victory lap

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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crow

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freya morningstar
victory lap
POSTED ON Aug 8, 2024 3:48:59 GMT
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there is still sand in her boots. she has one of them off right now and has had to fight off a couple of unruly gible who have flocked to her in her shiny sygna suit like crows. her gauntleted fist strikes one of them in the side again and it growls, but waddles off, pride the only thing wounded. 

she shakes her head and knocks the boot against her palm. a couple more grains trickle out. 

on her door in league headquarters is a sign - anyone visiting her for her open office hours won't find her there any time soon. instead, they'll find instructions to the draciary half a mile away, dug into the expansive cliffside, filled to the brim with every dragon in freya's arsenal and then some. 

an enormous salamence rests behind her, blue scales glittering in a ray of sunlight from the open air dome. on-site workers mill by her, leaving her to her own devices.

off the coattails of botl
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Ghostfinch

She/Her
19
January 5
Dewford
Lesbian
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Elite Ranger (ooc)
5'4 height
5'4 height
i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.
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POSTED ON Aug 8, 2024 15:42:34 GMT
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Robin had rolled her eyes at the note that Freya was at the Draciary. Gwen was there too often these days, too. But she had turned on her heel and dutifully pursued her anyways, obliged to keep moving forward like a compass needle chases  North.

The trip gave her an opportunity to try and untangle her thoughts. Her stomach was the ball of chargers hanging from the outlet in her dad's office, all knots and fraying cords and indistinguishable problems. There were bags under her eyes that never seemed to get better. She couldn't sleep, she struggled to eat, and for all the missions and tasks she stuffed her day full of, she never felt like she was doing enough. Enough was always out of reach but impossible to stop reaching for.

Freya and her Salamence in the sunlight looked like a rare moment of serenity Robin hated herself for wanting. The weight of the world sat at the base of her throat like an anchor, and despite it, she felt unmoored.

"Freya."

She'd aimed for lightness and missed the mark completely; the sound of her voice conveyed ruin. Her mouth worked for a few more moments to express the right thought (I'm scared) (I don't know how to protect Gwen) (I want the fighting to just start because the waiting is killing me, and does that make me evil) but she settled for:

"Can you help me?"

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crow

the ascendant
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POSTED ON Aug 10, 2024 0:13:49 GMT
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if it's solace robin is wanting, she's come to the wrong place. freya looks up at her, puzzles over who she is for a tad longer than she probably should, and then grunts as she kicks her gauntlet back on. the metal snaps together, melding seamlessly (thanks, hoenn!) and then she stands, grabbing her scabbard as she goes. 

robin's request is greeted with silence at first. enough so that lyune even lifts his head. the scarred muzzle of the salamence swings toward robin, maw parting to parse her scent, lip curling in a snort shortly after. freya pats the side of his cheek.

"only if you carry my quiver for me," she says and points to where it lay, rumpling the grass. she buckles her scabbard and sword to her hip, smiling. she recognizes that look. she knows the doubts, the worries, the fears that are festering inside. lyune could taste them; freya can feel them. 

"we can talk while we shoot."
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Ghostfinch

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January 5
Dewford
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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.
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POSTED ON Aug 12, 2024 16:19:54 GMT
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Whatever she'd expected, this wasn't it.

Freya's movements were unhurried. She was completely composed. It felt utterly opposite to the erratic chaos that filled Robin internally and spilled out of her body in jerky movements and restlessness. Still, the direction felt like a lifeline, and she clung to it readily. Following an order meant she didn't have to make a decision herself, and it was a kindness.

She grabbed the quiver and followed Freya with only minor confusion - was she supposed to understand how to use a bow and arrow? That wasn't quite covered in Ranger training.

"Um, what are you going to shoot at?"

Talking about the arrows is easier. It's a lighter conversaton, not a minefield. Even though she's gotten what she wanted, Freya's attention, she feels ill at the thought of talking about her feelings. She wants direction without admitting she's lost, comfort without admitting she's scared, and security without admitting she's vulnerable. She's tired of giving. To confess that aloud is to confess that she's an awful person, though, so she keeps her mouth shut.

