scrape of metal. It makes Remi pause in her hot pursuit of false-confidence to wiggle the door back and forth. The noise worsens and she grimaces.

"Fancy establishment but no time to oil the hinges. Pathetic."

She's speaking mostly to herself, as she hasn't yet realized that a young woman is inside of the room and staring her. But no sooner do the words leave her mouth does Illeana speak up, begging a very important question.

"I don't know, hun. Can you? Seems no one in this fuckin' region has answers to my questions."

Brows furrow and she lets the door squeal back into place.

"Avatars. You ever heard of 'em?"

Venom coats her words, her tone sarcastic and barbed.

illeana reyes

☉

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i”]the sound is grating on the ears. it echoes long after she lets it settle shut. her list grows with another new task: oiling a door.

"either you're asking the wrong people," shoulders roll lazily with a shrug. "or you're asking the wrong questions."

the truth comes to those who seek it, sure, but when those who hold it are unwilling, what then?

she heaves out a soft sigh. her work is abandoned in a mild clutter on an otherwise spotless desk. she hasn't been here long enough to mess up this lab.

and with little hesitation, arms cross over a chest. her hips find purchase in the corner of the desk as if bracing for an onslaught.

"i have," eyes narrow in scrutiny. irritation doesn't bleed through in the form of a tone. instead, it settles into a wrinkle of the nose. the tone is not appreciated but left untouched for now.

she holds her cards close, unwilling to fold unless given good reason. right now, she sees nothing worth her information.

"are you looking to confirm their existence or?"

Remi Cassel

Great, she'd found another dumb broad who minces words and answers in riddles. Of fucking course she's asking the wrong people - and it turns out she might be one too. Remi's glare is deafening.

"Which one are you? The wrong person, or the wrong question?"

Even still, eyes wander. Even in spite of her agitation, Remi can't help but value a beautiful woman. Illie's hip presses against hte table, arms cross against a full bosom, and eyes watch her own, narrowing in scrutiny. Whoever this woman is, she isn't the same type of pushover, piece of shit rats she'd been involving herself with previously.

No, this was definitely a woman with answers.

"I'm looking for information on who and what and where. I know they exist, they're everywhere in this shithole region. What I want is names. Just one in particular."

And then Remi matches Illeana's stance, leaning on one leg and crossing her arms over her chest. Under different circumstances, she may have fallen for the woman's subtle attract. Like a Pokemon's infatuation ability, it was clear Miss Reyes had that sort of natural charm.

Fortunately, Remi is a woman on a mission, not to be swayed by a pretty face.

"Have you heard of a dragon by the name of Reshiram?"

illeana reyes

☉

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i”]"oh," lips spread into an almost dangerous smile. she's the right person, the right pawn. only... you don't come into illeana reyes's domain and expect to best her. quite the opposite, unfortunately. "i'm the best person. let's hope you apply the right pressure." or, well, ask questions she can answer.

turns out, majority of them she can.

an expectant look rises before remi launches into a mild explanation. and while she'd like to say that she's more than willing to help, she needs more. giving out information is fine and dandy but if it gets someone else hurt? no thank you. that consequence is not going to weigh on her conscience today.

"why?" her head tilts as if the question itself is necessary in order to continue. "what are you going to do with these names, hm?" subconsciously, she puffs out a little wisp of pink mist. it curls and dies a few inches in front of her face.

a thought comes, then, and she's torn on the matter. does she tell FERNANDO SILPH of this? is that even necessary yet?

intentions lay hidden between syllables. she'll pry them out one by one if she has to.

"i have," her hips shift a little and she stares remi down with a look of indifference. it's practiced, almost copied. borrowing a page from Remiel Calcifet's book helps in this instance. and almost like clockwork, she recites lore from dusty pages of a tome read in passing. of course, she isn't as familiar with legends outside of her home region but she remembers the tale well enough to get the gist. "it hails from unova lore. legend says it, along with its dark counterpart, used to be one entity until one day they split into two beings." yin and yang, a concept deeply rooted in more than she originally thought.

her eyes narrow, then, and she's raising her chin a little higher. it's half of a challenge.

