Okay, yeah, running off like he did last time was kinda rude, Eddie had to admit. But he had his head on straight this time, he convinced himself, and he had also taken care to load up on antihistamines to stymie the waterworks from his previous visit. Hay fever was a unique kind of hell, [break][break]

“Hey buddy!” he called jovially as he approached the throne of the Calyrex for a third time, “You're in for a real treat today; this one's an Eddie Hisakawa original! You'll have to go easy on me, though; I ain't a writer or nothin'.” [break][break]

His pulse quickened in spite of himself as he watched the Calyrex tilt its head quizzically. There was no need to get worked up though; Eddie had been practicing this little number for days, reciting it in the mirror at his hotel room over and over like he was about to do a presentation for school. He cleared his throat and forced the butterflies in his stomach down before he began his tale, [break][break]

“There was once a king of a powerful nation, and he had a son he was preppin' to take his place. The prince loved his dad with all his heart, and did whatever his old man asked. [break][break]

His dad was always makin' demands of him, though. One day, when the prince was just a kid, he heard music for the first time. There was some kinda bard out in the town below, playin' some little ditty on his guitar, and the prince asked the king if he could learn how to sing and make music too. [break][break]

'No!' yelled the king, 'We ain't got no use for singin' an' shit. Go practice your sword-fighting; that's the kinda thing that'll serve you well.' [break][break]

And so the prince did; he'd practice day in and day out, his dad watchin' all the while. Then, one day, when the prince was a little bigger, he saw some kids playin' games out in the courtyard. It looked like a whole lotta fun! Much more fun than practicin' the same god damn sword swipe for the millionth time in a row, so the prince asked the king if he could go play games with the kids outside. [break][break]

'No!' yelled the king, 'We ain't got no use for games. You wanna play games? Then go study military strategy with our general in the castle. War games are the only kinda games we play in this god damn household.' [break][break]

And so the prince did; he studied with the general, day in and day out, readin' old history books about armies and military strategy 'til it felt like his brain was gonna explode. By now he was a teenager, and some dignitaries from a foreign land were comin' to visit. [break][break]

The guests were polite enough, all a'them bein' royals from other kingdoms, but there was one that stood out more than the others. This guy-” [break][break]

Eddie stopped himself. A gritty lump had lodged itself in his throat; he swallowed hard. Too close, too soon, [break][break]

“This royal was god damn beautiful. Like, the most gorgeous person the prince had ever seen. So he asked his dad if he could court 'em, [break][break]

'No!' yelled the king, 'The hell is wrong with you?! That ain't the right kinda partner to have! Listen, son, I already got a bride lined up for ya from one'a these other kingdoms, so sit down and shut up.'[break][break]

And so the prince did, like every time before. He sat by his dad as the other royals came and went, and his heart broke when that beautiful... uh, person left to return to their own kingdom. [break][break]

Years go by, and the king eventually dies. The prince rises to take his place as the new king, with his wife, a couple of kids, and a lifetime of experience to prepare him for the role. But here's the thing; the new king was fucking miserable. [break][break]

There were no music or games in his new kingdom, and not a single shred of love. Sure, they were still mighty and powerful, but his wife and kids and all his subjects hated his guts. The old king had left behind a real fucked up legacy in the form of his real fucked up son, and everyone had to suffer through it til' the day they all rose up against the new king and put 'im in the ground.” [break][break]

Eddie paused. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, squeezing them anxiously as he tried to find his words. It hadn't really sunk in during his one-man dress rehearsals, but this story turned out to be a real fuckin' downer, [break][break]

“So, uh, the moral a' the story is to be true to you, not to whoever other people want ya to be. Because if you don't, you're just gonna make you and the people around you miserable,” he mused. “Or you could also see it as a lesson to not be shitty to your kids, because then they might turn out shitty.” [break][break]

Were those morals that would be relevant to the Calyrex? Should he have tailored the story more to what the Pokemon might have wanted to hear? Maybe, or maybe not; the Calyrex replied with it's familiar “cro rown!” all the same.

[attr="class","ooc"] Prompt 3; Legacy

"that's the funny thing about dreams, isn't it? you can have a good one; you can have a bad one, and still we call them dreams. but when does a bad dream become a nightmare? 

"sometimes i feel we're doomed to suffer, that every happiness we feel is temporary, interspersed between the inevitable turning point of bad turned nightmare.

