persephone has to blink rapidly against the harsh, unnatural light. thrust back into dark, she doesn't know what's preferable. she focuses instead on the shadows being cast across fernando's face when he speaks.

no, she's not ready. she's not sure what to expect because everything surrounding this has been relentlessly cryptic. but it's fernando, so that is no surprise.

"they always taught us to answer 'yes' to that question when i was a ranger."

always in the liminal spaces, persephone is accustomed only to shades of grey. this is the only ambiguous answer she can give.

FERNANDO SILPH

she remembers it vividly; the gore, the dead ursaring, the pervasive question that she never voices — does it still hurt?

he suffered for being unready, persephone realises that much. does he see through the farce, then? the uncertainty and vulnerability she hides behind a calm and distant bravado.

persephone pauses and subconsciously follows his gesture of reaching for the capsules inside her jacket, brow furrowed. she's complicit in deaths at slateport — does he know that? would he care? the flurry of questions that she's reluctant to voice keep her quiet.

"rocket isn't made up of tacticians," she says uneasily. "unless you mean something else."

FERNANDO SILPH

if anyone else said it, she would interpret it as a threat. but hearing it from him makes persephone narrows her eyes, though her lips quirk in a flash of a smile.

the thought of worrying over her own safety is novel, the thought that fernando seemingly has his own concerns is somewhere between touching and unnerving. his expression is different here, she wonders if she's imagining it.

"so what are we preparing for against today? rocket or mythical pokemon?"

FERNANDO SILPH

when it comes to initiating gym challenges or reacting to actions in the field or in front of an audience, the next move is always clear, but with directions so vague persephone hesitates for a long moment.

realistically, she knows she can't win against fernando — that much is a constant truth. so all she can do it stall.

"bring you to submission? is that supposed to be hard?" it's meant to be a quip made in jest, but her tone is as humourless as his.

her glaceon is released, unnaturally pale coat gleaming in the artificial light. practicing for the wintertide open cemented the importance of subtle communication with her pokemon rather than sending out vocal commands, and the glaceon is familiar with hers.

the pokemon casts hail, covering the arena in obscuring ice and wind. in turn, that activates the glaceon's snow cloak and her coat gleams momentarily with her aurora veil.

FERNANDO SILPH

this isn't meant to happen; the feeling of her limbs snapped to her side by what seems to be a rubber band. persephone cries out in surprise, but seems to recover her composure after a second. perhaps this is the point of the exercise — the demonstration that trainers aren't exempt from attack. it's a sobering reminder so she can't resent him for playing dirty.

maybe it's the taunt, maybe it's the sight of her trainer in binds, but the glaceon lets out a furious snarl which whips up an icy wind directed at the mimikyu. persephone could have sworn that she saw the flash of red moments before mimikyu entered the field, and anyway, she can't remember any attack that can do that. cautiously, she eyes the room but can't see anything that could have caused this, especially through the hail.

for a moment, she strains against the grip constraining her, trying to test the limits of the bind's strength. if she concentrates and stretches her hand out, she can brush her fingertips against the miniature pokeballs she had in her jacket's pocket. just one touch on the trigger button would be enough but she can't quite reach.

in an attempt to loosen the hold, persephone shifts her body, pulls against the invisible thread and contemplates dropping to her knees but her pride won't allow her to do so.

FERNANDO SILPH

the feint attack strikes, having found its target even through the vision-obscuring hail. the hit is unexpected, but it is enough to re-focus the glaceon on the small attacking foe. the glaceon feels the shadowy bind attempt to grab onto it, but it manages to slip through due to the evasiveness granted to it by its snow cloak.

persephone clenches her jaw stubbornly even as she feels the bind on her tighten, digging into her ribs. for a moment she bitterly remembers the words coming back to haunt her; bring to submission.

there has to be a second pokemon, but she thinks she can handle this for a little more, even though her fingers can't reach the pokeballs to release her own to assist glaceon. the thought takes a backseat as she can barely make out fernando's silhouette, arm bent in the characteristic pose of someone preparing another pokeball.

"stop him!" persephone manages to call out to her pokemon, though her voice sounds foreign strained to her.

the glaceon wheels around and summons another powerful icy wind, intending to knock fernando off balance.

FERNANDO SILPH

the glaceon emits a strange, shrill noise as fernando's glalie crunches into her side, causing the pokemon staggers, pained. without hesitation, the glaceon launches out a synchronoise; the psychic wave seeks to either break and shatter the fellow ice-type, or to at the very least lessen its hold.

persephone can't tell what it is that is the core source of her rising panic; the bind choking out her breath or the mimikyu's touch that is somewhat reminiscent of tickling.

she lost the moment he prevented her from releasing more pokemon. is this humiliating? absolutely. persephone folds her legs to drop gently to her knees, and hopes driving long nails into the binds holding her tight would force it to slacken its grip.

FERNANDO SILPH