"why are you looking for reshiram in particular?"

Remi Cassel

Something hot flashes behind dark eyes, half obscured by the eyepatch pressed to her right eye. It sets her jaw, steels her advance. Whoever this woman was, she was intriguing, and she almost certainly had the answers she sought.

She could see it in that dangerous smile of hers, and in the way she begs for attention. She has something to say, if only Remi had the motivation to take it.

Illeana puts a pause on the conversation, however, when she questions the reasoning behind her ask. It makes her blood boil, but it also brings back a flood of grief she's left unburied. It stirs back to the surface feelings of anguish and pain. It twists her face, and although her features are far from perfect, they are even less so now.

She almost looks feral. And it is why she takes a step forward, her advance imposing, threatening. She wanted her to apply the right pressure? Would she still wish for that, even with her hands around her throat?

But she hesitates, leaves space between them for breath, because Illie speaks up to recite a passage from a book. It feels familiar, like a story she'd heard whispered to her as a child. It softens her features briefly, but her ferocity soon returns along with a hand reaching to grab hold of Illie's face (unless she moves). Her grip would be tight at first, and then fall away almost immediately after.

"Because it was with my brother - and now he is dead."

illeana reyes

☉

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i”]facial features twist, coil, and constrict. each shifting muscle leaves clues and she's placing little sticky notes to mark each one. irritation, anger, disdain, grief. a movie trailer for this woman's past, perhaps? it's curious and illeana simply stares as if remi is an equation she's looking to solve.

what is the variable, however? and what would happen if she tried a different method?

whatever hypothesis she's calculating is put on pause. it stalls in her head, losing steam until it drops with no sign of life.

the woman approaches with a stalking sort of gait. and where illeana should be nervous, she finds no such emotion. only curiosity. this is still within realms of expectation, perhaps. almost as if she could have guessed a powder keg of emotions would result in an explosion. and the false sense of security held within silph co. keeps her rooted in place, keeps her from running.

it dissipates when the hand darts out.

fingers grip her face, porcelain fracturing beneath roughness. it's tight enough to send alarms blaring in her mind. and yet... the expression that stares back is almost too blank to be fitting.

unfortunately for both of them, she's no stranger to intimidation. it no longer frightens her, not in the way it should.

"i'm sorry for your loss," she whispers as the hand falls away. the urge to inspect her jaw rises and falls as quickly as her chest heaves out a sigh.

and without thinking much of it, she's letting out another question.

"what is the purpose behind finding this current avatar, though?" her arms tighten over her chest. "or, perhaps the better question is... do you blame them for his death?"

Remi Cassel

She could pop that petite little head of hers like an oran berry, dig her nails into that porcelain skin and watch it bleed down her fingers.

But she doesn't, because her rage, her grief, her pain isn't directed at her. Illeana is not the problem, the problem lies in the bloodied hands of whoever had run their Pokemon's drill through her brothers heart.

So her hand falls away and forms a fist next to the scientist's head, knuckles pressing into the wall to redirect her aggression. And then it falls away and Remi leans back from her, exasperated and overwhelmed. She doesn't make eye-contact with her anymore for fear of what she might find. It hardly even phases her, even though it should, that the woman hadn't flinched.

"Don't act like you care. Pretty bitches like you are full of empty words. Like fucking puppets."

Her words are biting, venomous, said with the intent to inflict pain and suffering. She shares her hurt freely, willing to do damage if it means the weight on her shoulders might feel lighter. She's a bully because hurting others means she doesn't have to think about her own hurt.

"If they killed him, then yeah, I do blame them for his death. If they didn't, well, they've partnered up with the fucker who knows what happened and evidently did nothing."

