TWO YEARS AGO, A CRIMINAL ORGANIZATION GOING BY THE NAME TEAM IMUM WRECKED CHAOS ACROSS THE LAND, DAMAGING CITIES AND KILLING THOUSANDS OF CITIZENS. While Imum itself has long since been disbanded, however, the region remains broken: entire towns have been laid to waste and the Association struggles to find homes for those who were lucky enough to survive the attempted genocide. Reconstruction trudges on as usual... but with three factions - the Association, the corporations, and the people - each wishing to take the rebuilding of an entire region down opposite paths, how long will it be before Lyeant's last leg gives out permanently?
03.01
first activity check is currently underway. regardless of your green status, please be sure to check it out and make extra sure your characters make it safe and sound after the eighth of march.
01.28
we're officially re-opened! come check out our event, the pokeathlon forever to enjoy some fresh restart activities. let leap know if there are any skin bugs, and they'll be sorted out accordingly!
Care to hear about our lord and savior Operation: Mindcrime? In all seriousness: Hello, hello! I'm Pharaoh Leap – or just Leap – local head admin and rock opera enthusiast. On the rare chance you catch me in a time when I'm not bawling about characters entirely written into song, you may see me actually doing work around the site, like skinning, making too many characters, and encouraging others to also make too many characters. I only know how to write angst, and in no fewer than six trillion words an app or post, so if you like dying while reading like I like dying while writing, I'm the girl for you. ;o
Howdy guys! The names Astro and I am your resident Brit & Red muse (you'll honestly see me more on him than any of my other characters). I'm a moderator and my main job is to make sure everything is running smoothly so the Admins can focus on other things, you'll often see me within the apps and shops, etc when I'm not on Red. What can I say about myself? Apart from being a Red fanboy I like music and games and yaoi huehue, I honestly never now what to put into these sort of things but ohwell, I'm more of a "ask me and I'll tell" sorta guy. Anyway, from my personally I hope that you enjoy the site and what we produce here but also if you're new, please look around and if you like what you see please consider joining for rad plots that everyone gives! :D
Hey there~ Nano over here! I uh.. Wait, I'm doing this right, right? Bleh. So I'm a moderator over here - fun, fun - who kind of just.. Keeps an eye on everyone. You know, the whole app thing and what not. Uh.. Lets see.. When I'm not doing school work (because I may or may not be trying to be a good student) I'm probably storming up new ideas like events and etc. Or plots. Plots are always good, too. As you can see, I uh.. Have the horrible habit of making way too many characters. I swear, I was tempted with plots, ships and angst. It's like, the holy trinity. Uh.. What else is there about me? Oh, right! Please excuse my obnoxiousness. I'm just really loud in general so don't be surprised if I start screaming as loudly as I can caps. So yeah. Nice meeting you!
tbe: take two! is inspired by, but not associated with nintendo's pokemon franchise. the current skin was created by pharaoh leap using font icons primarily from ion icons and fonts from google fonts. banner art by vav of pixiv. characters, with the exception of canons from the manga, belong to the members who write them, and all posts and templates on site are credited to their respective authors and artists. we claim nothing that is not ours.
● dragon + fire + truth goddess[break] ● for heavy metal, we will die[break] ● drunk 95% of the time
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tori's profile
a woman with no understanding of the pursuit of lifelong happiness, invested only in temporary highs (in a metaphorical sense!) and ephemeral pleasure. it all ties into her nature, really. zekrom looks to the future, reshiram looks to the past and present. it's not in her capacity to hope for an "ideal future" with the "perfect partner" - so instead, she indulges in quick relationships, the heat of another, and kisses them gone by morning.[break][break]
as a baseline, she's about as desirable as any rock star would be. if she had any semblance of personal hygiene, heck, you could even call her pretty. unfortunately, she, uh, doesn't, though, so that definitely whacks some of those "desirable" points off the table. she's definitely bi, though, so males or females who'd care to take a peak into the life of the famous are certainly welcome here (so long as you're gone by morning!).
Post by VICTORIA CARTER on Mar 8, 2018 11:10:24 GMT -6
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The relationship between Victoria and her party of Pokemon was a complicated one. From an outside perspective, she likely looked the part of a negligent trainer, shuffling her beloved partners onto whoever was brave enough to handle their rowdy nature for long periods of time as she indulged in stage play and the vices of alcoholism in the afterglow of a well-played set. Musicians didn't tend to keep many more than a partner or two for this reason, particularly those who knew their work would take them far and wide across the land, and not in the constant pursuit of a “good challenge”; it was easier to give full attention to the few they had in the breaks in between, to give them the loving and cherishing they deserved. Her own party was not full, of course, but four Pokemon could be quite a bit to handle in the reprieves she left herself between work and personal vices, and if anyone made her to choose between music and the Pokemon she had in her arsenal, the horror of many, her answer would always be the former. But people tended to look at another human in the context of what they understood to be basic human behavior. To claim a Pokemon of your own was to take responsibility for it. You take it out of the wild you, so you promise to help it lead a better life for it. The fact that so many people would look at their relationship, then, and think wrong only in the scape of what a human trainer should be doing was ideal; that party wasn't around to trainor to groom or to breed, but to keep up just such a ruse in the first place. Pokemon can't really train other Pokemon. Victoria held affection for those who had agreed to help her maintain the ruse of a Pokemon-bearing human, as most humans were, but no more than she did the rest of the Pokemon of the world, and like the rest of the Pokemon of the world, she allowed them free reign in all situations, perhaps only dropping by to ensure that their homes had not been burnt to the ground (and even then, likely getting a little too jelous solely on the basis of missing a good blaze). Abhorrent behavior expected from a trainer – but what else was there to expect from a legendary who had no interest in “owning” one of her kind?[break][break]
The only real issue she or the four of her 'work buddies' had was finding some place to put the latter group while the former wallowed in her stardom. Fortunately, she knew a guy who was all too willing to aid in that little quest. Nepotism, maybe. Realistically, it was that few could refuse a good bit of drunken begging, if only to get the drunk in question out of their field of vision long enough to cure the headache she'd caused them.[break][break]
“Honey, I'm home!” Reshiram shouted as she threw Jae's front door open wide, the second bottle of day clutched in her free hand and the reek of booze spilling past her lips. No different from any other day, really. The greeting was in jest, as it always was. While their relationship had certainly improved from their centuries long feud over morality – fights to the death and what have you – they still didn't quite fit together as friends or “siblings” should have, and they most certainly did not live together in the same home. (Given the fact that her party of Pokemon spent more time here than with their official trainer, however, you couldn't blame those aforementioned onlookers from having their doubts.) Not being an official resident didn't stop the boundary-lacking woman from treating the abode as her own humble one, kicking off her shoes in the entry haphazardly and slumping down in the first chair she found without so much as an invitation to enter. He should have counted himself lucky this time that she'd at least gone to the effort of warning him via message of her arrival... even if she hadn't allotted him much time to prepare in advance. “I'm starvin'. You got anythin' the eat in 'ere?”
