A HOME COOKED MEAL...[break]

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"makes life just a bit more excitin'."
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he muses, taking another sip of the liquor, then pouring himself some more.
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"no middle name? that's just odd."
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though, what purpose did they really serve anyways other than to have your parents yell it angrily when you fucked up.
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"progressively harder then? alrigh'. hm, well, let's see. lost my virginity at fifteen behind a jack 'n the box, won state at my schools boxin' competition, and i've never left kanto."

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JUST TWO DUDES IN A CLOSED METAL TUBE...[break]

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he did. he'd spent the better part of his life confiding in his lucario. the abuse and pain of his childhood; his plans and reasons for why he did what he did to MATIAS SILPH ; and a dozen practiced speeches, all of which with the sole goal of confessing his feelings to sagira mosse.
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he'd never admit any of these nuggets of truth to anyone, of course.
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he opts to not answer his question.
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"so yer pokemon is the one responsible for all the fuckin' noise? shit trainer ye seem ta be."
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it wasn't fair, but, he didn't really care.




[break]

hope einar

HERE AGAIN...[break]

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[break]

he gives off a breathy laugh, air exhaling heavily through his nose. he didn't feel the amusement in his chest, nor did it work to fill the void that had recently formed.
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"learn ta lie, kid."
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he moves closer, fists up in front of him.
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"pains a good motivator."
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king rushes the boy, leaping with a pointed kid.

A RECKONING LONG DUE...[break]

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five.
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he knew the answer was coming before she'd even lifted her small, delicate fingers. his eyes matched sagira's, a red rim of bottled emotion, barely holding back tears. he gives delta a trembling smile, standing to cover his mouth with a fist as he chokes back a sob. king just barely manages to turn his head, looking at at the moss haired woman with a conflicted, yet obviously pained expression.
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"ye ran... from me?"
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the question is thick with emotion; of pain, anguish, sadness and confusion. he'd have torn down the machinations of this world for sagira, if she asked— further for the kid he didn't know he had.
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and she ran from him?
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he struggles to meet the little girl's eyes again, to have the pools of innocents stare back at him. one day soon, if not already, she'd know what he'd done.
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and like her mother, she'd hate him for it.
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his heart shatters into unsalvageable pieces at the thought. at the betrayal. at the regret.
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king's mind flashes back to the hill — the stakeout — and how he'd confessed his feelings of fatherhood to the woman. he'd given little in regards to his own past, just bits and pieces that the two no doubt put together as a not-so subtle way of saying 'it was bad.'
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hell, on more than one occasion he wanted to admit how much he envied the two and their lack of families. but how could you tell an orphan they were the lucky ones? if they knew how it all ended, maybe they would've agreed. but, even after all these years, the shame of his childhood was a heavy burden and not fit for anyone's ears.
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he promised he would be nothing like the cold, distant, abusive and manipulative father he was burdened with. that he'd give his kid the world and more — provided they were willing to work for it.
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yet here he was. five years too late.
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a deadbeat. a turncoat. a criminal. a murderer.
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a failure.
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"why?"
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it's all he could choke out from trembling lips, his own legs going weak from standing.

HM, THIS ISN'T SO BAD...[break]

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"they're alrigh'"
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he replies, chuckling, his cerulean blues dancing between her eyes, and the soft rosy tint of her cheeks. he rubbed his hands together further, before placing them back onto the back of her meaty thighs. he appreciated no other body part more, than a woman's thighs.
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but he needed to appreciate all of the female form.
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his hands reach higher, skipping the girl's rump, and instead kneading dutifully into her hips. he feels her curves and soft flesh beneath his touch, swallowing to push past the knot forming in his throat, as his desire grew. that very same desire push at the lip of his bathing suit, creating an uncomfortable ache that he wished to satisfy.
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forming fists, he continued working the woman's lower back, feeling her tension loosen with each passing second.
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"any specific requests?"
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he smirks knowingly.




