He wasn’t going to grab the Wishiwashi, but then it glimmered just right in the sun, and his little crow brain became attentive.

What was it with him and shiny baby fish, he wondered, as Cicatrice zapped it with thunder wave and Onyx threw a Safari ball.

prem safari balls 4/4 - catch attempt shiny wishiwashi

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The Toxel glowed bright neon purple in the dark. It sat in the sand and tossed handfuls of it skyward, like a human baby in a sandbox. Onyx stopped to watch it and before he knew it, Cicatrice had zipped over, and the two of them were cooing and glowing at each other; the Toxel toddled onto its hind feet and ran-stumble-fell after the little eelspawn in a wonderful game of chase, purple after white.

Before too long, the both of them came to where he had sat down in the sand, and the Toxel clambered into his lap for a nap, before he could say otherwise.

solo wild - electric/water - catch attempt toxel

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Onyx doesn’t know if he can get out of here without Zia… that had sort of been his back up plan, ran until they found each other (they always did) and then fly away into the sunset. But his glorious heroism had been dismantled by ghosts of the monster he used to be…

…and still was.

He cracked his neck from side to side as an army of Fairy-types emerged from the gloom. He couldn’t hold out here for long, but he could go down swinging.

Vatin buys them space with eruptions of earth power that send pink forms flying. Ignis belches a fire blast at a Mawile that comes too close, and the dual-type screams. The three of them keep backing up, buying enough time for Zia to make her escape.

“Torch all of it,” he tells his Pokemon-- and Andres’, who has joined them-- “burn them out.”

Heaves of toxic goo coat the trees and foliage, making it melt and sizzle as it tries to change. Fire leaps from limb to limb, crowning the wannabe Tangle in a way that Onyx wishes he could the real one, if it held such horrible memories for Andres.

He was a horrible memory for Andres.

Didn’t he often wished he could burn himself?

As Ziadem plunges through the sky, she punches a hole in the bubble of pale shimmer that seems to coat this fairy hellscape. Devoid the power of a child’s nightmares, everything shrivels and fades. The Fairy-types causing mischief shriek and writhe as they make furious dashes for the safety of their withering terrain.

And in the blink of an eye and the sound of a bubble-gum pop, Onyx is standing alone in a burnt-out field.

[attr="class","membot"]andres buenaventura mission: clefable in the feywilde

[attr="class","memboc"]☉

They don’t move like children-- they don’t move like anything normal, constrained by flesh and blood and bone. They’re just shadows, here and there and gone again, the suggestion of motion in a direction and then a complete 360* shift, with a vague, warping sound like speakers blowing.

Onyx has no qualms about punching children, especially not freaky, button-eyed, misshapen ones like this. But they don’t seem to be focusing on him, and for a moment, that gives him hope. He turns away from Ignis’ inferno to grab Andres and tell him to run, again, why aren’t they running, but he’s spun right into--

--it is a memory. One for both of them.

Chuchi yips and cries as even her seemingly unbridled ferocity is brought to heel under the thunder of kid boots and sticks, a mockery of laughter and sneers cutting the air sharper than any blade.

One of the children has dark hair, dark skin, and blue eyes, but when he lifts his face, a shadow obscures his right one, the dark of it slipping off his cheek like liquid ichor.

Onyx swallows. He’s back on a couch under the shadow of a meteor when someone tells him they love him and all he can imagine is the feel of metal crunching against bone, skin splitting in his hand.

You shouldn’t.

Chuchi arches and curls, writhing.

You shouldn’t.

I’m bad for you.

I don’t think you understand.

They’re both caught, adrift, drowning; Onyx’s stomach threatens to reorient itself in his body cavity and he wants to look away before he vomits but he forces himself to look and to see. Because it hadn’t bothered him at the moment, had it? When he’d been doing it?

It was like any old hurt. Any old pain. Look it in the eye. Sear it into your mind. Eventually, it stops hurting.

But when had this started hurting?

As things are reaching a fever pitch there’s a raucous cawing noise from above and an angel drops in on darkened wings. Ziadem lands protectively over Chuchi, scattering the shadow children with broad flaps; her talons come gently around the Eevee and lift her.

Vatin rushes in from the woods, the earth around him warping and shifting with earth power. He carves a valley between Zia, Chuchi, and the shadows; Ignis adds another blast of inferno, and the dark shapes burn away with horrendous, tortured screams, not like children but something otherworldly.

The snap of heat gets Onyx moving. He strides forward, grabbing Andres arm and dragging him-- he’ll apologize later, he can only imagine what kind of memories that is dredging up-- forward. He pushes the unconscious child into his chest and physically wraps Andres’ arms around him, then grabs him at the waist and lifts him, sidesaddle, onto Zia.

“Get out of here!” he says, jumping back so she can lift into the air, Chuchi still held safely in her talons. All he needs now is for Andres to not fall off; the raven teeters in the air to balance him as she struggles to gain height.

He, Vatin, and Ignis turn once more toward the gathering shadows.

[attr="class","membot"]andres buenaventura mission: clefable in the feywilde

[attr="class","memboc"]☉