"and most of the time, i'm okay with that. those spare moments of happiness, as far and few they are, they're so good. they're what makes all the bad so bearable. 

"do you mind if i lay down while i talk? it's been a long day.

"i used to dream about being important. and that meant getting stronger. that meant doing everything myself. i never thought it'd need people, that it would ever feel okay to need people.

"i dream about them a lot. ki - the people i've lost. the people i'm trying not to lose. but sometimes, when i close my eyes, when i fall asleep, they're not there. there are too many other lives inside of me. other freyas, who've done right, who've done wrong, and it's getting harder to - to not let the lines blur.

"he told me, before i left, that i haven't come back from that place. he wasn't entirely wrong. i burned galar into myself. as punishment, i think. but the place i hadn't come back from is from before. that frozen-over hellscape. 

"...

"thanks. sorry, the fire's warm. that's what i see, most of the time, when i dream. and it's not always bad, but most of the time it is, but that's okay. dawn always comes, in the end."

"crorown!"

TALES BENEATH THE DYNA TREE
2/18 - dreams

☉

She was late once again. At this rate, she’d never get a chance to share all the cool stories inside her head with the self-proclaimed King of Bountiful Harvests. Landing upon the hill where the towering Dyna Tree stood, Andrea clasped her kneecaps, taking a moment to catch her breath before addressing a very patient Calyrex.

“Wow, your head is HUGE! I mean… greetings, Your Highness!” The dragon-costumed woman bowed. “My name is Andrea Vaneau, and I’m here to tell you a story of dreams. You see, my dream is to become a Pokémon!”

“Cro rown?”

“Why, you ask? Well, it all started when I was a little girl. My parents are professional Breeders, so I was practically raised around Pokémon. They also did cosplay as a hobby, and I took after them, because what child doesn’t love playing dress up? I quickly found out that the Pokémon in the ranch were friendlier towards me when I dressed up as one of them.”

“Little kids are usually afraid of Pokémon--especially the more monstrous-looking ones, like Rhydon or Tyranitar--but I never had that issue. To them, I was like a little sister. They loved playing with me, and I loved them back. Over time, this idea got stuck in my head: Wouldn’t it be great if, instead of having to wear a costume, I actually was a Pokémon?”

“One day, a lost Deino stumbled into the ranch. The poor thing was starving, but every time my parents tried to feed it, it would get really agitated and start biting them. It was only when I dressed up as a Dragon Pokémon that I won its trust. We never found the Deino’s mother… I became his new family and named him Chomper because he liked to bite so much.”

The Hydreigon next to her growled with pride, affectionately licking its trainer’s face.

“This is Chomper now, in case you couldn’t tell! Since then, I’ve made up my mind that I wanna live alongside Pokémon as one of them! People keep telling me I’m crazy or that it’s impossible, but weirder things have happened in Hoenn, right? So, that’s my dream: To one day wake up in a new body with claws, fangs, wings, a tail, and who knows, maybe even a big head like yours!”

“Cro rown!”

//a story of dreams

☉

[attr="class","minicharh"]

dreams and/or legacy

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

she thought they were lying. [break][break]

thought they were lying when they said there was an odd pokemon sitting at the tree, listening to stories like a delibird during christmas. lo and behold, marisol is wrong, and there is indeed an accursed creature at the tree, ready to take in the stories. oh, she remembers the creature well - she only barely remembers the dream that it put her in. she doesn't recall, much as she would like to, but she knows that something in her changed after she woke up. [break][break]

there was a longing for something. [break][break]

and she can't quite describe it. it's the itch she can't reach, and it frustrates her. it frustrates her. [break][break]

but what use is it ranting and venting to the pokemon? [break][break]

she looks at it, it looks back at her, but there's no recognition. no, rather marisol is tired when she's reminded. she'll take a deep breath, and sit herself down by the regal pokemon. "you wished for a story?" she asks, putting on a practiced smile, like it's a reflex. she, of course, bows to the royalty like the peasant she is.[break][break]

"there was a woman." she starts, eyes closed whilst hugging her knees closer to her chest. "she was beautiful, wonderful. incredibly smart, loving, and a prodigy. she used her talents to help others, and studied medicine." marisol only pauses, briefly, to chuckle "although, everyone said she worked too hard, and that she'd never find herself a partner at the rate she was going.." [break][break]

there's a brief pause, but marisol takes in the slightly chilly air, and reaches to take her scarf from her neck to place on the ground - something of an inviting blanket to the pokemon. it's up to them to take it, if it pleased. "she worked hard, and in the end was able to make a lot of money. she had a lot of money, a lot of friends, and a lot of what.. a lot of people thought was happiness." the breeze blows, sending ripples in the blades of fauna "she was happy in the moment, but when the lights were off and she was alone in the bed, she wasn't happy. she was lonely." she had everything, and was still lonely. [break][break]