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[attr="class","onlytimelyric1"]hear 'em shouting at the stage
[attr="class","onlytimelyric2"]JESUS SAVES
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alright, i'll get to replying to that tech thread once i'm wrapped up with ac posts. |D but hopefully this works out. <3
Okay, but, in the past, I had a plot with this exact character and another Zekrom gijinka and I'm sobbing real tears because they use the same face claim, all things really do come around. I actually meant to get around to throwing a plot reply your way, so thanks for getting to it first! Of COURSE we gotta thread these two, they're the immortal siblings, and all their dynamics get to get riggity wrecked when Kyurem enters the fray. |D[break][break]
When they were younger, one of Victoria's key driving factors was her jealousy of Jae. Because face it: what are most people going to lean toward? The bleak present, or the ideal future? Harsh realities, or positive fantasy? While she, of course, originally fought tooth and nail for truths in their original conflict, I think she pretty quickly after started to regret her decision. Not so much because she didn't agree with truths, heavens, no. Mostly because she felt that it isolated her from people. She saw the people that originally supported her turn away from her, and while people value honesty on an individual basis, you better believe that if people are prayin' to one of these two as, like, a god, they sure as heck aren't prayin' to her for truth, that's just dumb. <:I Yeah, though, she had "unwanted child syndrome" pretty bad, which isn't really an excuse, but sort of an explanation for why she held so strongly to what she did in her original human body in a... weird... wayyyyyyyy............. But as time passed, she learned the ere of those ways, and someone chose to fight at her side for her beliefs again, she's gotten a lot better about this. Jae isn't an object of envy (well, maybe still a little, but not nearly as much) anymore, and while she would've scoffed at any kind of relationship that wasn't just fighting a couple centuries ago, I think she'd really try to aim for a brother-sister bond now that their conflict has been more or less resolved. o/[break][break]
You wouldn't even make an excuse to keep on friendly terms with someone for your sister? R00d, Jae. NAH, though, music is absolutely a fantastic bonding point with literally anyone, and you better believe she supports all of his musical exploits as much as humanly (legendarily?) possible. Heck, if you'll let her on stage, they could do duets sometimes. ;o Honestly, even if they don't bond over music, Tori will probably go out of her way to try to hang out with Jae if only because they spent so much time intentionally or accidentally avoiding each other - not matter how much he wouldn't want her to. |D She's gonna try to be daunting older sis (who has a severe drinking problem), even if they're technically kids, and even if he's probably sounder minded than she is, if only because he looks so gosh darned gloomy all the time. Lighten up, kid![break][break]
If we were to thread these two, I think I'd rather go the route of them already having met back up in Lyeant, mostly because I've done sooooo many reunion threads at this point that I'm personally a little sick of them. |D As for comm thread versus full-fledged, for the sake of meeting AC requirements, I'm definitely leaning toward the latter - or we can pull a 'por que no los dos' and just heckin'. Do both. *shrugs into abyss* What say you~?
