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MEGALOMANIAC

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LAID BACK

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REMORSELESS

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abilities

By sole virtue of being a Malamar Gijinka, Diane is immune to psychic attacks despite being partially psychic herself. Diane finds herself with both increased attack and special attacking properties, and laughs in the face of other psychics trying to play mind games on her. It's difficult to get into her mind due to her own psychic abilities infringing and interrupting any potential breakage. On the other hand, her dark abilities stop herself from being pinned down otherwise through telekinetic means. This psychic typing gives her very limited ability of her own telekinesis, however this is only applicable to small objects no larger than the size of her hand. Her most often used item would be a coin or a small dagger. Nevertheless, she can't lift something heavier than quarter of her weight, making things quite limited to her. [break][break]

As a malamar gijinka, the only visible signs of it would be the fact she can willingly control the strands of her hair. They are heavily resistant to other attacks, and when bind together and be something akin to the tentacles on top of a Malamar's head. Her movements are fluid, enticing and smooth. It goes without saying that the sight of her movements would lure a man or woman towards her, especially with her beckoning. Diane possesses strong hypnotic abilities, just as her pokemon counterpart does. Much like her counterpart, Diane would lure a prey in and wrap and bind them with her own hair. While not using her digestive fluids, Diane can use a slightly corrosive chemical that is embedded in her saliva to cause a burning sensation. [break][break]

In addition to hypnotic movements, Diane's own eyes and particles in her hair have the ability to flash a bright, lime green colour to form a certain pattern. By flashing these lights, she is capable of drawing in whoever happens to see and pull them into a hypnotic trance if exposed for too long. Her own hypnosis is considerably stronger than that of other gijinkas, but only in respect to her own pokemon counterpart. Her hypnosis is capable of compelling other to follow her own orders like a puppet, and even those with a stronger will would find it difficult to resist the hypnosis alone. However with enough resolve and the ability to actually.. Look away from her, there's really nothing else she can do. It goes without saying, but people who lack the ability to see or do not look at her directly (i.e sunglasses) are safe from her visual hypnotism. [break][break]

The final enhancement she received are the ends of her hair. Like how Malamar's fins are dangerously sharp, Diane, when turning her hair into something akin to tentacles, can shape the strands to become deathly sharp. While not enough to slice a man clean, a cut from her hair would cause a nasty slash and dangerously deep cut.

---

TW: It's somewhat(?) vague, but there are instances of child abuse and pedophilia, so you might wanna be careful of that. I apologize in advance!

[break][break]

01.

Who are you? [break][break]

She no longer knows, or perhaps she's terrified of the monster she's turned into. A woman of beautiful emerald eyes and peach hair, glaring down with the gentle gaze under evenly cut bangs. She doesn't know how she has found herself here, nor does she think she wants to remember anymore. For as long as she knows, for as long as she's been herself, she's been doing nothing but smiling. Smiling, living. She knows not what she's fighting for anymore, nor does she want to know how far she's fallen. Perhaps she no longer wants to know. And now she rests, smiling as she lowers the curtains for her finale. If you are to ask who she is, she'll simply answer with--[break][break]

"The manifestation of all you love and hate."

[break][break]

02.

Her story starts in the beginning. If you are to ask her, of what year and what day, she'll simply smile and shake her head. With her lips shut and her finger over her lips, she shushes the curious child with a quiet chime. It's none of your concern as she returns to her work. All that's need to be known is that she's from what used to be a beautiful city. It used to be lovely, it used to be prospering. A beautiful city that was well known throughout the Lyeant Region, her very own home. Her world is one of peace, one that others envy. One that they loved, and yet one that she so passionately despised. Burning. Suffocating love that she hated so. It is unknown as to why, it is unknown as to how someone as innocent as she could have turned into the way she is today. She once was gentle. She once was kind. She once held a golden and warm heart, until those around her were plucked. [break][break]

