CIRCHESTER / ONE DAY



she pinches the crown between her fingers and stares down at it. i did not run, she reminds herself. not this time. mossdeep's carnage is a scorched memory, curling at the edges. flickers of that day, those hours, come and go when the shadows of its likeness curl their jagged fingers against flint. ghastly bodies; ethereal spatters of blood; limbs swinging from an open, endless maw.

her dragons, inconsequential.

three years (four? does her dimensional prison count?) and she is still left stoking a fire she barely understands. some small part of her that died that day in mossdeep is guiding her hand, her heart, her soul, digging deep into that primal spirit she'd rather leave buried. forgotten.

the crown glints up at her. people look up to her. 

the dust has settled. armies of impossible creatures have been driven off. there is a a pregnant pause, a held breath, shared by all of these timesick explorers. and their lungs stay swelled, achingly so, as night falls and a new dawn rises. 

THREE MONTHS

the people have their own lamentations. starvation. disease. hunger. and she, their queen atop her scaled throne, totters away from duties she never asked for. duties she may have wanted, a lifetime ago - or is it another lifetime entirely?. she wonders often, if there is a version of her out there somewhere that gets this all right. 

she yearns for the skies, for the wind under wings and the sun in her hair, but she wanders the streets instead. Cillian Quinn and Eva Morales make better leaders anyway. 

king is not well. she has known his anger. he has dropped his walls in brevity, allowing her glimpses of the wasteland inside of him. rather than tread scorched dunes, bitter and red and angry, she carved a hole inside of herself. folded him into her ribs and told him that it would be enough. she would be enough. 

and now, she has carried him to this place, and severed him from the only thing he's truly, wholly loved. 

the riddles are an ever-shifting, twisting frustration. aeris is her guiding light. even on those darker days, when hours are spent felling poisonous monstrosities beneath claw and fire, she cannot rest. she is drawn to the streets and to the secrets they hold.

his arms no longer circle her as tightly.

SEVEN MONTHS

this is the end. she told him the truth when he swallowed his feelings, when the only words she'd ever needed to hear stayed trapped under years of fear and rejection and pain. you can undo me. don't you get that?

and he'd said, i love you, and everything was right. 

and now, and now, she is begging him to stay. she is teeth bared, claws out, face flushed with anger, but her eyes are raw with pain and they are glassy and she knows the truth. he does not see her. 

he cannot see her. 

TWO YEARS

and oh, how it has eaten at her. there are monsters at the walls and she throws herself at them with careless smiles, whispers of a self she had thought long vanquished. but the man who'd done the smiting, who had reduced her to rubble only to build her back up, brick by brick (SALMONSMIRK), is gone.

fucked off to the edge of their small world. he cannot run from her, but he knows he does not have to. she will grant him what little peace he might find, because she loves him still.

lyune's shadow blankets the cabin, stretching into the trees, over the walls. once, she sees a shock of blue hair, and she thinks, i am here. i promised i wouldn't disappear again.

years of these silent affirmations. years of fighting. years of chasing dreams turned nightmares. eva, the only one she can stand. these people, as tangible as they seem, are nothing but dust. 

only he matters.

and she tells him this. when she's had enough. when the walls threaten to topple and the loneliness just gets to be too damn much. 

"i can't stand this. i need you. please."

"i don't blame ye, freya. but seein' ye hurts ta much. it reminds me of her."

and she cannot hurt him more than she already has, so she leaves. she runs through those dark and coiling alleyways, their taunting, jumbled words, and she does not dream of freedom; she dreams of wildfire. she tastes ash in her mouth.

she knows she is not the version of her that gets this right. that gets any of it right.

so easily she turns to destruction. so quickly she goes, like a whirlwind, to throw herself at the mercy of the only other person she can stomach in this false world with its monsters and its stories, teasing of heroes that will never come, heroes that were never meant to be. 

her kiss is a rushed flurry, with a gasp and teeth and a warm flush of blood. and as soon as it starts, it's over, because there is slick salt on her cheeks and every part of her is leaking out of her wounds. there is a gaping nothing in her chest.

eva holds her and tells her it will be okay. 