Post by VICTORIA CARTER on Feb 13, 2018 15:19:10 GMT -6
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One, two, three, four, five, six.[break][break]
In one of the last few safe havens left in Lyeant, one would imagine there to be little time or need for the consumption of alcohol and the buildings that stood if only to serve such drinks to the common folk. When reconstruction takes priority, only a fool would make time to maintain or pay regular visits to a bar, correct? Clearly, though, this notion was not shared by a handful of ambitious citizens of the city, brave little souls who pressed on through volatile times to keep their favorite beverage in circulation. With the economic collapse that came hand-in-hand with nearly three-fourths of the region biting the dust or fleeing for safer lands, most of the bars in town had had to shut their own doors, but for a place trying so desperately to hang on in the aftermath of what one could almost label the apocalypse (although, that was so melodramatic), the fact that the number was above a measly little one was something quite startling. More than it was startling, however, was it something to be thankful for. Whether it be for convenience sake – having to trek all the way across the city for the only building in town, for example, could grow quite tedious quite fast, but with more than one, at least one could say they had options – or for income sake – the more business, the merrier the economy, perhaps – those who stopped by the handful offered to the city's citizens could only sing praises about the variety. In particular, on that particular night, a specific white-haired woman found herself kissing the ground of one of the spares. Variety, after all, had spared her losing the only thing to feed her near-crippling addiction; it would be quite hard to get one's hands on a cold glass of beer if the only bar in town had closed its doors on he or she, especially when that certain person could never quite die, forever.[break][break]
Out with the old, though, and in with the new. The moment Victoria's regular bar, the likes of which she had affectionately referred to her as her “grimy second home” had found themselves fed up with her usual violent tomfoolery was the moment they gave her the final boot, swearing to call the police if needed should she ever try to step foot within its walls again. Too many fights, she'd assumed while staring down at bloodied knuckles and coddling what she was beginning to think was a broken nose. That, or more-than-once occurrence of her accidentally firing a whole through the crumbling walls with a destructive Dragon Pulse fired from drunken lips. They'd never much cared for her there, anyway, she knew, and if she was being honest – which she always was – she never much cared for them in turn. What a snobby little lot. In the end, she was proud to tell herself that it was simply their loss; if they would not trade her shots for crumpled dollar bills, she would take her business elsewhere. “Elsewhere” was where she found herself at that particular moment, cuddled in the furthest corner in the back with three empty glasses and a half finished bottle to her name as fumbling hands struggled to wind a bandage around a less-than-fresh gash across her left arm. The results of her last fight – the one that had ripped her away from her old stop – were an already swimming mind and several pulsing wounds, the likes of which she hadn't allowed herself to deal with until she'd gotten herself another drink somewhere else. She normally never went beyond the line that started knocking the memories right out of her head, but at that moment, the words in her mind were reminding her that, if she could still feel the pain from her injuries, she simply was not drunk enough. What did it matter if it was another night spent in mystery, another morning started in a pool of gin and an unforgiving hangover? Pain was winning out over logic, and the aftermath could take a backseat in favor of the present.[break][break]
Done. The goddess admired the white fabric now tied around her forearm, crimson hues blinking sea water out of her eyes to inspect whether or not she'd done a fair enough job to keep it secure through the remainder of the night. The aforementioned sea water, however, refused to budge, vision still swimming gently, but rather than getting frustrated over her ignorance about her patchwork, she brushed it off with a shrug and a swig from her bottle. Faces had come and gone from the crowd before her during her tiny operation, all unfamiliar to her wavering eyes, and it came as a bit of a surprise to see almost all of the people she'd seen mingling before replaced with strangers even less recognizable than the ones from before. A bit of relief flooded through her when her gaze locked on two of the original patrons, but even that was short lived, realizing that the two were arguing about something or other and looking to start another bar-hosted fight following quick on its heels. The whole room shifted at that moment, black-clad stick figures turning heads or raising from chairs to gather around the tense scene. She, herself, was quick to stand as well, making her way across the tiny building and falling into place beside a dark-haired woman she was fairly certain she'd never seen before. Not that it mattered – her eyes were too focused on the way the taller of the two pressed flat palms against the chest of the heavier set one, how the latter did the same to the former despite the protests from the bartender across the way. All the little crowd needed was someone to start the chant of “fight, fight, fight!” and the stereotypical feel of it all would come full circle.[break][break]
It wasn't until someone making their way forward stepped on her foot that Victoria's attention was ripped away, sharp back heel of a dolled-up shoe meant to make women stand taller “impaling” her straight through her own battered sneakers. “Ow!” she yelped quietly, biting her tongue and leaping away. Worse than the initial impact, though, were the flames that lept off her person, not-so-little embers flying through the air and catching fire on the ground below. Oh. Small was the flame at her feet, but such a tiny little thing could grow. Forgetting that she could have easily snuffed it out using her own manipulation, mind too altered from hours upon hours of drinking, she instead tipped the bottle still attached to the palm of her hand and watched its contents spill out over the small mess she'd caused. Liquid, right? Water was liquid. Water put out fires. Liquids put out fires. Unfortunately... not this one. The blaze screamed higher into the air, denizens once focused on a fist fight in the making jumping back as they caught sight of the big mess she'd caused. Uh oh. How was she supposed to put out fires again?[break][break]
Looking toward the woman she'd noted standing next to just moments prior, Reshiram grinned sheepishly. Maybe she would know? “Uh... Can I getta little help with this?”
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[attr="class","onlytimelyric1"]hear 'em shouting at the stage
[attr="class","onlytimelyric2"]JESUS SAVES
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'ey, six trillion years later, but i finally got something up! tori's in pain and drunk off her butt, so you gotta help her put out a fire before it ruins the whole bar, rip. ;u;
Post by VICTORIA CARTER on Feb 1, 2018 15:19:51 GMT -6
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VICTORIA CARTER
'S THREAD & RELATIONSHIP TRACKER
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VICTORIA[break] CARTER
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got a limousin - i wanna show it. future's lookin' good. i'll probably blow it. had some parents once, but you'd never know it. bank roll oversized. so what if i stole it? but who am i foolin'? i'm the king of the ruins. i'm doin' well tonight, got dreams to sell tonight. got to belong. try to hang on. got to belong. ghost in the ruins! i'm runnin' the streets, see? burnin' like gasoline. and i'm taking you in deep. east side, west side: playin' for keeps.
And then you can write about that relation here! Move in to fire at the mainstream of bombers. Let off a sharp burst, and then turn away. Roll over, spin 'round, and come in behind them. Move to their blindsides and fire again. Bandits at 8 o'clock move in behind, ten ME-109's out of the sun. Ascending and turning our spitfires to face them; heading straight for them, I press down my guns.