[break]

illeana reyes

HERE AGAIN...[break]

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king tucks his arm, like a chicken wing, taking the actual fist to the brunt of his bicep. he grunts at the impact.
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"perhaps ye shouldn't change things up seconds after i tell ye ta."
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he says dryly.
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"who taught ye ta fight?"

A RECKONING LONG DUE...[break]

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"i'm sure ye didn't."
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his voice drips with venom, and sarcasm; both emotions tasted even more bitter than the last.
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"but it happened — 'n i don't need ta justify myself ta you, matty, or 'nyone else. i was yer friend, and ye didn't just lie ta me — ye faked yer fuckin' death, gira. ye and matty both faked yer death."
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it takes all the effort he has to not take a step forward involuntarily.
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"i'm sure ye both had a real good fuckin' laugh at my expense as i was ridiculed, shamed 'n all but exiled by the people i've known fer years."
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he'd thought of this moment for years. how he'd beg for her forgiveness, and give her permission ta end his life. she was the ghost he was chasing at the end of every shot of whiskey, and now, here she was. only, she wasn't a ghost, or vengeful specter, and never had been.
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king runs his hands through his hair, a stinging pain from the force and tension on his roots. his chest felt heavier than lead, and the lump in his throat made swallowing, and even breathing, difficult.
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he'd gone over the events of that night in his mind thousands of times. his anger, resentment, and grief, had cost the lives of dozens of men and women. not all were to blame for the treatment of him, but at the time, it didn't matter — nothing did — and as time went on, he dwelled on it more, and more, to the point of a near-psychotic break on more occasions than he'd care to admit.
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though, no one else would know, he himself hadn't taken a life that night — not even the rocket members who attacked the safehouse — or any day thereafter. he rationalized to himself that even he had limits, and that night alone was an insult to the memory of the woman he cared so much for.
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but none of that mattered.
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five years he spent in the wallows of self-pity, and hatred, mulling over his betrayal and mistakes when all along they had betrayed him.
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five years.
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his eyes widen for a moment, and he pulls his attention back down towards the child. his pupils dilated in focus, red veins of irritation filling the whites of his sclera. for one solitary moment, just one, his anger dimmed and his voice softened to just above a whisper against the dryness of his mouth.
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"how old are ye kid?"

A HOME COOKED MEAL...[break]

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"sober."
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he says with a hint of a smirk.
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"bet with matty. i lost 'n he took a pound of flesh. literally."
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king shrugs, lips pursing in thought at her options. what the hell was a leichi? it sounded familiar, but...
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"i'm gon' go with... fifer. no way in hell yer name is sigira fifer mosse."

HERE AGAIN...[break]

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king blinks at his question, forgetting a moment he was here to train.
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"yer movements 'r ta obvious - a blind man could dodge it."
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his eyes flick to the kids feet, then back up, as he waits for his approach.

HERE AGAIN...[break]

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king looks down his nose at the grunt, expression void of anything real. he didn't show a sliver of 'fucks given'.
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"if it was a ten, ye wouldn't be talkin'."
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plain and simple.
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king steps back, waiting for the kid to recover.

A RECKONING LONG DUE...[break]

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her body language told him everything he needed to know.
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she hated him.
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the pit that had formed in his stomach half a decade ago dredged even deeper now. he'd always known she would - if she was alive, that is - and now he had his confirmation.
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"ye don't know what it was like."
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he starts calm, but the venom inevitably begins to sleep in.
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"after ye died they turned on me. every single one of 'em. it was my fault. i should've been there. i should've died instead."
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by now, he's trembling with rage.
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"even matty didn'-"
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his words falter, as his face goes through a dozen different emotions. it settles on unfathomable rage.
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"he knew. he fuckin' knew."
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king didn't need to elaborate. he couldn't, even if he wanted too. breath came labored as long repressed emotions began to surface.