She couldn't even fathom it. Being chosen by a deity, by a god, and being allowed to die anyway. What good were they if they couldn't even protect their chosen?

illeana reyes

☉

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i”]knuckles hit a wall and maybe she should be relieved. maybe she should be thankful it wasn't her face. she isn't. what follows is an acute understanding of frustration finding an outlet in aggression.

it's familiar. so much so that, for a moment, she's a little girl in snowpoint again. transported to another time, another place, another fist. that one connected until blood splattered in pretty red droplets on marble tiles.

the memory falls away with venom and maybe she's grateful for the distraction.

a slow smile spreads until it's blooming. it's wrong, truthfully, to smile when this woman is clearly going through it. and yet, something about being called a pretty bitch digs into porcelain skin with sharper claws than remi has shown.

"am i acting? do you want to test that theory?" the smile widens. "thank you for the compliment, though. you're pretty too."

and then it's ushered away for a more serious tone. she sifts through masks until she finds one suitable and then, it's worn with a head held high.

unfortunately for remi, she has managed to run into one person who, on all accounts, is perhaps an antithesis to the theory she presents. whether that's a blessing or a curse remains to be seen.

"speaking from personal experience," she finally uproots herself to take an almost daring step forward. if it lingers in this plane of existence as a challenge, she pays it no mind. "legendary pokemon do not take their bond lightly. they will, in fact, defend the bond even if it spells death for them. of course, that does depend on the deity itself but the end result is one and the same."

another step and she's narrowing her eyes in scrutiny.

"do you truly believe reshiram would have done nothing to its chosen one?" a scoff follows. "or are you placing blame where it doesn't belong?"

Remi Cassel

Illeana's response is troubling, unexpected, bizarre. The woman smiles even though Remi's knuckles are red and bruising, even though her expression had been contorted with rage and pain and she'd very nearly throttled her for everything it was worth.

And then she calls her pretty, as if one little compliment might solve all of their problems. But something in the way she says it suggests it isn't to smooth things over, it's merely said just because.

Why?

"Tch."

Her brows furrow. She's at a loss for words.

Remi then blinks, watching owlishly as the woman who had previously been her verbal punching bag steps forward. She remains unafraid, unfettered by her insults and her threats. She is close enough now that she can smell the sweetness on her breath, feel her quiet exhale against her cheek. Remi stares, expression slowly turning back into a scowl.

"Personal experience?"

She spits it out, bewildered, angry. The woman in front of her looks no more capable of lifting a gun than to command a legendary being.

"That is exactly what I am saying, you wicked thing. I believe Reshiram had everything to do with my brothers murder."

It isn't really the new avatar that she wants, it's the dragon. She meets Illie's scrutiny with her own challenging glare. She leans closer, posing her own threatening influence.

"Do you have a bond with one, too, then?"

illeana reyes

☉

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i”]little distance does little to deter either titan.

they clash regardless, as if meant to dance in this odd sort of pattern they've fallen prey to. and illeana, despite looking as though she'll break beneath the slightest pressure, holds up rather well.

her smile widens until it's all teeth. aggressive, daring, even, when it shouldn't be. what's more surprising, however, is the action that follows.

gentle fingers reach for the bruising hand. her touch is light, airy, ethereal. and when pink mist begins to float off each digit in little coiling wisps, her eyes hold the stare.

"yes, personal experience," she murmurs, tone slightly clipped. did she stutter? is it really so hard to believe she was once a chosen one? perhaps. she doesn't elaborate. no, her healing mist speaks for her in little pearly whispers of soothing comfort.

and when her hand falls, purpose fulfilled, the smile tightens. it's, admittedly, due mostly to an otherwise insignificant insult. you wicked thing. meant to pierce, meant to irritate. only... it does quite the opposite. illeana reyes has been called many things but that? now that could easily make her melt into a puddle on the floor. there's a power that comes with it, as if she'd enjoy being a wicked thing to no end. and maybe, eventually, she will.

for now, however, she's merely a woman with answers holding services for one that seeks them. whether it's for salvation or damnation, she makes no judgement. instead, she merely dangles information on a string.

"i don't," she murmurs. the tone is firm, as if nothing remi says will shake that belief. "it's very likely something else took your brother. not his bond or his deity but another entity entirely." she'd need more intel to make a definitive hypothesis but based on her own losses, she'd wager quite a lot on the current statement.

threatening influence meets marble. and where she should break, she holds steady. her chin rises and her head tilts slightly off kilter. the smile worn grows coy beneath a question she, unfortunately, loathes.

