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london fog [dw]

POSTED ON Oct 25, 2018 4:42:45 GMT

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"i wont," she whispers. esser has her doubts but desmond is right. he just doesn't realize how right he is.

esser looks at the pokeball and accepts it graciously. her roster is nothing but eevees, adaptable on paper but not yet realizing their potential. they fit her as more of an aspiring trainer or celebrity. they're pets, fluffy and warm, not monsters of war. they're not suited for what's to come. they belong at home, with a loving family, one that esser will never know.

so she takes the gift and promises to use it well. her smile takes a dip and she stares for validation. for some sign of hope that desmond will guide her to where she needs to go.

"that's too bad." she's looking down now, disappointed. they're time together is never long enough. there's always something to do, a task at hand. it leaves her feeling alone. only her devotion pushes her forward but even it is not enough. sometimes she just needs the company, someone to tame the worries that plague her heart.

someone to drive back the doubt.

"i'll miss you, desmond."

a fitting farewell.

++grimer

@desmond

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silencieux [c]

POSTED ON Oct 25, 2018 4:27:43 GMT

"i understand."

she can never brave herself to take her eyes off the floor. the idea of the invasion still lingers on her mind. she's scared. sh'e's not ready but for her brother she'll do anything. even die. she swallows, fearing what is most likely going to happen. they're going against the league's best and esser is no where close.

it's times like these that she truly misses her mother.

SILAS BLACKWELL

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01. ROCKET INVASION

POSTED ON Oct 21, 2018 21:33:27 GMT

rocket;
ESSER BLACKWELL &
1) golbat, 2) alohan grimer, 3) drifloon, 4) forretress, 5) magmortar, 6) sneasel

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london fog [dw]

POSTED ON Oct 21, 2018 21:31:02 GMT

she accepts warm beverage joyfully, eager to sample it's taste. the content sigh that follows is one that warms not just her face but the pits of desmond's heart. it's a sight far and few between but something he can cherish in its exclusivity. very few rockets ever see esser drop her stoic expression, even fewer get to see her smile.

"uh," she falters on her words. her eyes lower but her expression doesn't darken. it's more of a face of disappointment, knowing of her failure and ineptitude. the same expression a daughter uses to tell her father about her troubles at school. "a mission went bad and now hoenn is looking for me." she kicks a loose rock in her path, secretly wishing it was her instead. "i messed up."

esser never bats and eye as the honchkrow takes care of their uninvited company. she's used to the pokemon keeping a reliable watch over them, not unlike its trainer. instead, she ignores the cry of the nuzleaf and golbat in the background. little does she know that one of them will be added to her roster. a gift from desmond. a hope that she'll grow from her failures and into someone better.

she never takes her eyes off her mentor, still somewhat smiling.

"how about you desmond?"

@desmond

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silencieux [c]

POSTED ON Oct 21, 2018 20:44:37 GMT

"..."

she's hesitant. esser can only guess the repercussions. still, she defaults to her only loyalty: her brother.

"leia and dorothy."

goosebumps prick at her skin. an involuntary reaction to the words that comes from his mouth. she knows the punishment well. no matter his methodology it always hurts. she can never brace herself enough for the pain that comes. it's scathing. but nothing hurts more than knowing she let him down. that is a pain that strikes at her heart. it makes her want to die.

"i'm sorry."

SILAS BLACKWELL

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Relaxing in Ever Grande City

POSTED ON Oct 20, 2018 1:53:07 GMT

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oh. is that so? the rest of the day breaks into idle chatter. esser merely watches, abstaining from contributing anything worthwhile. it's just how she is. shy. timid. useless.

even so, she's scrappy enough to get by. this will be the last time they ever meet. only esser lives to the end of the year.

~~perhaps~~.

@thomas + @joey

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london fog [dw]

POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 10:44:23 GMT

autumn brings about esser's only expertise: fall wear. boots, thigh highs, even a plaid skirt-- fashionable by rocket standards but a far reach from the region's contest trend setters. it's a memorial to their late mother, a hereditary pick up that neither male blackwell seemed to display. no, they were too preoccupied for expanding their wardrobes pass the same three outfits. her lack of ability sparred her from the same responsibility, in exchange for her signature crippling self-esteem.

"desmond!"

there's a tenderness to her call that comes with the familiarity between them. years together has made her soft, trusting-- vulnerable. for all intents and purposes, desmond is the only one who truly sees her for what she is: a little girl in way too deep-- a slave to the circumstance of her birth.

@desmond

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THE BLACKWELL STEPPING STONE

POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 9:27:54 GMT

that works really well. the longer in rocket the better! once he gets to really know her i'm sure he can play her like a fiddle. even if she gets really made there's not a lot she can do.

silas fandom when?!

