your mother holds a finger under your jaw, thumb to cheek, and tells you with a hard smile that it is in your nature to be restless. you have a fire inside of you that must be fed and that you must obey, little dragon, before you can feed it yourself.

she loves you coldly, but she loves you, freya, and is that not the most important thing?

your father is a plain man, by your mother's accounts, and the two of you fall into a mismatched stride, both vying in different ways for her attentions. he, as the arms to the people, the voice of your family's providence. you, with your meticulous studies and fervent worship.

you join her, when she permits, with her dance as ritual upon the dais of your ancestors.

i catch glimpses through borrowed eyes, the silver hair so like our own, the twisting of muscles that made us. i feel your envy at the way her ribbons look like fire and yours, mere embers, and i feel your shame when she corrects your form and grows aggravated and sighs and says to leave her, please, so she may do this right. 

i am made dormant, but i live your happiness. i live your embarrassment. i live your pride. i live your sorrow. i live your expectations. 

and then i see my mother's face.

the morningstars are your keepers - they tutor you within the zinnia estate. you favor literature and language, taking quickly to the huffing snarls and scrapes of your dragons. once, when you have made yourself scarce, hanging upside down in an attempt to mimic a noibat, sophia offers to teach you archery.

you bring this to your mother's attention; she scoffs and waves you away. what use are bow and arrows to the might of dragons?

i am indignant. you are compliant.

from then, i linger, clawing to the surface whenever you tuck on your riding boots. you study your courses and attend your functions and those are dreamlike figments, but on the reins, my hands are your hands. it is the wind i feel in our hair and the stirring of something ancient in our ribs when we are up, up, up above the city we call home.

and there, up there, i think you feel me for the very first time, because you say, will i ever be good enough? 

and i cannot answer.

for i do not know.

☉

i learn i have been robbed of more family than i thought. my mother, selfish enough to die and leave her wastrel of a husband, dismayed and damaged beyond repair, had not only ruined me. even the morningstars, who spun tangled webs in an attempt to defy fate, had lost me these people you hold dear - roy, our aunt, our uncle. i don't know where they're meant to die, only that they don't, and you live on none the wiser.

your hippocampus glows, a thick index of memories persisting of family gatherings, laughter around the table, smells and sounds you can't quite remember because you were too young, just that they exist and sometimes you exist in a single moment, feeling strangely nostalgic.

and you're there now, stitching together one of those curious memories while i watch behind your borrowed eyes.

come on, roy! we're too high up, you say, cheeks huffing with exertion as you try to follow him. you're not a gangly thing like i was and besides, he's shown you how to use your toes to find grooves in the bark and where to grab the branches, so you have no difficulty climbing after him, both of you giggling, nowhere to go but up.

and at the top you say, flying's more fun, because you are a child and your hands are sore and sticky from the tree bark.

he doesn't deign a response - he's too taken aback by the sprawling scenery glimpsed through shifting leaves. he clings to his spot on the tree and stares over rustboro, searching for a home nestled just outside the city proper. smoke plumes out from the chimney and he smiles, pointing, saying, there's home, frey!

you don't mind his enthusiasm, really. you sit down on your branch and swing your legs while he picks out other landmarks and recounts them to you. you wonder what's for dinner and you talk for hours in that tree - all the places he's seen and wants to see, all the things you'll do and want to do. and it's like that, always - painfully easy, full of conversation about this future that will be made yours.

☉

you first meet alexander stone while skipping rocks over the pond in roy's backyard. alex says, the party is too loud, and all three of you turn your heads and watch your parents mingle with their guests, shaking hands and laughing at not very funny jokes, but laughing all the same because it's what they ought to do, and simultaneously you all agree to be the very best of friends. 

he's a shy creature, with hair green as fresh as spring and eyes much the same; he has a smile like petrichor, threatening rain and he looks at you fondly, though this you don't notice (and you won't, for some time).

he says he knows what the party is for and congratulations and would you like to see the ralts he caught too?

the ceremony had been extravagant. the proudest moment of your life. you bathed in the waters of your ancestors and emerged anew, skin raw from the writhing of hundreds of scales, hair like tangled kelp, a toothy grin so wide your mother had scolded you under her breath. 

now you have a dratini of your own and you name her aeris, too. your aunt passes down to roy a charmander - balmung - and you're here, in the present, whispering your excitements about the dragons they will one day come to be. you marvel at where they'll take you, at the heights you'll reach, because you're so used to seeing the world from miles high. 