And then you can write about that relation here! Move in to fire at the mainstream of bombers. Let off a sharp burst, and then turn away. Roll over, spin 'round, and come in behind them. Move to their blindsides and fire again. Bandits at 8 o'clock move in behind, ten ME-109's out of the sun. Ascending and turning our spitfires to face them; heading straight for them, I press down my guns.
I believe we had a plot-that-didn't-actually-end-up-as-a-thread that these two would get to bond over fireworks, seeing as Lacie's a pyrotechnician and Tori's a literal god of fire. Stuff like competing over who had the better fireworks and potential clothes-setting-on-fire? >u> They're less of a good match for each other since they're no longer both fire-happy legendary 2hus, but Tori's got some unresolved tensions with a lot of the other legendaries, so Lacie being a Braixen gijinka this time around definitely works for the better.[break][break]
Honestly, I don't have anything more concrete to throw at you right now - I just remembered that plot and figured I'd throw it at you to see if we could get a thread going this time around! Lemme know what you think!
Post by VICTORIA CARTER on Jan 29, 2018 0:07:29 GMT -6
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>> THE SUBWAY MESSIAHS
hair bands' comeback
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One of the very first artists to come out of Lyeant in the wake of Imum. The Subway Messiahs specialize in a genre of music not dissimilar to what we know of as 80s hair metal. You know, think bands and artists like Van Halen, Motley Crue, Poison, Bon Jovi, the like. Just as this genre swept through radios back in our day, the Subway Messiahs have similarly taken Lyeant – and even some regions overseas – by storm, blasting through radios all through the day and night and hitting single digits on the ranking boards time and time again.[break][break]
The Messiahs' start, however, was rather humble. Their current lead singer and guitarist got her own playing solo in bars before attracting other talented musicians and eventually putting together the ensemble that tours across what's left of the region, rocking all the while. It's been just a year since they first officially join, their rapid rise in popularity possible attributed by their lack of local competitors, but the fame hasn't gone to their heads yet. Despite appearing to lead the decadent life, the band puts on about as many charity shows as they do ones for their own benefit, donating proceeds to reconstruction efforts and attempting to use their music as a beacon of hope in a war-torn region. While individual members may have some... questionable habits, their overall intent is good, their outcomes even better, and their pension for kindness has earned them all the more fame.
CURRENT LINEUP
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LEAD VOCALS / GUITARVICTORIA CARTER [break] RHYTHM GUITARCONRAD FISCHER[break] BASS GUITAR open[break] KEYBOARD open[break] DRUMS open[break][break]
MANAGER open[break] GROUPIES always welcome
NEW MEMBER FORM
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Whether you'd like to join as a member of the band, the poor manager who has to keep these people in line, or one of the infamous "groupies", please fill out the form below and we'll get you situated!
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[blockquote][size=1][b]CHARACTER NAME[/b] firstname lastname[break] [b]DESIRED POSITION[/b] instrument/job[break] [b]FAVORITE HAIR BAND SONG[/b] very important[/size][/blockquote]
Victoria is the embodiment of truth. Her counterpart deals in ideals, the what-ifs and maybes, but she, herself, only serves what is the here, the now, and the absolute truth. No speculation, no circumstances, no nothing. She's grounded to reality, never having her head in the clouds and never letting ambitions get carried away by frivolous fantasies. More than anything, however, that this dictates is the fact that she, herself, never lies. Not anymore, that is. Not even the exclusion of facts, feelings, or anything will hinder her telling the truth – if you ask her a question, she will tell it to you straight out, no sugar coating and no exaggerations. This makes her a beautifully unbiased third party, and you never have to worry about her saying things just to make you feel nice about yourself, but in the same instance, she can be horribly blunt about the worst of matters. If she thinks your drawing looks like absolute garbage, she's going to tell you that straight out; if your mother has been missing and is thought to be dead, there will be no “oh, but we might still find her!” coming out of her. In a world as infected as the one the citizens of Santcum City are forced to live in, her brutal honesty can honestly be seen as more of a curse than a blessing; there is much more wrong to point out than good.[break][break]
On the other hand, obsessed with the idea of the truth, she immediately believes any and all are going to tell that to her until given a strong reason to think otherwise. Being gullible comes down to an art with this one, despite how perceptive she likes to claim she is. Honestly, even if all evidence points to the opposite of what is being told being the truth, she's still likely to believe the word of someone else's mouth, too afraid to admit that she lives in a world surrounded by liars and cheats. Outside of human and Gifted interaction, however, she is very alert and aware of her surroundings, able to take in a small range of environment very quickly and use that knowledge to her later advantage. This is helpful in combat when using her outside resources, and also keeps her from setting large quantities of things on fire on accident.[break][break]
Despite the fact that she was at one time very god-like, near invincible and feared by most, Tori's current body is very frail compared to what she's had in days long past. Before she was migrated, it was used as a disguise to keep a very human world from panicking over the presence of a deity amongst them while she and her fellow legendaries hunted down Arceus; as such, it was never meant to be used for this long, and the fact that she is stuck with it until the vessel dies is a little frustrating. Frustrating in the sense that she tends to forget just how weak it – she – currently is. She's incredibly reckless, battle strategies almost always involving throwing herself right in the enemies face rather than hanging back and playing it safe. She'll jump from buildings for the thrill of it, and pray a cloud of her own fire will help give her a soft landing. (It usually doesn't.) She'll pick fights with people she doesn't like, even if she's at a horrible disadvantage, and boasts the new bruises that seem to show up every single night. Unable to accept help from others, either, she'll insist on being able to handle her own problems and will sooner attack someone just trying to help than admit to needed help in the first place. Persistence is both a blessing and a curse in this one – when there's a chance for her victory, the ability to keep getting up after being knocked down is desirable; but when there is absolutely no hope for her, her inability to know when to back down is likely to be the death of her.[break][break]
