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Death is Our Last Solo [M][O]

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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Dyfalu

Aubre
She/Her
26
February 17
Turffield
Demisexual
Pokémon Doctor
Civilian
I Still Believe, Inside of Me, There's Someone Not Unspoken. Someone Not So Broken.
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423 posts
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TAG WITH @aubremckenna
Aubre McKenna-Settentrione
Death is Our Last Solo [M][O]
POSTED ON Nov 6, 2024 9:32:02 GMT
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An emergency call had come in early this morning. There was an injured Breloom trapped by an Ariados web. A few trainers tried to help it, but they weren’t sure what to do. Their Pokeballs don't work. Which meant that this poor injured roo was someone’s friend. While she wasn’t a ranger, people knew she had a soft heart. A fact that might one day prove her undoing. But—much to ’s chagrin—it wasn’t something she would change.
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After luring the bug’s away with a Sweet Scent, the redhead approached the lump buried by cotton candy webs. Her lips were already drooping. Her natural pessimism could not ignore how still the Breloom was.
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You're too little, too late, Aubre. Just like always.
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“Roman, can you cut the strands away?” The Kabutops sidles up beside her. His great, plate-sized head dips in a nod as he knees beside the web. “Just be careful, please. The last thing I want is to add a cut to all of this.” If he could, the water type would have smiled. He knew how the young woman worried.
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Slowly, the cotton candy fluff gave way to a prone green figure. Its body was marked by bites and poison nettles. While certainly resistant to such things, it could not tolerate such a shock. “Here, let me just—” Scarred hands looped under the still Breloom’s shoulders as she tugged it free.
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Her back screamed, but she ignored it.

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“Loooooooom?” It tilted dreary, exhausted eyes toward her. Red claws tightened weakly around her hand. His veins are more toxin than blood at this point.
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Now free of the webs, the redhead laid a gentle hand upon its head. Bitten nails ran gently through its short fur.
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“Hey.” Her voice is a comforting whisper. “Rough day, huh?” The Breloom’s skin is cool to the touch. Thick, muscular legs are disturbingly still.

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The bright red claws are curled inward. Even though she knows the battle’s lost, she reaches for her bag all the same. The antidote—flavored with berry juice—takes a minute to force down.
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A little dribble of water falls from Roman’s claw into its dry beak. It swallows as the redhead pulls a vial from her bag. “Drink this for me, all right?” The pain medicine that followed softened the stress in the grass-type’s face.
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But, she doubts it’s the analgesic doing it.
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He just didn’t want to die alone.

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NOTES


Jumpluff wants to battle!




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