Like flowers under a filthy boot, they were crushed. Over and over again, she watched as each and every one of her family were plucked and strained. To their ends, to when they could take no longer. Financially. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. They could only smile, They could only wave. They brushed it off, they claimed it to be no problem. So long as they could protect the three children of their own. So long as they can save their innocence. So long as they could stop the children from getting hurt, they will certainly grow to be caring individuals. They were kind. They were optimistic. Idealistic. Positive. Wishful. Hopeful. Faithful.[break][break]

Foolish. [break][break]

Poverty is all she's ever known, and she thought that this is what she always will know. Stretched, squeezed, wrung out of whatever juice they had in them. There was no mercy where she lived. There was no longer clemency. What she has seen are things that a little girl shouldn't see; something that will forever scar as the years grow more distant. Distant from her family, what friends she had. There is little to say and little to apologize for, anymore. But yet her family was kind. They stayed innocent. They stayed giving, genuine. They stayed selfless. Selfless. Selfless. [break][break]

Selfless. [break][break]

Empty words. Empty words that ran in her ears. Empty words that were made for the sake of offering the illusion of cleansing. The illusion of being "good". Illusions were everywhere. Illusion that pried on the weak, illusion that were made to wring out her family even further. Illusion that were made to reap them out, to make then believe that there is, in fact, some false god waiting at the end of the tunnel. She was young, and she was innocent. Sweet. Kind. Beautiful. [break][break]

Fake.

[break][break]

03.

To be Selfless is being Selfish.[break][break]

Then why is that not a sin, she asks. To be perceived as selfish is a punishment harsher than death itself, to those who call death a retribution over a blessing. And to herself, perhaps she would have chosen death over the alternative. Her family is scraping the dirt for leftovers, for something that they could never hope to have. For something that they wish to satisfy, but all they find are the apples in their eyes, of the beaming lights and the towering buildings overhead. The luxurious people walking up and down the paths, truly apples to the eye. Apples that not a man or woman bothered to hand over, apples that could have saved a starving family and yet was turned and brushed away without another thought otherwise. She pleads to her parents and asks; why must they be so hated? Why must the kind be treated so poorly? Why must they be so weak? Why must she live in the shadows, at the mercy of the deathly winters, the piercing gazes and the uncomfortable glares? Why must she, of all people, be subjected to something as unfortunate as that? What had she done wrong? What had she done right?[break][break]

It was then she realized that doing right never ended with good results. [break][break]

She begs and scavenges, yet finds nothing but trash. Trash that her baby brother consumed, that had thrown him into a critical condition. Trash that her sister came into contact with, only to grow infected and terrified. Trash that her parents embraced, just like the trash they were. But you, no. You were not trash. You were a diamond that was thrown into the dead of the night. You were a diamond that one adored, only to be replaced and kicked to the curb. Though you were always told that you would be mommy and daddy's little princess. You would be spinning around in a paper bag, like a paper bag princess. You would be trash. She would be trash. She would be trash amongst trash, because no matter a diamond or a gem, something thrown out was trash, and will always be trash. Trash that has turned into another's treasure will, too, eventually become trash. Nothing but a figment of their memories, clouded by the illusion of a gemstone found on the streets. She thought that perhaps, when she met this man, he would be able to treat her like a treasure. Perhaps she will learn to love, perhaps she will learn to enjoy her own life to the fullest. Perhaps she'll be able to live the life that she was meant to. [break][break]

