Here is the endlessly mute placidity of nature, indifferent to the quaint town at the edge of Hoenn's highlands broken by air-swept ledges and outcrops of rock that grow steeper, till they begin to fall sheer.

Four nights, three days. She arrives fatigued and faded - the impression of veins and a pulse strong enough to be an illusion. Her movements are slower too as if she's underwater, honeyed by what she calls a near miss, job gone wrong.

The houses are old, crowded close save one that stands apart from the village and nearer than any other house to the edge of the route that shows through the soil til a mile or so east of the tunnel. Sleep is a thief so she finds herself in town on the seventh afternoon.

These highlands are a natural extension of the inner silence of the mind. Yellowing pages and the spine of an old book crack apart and calls her attention in the far distance. He could be a trick of the light for all she knows until she stares back up at him from the grass.

"...Sorry."

Birds break from the trees and take to the back of the wind, but before them and above them, very high over a drift of cloud a lone ridge of the mountain glimmers red.

Leon Vercetti

it's not immediate, the pain relief. it takes a few minutes. the veins in his arms bulge as it begins to crescendo. a symphony of a thousand needles digging into the stump. and the subsequent silence of none.

his breathing is heavy and labored. it's like this every time. he was used to it, by now. long ago accustomed to the sweat that lingered on his lower back, arms and his legs. something no one should ever get used to. a situation no one would want.

leon stands tall again. mind a cloud of ecstasy. numbed of the consistent painful ache; replaced with something far greater. sex was second to this. this pills have done their job. but at what price? the question rattled around in his head for mere seconds, before disappearing like it had never been there at all.

something bumps into him, nearly knocking him off balance. the brute of man is large, and muscular, but the change in his mental state brings about an uncertainty with his footing. luckily, he rights himself.

"sorry." he says in response, words automatic. he turns upon her, visage taking in the intruder of his personal space. not angry, or upset; simply curious.

his eyes widen.

"oh. wow." they leave his lips involuntary, their presence replaced by blushing cheeks, and a deviated stare. but the meds incite a confidence in him. empowered by the high he feels, he doesn't back down.

"uhm.. what are you reading?"

open/wild