"until she met someone she loved, who was a man who had the same goals as her." now she leans towards her knees, the smile warmer, but it never reaches what looked to be dead eyes. "he treated her well. he treated her family well. he treated children well. he was the doctor who worked in the hospital she was a pharmacy for, and they got along well. he was charming, whispering sweet nothings and tenderly holding hands in the night. when she was scared of thunder, he'd wrap her in a blanket. when the nights were too dark, or the winters were too cold, he'd share his warmth and be her light." she's speaking words, and she's rambling more than she should. there's a part of her thinking that she should have told this story like she did with the sick children in the hospital, but this is a tragedy, and not a romance.[break][break]

"those two prodigies have a child, and the woman is happy." she was the happiest she had ever been, "... she finally had happiness that could not be bought, and she loved her family very much." another pause, as marisol adjusts herself where she sits. yes, she tries to maintain eye contact with the pokemon, and she forces the smile - it's just starting to get harder to do. "the child is very smart, and she's growing well. the woman loves her daughter a lot, even though she's busy a lot of the time. even after a long day at work, her energy is restored when she gets to see her husband and daughter. everything was perfect." [break][break]

it was perfect. [break][break]

"until one day, the bubble is popped. she finds her daughter with red stained hands and streaks on her face. her daughter, happily, hugs onto the woman with those filthy hands. the woman is concerned, fretting, pushing the girl away to look for wounds. she finds nothing, and the reality dawns. she asks: "honey, why are you all read?" in a soft tone, trying to disguise the terror." marisol does her best to replicate the voice, though the quiver comes a bit too natural. [break][break]

"the child, with a smile on her face, claims that she was helping her father. the blood in her face drains, asking her daughter to go take a bath and wash it off. when she does, she marches to her husband in anger. when she reaches him, the kind, warm eyes that always looked at her with affection were gone; they were dead, and empty, and icy. they were devoid of the man--... no, the human she fell in love with."[break][break]

the next words are stuck in her throat, but she pushes through. [break][break]

"he was a monster." [break][break]

she was a monster. [break][break]

"so the woman took her daughter and ran away from the monster. the man she loved was eaten by the monster, who only wished for flesh, and blood, and bone. the woman took her daughter to so many doctors, and so many people to help her, but no one could help her because she forgot. the woman wanted to do everything to help her lovely daughter, and she still loved her." [break][break]

she still loved her. [break][break]

"the daughter looked like she was getting better, and the woman was happy enough. she was glad that her child was okay, and she wasn't scared, until she smelled something bad coming from her clo--"[break][break]

the words are caught in her throat for a moment, and her brows furrow in slight disdain at the memory. [break][break]

".. closet. there, she finds a small animal, dead, cut open and rotting. the woman covers her mouth and nose, and she's mortified. so she puts the animal in a bag, digs a hole in the backyard, and buries it. when the girl comes home, she's exhausted, and looks to the cheery girl who holds up a pretty picture she drew." [break][break]

she pauses, again, just so the story processes. [break][break]

"but what the woman saw at the door wasn't her precious daughter, so eager to make her mother happy, no." [break][break]

"what she saw was a monster." [break][break]

"a monster she couldn't save." [break][break]

uncomfortable silence befalls her, recounting the story. maybe telling it something so close to her wasn't such a good idea, after all. [break][break]

"the woman, who couldn't save the disease of a monster from eating the man she loved, or the daughter she adored, fell into despair. her story ended quickly, with hatred in her heart and a bottle on the table. what she leaves behind is hatred, confusion, and a monstress with the world as her oyster." it's painful when she recounts, but she masks it with a chuckle "and the story of the monstress is still being written." [break][break]

when she finally finishes, she takes in a deep breath to steady her mood. yes, she's okay. it's quite nice, she has to admit, being able to talk freely about her own story the way she has. "thank you, your majesty, for listening to this peasant's tale." her speech is flowery, perhaps, for someone who she can't even understand. "the scarf is a gift for your majesty. may you stay warm whilst gracing the rest of us humble subjects with an offered ear."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]