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POSTED ON Apr 5, 2021 0:48:40 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“We were.”

The cut of his knife answers for him. He doesn’t so much as look along the incision, eyes dawned onto her own, tracing out the features of her face while his blade slides across the porcelain plate.

“You can ask the world from me, frankly.” A cross pattern cut sections another piece off. He saves it for later, filleting the portion into more manageable pieces. The previous taste proves satisfactory so all that’s left is to divide and enjoy.

“What I fulfill depends on your reasoning. Money is plentiful but not meant to be wasted.”

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sootopolis

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POSTED ON Apr 8, 2021 3:16:30 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]her own meat is devoured far more quickly than his. while he savors each bite, she makes room for another. her tongue has grown too used to the taste of ash to care for such pleasantries. and so she washes her near-last bite down with another drink of wine and leans back in her chair.

"always the judge," she says with a laugh. "does that make me the jury or the executioner?"

she crosses her legs beneath the table as she thinks. what could she ask him? her heart beats, and she feels it, just as she feels the warmth from the wine-drunk in her veins.

"i want you to ensure that you won't allow my dreams to become reality," she says, tongue carrying on before her mind can catch up. she shifts in her chair, ankle knocking against his.

"that i die in the fire, alive and unrestrained."

she swallows her last bite. "and until then, i want to keep your company." she simpers. "call me your guard, your knight, whatever you need to for the paparazzi. you are my purpose now, so long as you promise you'll grant my request."

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Apr 13, 2021 18:38:57 GMT

[newclass=.rndBG]--rndColor:#c199a7[/newclass]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","rndBG"]

[attr="class","rndHead"]

[attr="class","lnr lnr-bubble"]

[attr="class","lnr lnr-gift"]

SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED!

[attr="class","rndHeadA"]

[attr="class","rndIMG"]

[attr="class","rndText"]
THE EASTER LOPUNNY HAS ARRIVED! from its basket of eggs and gifts, it grants you the following item:[break]

[break]
(ooc: you do not need to engage with the lopunny icly).[break][break]

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silph

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twenty-nine

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POSTED ON Apr 13, 2021 23:28:24 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“Both.”

An apt reply for an answer he has no intention of elaborating into. It’s more for himself than anything else. Trust, while never endowed verbally, is deep seated in their history, no matter how brief.

He still remembers their stroll through League Headquarters. It makes watching her now all the harder to stomach. To see her wither away into nothingness.

Not enough so to interfere when he could’ve. Not enough to give her the time of day she so rightfully deserves. But it still bubbles in the crevice of his stomach, a wishing well sorrow that’s painted in prayers rather than actionable items.

“Naturally.” Her meal is finished and his is halved. He has no intention of finishing the rest. His appetite has long soured. The rest will be bagged and carried out—nothing goes to waste. Likewise, Freya will not be squandered. He is to enjoy her to the last bite.

“However, I have no intention of letting you die.”

His smile promises dessert.

“I plan to live forevermore.”

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dragoness

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POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 0:25:44 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]"then you've promised me an oxymoron," she says, though at least she has the comfort of knowing his plans stretch beyond leaving her six feet under. could he say the same, if she hadn't made herself his ally?

she laughs. "i hadn't realized you'd found the fountain of youth. we all pass. our legacies are the only things we leave behind. you of all people know this."

the meat sits in her stomach less than amicably. she's not used to eating such large portions, and the realization that she had is a bit startling.

as it stands, dwelling on one's own demise seems to revitalize one's appetite.

the waiter comes to clear her plate and politely offers to box fernando's food. when he disappears to tout back with his leftovers and a dessert menu, freya tilts her head.

"i will supervise the estate and ensure it's running smoothly. when production and training are back to standard, i'll relocate to lilycove." moxie curls against her chest. "unless you say otherwise."

FERNANDO SILPH

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silph

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POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 0:43:50 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“Did I?” There’s almost a whimsical note to the question as if toying with her. It’s the only hint he allows to breach the surface. The rest waits for her underneath the depths of his own depravity.

“I suppose contradictions rise from those willing to fold on their principles in order to acquire what they want. Congratulations.”

Fernando lowers the doggy back to his side. It sits on the floor beside his seat. He doesn’t allow it to soil his view. The table remains reserved for them and only them.

“I trust your judgement.” He has no intention of micromanaging her. Not this late into the game.

A credit card weightier then the pen provided is placed within the leather studded folder that comes with their bill. His signature is dotted in one smooth motion. He tips well, not because of the service, but because his company puts him in a good mood.

“I look forward to your housewarming.”

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POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 1:03:37 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]housewarming. once, that estate used to be full of life. there are capable hands handling operations, surely, with her parents' stationed away from sootopolis, but so much has happened. a leader is necessary in times of war.

she stretches and eyes her still half-full glass of wine. then she sets it down.

so trivial this dinner, and the people that chatter and eat around them. so fruitless it all is, to swaddle themselves in luxury and comfort when they're standing on a precipice, jagged spires below them.

she reaches for his hand, and she stands. the silver vines that wrap around her bodice shimmer against the black of her dress. she palms a ball, plainly enough for him to notice, subtly enough to not worry the restaurant's patrons.

