he has a diverse team and a wide skillset, even though he favors playing at range. she'd go as far to say he's the most lethal of the elite four. matias is volatility; greyson is surgical precision. but now things are spinning out of control and he's started to corrode. 

"they're not fully broken yet," she says as she reaches for a peculiarly painted ball at her hip. "i imagine yours isn't either."

what she wants out of this is more than a showy display of their battle prowess. she knows what he's capable of. he knows what she's capable of. they've little left to prove themselves, but heralding their monstrosities? tempering rage in its most carnal form and redirecting it, commanding it, taming it - that's what she wants.

for the both of them.

the twin-tailed paradox pokemon emerges in a flash of light, snarling and spitting furiously. it paces in front of her, eyes trained with malice on the trainer opposite them.

"let's see what we're capable of."

Greyson Connors

☉

its pupils dilate when its natural enemy materializes on the field. freya's gaze flickers away from greyson and to the wake, measuring its bodily responses to the paltry headway she's managed to make at the draciary. she has a slight advantage here, but only just.

the twitching of its tails, the stamping of its right hind paw makes her mouth twist, command shifting. that roar lingers in the back of her brain, scratching at memories she'd rather forget, and its own claws scrape against the ground as it lurches forward to meet its adversary in a horrendously vicious clash.

the shield comes up and her wake brings its weight down with a snarl in an attempt to break its guard.

Greyson Connors

hone claws into breaking swipe

☉

that shield does not falter. sparks fly and the bodies are almost a blur, with both dragons trailing flame around their manes. the walking wake snarls as weight bears down on it and freya glimpses the whites of its eyes, fury and instinct overtaking it. 

that will be its undoing. 

freya hisses and the string of draconic seems not to reach its ears while it thrashes, gouging fire's snapping jaws a hair's breath away from sinking through mane and sinewy muscle to the lifeblood at its throat. 

and then its prehensile tails lash themselves around one of the quadruped's legs. its own back legs scramble, finding purchase, and lift as steam and hot water pours out of its mouth.

Greyson Connors

tentacle tail hours
walking wake gets them wet smirk

☉

it's the grasping of its tails that save it. not because they manage to pull the gouging fire off balance - no, the creature is too stocky and thick for that - but because it gives the wake enough momentum to lurch out of the way of that glorious, jagged shield.

the heat is nigh unbearable in the room and the water has billowed into a humid fog. she feels almost as though they're back in area zero, surrounded by uncanny tropics. 

"vram!" she snaps and the wake hesitates, water turned to spitting embers in its mouth, but then they die. one eye rolls back to look at her and grant her this moment of trust as greyson's beast rampages on. 

"draushum docar." those embers snick blue and rather than a flamethrower, a dragon pulse shrieks outward towards the fire as it looms closer. 

Greyson Connors

dragon pulse

☉