[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]a nod is all she provides for disaster.

wars never surmount to anything more than bitter loss for all parties involved. she thinks of the ultra beast war, of what it cost. the victory had been stained so maroon she couldn't see the golden laurels anymore.

"they are... the dead rose during mt pyre when the rift came into existence."

she had sworn she saw green hair. familiar kind eyes. now, she attributes it to losing too much blood in battle.

and yet, freya brings with her a startling revelation: he had risen before. for fernando, of all people. she tastes iron on her tongue.

"for him?"

her distaste is palpable.

probing questions are met with a still silence. she doesn't move, doesn't blink. she simply... stares.

and finally, quietly, she speaks.

"no. i would not want to subject him to what this place has become."

the longing is there. the desire. she won't give into it. he's in a better place. he has to be.

freya morningstar

it makes her wary of what's to come, but the information doesn't really surprise her. you could tell freya a distortion had opened up and infinite copies of guzzlord were infiltrating hoenn under the command of a sentient pokemon and at this point, she wouldn't bat an eye. most probably wouldn't. 

"for him," she says, chagrined. she doesn't know the intricacies of it - how could she? she wasn't there. and she certainly doesn't know anything about what it's like to be dead (as close as she's come before). 

she drops her gaze at illeana's answer, looking elsewhere. part of her, very suddenly, thinks she ought to share her time in kyurem's realm. of the other alexander she did try to save. the one who faded before her after losing his wife. but she can't bring herself to poke old wounds. 

"he would want to return, i think." she reaches for the pokeball at her neckline and releases lyune. the salamence lowers himself so she can hoist herself atop him.

"because he's better than all of us." she pauses, gripping reins. "i'll be in touch, reyes."

illeana reyes

☉

[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]she's right in a way that's painful.

ALEXANDER STONE is the best of them all. both in life and in death.

she's quiet in the face of this fact. it falls heavy on the shoulders. and she can't quite hold strong. faltering comes in many forms. it persists even when stubbornness tries to keep it at bay.

for her, faltering is the sudden appearance of tears. they dot water lines yet gravity never tugs them down.

the use of her last name is salt on an open wound. she detests it.

"be well, freya."

and she doesn't watch the mother of dragons leave. her back turns long before taloned feet kick away from the ground. she stays here as minutes crawl into hours.

her departure comes at dusk. with it, a new destination in mind. her expedition to the border is a double edged sword when it comes a week later.

freya morningstar