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POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 5:06:46 GMT

lord we gather here today

in your house we kneel down and pray
we ask for your mercy as we open our hearts
to receive your forgiveness o lord

condolences are exchanged among the affluent. the passing of devon’s chief executive officer comes as tragic surprise to those who knew him. a man a prestigious as stone deserves every honor and memorial laid out in his name. numerous devon employees attend the third, unofficial wake, and fernando is among him. he brings a guest that’s long overdue.

his place is toward the rear of those in attendance. those unrelated are ushered to give up their spot to allow colleagues and friends a respectable view of the ceremony. the sidelines suit him well, allowing him to give face without the pretense of rehearsed sobbing. he’s only here for one reason: to confirm the death.

“a shame,” he mutters to the other, holding her hand as both a sign of acceptance and empathy.

freya morningstar

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POSTED ON Nov 5, 2020 15:03:07 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]are you done hiding?

then give meaning to her death.

you once swore your loyalty to me. uphold it.

but is she here out of a sense of duty? is she here because of the unshakeable loyalty she'd once held as her closest virtue? or is it because she is in denial? because the hand that reached out to her from the abyss, desperate to pull her back to herself, is now limp and cold, rotting as the onlookers mumble their condolences.

she yearns for her small island, for the madness so easily succumbed to. and as she thinks this, she sighs, fingers flexing, forgetting for a moment that someone else is holding her hand.

there will be talks of this, no doubt. this small act of dependence, and that's no doubt why he's doing this now.

they shared an intimacy she has felt with few others, despite how brief their countenance was. and yet as she takes her turn to bow her head in condolence, to survey his still body for the last time, she feels very little.

"we live, and we die," she says indifferently. a few within earshot flick their gaze with a disbelieving frown.

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silph

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POSTED ON Nov 9, 2020 11:30:58 GMT

“really?”

fernando finds himself in the same camp. his frown fits beside the judgmental but his stems from more than just her lack of tact. her reaction goes against his assumption — freya should be fraught with sympathy or pain. and, undoubtedly, she is, but the medium in which she chooses to express herself troubles him.

it reminds him of himself but without the self-awareness.

“to my greatest rival,” he squeezes her hand in a show of pain, “and best friend.” it makes it easier to sell the lie.

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POSTED ON Nov 13, 2020 16:59:41 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]"an easy claim to make in front of a dead man," she says, quieter than her first proclamation. trust is a vicious thing. she'd trusted alexander to have her back, to be her pillar of strength as she draws her weapon against the oncoming apocalypse, and now he's abandoned her. she can't forgive him for that.

and fernando, steadfast in his ideals, in his wanton thirst for a vision of a world in his own making, is as much a snake as the ekans curled around her neck.

a frightful ally, a devastating enemy, but she has no one left to turn to. she clenches his hand in hers, nails curving, leaving warning indents against his knuckles.

"and yes," she says. "we die, but until then we live. i plan to live at least another day." her mouth goes dry, but her words are still smothered with an air of indifference when she says, "never thought i'd outlive him."

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Nov 13, 2020 18:00:59 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“in front of a good man.”

corrections are beholden to the dead. in another time, in the ignorance of his youth, fernando would never put emphasis on the unimportant, on those who no longer exist. but with age comes wisdom. so long as alexander loses the tether to his mortal coil so will he lose the ability to get in his way — in more ways than one.

the proclamation isn’t meant to address alexander stone as the world knew him living.

as sure as the shores of hoenn, alexander will be his best friend. it’s just that no one knows it yet.

“really?” he repeats. “i thought it was obvious that the order would be him, you, and then me.”

people shuffle as they rotate out their grievances. content with observing from a distance, fernando remains rigid. only the slight of his lips show any motion, whispering between them.

“one confronts danger, another avoids it, while one remains indifferent, content to sink when the ship finally decides to go down.”

they’re out of order but it’s an apt description of the three of them.

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POSTED ON Nov 13, 2020 18:44:25 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]"you'll be on top of the world, then," she says, "when the rest of us have all turned to ash." a poetic ending. the man with everything ends up the king of nothing.

moxie curls against her neck, uneasy as the procession continues along. sniffles are heard here and there amidst the teary-eyed speeches. she meanders with fernando, ever holding his hand, thin black dress hanging from pale skin.

silver vines wrap around her bodice, adorned with pokeballs. once, carrying so many would have been considered disrespectful, especially in a setting such as this, but circumstances have changed societal notions. still, some give her anxious looks.

everything around them is a reminder that death is waiting for them, inevitable.