But like all trash, even the parents had to throw her away. They were scum, not trash anymore. Parasites in this infested world, people whom she dared not to name nor look at. Those individuals who looked at her, smiled to her. Praised her, loved her. Love. An artificial term used when trying to manipulate those who didn't know of the deeper meanings. She has since learned that love was a word used for the sick pleasantries of others. Love is a term that is bought and stolen, sold for money and luxuries. On that same day she turns the alleyway, watching as her brothers and sisters are picked off the streets. The crying, the tears. They stained their faces, reaching out frail arms while their futile struggling only entertained their captors. She who didn't know, who was too young to understand hid behind a wall. She who didn't understand hid and watched as another monster approached them, holding a large stack of paper that seemed to make her family light up. If she were to ask her parents what they had done, they would simply tell her that they were being selfless. They were giving to the needy, to those who needed her siblings the most. They speak to her in condescending and coy tones, hoping that she will never understand. But she knows. She knows. Her siblings were no longer the trash amongst the living. They were no longer thrown out objects, that were tossed aside because they were broken. No, they were repaired by this man and woman, who claimed to love them. Love, as the currency to make them do their bidding. Love was the currency, and eventually she learned that this love was donated to repair them into an object. [break][break]

A fine, valuable object.

[break][break]

04.

She, too, was nothing but an object. A cleaned, polished object that was up for sale by the hands of the owners. The owners, where she is the property. Where she is an object, something put up for sale to be loved for her beautiful appearance. An object that is to be cleaned and fixed, only to be used and thrown away like the trash she was. No, she wasn't going to be trash again. She refused to accept it; someone like her was worth so much more, she thought to herself. She was worth so much more, more than the dirt that was on the ground at the very least. What can she call value? As an intangible measurement, but she knows that she'll always be worth more than the rats who whisper "I love you" in her ears for all these years. She knows that she's worth more than empty words and fake smiles. She knows that she's worth more than all of this, which is why she pauses and learns. There is no school for her to go to, nor is there a place she can learn. But she learns, she takes her time to observe, to quietly watch and to listen. On the streets, she suffered. But in front of the consumers, se smiles. Bright mint eyes with peach hair, with a charming smile and spewing out sickly sweet words. Deafening sweet words. Lethal sweet words. Fake sweet words. That's right, because they were just words. They were no longer the symbol of one's soul, they were no longer the medium of one's mind. The mind and the actions live to be separate at all costs, lest one would like to risk at becoming garbage on the streets. [break][break]

That's what she thinks and what she'll always think.[break][break]

Not a day too soon, she is called by a man. He has a briefcase in his hand, wore a fancy suit. He took one good look at the child, who was then recently hitting her developing years. She was only eleven to twelve, saying the approximate because she doesn't know exactly how old she was. He reaches his hand out, and for the first time, she feels something that is foreign. A sensation that was.. Odd. Her fingers grazed against his, and for the first time in her life, she felt something warm. His hands were warm, they were welcoming. They were pleasant to hold, like they were catching her after a long, long journey. Arms that she could fall into, arms that she could rely on. Someone who, perhaps, learned to show just a little bit of love to the once-trash she was. Without a second though, she turns her back to the family who she once knew. She turns her back to the two idiots who were marvelling in some more money. Just a little bit more to get by. Just a little bit more to spend. Just a little bit more to literally burn to whatever gods didn't exist. Because frankly? In her wholehearted opinion? The gods were dead. They cared not for the human race, they cared not for their creatures. Love is simply the currency of which defines your value as a person; love is a tag. But the moment her hand grazed over his, she was beginning to think that perhaps, love was something more than that. [break][break]

Oh, was she wrong. [break][break]

His love, too, as a currency. But no, she could feel that it was genuine. It was a filled love, one that wasn't empty like her parents. It wasn't one where he would want to sell her. I will never let you go, he says. He will never let her rot on the streets, ever again. He will forever be there to help her, to take care of her. The child no longer has any worries, because she is under a roof of a wealthy man. Drowning in money, something that she has never been exposed to. Money is something she's never seen, however she knows her sellers go crazy over that. For the first few days and weeks, he dresses her up. He makes her pretty, he cleans her, dresses her and feeds her. He gives her all the toys she'll ever want or need, he gives her all the clothes, all the food and everything that a child like her could ask for. But she always found it unneeded, and therefore spends her time studying. Learning. Sometimes she would go out to explore, sometimes she would go out, to look down upon the others. To listen to the peasants grovelling at her feet just because a child like herself is able to spend without a care in the world. [break][break]