"fly with me," she says. "let's pretend we're above all of this."

FERNANDO SILPH

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silph

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POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 1:18:09 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“…”

Her gesture does not escape his notice. What it means is all too loud despite the clamorous background. He doesn’t inquire despite his own curiosity. Instead, he accepts her for who she is, leaning to fetch his leftovers during their brisk departure.

“Pretend?”

A challenge is set in stone.

“Freya.”

He leaves it at that, accepting.

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POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 1:28:17 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]they look up from their glasses, turning from their conversations, and she smiles cheekily. and her gaze must be so unsettling, because those curious glances flicker away upon meeting her gaze.

when they are outside, there is that car waiting for them, but she squeezes his hand tighter, and she thinks of her name on his lips, making her real. something hums in her veins and she drinks in the spring air.

it's late and still a few cars mosey their way down the street. she tosses her ball and a dragon emerges, though fernando may not recognize this one. he's nearly half the size of lyune (though still towers at six feet), with thinner wings and a sleek underbelly. a plain saddle, tight and sleek, wraps around his back.

she swings onto his neck. his tail lashes and a car screeches to a stop, horn blaring at the beast blocking its path. freya laughs.

she extends a hand to fernando.

FERNANDO SILPH

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silph

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POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 1:53:45 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]This part of her he can do without. The fascination with Pokemon, how entrenched they’ve become in our lives, is something he can never understand. Well, that’s inaccurate. Perhaps sympathize is a more acute word.

“…”

His own grace is not meant for riding. He lacks the same movements when it comes to mounting a stranger’s beast. Her hand is taken and leveraged with each step. His place is behind her, arm wrapped around her waist.

He doesn’t dare let go.

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TAG WITH @freya

POSTED ON Apr 15, 2021 20:55:50 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]the salamence hunkers lower to the ground, neck swinging as a low hiss spurts over his forked tongue. the driver ceases the frenzied blaring of his car horn at the warning sound.

fernando mounts and ori shudders beneath them. he takes a step forward, standing tall, muscles rippling as he adjusts to the weight of his riders.

and then powerful legs kick the three (four, counting moxie) of them off the ground. his crimson wings snap open and he races into the air at an impossible speed.

her thighs squeeze against the saddle, and the injury in her leg twinges. but she embraces that pain, grasps fernando's hands around her waist, and dares a glance back at him as ori reaches the apex of their climb.

they hover for a brief moment, above the half-asleep city, and then he tilts, wings folding as he dives.

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Apr 17, 2021 23:01:51 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]The turbulence is something he can never adjust to. No matter who’s Pokemon it is. Even his own quiver when taking off at full speed. The most he can do is trust, left to depend upon them for safe travel.

When she turns back Fernando’s stare fixes on her own. His eyebrows a knotted, a tell tale sign he’s not in his own element, but that doesn’t come as a surprise. The marvel of their scenery is lost upon him, for he cares not.

Their descent is met with his hold squeezing her a bit tighter. Not enough to become uncomfortable—he could never—but just to reaffirm his grip onto her.

A safe journey is all he could ask for. Every time speed is of the essence, he secretly wonders if it’ll be his last.

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POSTED ON Apr 20, 2021 4:11:54 GMT

[attr="class","freypost"]at dinner, and at meetings, and at small talk, she is out of her element. she is directionless, not knowing where to put her hands. (she could almost laugh that she used to stretch over such a thing). but here, with the wind ripping her hair behind her like a whip, grabbing hungrily at her clothes, the very air from her throat--here is comfort.

it's as much a blessing to her as it is a nauseating non-necessity as it is to fernando.

ori does not dive for long. he uses his momentum, tail slicing down through the air, wings half-unfurling with precision, to loop into the air. they breach a cloud; their clothes instantly collect dewdrops and freya gasps.

ori's wings fan, but suddenly freya and fernando are staring at the ground, dangling only with the strength of their clenched legs--as there are no stirrups.

freya hisses. the salamence shudders, well enough to shake off even the most skilled of riders, but freya relaxes anyway. she slides off of his scales, fingers holding fast to fernando's hands on her waist, dragging him down with her.

and then they're falling.

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Apr 22, 2021 17:02:39 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]There is a line you do not cross.

For Fernando, he is a patron saint. His patience is immeasurable. Those around him? Utter buffoons. But his mind is impenetrable. The migraines that sprout from the seeds of idiocy wither without the soil of mental weakness to fuel it.

He simply does not care.

What he does care about is the one thing he values above all else: himself. So when he feels the foundation of their safety, their Salamence ride, leave the feeling of his legs, his annoyance folds inward. He has no doubt that it will rescue them long before they become a splat on the ground, but such flashiness is nothing short of gaudy.

His grip tightens to the point that even if Freya wish to pry him off he would hold onto her much like their promise, eternally.

And, somehow, during all of this, he still finds the time to scowl.

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