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freya morningstar
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POSTED ON Aug 12, 2024 17:14:38 GMT
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lyune watches them go, considers following, and then rests his head back down on the grassy knoll, too content to bathe in his patch of sunlight. freya doesn't mind; he's an intimidating presence to most and the girl beside her seems an elastic ready to snap. 

still, dozens of the draciary's denizens poke at them as they walk. dragonair slither about, greeting freya with affectionate nips to her forearms, her ankles. a couple of axew and trapinch plod after them for a bit before breaking away, scattering when their handlers go to scoop them up. 

"the dragons," she says mildly. 

the practice field is taller than it is wider and along the walls are a variety of caves. salamence of all sizes slink around. some of the younger ones turn their heads. drool gathers in their mouths. an odd pole sticks out of the ground at the center of the field. 

freya goes to a cooler and sinks the claws of her gauntlets into a frozen miltank shank, lifting with a grunt. 

"it's good practice for them. and a bit enriching. the arrows i use for this won't harm them. salamence scales are too thick." the pole has a dark, gruesome hook hanging from it and she heaves the shank up onto it. she gives it a couple of test tugs and, satisfied, walks back to robin. 

the dragons wait patiently for her signal.

"now, let's hear it," she says, reaching around robin to withdraw an arrow.
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Ghostfinch

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19
January 5
Dewford
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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.
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POSTED ON Aug 12, 2024 17:35:40 GMT
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The answer surprises her, but the explanation soothes whatever worry had possessed her for a moment. Of course Freya wouldn't actually hurt her dragons. But the relief burns into jealousy for a brief moment as Robin wonders if the privilege of joining her for shooting is one she'd offered months ago.

It's an old wound, the envy she holds over how enamored and awed Gwen had been at Freya. The brief betrayal of Gwen changing sharply from a Magnemite-loving nerd to someone loving the fiercer - scarier, riskier - dragons. It had brought out confidence in Gwen, but Robin had also feared Freya was molding Gwen into her own image like clay. She and Gwen had had a heated argument about it, once.

In the present moment, Freya's focus on the task at hand makes it easier to speak. When Freya's eyes aren't on her, Robin feels like scrutinized, less seen. It makes her feel like she can speak without judgement, like Freya won't see the traitorous emotions inside her that make her want to flee Hoenn. "I've been worried about the war. The lack of direction from the government makes me think the League doesn't..." Care? Treat its citizens like worried, panicking people? Make good decisions?

How could she vocalize such treason? was willing to criticize the government, and she often agreed with his sentiments. He made it easier for her to be brave, to think her thoughts without guilt. But he wasn't here.

"I just don't know what to do. I've done some gym challenges to learn to battle better. I've done everything asked of me to like, help displaced wildlife and deliver supplies. But it feels like I've done nothing." She hears how selfish the thought is once she's said it, but it's already out. She might as well double down. If Freya doesn't respect her afterwards, it's not like Robin's got a lot of fans anyways.

Her eyes are glued to the ground. "I'm losing my mind. The waiting. already told me that that was okay to feel, and it was healthy to plan for things after all is said and done, to give me something to look forward to. But I want to feel okay now. And you're so, like, composed. And I can't get there. I don't know what's wrong with me."

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crow

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freya morningstar
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POSTED ON Aug 12, 2024 18:13:11 GMT
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snarls whisper from the mouths of the caves. two salamence snap their jaws in warning at each other, claws flexing against stone in anticipation. they are wild things, held fast at the fringes only by loyalty to the woman who tests their patience. 

they too despite the waiting.

a brow arches at her first comment. it's a common sentiment and one she's even shared before, but that was before she stared down the barrel at political repercussions, at all the lives that can be impacted by a single piece of information.

"i have spent nearly every waking hour planning for what's to come. so have my colleagues. there are a thousand and one pieces to all of this and we cannot afford to let our adversaries know what we're doing. we can only trust that our own trust us."

freya fishes out another couple of arrows and reaches into a pouch at her side. with a swipe of her thumbs, she decorates the arrowheads with different swathes of paint. and while robin talks, she pockets the paints and withdraws her sword. 

it's a wicked piece of metal, curved and gleaming, meticulously cared for. her thumb presses to the side of the hilt and with a rough up and down snap of her arm, the blade is cleft in twain. it snaps into position, blade becoming limbs, hilt becoming grip. an obsidian thread races down the back and she nocks one of the arrows with a hooked finger. 

and you're so, like, composed.

the fire in her stirs; ancient anguish and primordial pain festers in her blood, twisting her insides, reminding her that she is part of a larger whole. somewhere in the skies, the serpent waits too, but a millennia of existence has made them patient in ways no mortal can fathom. 

it's why freya is patient too. 