Hah.. Peasants. She liked the sound of that. The girl only smiles and looks down upon those who were once trash, the parents who claimed to love their children. Yes, she felt an inexplainable rage when she saw parents playing with their children. She pulls her sleeves nervously, narrow her eyes as she hides the bruises and the cuts, scars and poorly done stitches as a result of the many "play sessions" she had with her own. They were nothing more than the dirt under her feet, and she wished not to associate with them if she could afford to. However going out was a mistake, as it was eventually discovered by her foster father. The man stared, pulled her over and to her surprise, he began to cry. A single man, from what she had known. Had lost his wife for one reason or another, and now she finds herself in the face of him crying out to her. The man who held her tight pulled her over and into his arms, but she feels something is off. Every fibre of her being trembles, arms attempting to push away from him yet his grip doesn't let up. He's whispering words that she can never forget, words that haunt her nightmares for the rest of her days. [break][break]

"You will never leave me." [break][break]

And the remaining hours pass by like a blur. By the end of it all, she feels a pain in the lower half of her body. Her beautiful clothing had been ripped to shreds, scattered by the ground and she was left nude on the ground. The little girl couldn't remember what happened, but woke up to find pain. Pain, pain. She felt disgusting in her own body, she felt like something had been done to her, but she doesn't exactly remember what happened. At the age of twelve, she doesn't know what happened, and it was best that she didn't. [break][break]

He was a sickened man.

[break][break]

05.

At the age of thirteen, her stomach swelled. [break][break]

She doesn't know why and she panics, crying in stomach pains and everything else. Her stomach hurts, it twitches. She feels kicking from within. She grows older and doesn't understand why her belly only grows more, and more, and more. Father dares not to tell her, but she, perhaps deep in her heart, knows what is happening. From that day on, she stops attending school. She stops attending the public school, off on maternity leave. You would think that father helps her, that he eases her. No, he only loves her so much more that he fawns over the child. He fantasizes about it, he coos about it. He prays for the baby to be delivered safely, all while continuing to tie her down and listen to her screams. Screams of pain among other sensations. As the days pass, she feels whatever sanity she had left whittling away. Little, by little. Day by day. [break][break]

It was possibly the toughest nine months of her life, between trying to attend her schooling and hiding her oversized and swelling stomach. Her teachers would give her stares and the other students would call her fat, while the older student would look down at the younger and snicker. Once again she was no longer a diamond, because whatever physical innocence she may have retained turned into something foul, corrupted. A childhood innocence that should no longer be there. She knows not of what she did to deserve this, but she knows that she will suffer, and she will forever maintain the mental scars on her person. It was because of this creature in her belly, it was because of them that she was suffering so. Who gave the lowly peasant permission to laugh at her? Who gave them the authority? The right to snicker, to spread both the true and false amongst waggling tongue and prying ears? She doesn't understand, nor is she in the mood to make an attempt. [break][break]

It's not long until she's rushed to the hospital, stomach swelling to the point she feels like it's going to burst. The young girl whines and cries, only at the age of thirteen and giving birth; giving life. Never had she felt anything so painful before. But the pain was there for as long as she was awake, perhaps even longer. But in the end? She found a petite child coming out from below, crying and wailing. Smaller than the usual baby, but only because of her undeveloped body. The body that was forced to give birth. Diane stares down at the blonde child, crying to the other child she now has to call mother. Diane can only stare down at the baby, let it all sink in. She gave life, she made a life. She had brought a life to the world, no matter how weak. Although Diane found that the baby was precious, and she found herself crying. [break][break]

Whether those were tears of love or hatred was up for debate. [break][break]

