Michael Navidson
He/Him
32
October 13th
Slateport
Heterosexual
E4; Gym Leader
Sheriff
In the warrior's code, there's no surrender. Though his body says stop, his spirit cries, "NEVER!"
TALES BENEATH THE DYNA TREE (LEAGUE)
POSTED ON Feb 11, 2024 11:57:14 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","Navypog3"] [attr="class","Navypog3-big-img"] [attr="class","Navypog3-1"] [attr="class","Navypog3-title"] MORE HUMAN[break]THAN HUMAN MORE HUMAN[break]THAN HUMAN [attr="class","Navypog3-tagged"] @tag
[attr="class","Navypog3-subtitle"] I HOPE YOU KNOW WE HAD EVERYTHING. WHEN YOU BROKE ME AND LEFT THESE PIECES. [attr="class","Navypog3-pkmn"] [attr="class","Navypog3-post"] [attr="class","Navypog3-icon"] The tales have been told, the songs have been sung. Would-be Skalds return from whence they came, satisfied with the king’s reply. Night falls on the city. A crescent moon hangs in the sky. Humans and Pokemon alike prepare to sleep. [break][break] All save two. [break][break] They sit in the great tree’s shadow by a small fire. He shares a task with other elites, to guard the king while he rests. The warrior protects by keeping his charge close. He rests here under a starlight sea. [break][break] “ Thanks for not kicking up too much of a fuss, king. Guarding you’s part of my job.” Warriors protect kings. That is a mono myth that bleeds across cultures, across time, across dimensions and generations. [break][break] He places a cup by the high king. Resting at the warrior’s side is a bottle. Its contents are golden, like the jewels that kindle greed in the hearts of man and dragon. The contents are poured for the king. He may have his fill. [break][break] “ Mead. Never really liked the stuff until Connors and I started working together.” Greyson Connors is another warrior of Hoenn, another charged to be its sword and shield. “ But his has a damn fine taste.” [break][break] Calyrex sips. His growl of “ Crowow own. ” sounds pleased. The vintage agrees with the king’s palette. [break][break] “ Justice…that’s what you’re having everyone talk to you about this week?” He could have asked any question. He could have asked about the skeleton, or the knight, the warriors, his lost children, or even Valkyrie. Instead, he questions the notion of justice. [break][break] “ Justice.” He repeats the word with a scoff. Calyrex’s expression treads between puzzlement and a hint of displeasure. [break][break] “ Every time that word comes up, I think about a girl. ” His words turn pensive, nostalgic, melancholy. Calyrex’s expression softens. A wise king knows the beginnings of a tale when he hears one. There is no podium or audience. There is merely two men sharing mead and hearth. A story will warm the bones on a cold February night. [break][break] “ We don’t have kings here, as you know them.” He clarifies, setting the stage for what is to come. “ The woman you met, dahlia goode, she’s our commissioner. She’s elected. The people decide who’ll run the show, for good or bad.” A wry smile creeps across the warrior’s face. “ Mostly bad, but that’s a younger guy talking.” [break][break] “ When I met the girl I’m talking about, the commissioner back then was a guy named Ulysses Monroe. Guy had liar written all over him. Typical politician. Promised people the moon to win elections, delivered just enough to pull the wool over their eyes so he could do it all again next time.” The fire of the honey wine burns his chest. [break][break] “ Plenty of people got trampled in Monroe’s world. She did.” A long pause. The warrior-skald looks into the flames. “ I did.” [break][break] “ She fell in with one of the gangs running around Slateport, a city here. Little outfit called Rocket. One of about ten gangs Commissioner Monroe promised he’d crush and never did. They lived like…” A brief laugh bordering on a scoff. “ …warriors. The bad kind. They took what they wanted, evaded the law. Them you’d call knights. She was one of them, but…” For all the terrible weight of years Galar put on the Pale Rider’s soul, he seems a boy of seventeen. His eyes dance with firelight and starlight and the light of lost love. [break][break] “ But she didn’t wanna be there. She wanted to be anywhere but Hoenn. She wanted…” His eyes look up at the nebula of color around them. This close to the city, there should be no stars in the sky, but the high king graces them with that fantasy. [break][break] “ …to dance with the stars. One day, she met an idiot.” A candid laugh. “ And I don’t mean your regular idiot. Don’t even mean the idiots you see on TV. This guy was King Moron. But she liked idiots. Told him a guy oughtta be a little stupid.” Pride leaks in, just a tad. A memory of a pretty face caressing him with a compliment. [break][break] “ They fought together like warriors should fight. They made sure a young hero was protected. They realized they didn’t just love one another, they needed each other.” [break][break] “ But that life…it was gonna kill her, King.” He looks into the eyes of Galar’s high king as if begging him to understand. “ Asked the cops, the knights, for help. They laughed in King Moron’s face. Said the trash in lower Slateport could sort itself out. Rangers couldn’t help, it was a human problem. The law’s supposed to protect people like her. That’s the point of a law. A just world protects them that wanna be better. ” It is his turn to show displeasure. [break][break] “ Where’s the justice in abandoning a woman? Letting her fall to the edge? Telling her life would be better if she’d never even been born?” Another pause. Longer. His eyes close as he loses himself in memory. A sip of his mead, mirrored by the king, calms him enough to continue. [break][break] “ So, King Moron cut a deal. Found a guy who’d get her out. Problem is…he couldn’t get King Moron or the kid hero out. Just one. He’d fake her death. The guy said they could smuggle her out in the dead of night. King Moron talks her into it. Tells her a bad lie. He’ll be on shortly, she’s just going on ahead.” [break][break] “ Then, three of her warrior friends show up. If they go back and tell Rocket, the jig is up. Even back then, you couldn’t just leave once you were in. They’d hunt her down in Unova. But, see, King Moron, he had a trick up his sleeve.” [break][break] Always by his side is a steel feather. It is the last proof that remains that a certain Pokémon lived. To this warrior, it is valor personified, resolve made manifest. [break][break] “ He had the only sword that could match that behemoth blade from your story. With a sword like that, he could take on three guys. So she left. He fought. Even with a sword like that, King Moron got hurt real bad. But he did right by her. She got free. The things King Moron thought, after it was all said and done, didn’t make much sense. Let an older guy translate.” Clearing his throat, he arrives at the point. [break][break] “ Laws and justice exist because people think they do. They’re like the flag. They’re a good story we all agree to tell ourselves. But, sometimes people get treated wrong. Them that are supposed to do right by folk don’t. The only real justice in the world is the justice a man makes for himself. If you don’t enforce it, even against a shitty world, justice means nothing. Course…there’s a fine line between justice and vengeance. King Moron liked them guys he fought. Didn’t wanna hurt em. It was just the right thing to do. ”[break][break] “ Crown…” Calyrex muses. Whatever his thoughts on the matter are, he does not seize control of his skald to voice them. [break][break] “ He…never saw her again, King Moron. And he couldn’t protect her if he did. His blade, it…” He almost makes himself bleed, gripping Ironsides’ last feather. “ …melted in a fight to save the world.” The Rider sighs, finishes his mead, and stands up. [break][break] “ Can I - May I go? I…want some fresh air.” A wise king understands much but says little. The warrior walks around the dyna tree, feeling autumn winds of distant days in the chill of the air. [attr="class","Navypog3-bot-1"] notes about this postNotes go here
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