[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]he reaches the conclusion of early death for the spaceship after a mere moment of observation. the hull of the ship has eroded beneath explosion upon impact and time spent submerged in the elements. what's left of the metal exoskeleton has long since grown moss and small alien flowers.

"maybe faulty equipment?"

it's better than the alternative of being shot clean out of the sky, isn't it?

and as he lets curiosity reign, she keeps watch at his back. only when he calls for her over the sound of an odd recording does she move to get closer.

"play it again."

when he does, the alien sound shrieks around their eardrums. she shivers at the sound, at the way it claws down her spine.

"is it saying something about cutting something?"

it's the only words she can pick out, perhaps.

ALEXANDER STONE

[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]his hands on the universal strings are tinged with hubris - mortal, not archaic enough to be on the primordial scale of emotions.

she feels each little pluck, each twitch, of taut gilded string and it reverberates into another layer of cosmic symphony. the hymn of spatial fabric, of stars fading into early death, of planets coming into newfound birth.

he's tainting it. the light is slowly being bled dry. she bares teeth at the thought.

she believes him mistaken - gravity is merely another property of the universe, of the spatial fabric making up each facet of existence, and she is its alchemist.

even with pressure clawing to drag shoulders down, her hand is heavy against the spatial properties surrounding them. she throws the properties around them into disarray. molecules of matter sing with the familiar vibration of a war drum struck to signal the coming of resistance. she flips them, rearranges them until gravity loosens and small, half crystalline clumps begin to float upward. another flip and the world feels as if it turns on its axis. she increases the emphasis on up becoming down, seeking to disorient both him and his beast of a patron.

another star blazes into a supernova of early death beneath the clawed blows between palkia and necrozma. each slash, each flash of pink shimmering against black, brings them further and further into oblivion.

"it seems we're at an impasse, devourer."

she stays solid, unfazed by the spatial properties she has manipulated. they hold a soft, barely there signature of faint pink - a small mark against the universal planes to signal her meddling.

"our powers are entangled - one cannot exist without the other."

space without gravity and gravity without space... impossible. with gravity being mass along the curvature of spacetime, they're merely two chisels chipping away at the same marble of the universe. how could they ever overcome the other?

Zev Harcourt
the great chasm of hoenn.

[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]a deep, almost intimate, sense of knowing fills the air. cosmic recognizes cosmic, space acknowledges black hole, and she tenses for the inevitable clash of titans.

the alien shriek echoes overhead - his patron, arriving late. somewhere beyond, in the expanses of space, she feels the echo of a draconic roar ripple through all matter. it comes into full fruition, full view, with a flash of pink and the meeting of black claw against one of white and pink.

palkia engages necrozma, all snarls and claws and territorial spats.

and their avatars meet as is written all across the spatial plane.

he lunges for her, a claw reaching toward her body. she will not allow the satisfaction of seeing her blood spill upon this odd earth - there will be no golden stains, not yet.

a quick swipe of her hand plucks the spatial properties from the world around her, sifting through air and morphing it into something weaponized. their battleground is different, not confined to mortal means as normal. her body shifts into something intangible, something spatial, something evasive. his claws echo against nothingness, but she sees the ripples of spatial matter moving for his momentum all the same.

protected, she is free to grapple for control.

spatial erosion begins to spread from her body, slowly shifting back into physicality once his claws leave her space, and with it, the earth falters. it crumbles slowly, a subtle decay of pink eating away at dust and dirt and existence in its entirety.

"come," she murmurs, a free hand moving to pluck further into space. she casts the following sweeping motion wide, an arc of change. the spatial properties around them move with her hand, up becoming down and his gravity fluctuates with her manipulations. she wrangles it slowly from his grasp as if a dog coaxed into releasing its prized toy. "again, with fervor this time."

Zev Harcourt
the great chasm of hoenn.

[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]this is expected, familiar. they've done this dance before - right down to the footwork.

"there's a project i'd like your approval on, if possible."

and as soon as the final syllable slinks out, he throws off the rhythm.

there is no symphony of clicking keys to follow. her movements jumble slightly, a surprise catching her off guard.

"it's an avatar studies project."

she doesn't give the meat of the proposal - not yet.

FERNANDO SILPH

the ghost of cool steel against her throat settles softly - a barely there touch on pale skin. it does not deter her.

[break][break]her hands hold firm, her touch still delicate on fragmented pieces of what once was.

[break][break]and her name echoes throughout the expanses of space in this darkened laboratory. it sounds like a prayer in some grandiose, archaic semblance. disbelief and confusion are marks of the unknown, of religion confounding the masses.

[break][break]there is a small comfort here, settled between the spaces of pink glowing fingers.

[break][break]"what was will be again."

[break][break]it sounds distracted - faint hollowness not quite speaking of detachment, but something different... as if she's too focused, too far gone to indulge in inquiry.

[break][break]"do you intend to stop me?"

[break][break]could he? would she allow it?

[break][break]the fractured porcelain slowly, painstakingly, begins to fit back together as she speaks. each piece is brought together at the seams with a ginger touch, welded and sealed with a single trail of her finger. the grout left behind glows pink, draconic and holy.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"]

Remiel Calcifet[break]