"i used to," her voice drops to a whisper. "but i am no longer a chosen one." admittance tastes just as bitter as it always does.

Remi Cassel

The air is tense, taut with intimidation and fear and confusion. It is palpable, sexual, wicked.

She flashes perfect teeth and she has to wonder how privileged and wealthy she must be to have afforded them. She is pretty and perfect and pathetic, and here she is suddenly drinking in her temptation.

And then her fingers brush against bruised knuckles. She hisses, instinctively tenses - but she doesn't pull away. She is a deer in headlights, stunned into silence by a beautiful woman's touch. Slowly, the pain prickles and dissipates, replaced with comfort and warmth and delicate fingertips against her knuckles.

Her eyes widen, then furrow. She stares in awe and in fear, unsure what it is that she is seeing.

Personal experience.

She was staring at one of the chosen. She was threatening a woman who held in the palm of her hand the saught-after bond that her brother had obsessed over, had died over.

More questions surge to the surface, but none escape as fast as her hand can move. Her touch is rough once again, but not with the same intent to hurt. Not really. Her fingers wrap around her jaw, her body moves to push her against the wall, to pin her, to trap her.

"You know what happened, don't you?"

Her voice is a whisper, her eyes search, fingers squeeze.

"No longer a chosen one, and yet you still breathe."

illeana reyes

☉

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i”]tension can quickly lead to an explosion when given the right catalyst. and perhaps maybe it will, eventually. she'd be stupid to try and claim she doesn't feel the pull, the spark. for now, however, illeana lets it simmer in the background as nothing more than a tea kettle set on a low heat.

the reaction to her mist is probably better than expected. where she bet on hot anger, she finds none. no, instead there's awe and silence. it's still. maybe even a little innocent... but innocence has no place here, not when there's a siren's call. which one has that role and which one is the poor sailor?

if illeana had to guess, she'd almost say she's the sailor herself.

fingers move, entrap, and guide. her body shifts on instinct, eyes searching for something. it's difficult to sift through emotions in what little time comes between touch and the wall. her body thumps into it with a soft thud and more pink mist bleeds from open pores as if on instinct, as if expecting pain to begin from the roughness of remi's grip.

there is no pain here, though. only entrapment.

she can't run now, even if she would have wanted to. and did she? realistically, no, she didn't.

"not in the way you want," she offers. it's soft, flimsy, dancing around the subject as if it wants to commit but decides against the concept.

fingers apply pressure. they flex, squeeze, and illeana stares. her mind expects the struggle to begin but it never comes.

"i do," and almost daringly, she smiles. "my bond was severed at the price of keeping others alive. while i don't presume to know what your brother's bond was like, i stand by the notion that it wasn't his deity's fault."

after all, if something as wicked and cruel as tapu lele had protected her and her comrades in the war... surely reshiram couldn't have slaughtered its avatar.

Remi Cassel

It should sicken her, that pull for knowledge, that desire that tingles beneath the surface of her fingers. It lingers now against the back of her knuckles, flexes when her hand does to squeeze this woman's cheeks between her fingers. There is no pain, only that lingering, sweet smell, and the adrenaline that comes with it.

Avatars, legendary Pokemon, dragons. They had all scared her, once upon a time. And yet here she was now, dipping her toes in the mystery of their existence. Illie had given her a taste, and she could feel the hunger growing in the back of her mind. Fascination pricks at the back of her mind, allows her eyes to wander the scientists small frame and pretty face.

"Your bond was severed because you chose to save people. How can you tell me, then, that my brothers patron would have protected him? Are you lying to me, too?"

She's misunderstanding what the woman is trying to tell her. It is clear that she puts immense pressure on these deities to be powerful, unaware that even they have their limits. Illie's had been broken because of that limit, one that Tapu Lele had willingly stepped over for the sake of protecting others.

"Whose fault was it then, hm?"

Closer now she leans, all while pulling Illeana's face nearer to her own.

illeana reyes

☉