Hoenn nearly shattered under the oppressive weight of its own guardian. The people were shaken and the League competency questioned. In a time of such turmoil, Eva has remained mysteriously quiet, absent in some sense. Her work got done, but her office door remained closed and one could rarely find her at her listed residence. Rayquaza too had been quiet. The dragon retreated to the heavens to recover in peace amongst the stars.

Many expected her to be right there by his side for his recovery. Primal Intoxication was, after all, one of her specialties. Her science was sound and the instructions clear. No one needed her to oversee it.

Too much time alone with her own thoughts and reflections of the crisis has turned her against her coveted peace. Uncharacteristic tempests and gales that tore across the remote Southern cliffs of Ever Grande Island reflected the turmoil that raged inside.

She is angry. Very angry.

Eva felt it was best not to come with Rayquaza. She could still feel a whisper of the dragon’s insatiable appetite to tear him limb from limb. Instead, she uses the familiar Gallade to TELEPORT home so she can’t hesitate and turn back around.

Everyone has to face their demons, eventually.

She doesn’t greet him in the same way. She can’t say his name. It dies on her parted lips as if something snatched it right out of her throat. She had thought about this moment so many times and prepared herself for what it might feel like to see him alive. A part of her thought it would be joyful, but the storm of feelings raging through her chest is anything but.

Instead of speaking, she just stares at him with unmistakable confusion that she fails to hide in her emerald eyes.

---

MATIAS SILPH

What’s wrong?!

Fire flashes briefly in her eyes. The dam almost cracks, threatening to drown him in a torrent of guilt and fault. He knows what’s wrong. But the foundation of the dam holds strong, because Eva Morales is resilient. Really, it’s the way he looks at her that fortifies the weaknesses. It’s Matias that looks at her, not the shell of him that had been parading around Hoenn for the last two years.

The movement of the Arcanine catches her attention. For a moment, her gaze bounces over to the fire-type. No doubt, it’s a painful reminder of the sacrifice kyle lopez made that Matias chooses to keep close to him. Perhaps it keeps him tethered to reality. The loss of the Champion and the bitter memories of his crumpled form disappearing in flames brings a single tear to the edge of her glistening eyes. She hastily wipes it away. It could have just as easily been a tear shed for Matias at that moment.

Eva approaches the bench with a few cautious steps but doesn’t round the corner to sit as gently commanded. She remains standing in unconscious defiance, just behind the bench while keeping his gaze. Her fingers curl around the back of it, giving her something solid to hold on to.

“You seem . . . different,” is what she finally says, a tentative observation becuase she’s not convinced of it quite yet.

---

MATIAS SILPH

Dying. The idea of it washes over her like a gentle wave but leaves a strong frown of distaste that tugs the corner of her pink lips down. It wasn’t the first time she had watched him die, and it wasn’t any easier. None of this was easy. She doubts but hopes, is angry but grateful, cautious but fearless all at the same time. In all honesty, she doesn’t know where her place is in all this, what role she’s supposed to play.

She promised once she’d never lie to him, so she doesn’t, “I am,” she admits with a gentle shrug, “I’m all those things . . . and more.”

Her weight shifts forward, leaning more into the stability of the solid bench in front of her. A part of her wants to be gentle with him, show patience. Another part of her burns hot with the desire to be fierce, and forward. To chastise him and put him in his place for everything he had put them through. Put her through.

Despite it all she does allow a smile to seep through, “Let’s be honest, Matias, you’ve never been normal,” she says it with an easy, playful cadence. Familiar, but unpracticed.

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MATIAS SILPH