it's alex who stops your talking with a wave of his hand. he points and you and roy both turn to ogle and gawk, because when you're together, you forget to be disciplined.

you remember that you're kids. 

my curiosity is yours as you cock your head, as you ask, who's he? and think, at the same time, he doesn't look very fun. fitted trimly, carrying the burdens all the rest of you should have too, and your eyes narrow swiftly and decisively.

oh, i know him, says alex with a start. you stand and dust off your dress and leave him to explain the newcomer to roy.

he watches you, this boy, when he realizes you're coming his way, and you can see him straighten. you can see him swallow. you can see him thinking about what he's going to say when you approach. 

he reminds you a lot of the person you are for your mother. put-together. quiet. you wonder if he's like you - if there's a fire burning in his soul too. 

hi, you say, do you wanna hang out with us?

sure—ahem. indeed. he coughs, nose wrinkling. my name is silph. fernando silph.

nice to meet you, silph fernando silph. you smile prettily and laugh and say, i'm freya and that's roy and that's alex and we're talking about who's going to be champion first.

you fidget a bit. he contemplates in silence rather than joins you, smile falling to a thin line after you've said your name. 

hm. champion. it probably won't be stone or i.

you remember alex's last name and blink, exclaiming, oh! alex said he knows you already. that's great! and you're right. i already told roy it's between him and me.

it's a silly game. the three of you had taken turns describing fantastical teams, extravagant moves on the battlefield, and all the hours you'd spend training to be the best. but to him, you realize, it's not. he's thinking about it. he's considering. 

he's looking at you and he's wondering if you could be enough and suddenly you want to be. 

you fiddle with a braid in your hair and say, do you think it could be me?

perhaps. do you think you can do it?

you grin, all teeth, and say with fire, i can do anything.

he looks at you suspiciously and he says, that's true for everyone. but what is possible and what is probable are different. we all have responsibilities and things that come first.

hmm, you muse and because you're too trusting here, in this life, you say, well, my responsibility is to be perfect. and being strong enough to be champion, that's part of it.

perfect is a big goal. but what will you do once you get there? he hums in thought. that's why it's better to be... well, better. that way you always have tomorrow.

that way you always have tomorrow. you're not sure what you thought of this one when you first approached him, but that right there sealed the deal. he's...hopeful in a pragmatic sort of way. you smile at him. 

i...well, i guess i never really thought about it that way. anyway - and you reach for his hand - you should come join us!

and that's how you save his life.

☉

well, not entirely.

this is how you save his life -

he says it's a test of endurance. it's a test of strength. it's the mark of a man. you're talking about it at alex's favorite pizza place in rustoboro. all of them say he's got nothing to prove, but you're quiet. you stare at him from across the table, picking at your fries, and you recall that first conversation you had when you were kids. 

my own memories have struggled away from me. what's yours is mine. once, it terrified me, forgetting the people i've come to love, but there is a comfort in a complete and utter lack of control. the alternative to acceptance is madness.

and i've no wish to relive madness. 

so i don't know if it's a byproduct of knowing you, of befriending you, that makes him yearn to prove his worth. i don't remember if the fernando i know wanted to climb to the top of mt. silver. 

i don't know if i ever strapped on my own boots. i don't know if i ever forced my cousin and my best friends to come along. i don't know if i said, we won't take no for an answer. we're here for you. you're gonna do this? well, we're gonna do it together.

you bring enough camping supplies for a week. your partner pokemon are strong. aeris is a dragonair now and you've found her twin - sypha. lyune is still your mother's, and so he does not make this trek with you. you have your own numbers, your own vanguard. 

the days are exhausting. the nights are harsh. yet you persevere. when one of you tires, the other lifts their bags. sometimes, hours go by without speech. just the passing of rations, a touch on the arm, the grounding knowledge that no one is alone. 

on the fifth day, the ursaring comes upon you in the middle of the night.

you'd been so meticulous about burying your rations, squeezing shut your leftovers in airtight containers, but there are some strings of fate that cannot be avoided. it flays your tent to ribbons. the four of you scramble out of your sleeping bags in a daze. 

its thrashing limbs are a consequence of its entanglement with your dragonair. roy calls forth balmung and the charmeleon lights up the scene with a swing of his tail. shadows dance across the trees. 

you see the rings light up before anyone else. you see fernando in the crossfire. and you don't think. one moment you're calling orders to aeris and the next you're on top of him, nose to nose, eyes wide and hair singed from a hyper beam that missed the two of you by inches. 

after that, things are different. 

you don't make it to the top of the mountain, but none of you mind. you walk out alive. you walk out all the more stronger for it. and when you near the base of the mountain, you slow your steps.

he waits for you and when you near, brow arched inquisitively, he does not keep you waiting. he folds his arms around you and he holds you close and he doesn't waste his breath on saying thank you because this is enough.

you don't realize you're crying until you mistake his sobs for your own. 