THREE YEARS & FOUR MONTHS

they do not become her people, but she becomes their queen. where there are dragons, there is light. eva shows her the good she can do and so she does it, but the envy that once sat in her belly is gone. she looks upon eva's warmth and her compassion and she thinks, distantly, i feel nothing. 

not for them. or for the others that are trapped here with them. for eva? yes, absolutely. for herself? she can't say. 

but she no longer throws herself at the hordes with wanton anger. her pair of roaring moon raze entire lines of the poisonous creatures with a flick of her wrist. they're tamed now, with eva and rayquaza's help, and freya is their guiding moonlight. a pair of her dragons breed. within months, the clutch of bagon are lean with muscle, hardened from battle.

days become weeks. she learns to smile again, with drink in hand, eyes soft and lingering on eva's own, forgetting where she is and who she was and who she never will be.

until one day, he comes back to her.

SIX YEARS

the stars have their answers. those poisonous alleyways unveil secrets in the early dawn. it's hard to leave him in the morning. she is terrible with good-byes and she fears her next will be their last, so she kisses his cheeks and his nose before she goes, every morning, and she pursues the impossible.

until one day she collapses from exhaustion with poison on her hands. 

"what do you mean stop? i'm going to get us home. i have to get us home."

"home? there's no gettin' home, freya. this is our life now. accept it like i 'ave. it's easier that way."

"you left me for two years, king."

"and i left delta fer six."

so then how could she give up? 

EIGHT YEARS

king is not the only one. Cillian Quinn has largely given up. he's settled into his role. the people love him. his husband is here, and they are happy. even Eva Morales has become...distracted.

we have duties to tend to. the people rely on us, freya. they need us. 

sootopolis is nothing but a dream anymore. sometimes she drifts her fingers in the hero's bath and wishes she could smell the brine on salt-bleached rocks. when she thinks of the estate, her draciary, the memories are blurry, and that frightens her more than anything else. 

in the sky, kirimu's seafoam scales scatter the sunlight. a large shape looms over them. they twist their rippling green form; one large yellow eye levels with her, and she knows that they will never stop wanting. they will not grow complacent.

"we will return. rayquaza, by the gods, we will escape this false life."

and it feels so silly, knowing this god is as lost as they are.

TEN YEARS

the onslaught is hard-won. she steps through streets painted red with blood. the crown on her head is cracked down the middle, dropped when she'd been wrenched from kirimu's back, and later pilfered between two mangled bodies.

she is numb to the lacerations. these people are memories, fragments and nothings. ghosts, for all she cares. some grieve over them. she scours the remains, leading groups with drawn faces to gather what they can of the metal. 

"this will give us a fighting chance."

here, the impossible is possible. her schematics are hastily drawn. she needs balance. a seamless transition. power. there are three iterations. and then finally, she twists it with a flourish. the fiery blade twists, cutting through training dummies with ease, and then she flips. metal snicks. the blade breaks apart; a string snaps and she reaches for an arrow.

she nocks. the string stretches taut. draconic fire snicks down the metal curve of the upper limb, lapping at the arrowhead. that fire catches, spreading down the shaft of the arrow, and by the time it goes to bite her fingers, she lets it fly.

her rage consumes the beast in front of her. its squeals peter out to nothing, smothered by the triumphant roars of her dragons. her warriors, armed with their own draconic teeth, join their cry.

she lowers the bow and she smiles and she knows they will leave this doomed world behind.

SHIELD RAID
KING WAYLAND  Eva Morales

weapon of choice: bowblade made with dragon rage 

- the years have made freya calloused. she cares little for the people she commands, but she helps eva / cillian / temp command them nonetheless
(though her interests are more militaristic)

- two of her salamence have a clutch and she raises dragons again

- she spends time attempting to decipher the riddle

- they will go home :catto:

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☉

THE FIRST FEW MONTHS

In the wake of their victory, the world stands still. The echo of celebration batters the numbness of their expectations. They were promised a way home. Heroism was to be the key to their redemption.

Days bleed into weeks which bleed into months. The obligations of a thorne are not something Eva desired, they were thrust upon her by simple actions they did because it was right, and nothing more. But responsibility is something Eva takes seriously. The well-being of a people, their people, is a priority. She keeps a close eye on Tempest Quinn and Cillian Quinn, and keeps freya morningstar close to her side.

