[attr="class","body"]

when absinthe returns to the surface of the water, she is holding the happiny, and the happiny is holding a pokeball. she feels almost like a proud mother, but quickly squashes that feeling down.[break][break]

the chemist looks up as Hawkins approaches, sleek black hair falling in drenched tendrils in front of her eyes. "i think she's humoring me."[break][break]

of course she is. who would really choose to spend their time with absinthe if not out of pity?[break][break]

"she's a good diving partner, though."[break][break]

aMY75sbm

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","body"]

absinthe listens to him speak, and she wonders if howard realises that he is a person.[break][break]

it is hard to do so. absinthe knows it better than anybody. it is easy to forget that she has bones and organs and skin when she is in the lab, making a weapon she think will cure everything that is wrong with her life. it is hard to realise that she is small in the grand scheme of things when she is trying to cleanse the rot that has infected the world. but howard is praying on a horse that has no confirmation of winning, and it seems to absinthe that he has somehow forgotten the aspects of life that make him who he is. in a game of gods, the little people in between never win. even if they think they can, even if they think they have the means to control their individual playing pieces, they always lose even if their horses win.[break][break]

”I think you will die because of it.” absinthe’s voice is hardly above a whisper. her eyes are blank when she looks at howard.[break][break]

she thinks it foolish. she knows he will not listen to her.[break][break]

nonetheless, she made a promise. she will join him in his task to kill god. she will hope beyond even her own logic that, somehow, it will not go wrong.[break][break]

the effigy is now before them. howard touches it as if it is an old friend, and he speaks life into an idea that she is very familiar with. she had lived it, for some time. she had fallen deeper into a love she knew would not end well, a love she knew would consume her. and it did. eventually, she could not separate herself from the pain. he lived inside of her, just as she lived inside of him. a mobius strip, a snake always swallowing its own tail. mutually assured destruction, or mutual deification.[break][break]

mutual consumption.[break][break]

”i have,” absinthe says from behind the archaeologist, her brows knitting together. ”at some point, it feels like breathing gets harder without them.”[break][break]

there is blood in her voice now, as thorns scrape across her throat. ”but whatever has the least amount of interest in keeping you will have the most power over you,” she continues. ”it will break your heart for as long as you keep loving it.“

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","body"]

absinthe holds no love nor reverence for gods, demigods, or those beings verging on the edge of divinity. powerful, revered, prayed to, and yet often apathetic to the troubles of those lesser than them. she has prayed to those divine chairs on more than one occasion, supplanting the powers that be for assistance in the horrors that often beset her daily life.[break][break]

her prayers were never answered. what use is a god if it holds no love for its believers?[break][break]

but absinthe is no fool. gods deserve respect, at the very least for their capability to wage wars and to rend cities. just like eternatus, it is beautiful because it is dangerous, in the way a corpse flower might be. a thing, a tool, a titan, but also beautiful, the way it's body catches the myriad lights present in the cave, the way it's form acts like a perfect prism, forming the rainbow out of nothing.[break][break]

but it is a burden, for it is fettered. absinthe's eyes linger on the pokeball it had just came from as she moves to follow howard along the lakebed.[break][break]

"you don't want it," absinthe observes. of course howard doesn't want it. he himself said he would rather have something else, if it had not fallen into the extra-dimensional hole that is a couch cushion. joke or not, the impact is clear.[break][break]

"but you have it anyways," she continues, slowly traversing the ice. "what makes it so necessary?"

