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Though religious, Lydia also firmly believed in the power of the mind. In school, her best subjects tended to be mathematics and the sciences—though both came after physical studies. While an avid reader, meanwhile, she sometimes struggled to read between the lines of novels. It took her an embarrassingly long-time to understand what exactly black faded to. Still,
this thing seemed like such a small thing to ask.
And, if Arceus did not wish her to help, he’d have made sure her attention lies elsewhere.
“I appreciate your assistance.” She smiled at the short haired man, the comparison to a doll even more apt when the expression was not one of displeasure.
“Even if it required a bit of moral compromise.” Then again, she supposed this was her doing the same. Bending those confines of fat and god’s fiat she so often bound herself in.
The Lycanroc did not show the resolve of the Blastoise. Her victims were often purposely allowed to swoop out of the way, circling back for another bit of revenge. She clipped wings and errant beaks—in hopes of frightening the sea birds. But that seemed
futile. Blood turned muzzle pink as one bird dove for the Lycanroc’s icy eyes. A precipice of stone erupted through its chest, scattering its innards across the sand, to be later picked apart by its flock mates.
It fell to the ground as the blade retreated, shambling like a drunkward after Happy Hour. For a moment, Minerva’s face fell—pity visible in her gaze. But then the battle resumed. The momentary pause ended.
“Roc.” The wolf huffed, in agreement with Fox. Her trainer’s eyes narrowed as she nodded.
“You are right. I have no intention of dying the sand pink.”The blonde turned to her trusted lupine. Her hand dropped to her gun, a few birds bearing bullet wounds from their attempts on the smaller, seemingly less defended human.
“Minerva. Can you lift the nests?” The dog growled assent.
“Do so.” With a shaky noise and a sucking sound, the dog’s blades made a brace under the nest.
“Heimdall, pick up any strays.”Huffing from his fight against the birds, the little Rilu nodded. If anything, he was stubborn. A true squire in heart and soul.
“There are only three nests left, including yours.” Another stealth rock flickered to life around the nest, forming a protective dome of stone knives as the tri raced to the water. Beneath the floating bowl, Heimdall tried his best to capture and pick out any half-emerged hatchlings. Stubby fingers somehow managed to make quick work of the still-stuck shells.
The sand washed away from the nest’s bottom as the hound deposited it. The Kingdraw swam in to do his part. With that, Lydia raced back up the beach to another nest.
May Arceus be with you. She directed a prayer to the still unbroken nests dotting the landscape, their surfaces marked by some biologist's little flags. The fate of those snoozing little ones would likely be nightmarish—the victim of an unsated hunger.
Dropping to her knees in the sand, the veteran started scooping up the remaining turtles. From their first sight of sun, they went into the dark embrace of her teal windbreaker.
[attr="class","samjer","samjertag"]