Victoria is greedy. Truly, it's as simple as that; she keeps everything she can get to herself, and won't share with anyone if she can help it. She revels in money, not afraid to construct an empire of wealth on of foundation of corpses, but is about as far from frugal with it when she's got enough to throw away. At her financial prime, she thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of limousines and enough expensive alcohol to kill a horse, and wasn't afraid to through wads of bills at people to get them to dance at her feet. Money is power, after all, and when one knows what it's like to be worshiped as a god, power is everything. Power in terms of strength is as crucial to her as power in influence, as well; to label her as “violent” would be a grave understatement, and to say that she became a medic for any reason outside of wanting to learn how to mend her own wounds would be a lie. Problems are solved with fists, fires, and alcohol bottles broken over heads. Similarly, plans are not things that are made or upheld; when everything can be solved with a little elbow grease and god-powers, why waste time trying to sort everything out before hand? Haphazard, most certainly, is a title she wears with pride.[break][break]
The white-haired woman, however, is not all bad. She is quite humble, never one to brag and never even mentioning what talents she has until someone else has brought them up first. She won't belittle herself if she knows she is good at something – this comes with her policy of one hundred percent honesty, after all – but she won't inflate it or continuously talk of her accomplishments. She's vivacious, generally upbeat and as lively as the flames she conjures. Most people generally think that they have a good time when spending time around her; well, if she isn't picking fights left and right, that is. Finally, laziness is something that the equation that makes her her doesn't even accommodate for. It may have been the Original One that made her beautiful from the start, but it was her own actions that made the world revere her; similarly, she did not get to be the fearsome Lady in White while sitting around and letting someone else do all the work. She takes things into her own hands and puts into them as much effort as she can, almost every time without fail.
last seen drinkin' wine beneath the flashing signs,[break] promising salvation to strays
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perhaps god gave the answers to those with nothin' to say
They have only ever lived to serve.[break][break]
The Creator breathes life into them in centuries long passed, two souls living in perfect harmony in the empty husk of a body It has not finished making for them. They share a single mind – a balance of truth and ideals, willpower and restraint, empathy and justice – and the Lord they so readily serve believes that It has finally created a deity worth shaping in his image. They are the most beautiful of dragons, shining bright in the night and shading the blinding light of day, and as It sends them off to the mainland to preach his ways to the arrogant humans who have taken root there, they revel in the way the maggots bow at their feet. For generations, they spread the word of their Maker to the people, and not a day passes that they do not enjoy their purpose. Their servitude to the Original One.[break][break]
But not all of the humans fear the brilliant beast that has been sent down to teach them. A pair of brothers, twins, perhaps not arrogant so much as they were ambitious, appear before them and do not tremble like the rest. The twins speak of a land they envision, one separate from the mainland where it may flourish in its own right and develop beyond the other regions that may drag it down. They beg them to give them aid, to use their godly powers to break a part of the land away so that the dream they both have envisioned may finally become true. A balance of wonder and hesitation is what leads them to seek the council of the Creator, and it is will his blessing that they use the powers of fire, thunder, and ice to shake the earth, split the land, and begin their rule over an island isolated from all else. They work with the twins to establish order, much like the perfect order that they, themselves, represent. The initial hysteria subsides, and what was just another area in Johto has burned away to give rise to a new power: the region of Unova.[break][break]
As the heroes that worked to create and maintain the region, however, watch their years slip by them through loose fingertips, things begin to change. As children and young men, they could always see eye to eye. With time, though, the things they hold dear began to shift and change.[break][break]
Truth?[break][break]
Ideals?[break][break]
Which one is more important?[break][break]
For years, the two combat each other over this, their close relationship shattered and the structure of the region that relied on their unity shaken. Frightened, the great joint dragon try to figure out which truly took precedent over the other. A perfect balance of empathy and logic does them nothing, provides no clear winner, and in their desperation, they split into two: she, white, truth; he, black, ideals. As the Creator mourns the split of yet another failure of his creations and the twins both she and he broke apart to support wither away to the natural laws of life, both dragons part ways. Unova, too, withers in their wake. In time, however, it will rise again without the aid of its makers, and only then will it prove to be the region the brothers had forseen all along.[break][break]
Three masters she has served, and in less than three centuries, she has failed them all.[break][break]
but who am i foolin'? i'm the king of the ruins
It is a pleasure to burn.[break][break]
She burns the agony and the hate from the region she has helped to build from nothing, and the world reveres her for her dedication, her grace, and her honesty. She brings them fire to warm themselves, fire to light their way, fire to light the sky so they may marvel at its greatness. Together with the rains and lightning that the deity she was once joint with lays claim to, they brighten the path that Unova must take, and their people reward them with names. Long ago, they had shared one such title – too elaborate and holy to be spoken by human tongue, to be comprehended by human mind – but she accepts her replacement because it is one that belongs to her and her alone.[break][break]
Reshiram.[break][break]
The masses build them twin towers, one on each side of the globe, where they may watch over their sheep from a height fit for gods. She settles herself in a place they call the Dragon Spiral Tower, and it is from there that she spends her days: teaching, watching, aiding. They love her as much as they fear her, and she thinks of them as all of her children. Perhaps she has failed the expectations of the Creator, yes, but the way the old and the young and the strong and the weak love her for her honesty and empathy most certainly makes up for her failures of the past.[break][break]
Where she can see beauty in what is, however, her fellow deity – Zekrom – can only see beauty in what can be. He is the ideals that contrast her truths, and he preaches to his follows on the eastern shores of Unova what will happen once they sacrifice their ways in exchange for advancement. For years, fear of change leaves the odds in her favor; though, when her fires begin to destroy as much as they help, her children turn their back on her and face toward a future of “might be”s and “perhaps”es. Needless to say, she is furious with her equal, especially as she watches the humans die needlessly for his cause.[break][break]