"you've still yet to tell me what you want from me," she says. "last i recall, you said i couldn't give you much more than you already have." her tone is to the point and matter-of-fact. the anger from their previous meet-up has faded.

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Nov 16, 2020 20:59:00 GMT

kim cole-essam and Orion Lykos like this

[attr="class","spiral"]“the exact ending i’m trying to avoid. unfortunately, i am but one man and we have already lost another.”

where there is silph there is a scene. however, freya’s addition proves refreshing as he no longer remains the center of attention. the world is not ready for the reintroduction of the morningstar warrior. it shows with how straightforward she draws their apprehension. time may have killed her relevance but some things never change.

“kim cole-essam is married, Orion Lykos is as muted as i am, and stone…”

he pauses. it shows considerable deliberation behind his words. it almost hurts to say it but method acting requires commitment.

“sometimes it’s nice to have a friend who understands.”

her quip does not go unnoticed though. he squeezes her again as a signal to keep in line. he still stands by his stance on the matter.

“when selling yourself as a unique product to acquire an incredible investment, that would be correct. but you’re still an asset. just not enough so to spend thirty pokemon’s worth of capital on for just one. even if it’s lyune.”

only when he hears his own words does he register how much of a bite his comment can hold. he doesn’t mean it to be aggressive or spiteful so he corrects himself immediately. unfortunate, silph has a bad habit of coming off as an ass when he’s focused on being ‘correct’.

“not when i wouldn’t do the same for my own.”

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POSTED ON Dec 7, 2020 23:03:49 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]the odds are stacked against them. fernando, and hoenn, for that matter, can't afford to be choosey with their pawns. and so he is adding to his army, collecting them as one might quarters. how many would it make to be the tipping point? the silver weight that might turn the scale in their favor?

she twitches her fingers; the corner of her lips tug into a frown. her body tells her to jerk away from him like a rabid dog on a leash, but she's here for the long game--at least, until her curiosity subsides.

"i don't know that i understand any of it anymore," she admits. she half-closes her eyes, breathes out through her nose. iron chains snake around the box that wrestles and shakes. it doesn't take much to quell the feeble wave of emotion that still harbors inside of her.

their shores are too far to find footing.

"things were different then," she says, sidling to match his gaze again so that he might see her sincerity. "i wasn't thinking clearly. that's changed." she sniffs, squeezes his hand back, though her fingers curl, nails biting. "besides, you were right. he--we're better this way." unhinged. unmade, remade, uncontrollable.

the reception moves and chatter rises as the last give their respects. freya migrates through the crowd with fernando and manages to find them a space by the buffet table, filled with elegant finger-snacks, as though they were celebrating a special occasion.

he would have hated this.

she hides herself by a decorative vase, draws fernando closer by his arm, leans her back against the wall and looks up at him.

"i won't try to sell myself to you again," she whispers. "i don't have to tell you what we're capable of. you wouldn't be here otherwise."

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Dec 11, 2020 1:40:52 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“Things change. We adapt,” he murmurs as they come across one of Devon’s financial officers on their way up front. Fernando gives a curt bow, mindful not to stand in place for too long as people coil around them in an orderly fashion. “Or we get left behind.” His head raises and he shuffles along as if led by collar and chain.

“But it’s never too late, Freya. Remember that.”

There’s no need to be cordial anymore. They’ve made their appearance and appeased their own inner guilt. Fernando feels nothing for Stone but that doesn’t mean he lacks remorse. As people default to tradition, he finds their intermingling strangely comforting. Hiding away from the crowd lets them revel in their secrets, mellowed out by the mindless chatter around them.

He may have lost Stone but his replacement is just as good, if not better.

“Welcome back, Freya.”

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POSTED ON Dec 11, 2020 2:58:10 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]"yes. we certainly do." the tips of her starlight hair are still dull, shine lost to the dye she'd worked into them all those moons ago, until the ink dribbled like blood down her arms, mixing blue and black until she didn't know which was which.

her arms are still scored from those sleepless, crazed night, with lyune at her side--thrashing monsters amidst a sea of memories not of their own. and to come back to the earth, scorched around her, bathed in blood and soot and ash, and to learn that she still walked with nothing, that the only person she'd ever loved had left her to rot---

he saved you and you made him a promise.

she promised she would return. she promised she would do what she could to protect them--these people she no longer cares for. her lips curl.

"we adapt?" she repeats. her arm is still clutched at his side and suddenly she stiffens her fingers. nails bite as she jerks him closer.

cheek to cheek, she whispers, "no, silph, we evolve."