☉

at fifteen, you meet a sea witch. 

she tells you about her family's importance and though your nose wrinkles instantly in distaste, your mother says that their family is very powerful and befriending them means strengthening sootopolis.

you agree because you have to. and it takes time, like rivers corroding canals, but one night at a sleepover, in the early hours of the morning, she tells you how scared she is. she's so afraid she won't live up to her potential and what will they do then? she has sisters, all more capable, but she's the eldest. 

you hold her close and you call her liv and next you take to the skies with your cousin, you ask her along too, but she'd rather drift with her legs in the sea. you don't understand it, not until you're carving the water with your own hands, watching moonlight spill over the choppy sea. 

she tells you about the tides, how every hour of every day and every night they dance to and fro in an endless ritual for the moon. she tumbles as she says this, sending a spray of sand with her heels when she lands. you hold out your hand, giggling, and the two of you take off back down the shore, watching bubbles gurgle in the sand. 

aeris pokes around some of the air pocket holes, tail flicking in amusement. 

they're connected to the ocean, you know, she says. even the smallest ones can change the tides. it sounds like blasphemy and you snort and wave it off. 

you say, then why don't they do it?

and she says, tilting her head, why would they? it would throw the ecosystem out of whack. they don't want that.

but then...

sometimes having the power to do something doesn't mean you should.

you rest your cheek on her shoulder and rub sand between your fingers. dawn rises. and the tide rolls in. 

☉

you adorn yourself with rings and bangles, all hand-crafted, worn by your mother and her mothers before you. you comb, with trembling hands, your silver hair. slowly, all its snarls untangle and you sit before the mirror, staring at your full cheeks, long lashes.

i think, do you see me?

because i do not see myself. it is enough to make me...fall silent. i've been with you for years now, but you never fancied mirrors. you never stared at yourself, searching for your soul. and only finding me. 

so i drift. you don't notice, of course. you gather your things. you pin back your hair. and you walk to the cliffside, garbed in white. when you fall, you are haloed in dragonfire. when you rise, your clothes are burning. 


again, she says. 

again, she says.

again, she says.

later, you find her in her study. her cheeks are gaunt, drawn from her puckered lips. alex once told you it seems like your mother's always sucking on a lemon. you laughed, felt bad about that, but agreed.

now, she looks so very tired. you try to step away. your shadow falls across the desk and she stirs, waves her hand, tiredly says, come in. and when you come in, she says, sit. 

you wait for your reprimanding. she puts her face in one hand, squeezes her eyes shut. she sighs. 

do you know why i push you so hard, freya? she says. it's not gentle. it's not soft. that's not the kind of woman she is. 

no. i don't know. maybe i - 

because you can take it.

...

because you have to.

why?

because your home will need you.

she turns the screen towards you. you don't understand the implications at first. but the months after, as the world's powers shift, and kanto falls, you feel the weight of your responsibilities leaden.

again, she says.

when you fall, you are haloed in dragonfire. when you rise, you are resplendent. 

☉

a glass of prosecco feels normal in your hand now. you stand beside abbiati, shaking hands, sharing knowing looks every once in a while. you always make time to excuse yourself for a breather, to feel at ease under the sky, before the sea. but that will come later. 

waiters drift by with stuffed grape leaves and feta stuffed mushrooms on toothpicks. you pluck a couple and squirrel away with a napkin in one hand, your half-drunk prosecco in the other. at a cocktail table, you're afforded one bite before you're accosted by thankful figureheads. 

you say, i'm grateful we could help with the war efforts. i'm sorry we can't do more.

they kiss the ground you walk upon and you search the sea of faces for liv, but she's out on the terrace, far from your purview. 

someone says, are you freya?

