Olivia catches him off guard. He tenses at the sound of his title, expecting trouble, but turns to find a familiar face in the crowd. More familiar than most of the faces in the Center, at very least. The thought does little to comfort him; after the fallout between Olivia and Balder, Orion's not entirely sure what to think of the councilwoman.

Still, his tensed shoulders relax upon the realization that he's being greeted not with demands but with concern for his well-being.

"Oh, I-I'm all right." A slight tremor in his tone betrays his shattered composure. "Physically, anyway. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that what we faced out there was... a lot."

What an excellent introduction to his boss: not in the safety of a council meeting, but while she was fused with some kind of beast and trying to strangle the life out of one of his colleagues.

"I stayed back to help with the rescue until more of the Rangers arrived, and I didn't want to stress my Hydreigon any further by flying back to Fortree for medical aid... I'm here for my Swampert. The acid rain got him pretty bad."

Olivia releases her Pokemon into what little space remains in the Pokemon center, and Orion's expression is pained as he looks down at the faint light emanating from Schism's pokeball. He clings to it like a crutch: so long as he doesn't release the Swampert from its stasis, he can believe that his beloved partner is all right. Alive. That he'll recover.

He needs to face it eventually.

Like ripping off a band-aid, the councilman closes his eyes and swallows before pressing the button.

He can't help his horrified intake of breath when his partner emerges. The normally ocean-blue hide of the Swampert has shifted to a pale purple, as if the toxins themselves have changed the colour of its skin. Orion's owned so-called 'shiny' Pokemon before, and most were healthy, but — but the coincidence of this was alarming enough to blind all reason.

Schism is unresponsive, unconscious, but the hand that Orion braces against his chest registers the weak thump of a heartbeat. His fingers tremble as he presses the button to recall him, looking up at Olivia with a conflicted expression.

"I'm worried what'll happen if I — if the poison hasn't run its course." He feels suddenly dizzy, like he's going to faint. There are no available chairs left in the lobby, and Orion steadies himself against a wall instead, forehead damp with a cold sweat. "Your Pokemon, did they all make it? The bombs, I saw..."

It had been a whirl of chaos, but he vaguely recalled Olivia and her Kingler being in danger at some point. Had it survived?

[attr="class","kheader"]

[attr="class","kthread"][attr="class","orion"]

"We're the fortunate ones, then."[break][break]

His words are soft, spoken without much conviction. He could lose his Swampert yet; that knowledge pulses in the back of his thoughts, yet still he refuses to levy his position on the council to receive accelerated treatment. His selflessness runs deep enough to become a flaw: he gives and gives until there is nothing left, until he is dried-up husk ripe for the taking.[break][break]

Olivia rises and Orion looks up to her, her silhouette wreathed in the too-bright lights of the Pokemon Center. He takes the offered hand and gets to his feet with a quiet nod of thanks.[break][break]

As politicians, their views may clash, but his appreciation of her humanity in this moment is genuine and raw.[break][break]

Though confused as she leads him out the back — blissfully away from the noise and prying eyes — Orion follows like a shadow, close and silent.[break][break]

"Where are we going?"

[break][break][break]

[attr="class","kheader"]

[attr="class","kthread"][attr="class","orion"]

Though he isn't intimately familiar with their practices, Orion knows of the Abiatti family and their religion. How they revered the sea above all else. He doesn't understand it, but he's too worn down from the night's events to question her words. He just wants his Pokemon to be all right.[break][break]

Releasing his Swampert into the surf, his heart wrenches at the creature's agonizing cries. The councilman's expression is visibly tortured as he kneels in the water next to his Pokemon with no regard for how it soaks through his clothes and stings at open wounds.[break][break]

"I know, buddy, I know, shh, it's okay," he murmurs with one hand on Schism's flank, trying to soothe with words where he's otherwise unable to help. His eyes are shining with tears not shed when he looks up at Olivia. "How is this supposed to help?"[break][break]

It's not accusing; it's almost hopeful, like she might know some miracle cure for the pain his partner was in.

[break][break][break]

[attr="class","kheader"]

[attr="class","kthread"][attr="class","orion"]

Orion tenses at her touch, but reluctantly allows Olivia to pull him away from the suffering Swampert. There was nothing he could do for Schism, and if she knew something that could help...[break][break]

His hands are shaking uncontrollably, and the councilman stuffs them into his pockets in an effort to conceal his weakness. It's a force of habit drilled into him by a family far more suited to politics than he.[break][break]

He forces himself to focus on the rhythmic crash of the tide, shivering as the sea breeze catches on his damp clothes. The Brionne sings beautifully, and Orion thinks that Schism must be listening as the mud fish turns its head toward the sound. Though never a particularly religious man, soured to the practices by his oppressive upbringing, there's a certain allure to the flashing, swirling water. Within his pockets, Orion's nails dig deep into his palms.[break][break]

Please let this work.

[break][break][break]

[attr="class","kheader"]

[attr="class","kthread"][attr="class","orion"]

Orion is unsure if the scene before them is beautiful or horrific. Due to the purple pallor of the Swampert's skin, it almost looks as if the Pokemon itself is slowly being drawn into the swirling waters. An illusion brought on by the sensory overload; he understands this, yet still feels the pull of anxiety.[break][break]

He's transfixed by the swirling purple orb, even as the song comes to an end and the sea returns to its earlier calm. He stares at the orb in Olivia's hand, the toxins obscured from his vision but not his knowledge.[break][break]

Olivia's voice snaps him out of it, and he stumbles numbly over to his Swampert and kneels next to him in the surf.[break][break]

His skin remains vivid violet, and Orion thinks at first that it hasn't worked. Hot tears force themselves past eyes squeezed shut, and he doesn't bother to swipe them away to save his dignity. If this was all for naught—[break][break]

It's Schism who rouses him from panic, his low grumble reverberating in Orion's bones. He's nearly knocked over into the water when the Swampert nudges him, as if silently urging him to knock it off. Orion's laughter is a strangled sound.[break][break]

"I-It... it worked...?"

[break][break][break]