illie, sap sipper
she/her
27
september 23rd
snowpoint city, sinnoh
bi curious
geneticist, alchemist
head professor
you caged me and then you called me crazy; i am what i am 'cause you trained me.
TAG WITH @illeana
illeana reyes
[nospaces] [attr="class","pilotsb illie"] [attr="class","top"] [attr="class","topimage1"] [attr="class","subtextbox"] [attr="class","lyrics"] who's afraid of little old me?[break] well, you should be
[attr="class","border"]
[attr="class","postbox"] [attr="class","imgavatar"] her expression flattens, nimble shadowy fingers succeeding in hollowing out any sensation of victory she thought had been within her grasp. there is no victor here. consequences and darkness breathe down her neck. somewhere in the mix comes an old haunt, too, for skeletons in closets always find a way to fuck things up. [break][break] and she rises still, like the tides, like the lost souls clawing toward freedom from the depths of hades. [break][break] that, too, finds a hollow chord in their ending symphony. the melody is dragged down, unsalvageable as it's swallowed up by violent waves. [break][break] he approaches and in his wake, she sees moving shapes. bodies. distant memories... waking nightmares finding ways to strangle her even in remnants of daylight. some sport shark's teeth, filed into bloody points, and others are more blue skinned than watery but it all looks the same in the end: blood splattered in a pyrrhic victory. [break][break] she lunges for him, shaking hands scrambling to find purchase in the fabric of his shirt. she comes up empty, grasping at hollow shadows. [break][break] "you rats compromised me."[break][break] when she closes her eyes, she can still feel the whispers... the honey-toned timber of THEO BECKETT's voice reverberating against skull. the chains have fallen, the eagle slain before it could continue to eternally feast on her liver, and the olympic punishment still exists across the multiversal fractures of a mind. she still cannot find the fire given out, the crime perceived against the gods fading into obsolete existence beneath magnified pain and a sunken look. [break][break] "i'll hunt you even in shadow, dark one."[break][break] but her eyes are unfocused, less on him and more on the twisting of his shadows, on the sharp teeth and carmine eyes existing just beyond his right shoulder. he will join the scores of them when skies fade from scarlet and the bitter tinge of iron finally leaves the air. [break][break] the grave is dug deeper, loose soil staring up at her even now. [break][break] kyogre's shape becomes more pronounced, larger against sea and sky... impact is close at hand. [break][break] and as a sound of shattering glass echoes beyond them, as reality rips itself open to reveal creation, she snarls and shoves back. the dragon lurches forward, wing and tail curling protectively around her. it cannot stop the festering wounds nor the shadows squirming through them like maggots looking to eat her alive. [break][break] "you'll never escape me, and i you."[break][break] it escapes as a broken whisper, then, and she raises both hands to send a quick volley of spatial energy arcing toward the outer wall. the result is a shimmering explosion of pink decay moments before the final impact... [break][break] and when the dust clears, she is gone with her god. only an echo remains across the comms to annalise henderson and MATIAS SILPH: "wall weakened."[break][break] part of her sanity has crumbled with it. [break][break] [attr="class","oocnotes"] declan walsh [break] prelude: sootopolis b. 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