[player]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1095565172824875130/1198844426437546076/Kishi_Bashi_-__Honeybody__Official_Audio.mp3[/player]

you turn and you nod; your mouth is full. her smile brightens and she reaches out to clasp your hand. you wince, brushing her off, reaching for a napkin, but she doesn't seem to mind.

she looks beautiful. you don't think this, of course. not yet. you stammer out your 'you're welcome' all the same as you have with the rest, ready to move on and find liv or alex or roy so you can escape the vapid formalities of the room. she reads your disregard, though she doesn't take it personally. 

in fact, she becomes your savior, looping her arm with yours and saying, how about we get some fresh air?

you don't know how late afternoon turns to dusk turns to twilight so quickly. you don't know how you end up down there, on the bluffs, your heels in one hand, your dress drawn up with your other.

wait, you yell, laughing. the sea rolls in to greet the two of you and you stand at the edge of sootopolis. salt sprays your skin. water soils your clothes. you exhale, breath whispering over your teeth. 

follow me, you say and you take her hand. 

the stars wink into existence above, watching the two of you snake down the bluffs, down near the shore. roy and alex are already there. fernando and liv will wrap up with the caterers, as per usual. your mother's disapproving sigh at your antics can't be heard all the way from galar. 

boys, you say with a grin, meet eva.

☉

[player]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1095565172824875130/1199529250676547634/All_I_Had_Was_You.mp3[/player]

the only thing i had was everything, when all i had was you

room for cream and sugar, you say. normally, you'd order a latte, but they seem rather busy and you only have so much time on her lunch break. you stand by the counter and fish out your phone. she's only a few feet away, but that doesn't stop you from sending a dumb amount of emojis her way. 

i truly cannot believe the way you text. 

you're about to hit send, but your phone is knocked from your hand. someone staggers brutishly into you and your phone clatters to the ground. the screen doesn't crack, thank goodness, but you're mad enough that you push back. 

fuckin' bitch, he mumbles under his breath, as you're bending over to pick your phone up. but ye got a nice ass.

you have a fire inside of you that must be fed and that you must obey, little dragon, before you can feed it yourself. you have spent your life obeying and it is now, in this split second, that the hunger you've felt all this time rears its ugly head. 

there is blood on your hands before you know what's happening. there is blood on the coffee counter and this idiot man is crumpled on the ground cradling his nose, calling you obscenities, and his words are slurred around the edges. 

eva is by your side in an instant. your coffee cools in the barista's hand; he's slack-jawed. you grab a wad of napkins and grab him by the forearm. 

help me get him outside. 

he's heavy. it takes the two of you to haul him outside. eva fusses over him, despite your protests, and you resign. she says she'll call out of work, but you say, no, no. fern will kill me if i steal you more than i already do. go. i got this. 

she kisses you on the cheek. 

yer pretty good with yer hands, sweetheart, he drawls as he pinches his nose and looks up through his lashes.

you look exasperatedly after eva, but she's already gone, apologetic smile and all. you split the stack of napkins you'd grabbed on your way out and shove them towards him, grimacing as you wipe your own hands.

don't call me sweetheart.

he barely catches a clump of dark red, but forces it to his nose anyway, stuffing it in his bleeding nostril like he can't feel the pain. 

he probably doesn't.

mmm, yer right, ye give me more of a...princess vibe.

your heart does not ache. why would it? 

look, you're a dick, but because my girlfriend is a very nice person, i'm sticking around to make sure you're not too hurt. so can you please make this more bearable and just stop talking?

yer girlfriend? he says, surprise coloring dull blues as they follow appreciatively after your beloved. well, where's she goin'? more than enough of me ta go 'round.

you smell like the bottom of a bottle and look like last week's garbage.

flirting, eh? i thought ye said ye had a girlfriend. he smirks, but that shortly twists into a grimace, lips falling as a measure of something you recognize as irritation? frustration? trickles in. the hell am i anyways?

you're outside my least favorite coffee shop. at least now i'll have a reason to dissuade eva from insisting we meet here. i swear they burn their beans.

eh? whatever the fuck that means. what time is it?

he looks around as if clarity is seeping in. you look at him pityingly. you can't tell if he started early or if this is a byproduct of last night bleeding into today. 

it's...quarter to one.

he bares his teeth at you like an animal and you resist the urge to shuffle back at the malice behind the look. ya, well, that explains some things. it doesn't explain anything. he raises a brow at you, lip still curled. still time ta take me up on my offer.

you imagine kicking him, but you settle for shifting your weight instead, rolling your tongue in your cheek. your shoulders come up, completely exasperated, and you resolve to tell eva you tried and you're pretty sure he won't remember where the blood came from in an hour. 

you know what? your voice drips honey sweet. no, thank you. enjoy the rest of your day, sir. 

yer loss. he stares at you a moment and then, resigned, staggers off. thanks fer the gift ta remember ye by. blood trails after him; small droplets, the only proof of his presence there.

you never learn his name. you never see him again, after that. there are a few times, as the years go by, when you recall his sleazy smile and bizarrely enough, his face is always accompanied by the vaguest pang of hiraeth.

ghosting your body, haunting my soul.