"i do not sleep very well," she says. "the three hours or so i've been getting every night  are riddled with nightmares. someone i love very dearly is in a complicated slew of danger. and the city i abandoned three years ago is still suffering under a terrorist's regime. i can assure you, robin, that outside of my own slice of paradise here, i am not composed."

and then she tucks her chin and the hiss that slips past her teeth is both sharp and ragged: "tlush."

a blue and maroon shape darts into the air and she turns on her heel, eyes narrowing to trace the sprightly dragon's trajectory. his fangs gleam, spittle spattering the side of his neck, and then a bright splotch of pink explodes on its shoulder. claws graze the flank, sending it spinning on the hook, but he knows he's lost his chance at his prize. 

his wings flare and he retreats. freya chuckles. 

"it's another test of endurance. the waiting, i mean. but i have found it's easier if you surround yourself with people who are also waiting. who can share that burden with you."

she holds out the bow and a green arrow. "want to try?"
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Ghostfinch

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19
January 5
Dewford
Lesbian
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Elite Ranger (ooc)
5'4 height
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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.
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victory lap
POSTED ON Aug 12, 2024 19:51:43 GMT
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Trust is abstract. She doesn't know what it looks like anymore. She only knows that it exists in the negative space of how she actually feels. Her outlook on life is a puzzle and trust is a piece with sawed edges. It doesn't belong, anymore. The truth is that it is easy to become jaded if you keep your eyes open. Trust, like faith, seems to come only to those who keep their head bowed.

But something like it is there, more of an expectation than 'trust' and yet, all the same, she trusts Gwen to spout off facts Robin's never heard, trusts Lam to annoy her like all big brothers inevitably do, trusts Mun to eat her berry cache, and trusts the sun to rise each morning.

None of it can be applied to the League right now. At best, she can trust them to create busywork that she dutifully completes. She trusts them to not share enough with the public. Perhaps, it's the best because of Rocket rats. Perhaps, it's an excuse to be opaque.

So, it's surprising to hear Freya follow her assertion of trust with her insomnia. The confession puts more trust in Robin than the Ranger had earned from Freya, even with their collaboration against larger threats in the desert. Robin can't keep the surprise from her face. It's not healthy to put people on pedestals but the Freya Morningstar was losing sleep over it all. She held herself together in the safety of her Sanctuary.

Maybe that was a missing piece of Robin's puzzle, too. Navy and Lam had both encouraged her to find a place to call her own. The refrain of this lesson was no longer something she could ignore. She watched the arrow find its target like a Pidove returning to its nest. Her success looked natural. "Shared sorrow is half a sorrow, huh?" She felt like the whole world was holding its breath. She wasn't sure watching everyone else wait with her was an improvement for her nerves, but she hadn't really talked things out with anyone besides Freya and Lam.

And she didn't want the bow and arrow. But like a good little Ranger, she accepted it. "Okay," she said, trying to find the right cadence to sell her trademark overconfidence, "but don't be upset if I ace it immediately. I'm a natural winner, y'know." It falls a little flat, but it's rendered even flatter when she struggles to pull the bowstring back. "Uh, is this broken?" It was a straight-forward bow, so surely there wasn't some secret mechanism making the string unbendable. She get it only a few inches back before her strength failed to bend the bow further.

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crow

the ascendant
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freya morningstar
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POSTED ON Aug 12, 2024 22:24:15 GMT
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"it took me too long to learn that," she replies softly, that threadbare smile on her face tugging a bit too taut. the weight of the world on her shoulders, turned into the object of her own grief, swearing up and down that it was and only ever would be for his good, for their good, and at the end of the day all he'd done is hate her for leaving him out of it.

for not believing in him, and trusting him to trust her. 

"a dear friend of mine asked me once if i knew what strength is." robin takes the bow from her and she stifles her amusement at clumsy fingers, bravado giving way to the immediate realization that something's not right. 

"and i thought myself a silly little dragon. that i must be bigger and faster and meaner than all the others." she goes to robin's side and swiftly fits around her, firm hands taking her own. lean, sinewy muscles flex against her as she pulls robin's fingers back on the bowstring, holding taut, urging her to take aim. 

"but we're not dragons. we are painfully, pitifully human, and the strongest thing we can do is know when to ask for help."

a low hiss rattles behind her teeth and an even smaller shape darts from its hiding place on the ground, wings only half-furled so it can speed like an arrow itself toward its prize. 