But her father; or, her and her child's father loved the child as he loved Diane all the same. It was an unhealthy addiction, a sickening desire. No matter how hard she tries to keep her baby away, her father is always taking her away. Her father is treating her well, but Diane knows. Money is his medium of love, love for when they are too young. The medium that allows a child to grow and ripen before doing as he pleased. And for what? To sully their innocence? To break them? To take them away? No, Diane wasn't going to let that happen. She dares not to let her own daughter fall to the filthy hands of this peasant. Yes, he was a peasant. A sullied human being, one that deserved retribution with the absence of mercy. But she knows that there's little she can do. So in the middle of the night, the young teen takes her daughter out to the streets. She takes her out and pulls three pokeballs of her own, stuffing them in the basket with blankets and pillows to hold her baby. A Dratini, Gible, and a Scorupi. Perhaps they could protect her. [break][break]

But was it throwing her away? Was Diane abandoning her baby? She can't seem to understand nor accept it. But she now stares at her child, ponder, and smiles. No, her daughter is not trash. Elodie was a treasure, the most loved treasure she's ever learned to love. But love is just a currency, and therefore she wants her daughter to never be exposed to it. Love is a currency, because people yearn for it. They crave it like the animals they are, the same way they would claw and kill for money. Currency, she thinks, is unneeded. But the irony is that in the future her world would revolve around currency. But at the moment, she wishes for her daughter to live as normal a life as she could on the streets. [break][break]

If she died on said streets, then so be it.

[break][break]

06.

He was enraged. You told him that your daughter was taken, kidnapped. She was killed while in your care, and he was enraged. Had you not been the splitting image of his late wife, he would have killed you himself. Regardless, life became harder. Day in and day out, you would find new bruises forming on your arms and legs. There was not a part on your body that wasn't blue, black, red. You looked like a poorly painted picture of pain, pain, and pain alike. You were about finished with your adoptive father; you wanted to leave. You wished to throw him out like the trash he was, and you found that it would be so much easier that way. At the age of fifteen, you had about reached the end of your rope. Your baby, who should have been two years old, had her face forgotten in the back of her mind. Diane felt no more love for her own child, as it was replaced with resentment and rage towards the man who didn't deserve to don the title "father". But to leave would be too bad for her, it would be.. Unpleasant. That being said, it wouldn't stop him from hunting her down to kill her, so she watched the man as he was eating. A petite Inkay did as she was supposed to and watched, waiting for the day she could slip poison. But no, the poison would not be in the food. It would be on the silverware, smeared across the tips. [break][break]

He chocked. That dinner, you sat across him and watched as he gripped onto the cloth. He screamed and gagged while the other servants were coming to his aid. She, of course, was right next to him. Her hands on his back, tears in her eyes while her desperate attempts to call for her father were in vain. But of course she already knew that. She already knew that, and as the man looked upwards through the locks of pink hair? He found something that he would possibly never forget; the piercing mint eyes which gleamed of satisfaction, the smile pulled at pearl peach lips as he grabbed his neck, attempting to cough the poison out. And yet Diane's tone was relatively the same worry, relatively the same grief. [break][break]

His passing would not be remembered. There was no poison in the food, and the poison had been washed off the silverware shortly after the murder; she was off clean. She properly disposed of the poison she used and now, was his own, official heir to the company. But at fifteen, she was far too young, especially while she was lacking the proper schooling and degrees. But even then? Diane did what she could; she arranged for her own tutoring sessions, her own studying sessions. She did all that she could to take over her father's company, to come into a position of power. Power was all she wanted now, because she found that with it, you could do as you pleased to the ants under the earth. She'd be able to do as she wished, and none would be able to spat down at her and crush her under their boots. No one would be able to look down on her, she thought. She knew. [break][break]

And she craved. [break][break]

Eighteen she inherited the company. She inherited the company, her father's assets and everything in between. He was an only son and her grandparents had long died; she was the sole heir, though not directly. But she was content with this. She hired others to take care of her father's company while attending to university, studying criminology and the like. She more or less? Had her whole future laid out in front of her. She had money, she was also a business woman now. She had inherited everything that her adoptive father had, she had his power. His power was passed on to her. Though life was supposed to feel better, she found that it was only unbecoming. The greedy in the business world, the false smiles. Only because she held power over them, she found that people who treated her like trash were grovelling at her feet. Asking her for more, begging her. It's as though she had their lives wrapped around the tip of her finger. [break][break]

She became addicted.