☉

we love her so much.

morning without you, we say, is a dwindled dawn. we touch her nose. we kiss her cheeks. she smiles back at us and our heart aches for her, even though she's tangled in our legs and our arms. thin shafts of sunlight streak over her cheeks. we trace their outline with care.

she guesses, dickinson?

i've been had, we say. but it's true. i've missed you. we miss her even when she's here. we are hopeless in her orbit, the earth to her sun, as though at any moment we may be ripped away from her. as though we don't belong beside her at all - gravity and fate and all the rest of it be damned.

are you nervous? she asks, lacing fingers.

no. yes. are you sure you'll be okay? we'll be okay? with whoever it is?

of course. will you?

of course.

i love you.

i love you more.

the ceremony is magnificent. we wear the vestments of our mother's mother's mother, a shimmering dress adorned with lapis lazuli and rubies. the orb in the palm of our hands, protected after all these years, glimmers a brilliant emerald. we feel the energy coursing through it - raw. untamed. primal. like moth to a flame, soulfire flickers over our skin, in tandem with our beating heart. our breaths are measured.

we are the beckoner. this will be the single most important thing we do.

we do not relent. we do not stop as our lungs begin to wither, fingers blackening, lips stained a scarlet. we are aware of the sound of our lifeblood, dribbling down our chin, over the emerald orb, and then our ears fail us too.

we fall to our knees. our strength fails us too soon. and our beloved lurches forward, but our mother puts a hand on her shoulder, gaze fixated on the sky.

a formal feeling comes. our nerves burn up, entombed in sallow flesh. we fold in prayer, as we were taught, and we beg in the language of blood for forgiveness. repentance. strength. we feel a warm light on our crown and then we do not remember anymore. 


until - 



who are you?

i'm you.

oh. then who am i?

you're me.

and we're us.

yes.

and are we dying?

this place holds just ourselves and immortality.

after, will i remember you?

would you want to?

i don't know - are you kind?

not as kind as you, i think.

you have always known me.

yes.

are you afraid?

no.

are you angry?

i was.

i remember.

the unbecoming?

yes. and the thereafter.

you hate me, don't you?

you had no choice but to stay.

you have my every happiness.

the living hurt you so much more.

yes.

i'm sorry. and, i love you.

you don't know what i've done.

i do, and i forgive you.

i forgive you.

your lashes flutter. you grasp onto me, wriggling as i am, even still do i dig in my heels and do i stutter and say i am undeserving. i am in this life that is not mine, stripped of my autonomy, reduced to nothing but a figment.

you cough wetly into someone's chest and realize your beloved has you in her grasp. you say, in a broken rush, tell her you love her. tell her we love her. and then, when her brows furrow in confusion, you forget me, because green has turned to gold.

i see you, she whispers and she thumbs your brow and kisses our temple, and kisses your mouth and searches inside of you, parting the veil to me, all the rest of the world so far gone, except the rolling flames and the taste of ambrosia on her tongue. 

this is not the first time we have felt loved - truly and wholly loved, but in this vessel we are not embittered. we are emboldened. so much joy courses through us and i tumble through your fervor, our spirits whole and unshakeable. 

you say, laughing against her lips, i always knew it'd be you. 

☉

all the rest of it is coming. you stand at the edge of the world. i don't know the outcome in its entirety because you do not run like i did. you have roy and alex and fernando and liv and eva. all the horrors, all the bloodshed, it will hurt. but this i know - you will not bow. you will not break.

i linger in the corner of your consciousness. 

memory's fog is rising.

softly, gently, i breathe. your lashes flutter. you say, excuse me and return to your bedroom. the door clicks quietly behind you. you stand before the mirror atop your dresser, searching.

i say through your mouth, thank you. 

and you say, quite simply, you're welcome.

i stand before the mirror atop my hotel dresser, searching, and for a moment, i am disappointed, but then i find you. i touch the corner of my lip, the slant of it. golds soften on an otherwise hard face. your breathy laugh fills in the space where you never were and always will be.

☉