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[attr="class","wownewtag"] Caleb Harcourt

[attr="class","wownewmain"]Standing beneath the monoliths towering height, Angelo cranes his neck right back. Shielding his eyes with a hand from the suns merciless glare, the pilot absorbs the obsidian construction that spears towards the clouds with fascination. He was no scholar but the monolith was so out of place, that it was captivating.

Like a compass needle guiding north.

“Guess so,” he agrees with Caleb’s suggestion, returning his attention back down to earth. “Whoever built the thing had to have put it here for a reason.”

Not like they’d done it as some kind of portentous, contemporary art piece, he’s sure. 

Ignoring the burn in his throat and the irritation of sand sneaking its way into his shirt, Angelo begins to search around. His palm presses against the black stone of the structure, only to yank his hand back again from its scolding heat. Strange inscriptions burning beneath the sun as if freshly inscribed.

Sprout emerges from his backpack. Sticking beneath the shade of some nearby rocks, it flaps its ears to stir sand away from the base with a gentle air slash.

“Y'know, this shouldn't be a problem for you!” His chuckle is muffled somewhat behind the soft material of his bandana, its patterned fabric hiding just as much as the wrinkle of teasing mirth in the corner of Angelo’s eyes.

“I heard the rangers were picking up Project Sapphire. You’re in the business of searchin' for the elusive now.”

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[attr="class","wownewtag"] Caleb Harcourt

[attr="class","wownewmain"]Angelo had been prepared to sway Caleb into giving up information about project sapphire, been planning on coaxing the ranger into delivering him what he wanted to know. Only to find out that the groundwork had already been paved.

That Caleb was already more than willing to give.

“Watch out Hoenn, the rebel of the rangers has arrived.” He chuckles behind his scarf.

“Well, if you ever feel rebellious enough to share information about that pokémon we saw at the border before - Victini, I think you called it?” His eyes crinkle in a mischievous flash of ocean blue, locking down the man beside him. “Then I may know someone willing to encourage you.”

There’s a whisper of calamity in his head, an omen foretelling of an unknown expiry date - his.

Now more than ever Angelo craved the flames of victory he hoarded to grow, to keep his bones warm and luck shining on his head for the disaster that lay ahead. That craving inching towards hunger with every passing day…

At the sound of Nox’s clicks, followed swiftly by the alerting yips coming from Sprout, Angelo turns to check out what the two pokemon had uncovered. Together the two men wade through the sand towards what they had discovered.

“No good at finding things, he said. I call bullshit, Caleb.”

Crouching down, Angelo’s fingers find a gap within the two doors to pry it open with a protestingly miserable groan from the hinges. He steps back, waving away dust and sand from his face as it puffs up in a cloud.

“Do you want to be? A hero?”

He glances curiously towards Caleb out of the corner of his eye as they stand on the edge. From below a cold breeze drifts up towards their faces, softly howling like a siren song from the dark underbelly of the golden sea.

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[attr="class","wownewtag"] Caleb Harcourt

[attr="class","wownewmain"]And suddenly he’s looking in the mirror, seeing the reflection of himself some few years ago. Back when he’d resigned himself to living a life he didn’t want, enjoying Hoenn in the time he thought he had left.

Back when he’d stowed away his dreams out of sight, pushing them aside them with the idea that his family back in Alto Mare needed his money and constant presence, more than simply being himself - their brother.

Wanting something doesn’t mean it’s possible, Caleb claims.

But he’d gone and done it, hadn’t he? Had to fight tooth and nail to get what he had now, from the nothing Angelo had started with but he’d built his kingdom off his own sweat and sacrifice. Screw if he deserved it or not.

Despite the heat that crushed down on his shoulders, Angelo tucks his hands into his pockets to squeeze the Soul Dew protectively. Flame haunting inside scalding on his sweaty fingertips. Let it burn. He could handle it.

“Well, you won't get it if you never try. Especially not if you have to wait around, twiddling your thumbs for arceus to shine a seal of approval out of its ass first.”

Angelo doesn’t look away from Caleb, even when it appears shame makes the other man shrink. Reminds him of how he’d found him down in the Ultra Deep Sea, plagued by the past. Still was, by the looks of it.

“It's okay to live for yourself sometimes, Caleb.”

He turns his attention towards the opening into the desert depths then, watching as Sprout’s crimson scarf disappears from view into the darkness as it floats down. With resolve, one boot hits the first step.

“Anyway, are you coming?” When he turns back to Caleb, that chill expression had been evaporated by the desert humidity as he tugs down his scarf. Replaced instead by that rebellious grin the ranger had displayed earlier, as he shrugs with intentional nonchalance. “You’re gonna have to if you want whatever’s hidin’ down there. I’m not sharing.”

Its nothing short of a dare. A dare to take - advance.

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