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","body"]

absinthe looks at him, rueful. she's unsure she's capable of having fun anymore. chemistry is her passion, but not done for enjoyment. she has to do it, it is a compulsion that lies in her bones like a waking dragon, and it cannot be ignored. her chemicals are often the only things that make her feel whole, but the human consciousness is not built purely on the notion of wholeness. it has been a long while since absinthe has managed to fully enjoy herself.[break][break]

even so, she will give him the benefit of the doubt. it is the least he deserves. she nods at him. "alright."[break][break]

absinthe's eyes trace his hand as he tosses his pokeball into the air and then catches it, brows furrowing at his explanation of ancient myth and legend. a shrine even older than the one they had passed, slumbering down below, just waiting to be roused. howard says he can reach it, and absinthe's first inclination is that he will teleport them, as he did at the power spot. the truth is far stranger.[break][break]

absinthe shields her face with her arms as a sudden hailstorm swells into existence, and her eyes widen as she chances a glance over her wrists. a golem made of pure ice commands the presence of the cave before them, and seven yellow dots stare at them through the whipping winds. the air around it seems to freeze even further, tiny crystals of ice forming and drifting around its body. the violet core at the center of the ancient golem pulses rhythmically, almost as if it has a heartbeat of its own.[break][break]

right. howard was acting so casual because he had a goddamn ice giant hanging on his belt. why hadn't she thought of that?[break][break]

absinthe whips her head around to stare at howard's face, bracing herself against the storm. the situation is reaching absurd levels for her. "and this thing will get us down there?" she calls over the storm, incredulous.

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","caretaker"]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

[attr="class","body"]

absinthe’s irritation grows as the source of the ruckus reveals itself: a girl, perched atop the wing of a yanmega, whooping with glee as if the world is her playground. the sight, as absurd as it is unsettling, makes absinthe’s fingers curl tighter around the pokéball in her hand. the dimming green light only adds to the strangeness of the scene, casting long, flickering shadows that dance across the forest floor.[break][break]

the chemist watches with narrowed eyes, calculating whether the girl was a threat or just a nuisance. absinthe is not one for unnecessary conflict, but neither does she tolerate disturbances in her routine. especially not when they interfere with her work. the faint rustling of wings catches her attention again, and she turns just in time to see a ninjask darting through the air, drawn by the commotion.[break][break]

too much noise. wholly too much. absinthe is beginning to feel her skin crawl, amplified only by the incessant buzzing of the ninjask's wings.[break][break]

absinthe's eyes dart down. "tryptophan," she hisses through her teeth, eyes glinting dangerously. "shut that damn thing up."[break][break]

tryptophan follows her orders, and sleep spores settle across the ninjask's exoskeleton. it's wings slow, then still entirely, as it drops out of the sky and thuds to the moss-covered floor below. with that distraction extinguished, absinthe now turns her eyes to shalin.[break][break]

"you're disturbing me. be quiet."

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","body"]

it's an unusually quiet night at the snake pit. the usual crowd of down-and-outers, criminals, and the occasional lost soul has thinned out, leaving only the flickering neon lights and the low hum of the fridge to fill the silence. absinthe stands behind the bar, wiping down a glass that doesn't really need cleaning, her mind elsewhere.[break][break]

the quiet is unnerving. she’s used to noise, to the chaos that distracts her from the darker corners of her mind. but tonight, it’s just her and the shadows, and the only way to drown out the silence is to fill it with something else.[break][break]

setting the glass down, absinthe moves to the corner of the bar where an old, battered piano sits, its keys yellowed with age and use. it’s been a long time since she’s touched it—too long, really—but her fingers still know the way. she sits down on the creaky stool, her hands hovering above the keys as she considers what to play.[break][break]

her fingers settle into the familiar chords of a melancholy tune, something soft and slow that echoes the emptiness of the bar. the music fills the room, bouncing off the walls and seeping into the cracks, filling the space with something more than just her own thoughts. it’s a simple melody, one she used to play in another life, when the world was different and she was a different person.

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","body"]

there's an odd comfort in this strange little game, though absinthe isn't sure why. maybe it's the familiarity of it all, or the way it seems to understand her choices in a way that feels almost personal. either way, she finds herself getting drawn in, despite the unsettling coincidences.[break][break]

now, faced with the choice of two tunnels, absinthe takes a moment to think. it's probably dark inside of the belly of the beast, so she immediately comes to the conclusion that it would be best to ensure they have the light to see within.[break][break]

absinthe decides to select one of the lower options: Ask Shalin to use her Pyroar to light the torches.