When they battle, it shakes the earth and heavens, and thousands of humans and Pokemon alike are slaughtered in the fray. Electricity against fire, ideals against truth. For five whole years, they lock themselves in combat, and it is only when she falls to the ground that an unclear winner is decided. He moves to slay her, to end the only threat to his idealistic world, but quick thinking and quicker movements allow her to flee from the scene before her existence screeches to a halt. Returning to the Dragon Spiral Tower would be too predictable, and he would surely follow her there to finish the job. Instead, she attempts to hide in the masses, humbling herself and approaching before the humans who serve her.[break][break]
A god among men hardly goes unnoticed, Reshiram realizes quickly, and as the black dragon she's once been a part of tears across the land in search of her, she realizes what she must do.[break][break]
if you wanna cut the cards, sammy's gonna up the odds
It takes quite a bit of time, and more corpses than she'd like to admit to – any are too many, truly – but the effort pays off in the end, and she finally discovers the secret to merging with the body of a human.[break][break]
Victoria Martz is the name of the first human she takes control of, casting out the soul that had originally been there and adopting not only her name, but her life. The wife of one of the wealthiest men in the region, possibly the world, the extravagant life she leads while hiding away from her vengeful partner is not much of a step down from her deity-like status. No longer can she burn things whenever she so feels like it, and her adopted husband seems to catch on to something not being entirely right with his supposed “wife” from the day she takes over, but as time passes, she begins to enjoy her time spent in the lap of carefree luxury. Zekrom ceases his pursuit no more than a decade later, yet she decides that a few more years as the lovely Mrs. Martz would never hurt anyone.[break][break]
No, no, it's not her snatching the body of an innocent passerby that hurts anyone. It is, instead, the greedy murder of Mr. Martz and the loss of everything she owns to the thieves that show up in his murder's wake.[break][break]
It all happens so fast, she feels. One day he's there, smiling down at her as she picks flowers in the garden, or makes a joke right up his alley, or is simply there. The next, he is being taken away to be prepped for a funeral. The one after that, she comes home to an empty home. All of the restraint in her body and soul can't keep her from collapsing to the floor and bawling, mourning for something that was never really her's to begin with, but feels so wrong to be without. To leave her host's body and allow the real Victoria's soul to return now would be a crime she would never forgive herself for. All of the grief in her heart is dulled by the fact that she has been here for only a fraction of the time as the real one, and the love she held for the family and the servants and everyone associated with her vessel is halved – at best.[break][break]
Instead, she leaves what little she has to her “children” and her “servants” and heads for the streets. It's here that she hopes to start over, to build a life of her own from the ground up. For all of the realities that she's so painfully aware of, for one time in her life, she gives into idealism: if she works hard enough, maybe; if she's kind enough, maybe; if she prays to the Creator enough, maybe; perhaps she will be able to start over and carry on her life as a human until the day her vessel breaks down and dies. If only the portraits that fantasies painted depicted something that could actually bear results.[break][break]
The characters without a home or without work do not accept her in the way she had envisioned, and more often than not, she is attacked by men and women alike on a near daily basis. They cut her hair, steal the few things she acquires, mock her for her lost status and family. She learns that, to wear one's heart on their sleeve is to have their heart stolen, mutilated, and returned in peaces. She learns that kindness is about as far from a virtue as can be when one is clawing for scraps at the bottom of the barrel. She learns that all of her grace, all of her empathy is wasted. Truth hits her like a bullet in the back, and she wears it like a mask to cover up the traits society deems as weaknesses.[break][break]
It starts with miniscule thefts. She pickpockets a knife from one of the passerby and uses it to steal the gold from the people who are unfortunate enough to pass her by. So little, however, does she actually earn; upon learning this, she ups the odds. She breaks into homes, takes their silver, and sells it for her own personal gain. It isn't until she is nearly caught that she is forced to resort to murder to keep her identity as hazy as she can keep it, but even that quickly becomes routine. Before she knows what is happening, the name Martz has become feared – whispered in hushed tones on the streets, in homes – and she revels in this new found treatment. Even the law cannot reckon with a god in sheep's clothing, and the whole region trembles at her feet in a way they haven't since she was a god in god robes. Only this time, its different. Her flames are not met with joy, but with terror.[break][break]
And as centuries pass – her body never aging, “Martz” becoming the enigmatic “Lady in White”, the guilt over crimes ebbing way to indifference and even pleasure – she thinks she likes terror even better.[break][break]
while standing in the afterglow, i guess we gave 'em quite a show
The world passes into the modern age, and it's on a thrown of wealth and corpses that she wonders if she has taken things a bit too far.[break][break]
A bullet wound through the chest and a dead vessel provides a clear “yes”.[break][break]
i've been waiting, long forgotten, shipwrecked on a distant shore
For all of her time under the guise of a simple human, she had never once feared what death might feel like. She was a wolf among sheep, a god among men, all powerful and untouchable, able to melt steel with little more than a thought, and she did not fear death. Simply because she did not fear, however, did that mean that it would not catch up to her eventually. The bullet wound stings worse than the scrape of metal (crimson liquid) against the back of her throat, and she flails on the ground of the alleyway as she chokes on borrowed blood and stares up at the face of a woman she should have known better than to trust with a pistol. The world darkens and she dies – but then warm sunlight is pooling on her face, dull compared to the heat of her flames, and she wakes where she had started some millions of years in the past, all white and billowing perfection. Victoria Martz has died, centuries of fear laid to rest in that filthy street between two concrete buildings. Reshiram has not.[break][break]