Ruling acts as a distraction, but it never entirely diverts her from her true purpose: to get them home. Eva shines like a beacon of hope, a light in the darkness of doubt and despair. She’s tireless in her pursuit. Her late nights alone briefly remind her of her previous life, the one stolen from them. She finds herself missing the expected interruptions of FERNANDO SILPH. In a strange region, surrounded by Rockets and phenomena she didn’t understand, she’s never felt more alone.

There’s only one person she trusts. She looks forward to freya morningstar’s visits and quietly mourns when she leaves. The loneliness has made her paranoid, though she is never truly alone. Rayquaza is a constant presence, a frantic presence. They too are tireless in their pursuit to find a way home. It was too soon to be gone again, trapped in another world that isn’t theirs. They deliberate with Eva, harnessing what PRIMAL ENERGY they can to try and create portals. Galar lacks the PRIMAL CRYSTALS needed to accomplish such a feat.

Still, they never rest. Neither of them.

A FEW YEARS

Sleepless nights have aged her considerably. tress does not do the body any good deeds. She’s worn and tired, but the Queen Light doesn’t let it slip through the cracks. She remains a beacon of hope. Eva is still alone, in a sense, though she has come to unexpectedly trust the kinder Rockets in their city.

She was never meant to be alone. She was born to love. She loves her people and she pours what she has into task: their defense, their well-being, their education, their evolution. At night she struggles with bitter loneliness and pours herself into getting them home.

Rayquaza has been gone for quite some time. She can still feel them, and they come when summoned to fend off the attacks, but they search the stars and the region for answers. For the briefest moment, in the abyss of doubt, Eva’s hope fades into the night.

Until she kisses her.

Freya is a wild storm and at first, it’s overwhelming. Beneath the violent desperation it sparks a love she didn’t know was there. It’s a love she’d keep to herself, too afraid to ask her to commit to it. Eva’s not naive, she knows this kiss is an act of defiance. Freya seeks comfort, and nothing more. Selfless to her own demise, Eva would happily give it to her. She would wrap Freya in her arms, a warm shield against the cruelty of this nightmare, her guiding light.

Eva finds someone to love. It’s her true super power. It pushes her to work harder than ever before. Freya shares her fears and dreams. Eva works tirelessly to make those dreams a reality. Nothing in this world mattered more, even her own happiness.

With every growing smile and perfect laugh, Eva loves her more; but there’s something missing. Freya’s heart is somewhere else, with someone else. They may have parted, but Freya left her heart behind.

Nothing mattered more than her.

So, she found KING WAYLAND tucked away in his isolation. If Eva couldn’t get Freya home, she could at least return something lost to her, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness.

A DECADE

A decade is a blink of the eyes to a god who has existed for millenia. They watch the people grow weary, they feel each emotion in their chosen that rises and falls like the tides. They are proud of her choices. Despite the inner turmoil she’s grown into the goddess they knew she could be. She chose balance over love.

Despite the brevity of her mortal life, she had not given up. Neither has the dragoness. Eva’s love for her has become so pure that Rayquaza even has a hard time not not letting it infiltrate their feelings. They look upon them both with reverence as they ready for battle. Another threat to the balance they fight to restore, another chance to prove themselves heroes and find their way home.

They roar, a deep, primal call to arms that echoes far past the borders of their city.

AFTER

Eva does what she does best: research. She collects fragments and riddles and lays them out in the map of her mind. She attempts to fit the puzzle pieces together to make sense of what needs to be done. Something else is coming, and it will not be as easily deterred as this false BLACK KNIGHT.

Eva crafts a staff from the DYNITE ORE. It’s sturdy for defense and fighting but the love she pours into it provides HEALING for those around her, similar to a pokemon’s HEAL PULSE. Those she has grown to love will not fall on her watch.

---

+ Eva never stops searching for a way home
+ She is a benevolent and king Queen, always instilling hope
+ Eva falls in love with Freya but ultimately helps her and King get back together because she’s too good for this world
+ Rayquaza also never stops trying to find a way home
+ Eva crafts a staff that can use HEAL PULSE

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