[attr="class","gideon-words"]
[break]



...and life continues in much the same way for GIDEON GRAVES.[break][break]

The pressures of academia had long been absent from his daily routine by this point. There was no rush to publish papers, no stress about funding, no competition between peers. Despite the threats outside the walls of the city, time had slowed down for the professor.[break][break]

His was now a pastoral life, to some degree. Surrounded by friends and a found family — bolstered by a comradery nurtured over years of companionship — Gideon pursued other ventures to fill the time. Once the poison had receded enough to allow for travel out of Circhester, he began to indulge in hobbies long abandoned.[break][break]

With newfound springs and waterways rid of lingering toxins, Gideon could now continue a pastime of crafting handmade lures for his fishing trips away from the city. He enjoyed the toil of it; setting his hands to wood and metal and creating something useful. Even some of the townspeople had come to his small workshop, asking him to teach them his craft. Ever the teacher, Gideon was more than happy to do so.[break][break]

This realm and its technologies were gravely limited. With no camera to use recreationally, Gideon spent much of his excess creative energies on another artform: pencil sketches. Over time he filled innumerable leather-bound journals with artwork representing everyday life, his work, the flora and fauna of the region — everything. It was a way to engage and capture moments he wanted to immortalize. [break][break]

angelo vestri and skyler dross sharing a moment of peace at their breakfast table. Johnny chopping wood in the front yard of their cottage. Naomi Sato tinkering with her Dynamax Bands. parker jones at Nomi's side, walking toward the horizon and away from Circhester. Gunner Graves sparring with Jonas. Aidan Hereford helping ZAPDOS preen its stubborn feathers. Summer Atreides and Serena Malcolm laughing over mugs of ale. Eris Halla caring for an injured patient.[break][break]

Fond memories he could now look back on, if he desired.[break][break]

And yet... for all the things he'd gained here, Gideon felt himself stagnating. Routine was an enemy to someone whose entire life had been dedicated to discovery. He still ran the town clinic, but the days were stale with repetition. He still helped at the research center with Naomi Sato, but their breakthroughs took years to manifest.[break][break]

His old vice returned — a love for drink that came on so slowly that Gideon never saw it as a problem. Serena Malcolm was the first to notice. After all, although he spent time with his friends and loved ones, they all had their own lives to lead. It left Gideon alone. And when he was alone, he drank. First at the bar, and then at home when Serena's concerned glances became too much of a burden.[break][break]

Newfound purpose was eventually given to Gideon in the form of a prophecy. Or at least, the realization that part of it spoke of a final battle on the Winter Solstice. The last trial before they were whisked home? ...But was Hoenn home anymore? He'd spent nearly half his life here now, in this poisoned place.[break][break]

Regardless, they needed to prepare. With motivation and a verbal kick in the ass from Gunner Graves, Gideon eventually sobered up and participated in the readying activities. He trained, both his body and his Pokémon, for what was to come.[break][break]

It was not their return to Hoenn he was fighting for anymore. [break][break]

It was home — the people here. Everyone he'd immortalized with pencil and paper.[break][break]

[attr="class","gideon-notes"]

[break]
• circhester gang[break]
• pursues old hobbies; some in a new way [break]
• stagnates and feels discontented tho [break]
• starts drinking heavily [break]
• but eventually gets his ass in gear and helps prepare for the final battle[break]
• forged equipment: bracers of HEAL PULSE