The air in the Dragon Spiral Tower has never felt more heavy when she returns to it, weakened in mind and body. Zekrom's tower has long since been destroyed, but he'd left her own vacant in the instance that she ever dared to show her face again. In fact, she's surprised to see him not there for unofficially “welcoming party” of her back to her god-like status. She floats through halls and rooms, up stairs and out doors, and marvels at the plethora of dragon-type Pokemon that have made themselves at home in her absence. It's of no concern to her, though; so long as they are not human, they matter little to her superior mind. In turn, they leave her be when she collapses at the peak, exhausted beyond comprehension and wanting nothing more than to fall back to rest, however long it may be. She barely recalls a time long gone when the Original One had told her of something like this happening. (She never even considers that Zekrom's absense may be because he, too, has been rendered in stone.)[break][break]
Her head duck. Her wings bend. She furls in on herself until a dragon of great height and girth has been tucked away in an orb that could held the hands she controlled what feels like only yesterday. Slumber greedily calls out her name, and she is powerless to disobey its command.[break][break]
never burn the bridges before you, never burn the bridges behind
Rage burns brightly and ambitions run deep, and neither has she felt so strongly since the days of her own youth until a little boy with flashy hair and a voice that could topple mountains totes her around like a ball in his bag. She can't hear the words that come from the humans mouths as they toss her around like candy, back and forth and back again, but what she can feel is the rumble of emotions burning high, shaking against her stony surface and coaxing her out of sleep. It's not enough yet, though. She's been asleep for what feels like an eternity, fighting against the feeling of opening her eyes and the world that hates, hates, hates her, and it will take more than his anger and his confusion to give her cause to walk with the waking world again like she once has. So it's not enough – not until he's fighting tooth and nail against his closest friend, ideals grinding against ideals and the truth of the nature of their relationship being carved sound into stone – and then her stone is what is being cut into, splitting open to reveal a goddess who has walked among men and never intends to retreat into her Light Orb again. They want her to be their truth, and they want him to be their hero. They want her. Someone wants her. It's as liberating as her awakening, truly, and she vows to fight any foe in his name if that's what it will take to keep this feeling sealed warmly in her heart. Any foe at all.[break][break]
Even her own brother.[break][break]
Victory is hard fought. She expects no less, facing off against the same creature who nearly did her in during their last battle. Things have changed since then, however; stakes have been raised, faith she's long since missed out on put on her shoulders, and orders from two vastly different trainers determining almost every action of the battle. What ultimately changes things is that she can't afford to lose – and when the boy finally understands her as he does his own Pokemon, it's no wonder she is the one to deal the finishing blow. Their struggle had been put on hold for generations upon generations. It is only now that a victor has finally been determined. (After all this time, she never would have dreamed that it would be her.)[break][break]
She can't help Black in the struggles that follow, battered and bruised as she may be, but he's proven himself time and time again to be a formidable force all on his own. Reshiram knows long before the battle draws to its conclusion who will emerge the ultimate victor – all it is is a matter of sitting back and waiting for the credits to roll. (What she doesn't expect is the familiar call of deep sleep, a “nap” interrupted but not quite over, and the fact that when the dust has settled, this poor boy gets sucked up with her into her stone prison. Familiar fear washes over them – all of them – but she can't help but think that at least this time, she won't be quite so lonely.)[break][break]
i look to the future with the eyes of the blind
When she wakes, it is because duty calls once more.[break][break]
The other legendaries have never been what she would call “her biggest fans,” but they certainly waste no time hounding her with inquiries when she takes her first breath of fresh air (Black in tow, safe and sound if not a bit rattled) since the battle against Team Plasma about her previous life among humans and how they might go about doing just the same. She doesn't understand the conflict at first or the desperation in their eyes – she has been asleep, after all – but it's hard to decline an offer when it's given in what's practically in the form of begging. She's afraid, as well, that she might just curl up for another unwarned nap if she stays in her normal form much longer. (More importantly, there are sins she's learned she needs to atone for. She won't let her second life go up in flames.)[break][break]
The means by which Tori gains enough money to purchase what she's had her eye on are anything but legal, but after more years than any man, woman, or god could bother to count on their fingers of thievery and murder, she thinks that dealing on the black market is as tiny a sin as they come. Her illegal goods stop being produced the moment she has hit her total, as well, tens of junkies upset at their sudden lack of a fix when she counts up her quarters and finds her total satisfying. She'd spent days, weeks searching for just the right one, and to find it still for sale when she'd gotten the money she needed for it is almost enough to make her cry out of sheer happiness. She enters the shop with a massive jar full of coins and crumpled dollar bills, and when she's stepping out into the sunlight of Unovan streets, it's with an empty jar and an electric guitar hanging from her neck. No, she hadn't thought of music, but it was as good a suggestion as any.[break][break]
The newly-dubbed Victoria Carter has never had many things she was able to immediately pick up. Yes, she'd been an expert fire starter from the get go, but that was her specific purpose on creation. Killing and stealing hadn't come easy, and it had only been years of trial and error that had gotten her to the point she'd been at before forcing herself to retire from crime. Even battles, whether they be with human fists or Pokemon attacks hadn't come simple at first; she was designed to be a preacher, not a fighter, and she couldn't count the number of times she'd been beat down more than the number of times she'd wound up on top. The guitar, however, comes to her almost immediately. Chords aren't easy to find, what with a lack of mentors or Internet to browse for them on, but when she's figured them all out, it's not long before she's stringing them together into intricate melodies. She makes those strings sing, practices throughout the day and night on the streets, in empty warehouses, sometimes even in the presence of the Yin to her Yang.[break][break]
With every day, she gets better and better, and she doesn't even realize that she could do this for a living until people are asking, begging her to play at bars, events, almost anything under the sun. Then she's part of a band, she and four others who start of small and quickly rise to greater and greater heights. They chant her name at the stage, play her songs on the radio; she plays her days away, each solo better than the last, and if she'd known that this all would have made her this happy, she would have gotten a human body and ditched her criminal ways long ago.[break][break]
The world is her oyster.[break][break]
(She tries not to worry too much about the day when this will all come crashing to a halt.)