@giovanni

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silencieux [c]

POSTED ON Oct 7, 2018 8:32:58 GMT

"i'm sorry."

again. it's all she knows. only with his permission, as indirect as it is, does she pick herself up, straightening out her skirt before addressing her face. tears and run off soak into her gloves. she'll wash it later before it starts to crust. it's a practice esser's is more than familiar with.

"an officer showed up. he must have heard them using my name."

that's why she took the brunt of the blame. it wasn't that the three of them were wanted-- it was just her. only her name was plastered on every new's bulletin. but, was it really her fault? to her, yes. that's her job, to be the blame that soaks up her brother's anger. anything else would lead to rocket thinning out their ranks way too quickly.

"i messed up."

SILAS BLACKWELL

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DEEP DOWN THE BLACK WELL

POSTED ON Oct 4, 2018 11:16:40 GMT

esser no longer dreads the purple menace that once preyed on her fears. the haxorous has long robbed it of that privilege, eating it back into the night. but this behemoth, is it friend or foe? wren is nothing more than a stranger but an extended hand keep the ill feelings at bay. with a stumble, esser reaches out to grasp onto her savior's wrist, clinging for dear life as her ankles lock.

"probably?"

a nauseous pit ruptures from side-- she's joking, right?

wren rourke

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MARCH OF A CHAMPION

POSTED ON Oct 4, 2018 10:54:50 GMT

so that's what she catches her with, a technicality. "no," there's no falter in her step. esser braves her ignorance, embraces it. she won't lose her footing from admitting to her weakness. she's better than that. under his tutelage, always chasing after his footsteps, esser will pronounce her birthright. all she has to do is lay siege to rustboro. right here, right now.

@silvia

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silencieux [c]

POSTED ON Oct 4, 2018 10:22:58 GMT

power shifts but dynamics never change. esser is no stranger to rebuke, she welcomes it wholesomely. she finds a solace in the familiarity of her gut wrench, the twist of knots that stem from improper posture of her prostrating at his feet. the pressure builds, clawing, screaming. esser does not cry just because it burns. she cries because she's a disappointment. and that's what hurts most of all.

"i'm sorry."

straight to the point, there's nothing more to be said. she won't try to justify the results of her actions, that'd be a waste of his time. but she cannot promise it won't happen again. she knows better than to make commitments she can't keep. she refuses to lie to straight to his face. her earlier animosity at being roped into an operation against her will is starting to resurface. it reverberates after each of his words.

SILAS BLACKWELL

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THE BLACKWELL STEPPING STONE

POSTED ON Oct 1, 2018 5:44:28 GMT

oooo this is super interesting.

so there'd definitely be some familiarity with him just due to their history. how that functions now after the change in power is up to you. although esser is entirely in the silas camp, she has no ill will toward her father. i plan to have her meet her father... eventually.

desmond would probably be a little more trusted just because he's been with them for so long, but that also depends how loyal he was to papa blackwell as well. if there's anyone that would be the open confidant, it'd be desmond.

@desmond

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KILL YOUR FEARS

POSTED ON Oct 1, 2018 5:31:46 GMT

she wants to deny it, to lie through her teeth that she's capable of something more. they both know that's a lie but she can't help but feel an annoyed stubbornness in the face of such a frank assessment. her grimace eventually shrinks and so does no name, vanishing from sight and back into the recluse of his pokeball. once he's safe, her arm goes limp, sulking at her side with the ball barely being kept between her sweaty fingers.

"i'm sorry."

he's not wrong. that's her final verdict, uncontested, and even less of a retort. "i'm sorry." whether it be back home, or here on the field, the sentiment is the same; 'you're a waste of time and one i will not bother with'. the burden of their battle is gone but the stress never leaves. a deep breath cannot free her of this ailment. her chest heaves and she's barely holding on.

"i'm sorry."

she repeats it for sincerity-- well practiced as parting words.

NO NAME - (RUN AWAY) tackle | covet | baby-doll eyes | tail whip | trump card | bite

@benny

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DEEP DOWN THE BLACK WELL

POSTED ON Oct 1, 2018 5:10:57 GMT

ouch. that's the audible thought that register in her mind. the pain of her weight doubles down onto her palms, the fulcrum of what catches her descent onto the compact earth underneath. it all moves too fast for her to comprehend. she's lost, unaware, and the most dangerous of them all, vulnerable. the flurry of engagement is instantaneous, magnificent yet unappreciated. she can only catch the last repercussions of pointed keratin and rigid scales. for a moment she's captivated, watching the exchange from the grass like the insect she is.

"..."

esser has no words. the stampede of the mighty dragon demands respect. she can only watch with her mouth left agape as the drapion is catapulted onto its backside. just like that, its over. is this true strength? she doesn't know. ask not the sparrow how the eagle soars. esser is befuddled. the night no longer has a hold on her. the only terror is right before her.

she's in awe.

wren rourke