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","body"]

the howl from the arcanine sends a jolt through absinthe's body, her grip tightening on the reins instinctively. she's quick to mask her reaction, her face returning to its practiced calm, though her heart hammers in her chest. this was a mistake, she thinks to herself again, but there's no turning back now. she's already committed to the act, and turning tail would only raise suspicions. besides, this is for the good of her business. it’s just another experiment, she tells herself. just another set of variables to control.[break][break]

“okay,” she replies, voice steady despite the unease churning in her stomach. she adjusts her grip on the reins, feeling the rough leather beneath her fingers, and nods at josh’s instructions. the idea of using her legs to control such a powerful creature feels foreign and unsettling, but she has no choice but to try. “let’s see if i can get the hang of this.”[break][break]

with a tentative squeeze of her legs, she signals the arcanine to move forward, feeling the shift in the powerful muscles beneath her as the massive beast responds. the sensation is both exhilarating and terrifying, but absinthe forces herself to focus, to remember the point of all this.[break][break]

as they begin to move, absinthe leans forward slightly, as josh instructed, trying to find a balance between maintaining control and not looking like a complete novice. her eyes flick to josh, gauging his reaction, hoping she’s not making a fool of herself. “how am i doing?” she asks, her tone lighter than before, though there's a sharp edge to it—a defense mechanism to hide her discomfort.

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","body"]

absinthe returns to the surface of the water with a scintillating blue shard in hand, which she holds up to the oppressive sunlight in search of impurities. maybe the happiny is a good luck charm...?[break][break]

bWBV2|ud

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","body"]

absinthe can't help the twinge in her heart as she listens to howard. his story is one of childhood innocence lost, of living in a time where he can never go back to how things were. back then, everything seemed simpler, more manageable, where one's biggest problems amounted to what they would be eating for dinner.[break][break]

arceus, he's going to make her sad.[break][break]

she flits her attention to the draconid statue, etched out from centuries-old stone, lifted from a world where gods could be relied on. a world where people prayed to the sky for protection feels like something out of a dream, distant and disconnected from the reality they face now. prayers unanswered, hopes dashed against the harsh rocks of life. she glances around at the remnants of those ancient beliefs, feeling the weight of time settle on her shoulders like a burden she can’t shake off.[break][break]

"very ornate," absinthe remarks. "beautiful."[break][break]

her eyes linger on the dratini as they vanish into the shadows, and a pang of something—nostalgia? regret?—tugs at her chest. it’s a feeling she pushes down quickly, unwilling to let it surface. not here, not now.[break][break]

"this is a good place to grow up." she follows him as he moves past the shrine, curiosity gnawing at her insides. "i would have had fun here."

[attr="class","credit"]

[attr="class","body"]

the dim, flickering lights of the alleyway casino casts long shadows across the worn velvet upholstery and the chipped tables, where luck and misfortune mingle in equal measure. the low hum of conversation is punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses and the dull thud of cards hitting the felt. this was not the kind of place where fortunes were made, but rather where they were lost, slowly and inevitably, to the house or to debts that ran far deeper than money.[break][break]

absinthe sits in a corner booth, her back to the wall, a half-empty glass of something strong and bitter cradled in her hand. the mask that hid the lower half of her face seemed almost redundant here; everyone had something to hide in a place like this. the air was thick with smoke, mingling with the scent of desperation and spilled alcohol. it was the perfect environment for the business at hand.[break][break]

the clientele is as shady as the establishment itself—a mix of low-level grunts, crooked officials, and rocket associates who found the anonymity of the place comforting. it is the kind of place where no one asks questions and everyone knows better than to make eye contact for too long. the casino is a front, of course, but it is also a sanctuary for those who thrived in the shadows, a place where deals could be made away from prying eyes.[break][break]

that's why, when the entrance to the casino opens, absinthe immediately looks up to peer at the new face. she's waiting for someone, afterall: calpurnia, it should be, a woman of similar talents.

[attr="class","credit"]