the crown prince
masculine
twenty-eight
may 20
hammerlocke, galar
heterosexual
archaeologist
aqua/ex-admin
born under a bad sign with a blue moon in my eyes
TAG WITH @oslo
Remiel Calcifet
BETWEEN TWO FIRES
POSTED ON Dec 1, 2022 8:46:56 GMT
♔ The GALARIAN EMBASSY sat solemnly at the corner of 701 Igneous Road. Given their recent brush with an apocalypse, most of its employees had left to gather and be with their families. The skeleton crew that remained had volunteered to stay and assist the remaining Galarian immigrants and tourists who trickled in with burning questions. Those who wished to go back to GALAR, now that the dome had fallen, were put on a waiting list. Remiel Calcifet , both ambassador and prince to these people, had only just been discharged from the medical building nearby. He'd done what he could from his hospital bed, giving instruction and signing off on disaster relief funds that supported Galarians with covering the costs of shelter, food, funerals, and flights. Now that he was up and about, however, his doctor forbade him from flying to his country himself. There was, of course, nothing that could truly stop him from mounting ZEKROM and flying off anyway. But he'd been convinced by his doctor, and a visit from the ROYAL GUARD, that his mother the QUEEN was already guiding Galar through its restoration. His visit would only inspire ire from those who considered themselves abandoned by him. And, for now, this was enough to keep him put. So, covered in gauze bandages and patches, the ambassador puts on his black jacket, trousers, and shoes, before heading to ZAPAPICO's, a popular (albeit small and unassuming) PALDEAN deli in RUSTBORO CITY. He stands in line there as the deli hand helps another guest, cobalt hues scanning the selection of meats presented as he tries to decide what he's in the mood for. The door chime rings as another patron enters, inevitably to stand in line beside him.
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