"take aim and tell me when."
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Ghostfinch

She/Her
19
January 5
Dewford
Lesbian
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Elite Ranger (ooc)
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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.
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POSTED ON Aug 13, 2024 16:51:42 GMT
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Robin worries her lip. Asking for help? "I reached out to several gyms for help training, met with mentors for guidance, asked friends to keep in touch as things have progressed, and nothing has fixed-" her defensive rambling is cut off as Freya comes close, helps her with the bow.

Her heart races.

Freya moves so easily and possesses such significant strength that Robin is speechless. Freya's so unlike Robin's other mentors. The dragon rider never brags her own strength nor rests on her laurels, but her name is well-known and her opinion carries incomparable weight. Robin usually likes herself, but she's never had the self-confidence to let her actions speak entirely for themselves. The way no one needs to speak to Freya's accomplishments makes it seem so natural, like a law of nature. This is all to say, Robin feels dwarfed by her for a moment, pulled into her orbit.

It catches her by surprise. The other woman is such a force. She's also incredibly pretty, and her confidence is inspiring. She moves the unyielding bow string like breathing. Rendering the impossible possible with little effort. Robin can see herself, for a brief moment, asking to be under Freya's tutelage. Robin's blindsided by the easy influence of someone who carries herself with such determination.

In fewer words, Robin can't help but obey. "Okay," she breathes out as she takes aim. The dragon is far too fast. She looks, tries to predict, but ultimately closes her eyes at the last second. "Now." She keeps them closed, uninterested in the results as she calms her racing heart.

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crow

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freya morningstar
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POSTED ON Aug 16, 2024 2:33:39 GMT
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keeping yourself busy. telling yourself, as you work to the bone, that this, surely, must be enough. as you smile and promise that you are okay, that you can handle it, that you are just waiting for the inevitable, mind unraveling as the tasks beneath you become monotony. 

i know, robin. i know, i know.

and she's so sorry that it's come to this. that people like robin, like , like  - they don't get to come into their adulthood on solid foundation. 

but her grip tightens. she does not sway to the prickles of insidious resentment and hate that could make her falter. no longer will she stumble. robin guides them. one of freya's braids slithers over her shoulder, down robin's side; mega stones woven into her plaits sparkle in the sun. 

robin's heart stutters. freya's breath tickles the crown of her head. 

ori nears his prize and freya narrows her eyes, gauging the distance, sizing up the shot, nudging only slightly to the right when robin commands they let go. the arrow clatters. bright, mossy green paint lights up ori's underbelly.

his claws scrabble for purchase against the haunch and freya clicks her tongue when he tears a scrap for himself regardless.

she withdraws, leaving the bow in robin's hands, and juts her chin towards the grip. "lock your thumb there and give it a flick; it'll turn back into a sword. i'm still not a swordsman by any means so i can't teach you, but i do have starter bows if you ever want to learn archery."

a thin smile. "or you can learn about the dragons. or, at the end of the day, you can borrow some of this space to breathe." the small salamence scurries up to her and noses her palm. she tickles his cheek and coos affectionately, smile melting to something warmer. less strained. 

"you just tell me when you need it."
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Ghostfinch

She/Her
19
January 5
Dewford
Lesbian
Ranger
Elite Ranger (ooc)
5'4 height
5'4 height
i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.
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POSTED ON Aug 16, 2024 15:10:36 GMT
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She exhales as she opens her eyes to the sight of paint exploding, unaware of Freya's small adjustment. Something tight pulls on her chest, but it's not a bad thing. It's not a bad thing.

She flicks as Freya said, turning the bow into a sword. "This is the coolest thing ever," she says in one rushed exhale. Robin thinks one of these multi-tools could be super helpful for Ranger expeditions or rescue missions if it could turn into a machete or sickle for tall grass.

The offer Freya floats feels like a lifeline. She isn't sure she's earned it, but maybe it's not about earning at all. She would never expect a civilian to earn the right to ask for help. It's a thought she'll have to sit with longer. For now, there's a warmth at being offered a place to come to when she needs it, no strings attached. A sanctuary, and with enough familiarity, a home.

