[attr="class","body"]

luck has never seemed to shine on her in situations like these. in one hand, it's quite tragic, how she needs luck to just get by, and now there's none left. but the luck she depends on favors the people who deserve its rewards, and in her estimation, she deserves absolutely none.[break][break]

instead, she finds herself walking head-on into danger she cannot shake with a word or a dodge, hidden from view under the curtain of pitch-black skies. nothing around her will help. the moon, encased in clouds of a storm, seems only to highlight the imminent end awaiting her on this path.[break][break]

even now, it never crosses her mind that there is somewhere she should have gone. instead, the stubborn, tireless shadow and her silent pokemon continue their trek. every inch of her body wants this walk to reach its conclusion. every inch of her brain does not, petrified of the consequences to follow the satisfaction of this wish.[break][break]

but the looming storm fills the air with anticipation anyway and makes the decision for her. just before lighting strikes from the sky for the first time and just after the soft sound of static grows loud enough to be recognizable over the noise of rain pounding into earth, she sees a flash of luminescence through her gas mask. her head snaps upwards instinctively to better look at the source of light, seeing the colors change and warp like the tail of some celestial dragon glowing purple, blue, pink—[break][break]

but before her mind can wander any further down that thought, a bolt of lightning strikes the road right between her and her devil. steam rises with a hiss from where the bolt struck.[break][break]

fear comes naturally to her. it is etched into her very bones, born from the agonizing and relentless crucible that her life has become. her fear creates an awful quiver that shakes through absinthe's insides, threatening to spill out into her words. without thinking, a hand lifts up to one half of her face, still pink with heat from the severe burns sustained the last time she saw this man. this time, however, he holds much stronger company. this time, absinthe does too.[break][break]

she fights with every ounce of her being to keep her voice steady, though venom is clear in her tone. "josh devlin. how fortuitous for us to meet again. do you remember humiliating me, or is that common in your line of work?"

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","body"]

the static charge is thick in the air. the shadows cast by the lightning flicker wildly, giving the whole world the impression of a living ink sketch. it feels fitting that the meeting transpires under a palette of colors, strange and eerie and otherwordly.[break][break]

"why am i here," she repeats slowly, words dragging through her teeth like sandpaper. it should have been a rhetorical question, but in the space between seconds, absinthe forgets entirely what answer she sought to provoke. her cheeks, steeled over with severe and throbbing burns, tighten with a grimace.[break][break]

"you are a fucking nuisance," she spits instead, each word heavy and burdened with frustration. the words taste bitter in her mouth. it suddenly becomes clear that they reveal far too much. revealing ire is equivalent to revealing weakness, after all.[break][break]

absinthe digs her heels into the dirt. her devil slides in on cue, cloaked in the night and her frustration, steps measured, unafraid of the man, dog, and lightning on the horizon. they come to a stop, just inches away from her.[break][break]

but regardless of her front, she is very afraid.[break][break]

so, absinthe does not play around. "it doesn't matter why i'm here," she declares stiffly, one hand outstretched, palm upwards. "only that i want to kill you."[break][break]

without warning, a command is issued. malice wreathes the fezandipiti's wingtips in poison, and then draws it towards the manectric and its rider, seeking purchase on either form with an unexpected CROSS POISON.

[attr="class","credit"]