[break][break]

07.

Power, she needed more of it. But even then, she knew that loyalty would never be to her. The power she had right now was only because the simple-minded would follow her. But what if they became complex? What if they moved away from her? What if her power wavered? No, that was the last thing she wanted. Diane didn't want that, and therefore she did what she should have done long ago; she began to train herself. The petite Inkay woman began to o her hardest in terms of physical training, up until she was capable of evolving into a Malamar at the age of nineteen. There, she started small. Suggestions, urging and the like with hypnosis. She began to utilize her abnormally stronger hypnotic abilities, gradually building them up as the time went on. The people followed her every beck and call, but this wasn't enough, no. This was certainly not enough. [break][break]

At the age of twenty, she found the existence of Team Imum. Diane found them, initially, to only be an idealistic bunch. Blinded, so easily manipulated. She found them uninteresting, but it wasn't until their exponential rise did she bat an eye. Curious and intrigued, Diane joined the arms. She participated in the war herself with a pleasant smile all the same, and there, she witnessed the system. She watched and she learned, up until she found a man who was responsible for the majority of recruiting. Brainwashing, she found. Hypnotizing, stockholm syndrome; something she had learned from Criminology a year or so back. Diane witnessed and smiled, until she, ultimately, looked up to the man's tactics. Dominant and recessive hypnotism all the same, penetrating so deep in the subconscious that one wouldn't even know they were being used, controlled. They wouldn't know they were but a puppet. [break][break]

She wanted to learn more. [break][break]

Diane did everything that she could do, because honesty and pride were no longer valid accomplishments. In this world, she's learned, it was kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten, it was simple. Only the strongest survive. Primal as it may have been, there were many complex layers. Layers upon layers. It was fascinating; she wanted to know more. But at sometime down the line, perhaps she had forgotten what she was trying to do. While life was short and unnecessary in her opinion, that was all the more reason to do what she was doing. Life was unnecessary, it was insignificantly short. It was short, and therefore she had to do all that she could. All she could, just so that she wasn't tossed in the same pile as the ignorant. Yes, this wasn't her fault. None of this was her fault. Perhaps if she didn't learn of only one definition of love, perhaps she would have learned to love. [break][break]

But of course, we all know the world isn't that merciful.

[break][break]

08.

The war of Imum left her disappointed. The genocide was nearly a success, it was nearly a success. She was about to kill them, and no, she didn't mind. No, she wouldn't be the one killing them; it would be the mindless slaves that she would have experimented on for herself. She found this entertaining.. Hell, it was hell on earth, and she loved it. Why couldn't there be more? More, she wanted more of this. Destruction, this chaos; she wanted all of it to happen before her very eyes. But like all great powers, Imum fell. They fell and they were killed, and she witnessed these first hand. At the age of Twenty-Three, Imum Admin Diane Frasier found the Team fall, much to her chagrin. Thankfully for herself, however, Diane was capable of escaping under the cover of her Zoroark. She, however, wiped the memories of those hypnotized with their involvement with Team Imum. She made them forget her face, forget the information they would have known; she made them forget everything regarding Imum. [break][break]

And watched them die with confusion ridden in their eyes.

[break][break]

09.

Team Neo-Imum, a team that came up years after the initial fall and the recovery of the region. They were idealistic, hoping to find their old leader once again. But they were naive, hopeful. THey were just.. Creatures. Ants under her shoe, people who were so devoted to Imum that it was foolish. Laughable. [break][break]

Gullible.

[break][break]

10.

