Gwen traces her fingers against the walls, relishing the rough texture and unique makeup.

"Good!"

It is only when he calls back to her that she realizes she's fallen behind. With hurried steps, the woman moves to catch up, readjusting her headlamp pressed to her forehead. The light shining from its center illuminates her beloved, and she smiles up at him.

"You look good all dressed up like this."

She rummages through her bag for a moment before uncovering what appear to be granola bars full of trail mix. Bits of apricorn peek through. She extends one to him.

Greyson Connors

☉

Her fingers are clumsy, dancing across his chest to pull at his shirt or unbutton the top of his collar. In whatever fashion, she is making a hurried, desperate attempt to uncloth him.

"I love you."

She whispers over and over in between breathless kisses. She means it every time, cherishing the phrase as if it is the first time she's ever heard it.

And then he pulls at her own shirt, her elbows raise awkwardly to avoid getting caught. She does anyway because her shirt is too complicated for its own good. But they manage because their pursuit is feverish and hungry. Famished, they come together again, this time with skin like porcelain, brushed with goosebumps.

She scoots closer, the button on her pants comes undone, and she helps him to shimmy them off before helping undo his own.

Greyson Connors

☉

They're clumsy, frantic, but they're real. His hands grasp tighter, his lips push and teeth pull. Seconds tick away without a pause for breath, and when they do, they come apart with heavy breathing as they catch their breath.

And when her words are spoken back to her, she smiles against him and her heart is pounding and his fingers are squeezing her thighs. All at once, her feet leave the ground and she wraps her arms around his neck to hold on tighter. She watches him, unwavering in her trust and in her adoration.

His lips press warm kisses to any part of her that he can reach. Her legs wrap around him to pull him tighter and, in the process, inch her closer. She lets him explore whatever he might like, from the curve of her jaw to the swoop of her neck. The loneliness she's felt fades rapidly in lieu of the comfort he brings her.

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉

She studies him carefully, bright eyes shifting back and forth between his two lavender ones. She spies his relief within them when he stares back at her. She smiles back at him, even though she can see his fear.

"I promised you, that I would be--"

But he interrupts her, startles her, by placing his hands on her face. He pulls her close and, naturally, she lets him. He would feel her tears touch against his thumbs, but she stifles the sob in favour of kissing him back. If she is given a chance to breathe, she whispers three words soundlessly against his lips.

"I love you."

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉

She goes quiet, notices the change in his expression and the blank stare he perceives her with. She quickly realizes that he is not looking at her, but through her. It is why she waits, attentive and transparent, for him to talk to.

Everything he says in some way reflects her own admittance, her own fears, trauma. It is crippling, she knows, because she's felt it, even if the images were not the same ones he had seen.

When he grips her hand tighter, she returns the favor. This time, she wouldn't let go.

Concern reflects in her warm gaze as she studies his face. The panicked breathing, the stress in his neck and the wide-eyes he stares through her with. She's seen it before and so she squeezes tighter. She does this so that, when he pulls himself out of the dark, he'd see her still sitting there, waiting.

Gwen rises from her seat without pulling her hand from his, and quickly skirts around the table to stand in front of him. Automatically and without thinking, she presses kisses to the back of his hand and they grow in desperation.

"Greyson-- Greyson, it's okay. I'm here now. You will never be alone again. I promise you that."

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉

Over the crest of a small hill, just tall enough to hide the flattened bodies of three Poochyena and a mother Mightyena, she sees them. Had she looked the other direction for too long she might have missed it before it was too late. But observational skills are her strong suit because of who she was raised to be.

She was the shield to protect those who could not protect themselves. It was why she had taken up the duty of being a police officer. It was why, when she sees the panic in the young girls eyes, she moves immediately.

"Hey, hey, shh, shh.."

She doesn't dare touch the girl, but she does move closer and even in front of the teenager in a protective fashion.

"It is okay, Ann, it will be okay. Just stay behind me and follow my direction, okay? I will keep you safe."

The snap of teeth and the growling bellies of hungry, starving Pokemon are masked by the savage growling they emit from between their teeth. The puppies fight with one another, desperate to be the first to arrive. It appeared that they were anticipating a feast, let alone the pair of them as payment and appreciation later.

But it is not them they should be worried about. It is the mother whose eyes are wild with desperation, crazed with hunger, that they should be worried about. Fortunately, there are two brave souls on the front lines, dedicated to protecting the panicked little girl.

"Ann, are you able to command your Zorua?"

Slowly, carefully, Gwen begins pulling out the pokeball on her person, slowing whenever the Mightyena reacts aggressively. The Wooloo huddle close to one another, scared stiff. In a flash of light, a Lopunny appears and assesses the situation.

mission: wooloo who cry wolf

Ann Nickolette

☉

She'd chosen Greyson, and the punishment for that, in the mist, had been her father's rapid deterioration and illness.

It was why she had fled, had run to be with her father before he passed- only to discover that the mist had been a nightmare. It hadn't been real, and it had chased her away from the life she had wanted to live.

Gwen is out of mind until he scoots closer and she feels his hand rest on top of her own. It startles her and she sucks in a breath, it catches in the middle. On her exhale, she refocuses on Greyson and feels tears well up in her eyes.

"I know. I know-- it's why I came back. I chose you-- I choose you."

But even still, there is something awkward in the way he holds her hand. As if he is bracing himself, as if he is afraid or untrusting. It is crushing to watch him watch her with eyes that feel so cold.

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉

He brings up something uncomfortable, something painful for her to speak about.

But for him, she would.

"I.. saw you and my father. But.. it was as if you two were on separate paths, and I had to make a choice."

She slowly sets her utensils down, thumb pressing the knife against the table. Her breath is shaky as she recalls the details. By now, they feel sort of hazy, because it had been just that: a dream.

"On either side, I could see the end, what would happen if I chose you or him. If I chose him, you grew sick, or something terrible happened that left you in a state of.. illness-- you would die. And if I chose you-- my father would die."

It had been an ultimatum, a punishment for being selfish. Fear gripped her, clearly, on what would happen if she did what she wanted, if she pursued a life for herself.

"I chose you."

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉

"Hmm.. no, not really. But it is easier to pick up stray shifts during holidays. People want to be home with their family- it's just me and I am not planning on returning to Kalos."

Which meant she had nothing better to do, really, than to work. And with her relationship with Greyson still unclear, the urge to keep busy was even more prominent.

"There is plenty more if you would like to take some home with you."

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉

"Yes! I was worried I may not have time closer to the holiday-- working, and such."

And food was the way to a man's heart, her father had said, and so she had to try.

Greyson's compliment warms her heart and she smiles, taking a seat and picking up her own utensils. It is encouraging, too, to see him smile, even if the reason is her cooking and not her, specifically.

"Please!"

She carefully cuts into her plate, lifting a bite to her lips

mission: feast or famine

Greyson Connors

☉