[attr="class","whiteout"][attr="id","BRONZE"]
It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another
The cruel hands of the wind wielded the rain as a whip, each bead of water lashing against the earth with vicious abandon. So, too, did the elements seek to bring their fury to bear upon the sole human on the island, biting cold and raging gales bent upon driving the interloper away. Their efforts were in vain, however, for if anything they seemed to strengthen the intruder's resolved to remain, relishing in setting himself against the inhospitable island and all it could throw at him. [break]
The slap of his calloused hand upon rough bark was muted as he pushed himself up and over the low bough, drowned out by the percussive, rolling roar of thunder that rent the heavens. The trees were little more than tremulous figures that quailed beneath the wrathful winds, blurred into shivering shadows as he sped past. The dense muscles of his legs coiled, bunching taut for but a moment before he sprang onwards, launching himself in a flowing series of continuous bursts of powerful motion.[break]
His body screamed for a reprieve, but it was not the mercy of the elements it sought. The ceaseless burning of his overworked legs, back and arms were a pleading chorus that fell on ears indifferent to their suffering; His own. The frigid bombardment of the rain stung his bare torso as if he were subject to an endless spray of icy needles, his palms and the soles of his feet rubbed raw by the tearing rasp of rock and bark, and a number of minor, livid red wounds marred his skin - painful souvenirs of his clash with a territorial Luxray. [break]
Bronze had never felt so
alive.[break]
'How do we grow strong, my son?' The memory of his mother's voice, calm and cool as a mountain spring, as she had looked upon her bloodied, battered child with the distant fondness of an aloof goddess.
'By challenging the strong, Mother.' She was right, of course, as she so often was. You could not become powerful by pitting yourself against the weak or mediocre - A blade was sharpened with a stone, after all, not silk. If you desired to rise to the pinnacle of what humanity could become, you did so by climbing inch by painful inch. A lesson he had taken to heart, and the reason for his presence here on this deserted, untamed isle. What better foe than nature itself?[break]
He had known about the storm, of course, but had deliberately not taken precautions or prepared countermeasures before his arrival, for that would defeat the purpose of his stay. No, all he had brought with him was himself and two of his pokemon, who were free to roam independently about the island as they did even now. Securing shelter, a clean supply of water, and food were in themselves ways to test his capabilities, and he had succeeded to his satisfaction thusfar. [break]
He had elected to make his way to the shore, and take in the sight of the storm in full view. With one last surge of motion, he hurtled from the woods to land heavily upon the wet sand, driving great gouges into the gritty beach as it absorbed his momentum. Straightening, the hulking figure closed his eyes, leaned his head back and drew in a deep breath, relishing the chill, salt-ridden air as it soothed his burning lungs. The rain plastered his thick hair to his scalp, dying the rich brown a lustrous black as he simply revelled in the
feel of it, in being alive and
here. [break]
Slowly, gradually, with all the langurous pleasure of a dragon among its hoard, Bronze opened his eyes, drinking in the awe-inspiring frenzy of the storm in all its terrible splendour. The faint smile that had persisted on his lips since arriving at the beach faded, replaced in turn by a slight creasing of the brow as yet another flash of lightning shone in the burnished, golden discs of his irises. Had he seen something, up there, lit by the fulgent spears that split the clouds? Surely not - To fly among the roiling banks of thundrous black stormclouds would be tantamount to suicide. But no, there
was something - Someone? - up there, a small figure atop a sinuous shadow that was plummeting from the heavens like a star torn from the firmament. [break]
He moved on instinct, an immediate reaction that sent his aching feet hammering upon the sand as he sprinted towards the furious waves, arcing up and forward in a graceful dive that plunged him briefly into the abyssal cold of the storm-tossed sea. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he knew that this was just another instance of setting his own power against something strong. His body's strength as his arms heaved him forward, straining against the relentless current that sought to drag him back or pull him under, his will as his already taxed reserves flagged further still. [break]
He would not yield. He never did. [break]
Judging that he had reached the rough area where the serpent - Gyarados maybe? - had gone down, he dove, fingers slicing through the stygian waters as he squinted his eyes against the stinging salt, striving to see some glimpse of the fallen figures. [break]
There. A deeper darkness, drifting serenely down into the depths, oddly graceful as the entwined pokemon and human succumbed to the ocean's grasp. [break]
His own curled around the silk of the woman's dress, drawing the two up under his arm as he kicked against the water, clawing his way back to the wracked waves of the surface. He broke with a gasp, suppressing a groan at the combined weight of the slight figure and her considerably larger Dragonair, and leaned back, pulling them towards the shore with the mechanical motions of the exhausted. [break]
His legs felt leaden as he dragged them onto the shore, hauling them further up the beach until they were safely out of the reach of the frustrated waves. The pokemon was breathing, at least, so he rolled it onto its side and checked the woman's pulse, then the intake of air - Or lack of it, as it turned out. Grimly, Bronze set about performing the staccato rhythm of compressions upon her chest, dispensing with his usual care when it came to adjusting his strength around others. If she broke a rib, she broke a rib - The pain would be a welcome alternative to death, in his estimation. [break]
A short, tense few moments and some judiciously applied CPR later, and he sat back on his haunches as she coughed, spluttering back to life in fits and starts before taking in great, grasping lungfuls of air. He breathed out one of his own, a relieved sigh as he ran his hand over his face, shaking his head briefly before offering a lopsided, weary attempt at a smile. [break]
"Welcome back to the land of the living." 
PATISSERIE HM RP
