"Hm?"

Killian looked up from his computer to eye the ever-elegant Mars. The question tossed his way is deceptively simple. If he's keeping his word to Alexandra Briarwood, the answer should be a 3 or 4. Unfortunately, today he's going a bit harder than needed.

Sheepishly, he smiled. "About a five, but I can make time." especially if there's whiskey involved.

He motioned for Mars to come inside, the Galarian Slowking at the door, Queen, stepping aside so he could enter. Thankfully, she and her partner Kingsly recently finished cleaning Killian's office. The usual mess of books that made navigating to a chair trying lay neatly on the shelves that lined the walls.

"We celebrating your promotion, or did you just miss my charming personality?"

Martín del Mar

"You should be," Killian chuckled, "I don't make time for just anyone." not when there was so much to do.

His chuckle turned to a laugh and roll of his eyes at the added banter. You could always count on Mars to turn a playful question into a bit of teasing. Not that Killian minded. With things being so serious these days, he could use more jokes in his life. However, the sudden shift in Martín's tone from whimsy to solemn didn't bode well.

Killian's brow arched quizzically. "That's not ominous in the slightest." a hand raised, and one of the Slowking brought over a pair of drinking glasses.

"What's going on?"

Martín del Mar

Killian straightened, stars in his eyes at the mention of a legend. If he wasn't interested before, he certainly was now. There were obvious questions. Like why Mars waited months to bring this up, but Killian held his tongue.

He took note that Mars didn't mention the name of the Pokemon. Only referring to it as a legendary.

"A prophecy?"

Did Killian know of any legendaries that bestowed prophecies? A quick skim of his mental encyclopedia and the pages therein turned up nothing. He clicked his tongue and steepled his fingers above the desk in thought.

"What exactly did it say?"

Martín del Mar

"Look to the stars." Killian repeated underneath his breath. Mars really should have come to him sooner. If he had, then a piece if his puzzle would be solved.

The admin leaned back against his chair. A hand reached for the whiskey and brought it to his lips.

"I don't know about the rest of your prophecy, but I can help with that last bit." he took a sip, darkness crossing his features.

"The creature I've been looking for warned of a meteor making it's way to Hoenn. It'll be here in a year."

The implication is clear but unspoken.

Martín del Mar

Mars's fuck, sigh, and pinched nose brought an odd sense of relief. It was such a genuine, human reaction. Lulu Flint had been nothing short of cold and indifferent when they'd learned of their impending doom. Knowing he wasn't alone in his frustration and disbelief eased an anxious part of Killian's soul.

Despite it, his lips still pursed, drawing a tight line across his sharp features. "Azelf? That's one of Sinnoh's Lake Trio, isn't it?" Back when he was researching legends in the hopes of finding Deoxys identity, he'd read up on them. Only a few throw-away lines in a book of Sinnoh myths. Hardly anything concrete.

"I can't say for sure if Azelf meant the meteor, but it's too much of a coincidence not to warrant consideration."

He sat his drink down and met Mars's gaze. "The same thing I was looking for months ago at the sauna. Deoxys." low, heavy, he whispered, "A visitor from beyond the stars."

Martín del Mar

Azelf, granter of willpower and bestower of prophecies. An oracle like from the Galarian myths of old. Fascinating and stress-inducing in the same breath.

Killian can do little more than sigh when questioned. "I got the warning shortly after the Soiree. But aside from it and the unrecognizable cry Deoxys left behind? No. I've hit a dead end." he reclined into his chair, defeated by the admission. Frustrating to get so close, touch the edge, only for the finish line to be stretched out and placed at the end of a maze.

He grumbled dramatically and reached for the whiskey. The refined taste lost on him as he threw it back. It burned like liquid fire down his throat but spread warmth like the sun through his chest once it settled.

Lulling the empty glass around in his hand, Killian considered letting himself wallow a bit longer. Didn't take long for him to decide that such a mood didn't suit him.

"So, what else is going on? I doubt you'd be so serious over a prophecy."

Martín del Mar

"Fuck dead ends." he repeated, stopping short of a chuckle.

Whatever he expected Mars to say, it wasn't brain bubbles. Tension still lingering from conversations past reignited in the air. He felt it press on his shoulders, heavy and all-encompassing.

"Shit, that's..." Killian straightened, sat the whiskey glass on the desk, and looked to his friend. It's said so casually too. Spoken and dismissed as if they're talking about the score of the lastest Blitzball game.

"Mars - you can't drop that kinda bomb and brush past it."

He frowned.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Martín del Mar