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Dec 12, 2020 23:54:39 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]Something about the way she says it riles him up. The added pain of her nails digging through the fabric of his suit and pressing into his skin adds an extra bite to it. He has to ball his fist to fight the shiver running down his spine, ignoring the tingle as it doubles down in an attempt to make him break.

“Then show me.”

Their exchange only lasts a moment before Fernando puts his foot down, still within her hold but pulling his face away from being too close to her own. Considering the setting, any further conduct would be nothing short of inappropriate and while he doesn’t particularly care about everyone else’s opinions, he still has a reputation to uphold.

Whatever she is, whatever she’s doing, it’s dangerous.

“I look forward to it.”

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POSTED ON Dec 13, 2020 4:07:31 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]she harks back, teeth flashing as she laughs. some look her way, but she's already proven herself an anomaly here--the stares are covert, followed by whispers she doesn't care to think of.

how frightening to think she once cared what they thought. how freeing to find that she doesn't give a raticate's ass the way they mutter her name, and yet she feels minute guilt, that it's not freya but the morningstar name that will utter from their lips.

yet that too passes, as though it can not be contained in this skin. it will not possess her any longer.

"my wish is your command," she says. and then she slides closer to him, arm around his waist, though as soon as she presses against him, she withdraws, apple tart in her hand. her smile is a challenge.

"escort us out. you've made your point here. there's no point mourning the dead upon a pedestal when most of them are still walking around us."

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Dec 22, 2020 4:56:50 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]Wherein one finds freedom the other only finds a thin shackle of responsibility. Accompanying Freya to Stone vigil had been more of self-imposed favor for her than anything else. Decorum aside, this makes just one of the many visits Silph will be expected to attend. Missing one means very little in the grand scheme of his appearances, so tapering this one off before she becomes too wily fits him as well as it does her.

“Hmph.” He’s unamused by her antics, any excitement fleeting as a particular pair of eyes settle upon the duo. Like a sixth sense, he can feel them being watched, and he apologizes to a ‘certain’ someone with a modest bow of his head. “If only it were that easy.”

Her request to leave bodes well for both of them, and Fernnado takes the lead, personal space kept between them as he no longer finds any value in keeping her hand cupped within his own.

“You’ve made your peace?”

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POSTED ON Jan 1, 2021 0:07:42 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]"i made my peace with this reality long before stone fetched me from my island." the statement is matter-of-fact, despite the inevitable bitterness those words carry. but there is an itching under her skin, a discomfort being among the mourners and being unwilling--unable--to feel the same.

she disengages from fernando in a sense, though keeps her arm slung loosely behind his back, fingers curved against his hip. she leans her weight into him and displays the weary, grief-stricken friend of stone.

he will own her after this, in their eyes. though their story will be a blip on the current media buzz surrounding the threat of the coming apocalypse, but still it will turn some sort of favor in his palms. he supports a warrior as she finds her feet. he raises an army, tangible, and once loved by the people.

well, let her be his puppet, she thinks. she's tried her hand at the game and it proved too much. now there is only the language she knows best--of carbon bows, and reinforced talons, and brilliant, burning flames.

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Jan 9, 2021 11:42:42 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“Hmph.”

Fernando resigns himself to fate; babysitting beasts too sharp for their own good draws a mutual attraction to the man who collects more than he can ever put to use. Freya is just another piece of his plans, tailored as a prime target for reeducation but tempered with an ego Fernando can’t quite pin on malleable. But that’s her appeal.

“I wonder where that places my attempt to pry you from your rock.”

There’s no jest or zeal behind those words. They’re as dead as the man of the hour, beholden only to their meaning as they depart from the gloom of their mutual interest. The moment they’re out of sight, Fernando lets the façade fizzle out, uptight until his collar comes loose.

“Where to now?”

The answer is simple: dinner. But he doesn’t ask her that on the surface. His question is pointing to her long term destination, to where she feels her heart truly belongs. He knows her answer before she can speak it. ‘Wherever you need’ comes to mind, a notched arrow waiting to be released.

Hoenn, precarious as it is, is no place to set her free.

Freya Morningstar can only thrive in a primitive world of combat and survival. She belongs where he grew up, a place tarnish by the failures of his past.

She belongs in Kanto.

But transitioning to that stage will take time. For now, they settle in their post mourning recollection, a pompous dinner of grandeur, celebratory not in Stone’s death but in her rebirth. She will have to settle for the blood of the steak on her plate until the chance arises to replace it with that of her— his enemies.