She wishes for nothing more than to see her daughter once again. [break][break]

In another world, she could afford to have a daughter. In another world, she could learn to receive the proper type of "love", and grow up to give. Perhaps she could have learned to accept the love that she was shown so many years prior; perhaps she could learn that there were some types of love that wasn't utterly useless. Perhaps her heart could soften, and learn the meaning of affection. And though her heart aches at the lost opportunities she has lost, she curses the world in return. For all that she is, and for all that she could have been. She curses the world for its infidelity, for it's cruelty. Yes, Diane. It was the world that turned you into the woman you are, today. It was not yourself; that is ridiculous. No, she doesn't know how much nor how little she should waste or lose, anymore. All she knows is that she wants to keep going, to keep cursing. She wants nothing more than to watch the world burn, to watch it burn in the depths of hellfire; human, gijinka, and pokemon alike. She cares not for the consequences, because she deems that this isn't fair. It is no longer fair for her to survive in a world as warped as this, and it was no longer fair how she was to be deemed evil for the ways the world has shaped her. No, all she wants is to see her beloved daughter. The daughter she never bothered to hold, the daughter she never bothered to love. [break][break]

But she knows that the daughter is more than trash. [break][break]

She knows her daughter is more than trash. Her beautiful Elodie was a gem, a diamond in the rough. From the first moment she found those bright, orange eyes and those blonde locks of hair, paired with that petite and weak frame from being given birth from an undeveloped body? Though she despises the living flesh that coils the girl's body together, she can't help but to feel protective. She can't help but to feel something, something that makes her blood boil. Something that makes her slash through any and all enemies in her path. Something that eggs her on, something that goads her into attacking. Attacking. Attacking. Anything for her daughter. That's right, she would do anything for her daughter. She just wanted her daughter back, back so that she could love her. So she can embrace her. So she could, perhaps, make up for the lost time she had. That's right, she wishes for her daughter back, more than anything. To reclaim her, to fix her. She wants to embrace her precious, sweet, fragile and beautiful Elodie. [break][break]

Then break her all over again like her relatives before her. [break][break]

There is nothing she loves in this world, no. Not anymore. There is nothing that she doesn't want to break. Team Imum has never been and never was simply a pacifist group to her. Team Imum was never a team that was meant to spread peace nor awareness. It was never a group that shared it's peaceful ideals with her, no. Team Imum was her key, her path to a higher ground, to a higher power. Yes, that's right. Power was what defined the treasure from the trash. In the business world, Money spoke as the value of your power. To measure power over another, Love was then a weak and useless currency. Love no longer held domain. Rather, it was fear that held the most value. It was the most expensive currency, one that was certain to buy over the wills and the souls of others. Diane learned this, she learned this and utilized this. For months, she trained. After the Imum war, she trained, and trained, and trained. She laid low from her people, trying to find the day where she can resurface proudly as an Imum Member--[break][break]

You're lying again. She wishes for nothing more than to watch the world burn. Let them be Imum, let them be enemies. Let them be comrades, let them be teammates. Diane cares not anymore. She is more than willing to throw her life away for this, along with the lives of others. Hah.. Perhaps not even obliterating the human race would be enough currency to wash away man kinds' sins. Break the world, recreate it from scratch. Her ultimate goal is unknown and her demeanour is pleasantly kind. The woman is carefree, lenient, even kind in the eyes of her underlings. But a woman like herself, who hypnotizes and breaks as a means to recruit is anything but an honest soul. A woman who offers a sweet smile along with a piece of hard candy, only to pry deeper, and deeper upon a person's deepest and darkest traumas, fears. Bring them back to reality, make them relive this nightmare time and time again. Should they break it, it shan't matter, because their actions prior to breaking out of her hold will only further scar them. It will make them squirm. She will make them squirm. Kidnap them? Tie them to a chair? Lure them out? Capture? Con? Hypnotize? Black Mail? Or.. Coerce them? Hurt them? Break them? Force them to betray? Perhaps she could turn them into a mindless solider, turn them into something that was never alive in the first place. Kill them on the inside, with no possibility to return. Oh, the possibilities were endless. [break][break]

