if she makes it out of this alive, KING WAYLAND may just kill her himself. her foray with the last rocket had left her bloody. aeris was unconscious and is still uncovering. lyune had come out of the battle worse for wear after tanking hits from the rocket's hydreigon, and wearing himself thin with his mega evolution. 

a few short hours ago, she'd still been with king, watching one of her beloved dragons get snapped in half by a monster. the same type of monsters that lie in wait through the rifts. the same monster held within the pokeball she currently rolls in her fingers.

they'd stapled her shoulder back together and wrapped her in gauze. she'd gotten a couple of stares when they patched the second wound, one of her own making.

the copper in her hair flakes off as she gathers it up in a messy braid. her limbs ache as she dons her chestpiece again. it sags slightly where the dagger had slipped under and cut some of the scales loose. someone tries to tell her she should go home. 

she reports to a different station instead.

in the air again, assigned to someone she doesn't know and doesn't care to know, she flies. those infernal words of her adversary are still burned in her brain, laced with infectious barbs of self-loathing. just like you were too late for sootopolis. 

her partner's salamence staggers and freya follows gunner's shout. the beast she is on is no lyune, but she comes close. scales the color of dried blood descend upon the slowbro, dragon claws slicing neat ribbons into its belly. it's flung to the side as the rest of her hits the ground, sending the rockets diving.

"go," freya roars. 

Gunner Graves
armor

☉

she loses herself to it, remembering all at once what she was made for. atarka's muscles ripple gloriously. claws and fang scratch ineffectively at her sides while she thrashes in the midst of bodies, brutally swinging her body weight about. her dance is macabre and bodies fall around them; the more that fall, the stronger she becomes. 

but they are organized and they are efficient and overcome the initial surprise of the dragon landing right on top of them. pokemon are recalled into the safety of their balls; those who commandeer fae take the frontline. 

her position becomes all the more dangerous. she grins, teeth still stained red. 

the first moonblast makes its way towards them and atarka bellows. her claws dig deep into the earth, erecting a wall of stone separating the rest of the grunts from freya. as they frantically call orders on the other side, freya twists her reins and takes off again to recoup with gunner.

she does not have the advantage or the sightlines he does; they are not as quick to dodge when his salamence suddenly veers to the side. the hyper beam slams into atarka and she nose-dives. 

her tail swishes and her wings fan out as she recovers, though freya knows she doesn't have much left in her. 

"keep going," she urges, and so she climbs. 

Gunner Graves
atarka's MOXIE is active

☉

"we're fine," she shouts, but as atarka gains her momentum again, freya drops one hand from her reins and presses it to the slit in her mail. she winces at the pain, but that's not what makes her swear under her breath. in the jostling, some of her sutures had popped. blood comes away on her fingers. 

that's a problem for later. 

the scatterbang makes atarka snarl, but she does not veer away like some of the other flying assailants do. freya urges her onward; white hot flames spurt from her maw, felling riders and their mounts alike.

another ball is ripped from her chest. she'll just have to hope gunner and his salamence won't hit her friendlies in the fray. nevy and echo's wings snap open when their balls are launched behind her. 

she sticks her hand in her mouth, tasting copper and salt, and whistles loudly. the two veer at her pitch; nevy causes confusion and mayhem while echo flutters about the floating pitch and rock formations, blasting them in the general direction of their foes. 

but her teeth grit and atarka's roar is a crow of warning; someone on the back of a black-scaled charizard makes a move for the cargo. 

Gunner Graves

☉

atarka is built for brute strength, not speed. where nevy could help, she's currently locked in a tangle with some enemy noctowl and echo is equally occupied. so freya can only watch with a heavy heart as their cargo plummets to the ground. 

pale gold eyes simmer and she roars alongside her copper-scaled dragon, stringing an arrow from her quiver. the rider of the black-scaled charizard circles when he sees his plan has failed. 

freya sucks in a tight breath; atarka's gait is not as familiar to her, and she curses as she looses the first arrow and it goes wide. the second, though, as she nears, rips through the rocket grunt's throat as he goes to call an order to his charizard. 

he topples over, dead well before he hits the ground.

they finally catch up and freya looks down at the two of them. another arrow is nocked and at the ready. 

Gunner Graves

☉

as they near their destination, the rocket forces trickle to near nothing. exhausted, atarka lands heavily on the ground. freya slips off her hard scales, feeling her aches and pains all over, but goes to her side to her front. she presses her fingertips to atarka's chin and gets the salamence to lift her enormous head. 

the scales on her chest are blackened, but she is whole. freya pulls out her ball and returns her. 

a few paces away, she spies her companion. someone leaves his side to approache her and asks if she needs medical attention. she's close enough to the surface that she knows they'll request her to evacuate, so she shakes her head, saying the blood on her is someone else's. 

and they slip off without a second thought, with too many other wounded to tend to. she grits her teeth and mounts up again, ready to go deeper. her farewell to her companion is unceremonious: a simple nod of the head before she's gone.

Gunner Graves

☉