"Okay," she says simply, voice tight. She doesn't ask the other questions that hang on the horizon, like how Freya intends to protect the Sanctuary if she's fighting on the frontlines, or what she suspects will happen after the coming battles. The questions feel softer in her mind, like whispers instead of the nonstop yelling she's been working through for weeks. The serenity washes over her, but it also makes her limbs feel traitorously tired, no longer having to fight itself or her mind or the stress or the sleepless nights. Freya has offered her a ceasefire of the war between fight and flight.

She's spent a lot of time feeling animosity towards dragons because of Gwen's infatuation with them, a desire she thought had been unfairly thrust upon Gwen by Freya for the longest time. Now, she gets it. And she feels safe enough to ask, "is it cool to hang out a little longer? I wouldn't mind hitting a snooze, if any of these guys are cuddlers."

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crow

the ascendant
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twenty-nine
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POSTED ON Aug 16, 2024 17:35:16 GMT
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"came up with the design in a dream," she says. "somehow took my scribbles and made it a reality." her arrows were once devon tech too, made to fit the quiver he fashioned for her, but new hands are making those for her. new pieces have replaced dented and damaged parts whenever she walks away from a battle.

when robin offers, she takes the weapon back and slides it into its scabbard. not to be forgotten, ori nudges her fingers again and she shoos him away with a release word. he hisses delightedly and half a dozen other dragons clamber out of their caves to descend upon the hunk of frozen meat. 

most dragons aren't cuddly companions (to most people, anyway). freya is content to lay in a nest of dragonair or salamence with the soft, flat scrape of their scales, but she leads robin over to a modest den housing two pillowy dragons.

"you'll have to let the altaria get comfortable with you before they let you nap with them, but kaheera and baloo are wonderful. aaaand - " she says, stepping to the side to check the laminate sheet pinned to their post - "they were just fed so they're sleepy."

her heart is still in knots. every smile, every sigh of relief, is a reminder that she is, in some ways, responsible for her. she could make a mistake. she could underestimate their forces, make the wrong call, and robin will be there in the thick of it. another body. another number for her counts. 

"take all the time you need," she says and turns to go.
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Ghostfinch

She/Her
19
January 5
Dewford
Lesbian
Ranger
Elite Ranger (ooc)
5'4 height
5'4 height
i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.
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POSTED ON Aug 19, 2024 15:13:41 GMT
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The promise of sleep makes her eyelids tired, but she manages to follow Freya to the Drampa den. It takes no time at all to settle in, their presence warm and welcoming...

She doesn't dream.

She wakes gently, rising and falling with the breath of the Drampa she rests her head on. She stretches and gets to her feet feeling refreshed. How long has it been since she's slept without any fits? Since she's slept without nightmares?

She's unaware she has a crazy bedhead from the side of the Drampa as she looks for Freya, stopping periodically to gaze at the dragons soaring around her. Sometimes, the sight of them makes her feel like she's in the eye of a storm. It brings a deep-seated sense of peace to her, that she's a pillar of order in a world filled with chaos, even if she's spent more time breaking to pieces than fixing anything in the last several weeks.

[newclass=.samcam] [/newclass][newclass=.samcam b] color: #d49736; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: .5px; [/newclass][newclass=.samcam i] color: #d49736; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: .5px; [/newclass][newclass=.samcam u] text-decoration: none;border-bottom: dashed 1px #d49736; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: .5px; [/newclass][newclass=.samcam a] text-transform:uppercase!important;font: 800 15px Poppins!important; [/newclass]
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crow

the ascendant
she/her
twenty-nine
November 03
sootopolis
demisexual
councilwoman
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i got new love, new skin to wrap myself in
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3,276 posts
part of
TAG WITH @freya
freya morningstar
victory lap
POSTED ON Aug 19, 2024 16:23:56 GMT
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freya lingers, watching her curl up in the dragons. kaheera exposes her belly, wrapping soft, downy wings around her mistress' companion. and though he intended to rest, baloo dozes with one eye open, instinctually taking on the role of protector.

and then she leaves, twirling blade back into bow so she can train in earnest. while robin sleeps, she sinks into her own meditations on the battlefield. arrows whistle - steel clashes against fang. ribbons of blood snick down her arms when she's not fast enough on the block. gnashing teeth near her temple. 

by the time she's finished, baloo has wandered over to her. she wipes sweat from her brow and waves off an attendant calling for her - 'but you have a meeting...'

"sleep well?" she asks, smiling at robin's bedhead, as baloo moseys off. 
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