The thought makes her absolutely ecstatic. [break][break]

Yet she scorns and she hisses, knowing that she wasn't at the top. She wasn't at the top, she wasn't dominant. She wasn't the one who was above the others; no, she was still below. Only two people; two people whom stood in her way. A blind woman who was moulded into a puppet, and another who stands above and as the right hand man. Oh, no. She was the one who did the dirty work, who got down to torturing, to recruiting and the like. Oh, not much longer now. It won't be much longer, now. Perhaps she could comply if her leaders retained the same view as herself, but no. For as far as she knows, they fought for the blind hope that pokemon would be able to be liberated. The noble thought-- Hah. Something she can't agree with, something that she hates. The leadership the woman held? Perhaps she held Imum in her grasp-- [break][break]

"But it won't be for much longer, love."

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NICKNAME

GENGAR #094

Hypnosis //
Dream Eater //
Nightmare //
Hex //
Sludge Bomb //
Dark Pulse

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NICKNAME

ZOROARK #571

Hone Claws //
Night Slash //
Foul Play //
Nasty Plot //
Night Daze //
Detect

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NICKNAME

SALAZZLE #758

Toxic //
Attract //
Dragon Pulse //
Flamethrower //
Venoshock //
Nasty Plot

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ELODIE

PACHIRISU #417

Electro Ball //
Sweet Kiss //
Super Fang //
Follow Me //
Nuzzle //
Attract

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NICKNAME

FERALIGATR #160

Dragon Dance //
Ice Fang //
Aqua Tail //
Crunch //
Slash //
Liquidation

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NICKNAME

TYANTRUM #697

Head Smash //
Crunch //
Dragon Tail //
Rock Polish //
Thunder Fang //
Ice Fang

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+ tl;dr

times were changing, eighteen years and fading. ain't a lot of time left to be a star. on an island, all alone and dying - walk upon the water, but you won't get far. dreams and visions tied into decisions. saw you on a postcard from the other side. hope and glitter, never feeling bitter. walk upon the water just to be your bride. don't tell me now that there is nothing more. there is a how, just like there is a door. and if there's not to be another way, you tell me why, why, why.



[break][break]

+ friendship

stay and follow if the words are hollow. gotta go along 'cause it's all you got. each day, earn them. turn around and burn them. think you're fitting in, but you hope you're not. neatly drowning. every drink, you're downing. if you drink enough, you'll forget the game. each illusion wrapped in absolution. live your life in weekends, but it's not the same. don't tell me now that there is nothing more. there is a how, just like there is a door. and if there's not to be another way, you tell me why, why, why, why.

+ hateship

times were changing, eighteen years and fading. ain't a lot of time left to be a star. on an island, all alone and dying - walk upon the water, but you won't get far. dreams and visions tied into decisions. saw you on a postcard from the other side. hope and glitter, never feeling bitter. walk upon the water just to be your bride. don't tell me now that there is nothing more. there is a how, just like there is a door. and if there's not to be another way, you tell me why, why, why.

+ loveship

stay and follow if the words are hollow. gotta go along 'cause it's all you got. each day, earn them. turn around and burn them. think you're fitting in, but you hope you're not. neatly drowning. every drink, you're downing. if you drink enough, you'll forget the game. each illusion wrapped in absolution. live your life in weekends, but it's not the same. don't tell me now that there is nothing more. there is a how, just like there is a door. and if there's not to be another way, you tell me why, why, why, why.

+ wanted

times were changing, eighteen years and fading. ain't a lot of time left to be a star. on an island, all alone and dying - walk upon the water, but you won't get far. dreams and visions tied into decisions. saw you on a postcard from the other side. hope and glitter, never feeling bitter. walk upon the water just to be your bride. don't tell me now that there is nothing more. there is a how, just like there is a door. and if there's not to be another way, you tell me why, why, why.

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list as many as you like! keep in mind that we're still pg-13, though, so not everything's gonna crop up in rp/conversation.

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