A "rock god", and in more ways than one. On the surface level, Victoria "Downtown" Carter is a genius on the guitar and a woman too fond of alcohol; past the skin is the goddess of truth who drinks to drown out her insecurities and past defeats. While her band, the Subway Messiahs, are sitting prettily on top of the charts, even she's come to realize that her daily habits are pulling here away from the "path of the righteous" and the things she loves - but the bite of the bottle is viscous, and she's already caught its contagious disease.
[break][break]
>>> FRIENDSHIP
A lively woman who knows all about how to have a good time and has every intent of making sure those around her can claim to have had just that. Tori likes to be happy. Most people do, after all. And nothing sours a good mood like the frowns on the faces of those around her – and so has it become her mission to keep those faces from frowning at all! She drinks a lot and likes to party, and while this lifestyle has earned her many nightly acquaintances to drink with and laugh with, it hasn't really landed her any real friends. The last “real friend” she could claim to had died rather unexpectedly, not to mention for the sake of her protection, and the chance of that happening again is too high for her to actively seek out any life-time partners. With that comes the presentation: She'll party with you, pat your back, sing away your woes, but she'll be gone with the moon in the morning.
PLOT IDEA #1 every day would be the same. nothing more, little change. if i cared, it would mean nothing: it's all such a pain. friendly bonds are so unneeded, i don't give a dang. a busy life is what i am. could it be that family was a way of escape? didn't know if it was right, so i threw them away. couldn't take it anymore, i had taken enough, so then i hide my need for love.[break][break]
PLOT IDEA #2 lay me right down, let me sleep, i'm restless. cover my eyes. when i'm up, i'll finally fade away, here, today. give me a reason: then i'll stay. if i could fly, if for only a moment, there wouldn't be such a need for casualty. i'm alone, and that is how it'll be.
>>> HATESHIP
The rock star is a woman of simple ideology: People who are conventionally “bad”, like murderers and kidnappers, are “bad”, and those who try to do good things with their lives are “good”. It's as simple as that. She's done too many things wrong with her own life to hold a proper grudge – although if you've crossed over a line, she's not afraid to tell it you, whether that be with her words or her fists. In fact, bar room fights have been and still are a staple of her life, and she's no stranger to a constant bottle at her hip or the fresh bruises she boasts in the morning after a scuffle taken too far. Her kiss is a fist, her temper an inferno waiting to be set ablaze. Give it a week and she won't be able to tell you why she kicked the chair from beneath your rear that night, but that won't stop her from doing it in the moment.
PLOT IDEA #1 every day would be the same. nothing more, little change. if i cared, it would mean nothing: it's all such a pain. friendly bonds are so unneeded, i don't give a dang. a busy life is what i am. could it be that family was a way of escape? didn't know if it was right, so i threw them away. couldn't take it anymore, i had taken enough, so then i hide my need for love.[break][break]
PLOT IDEA #2 lay me right down, let me sleep, i'm restless. cover my eyes. when i'm up, i'll finally fade away, here, today. give me a reason: then i'll stay. if i could fly, if for only a moment, there wouldn't be such a need for casualty. i'm alone, and that is how it'll be.
>>> LOVESHIP
Victoria knows nothing about conventional love. As a rock star, she's a taste of adoration, but nothing as wholesome as a romance shared between two equals. In truth, the legendary has come to the conclusion is that she is a person who is unlovable. Her temperament, her past, her regrets: barriers too thick for anyone to ever put in the effort to break down. But that's fine by her. Solitude is a drink she's been pressing to her lips now for years, and she's finally starting to get used to the taste.
PLOT IDEA #1 every day would be the same. nothing more, little change. if i cared, it would mean nothing: it's all such a pain. friendly bonds are so unneeded, i don't give a dang. a busy life is what i am. could it be that family was a way of escape? didn't know if it was right, so i threw them away. couldn't take it anymore, i had taken enough, so then i hide my need for love.[break][break]
PLOT IDEA #2 lay me right down, let me sleep, i'm restless. cover my eyes. when i'm up, i'll finally fade away, here, today. give me a reason: then i'll stay. if i could fly, if for only a moment, there wouldn't be such a need for casualty. i'm alone, and that is how it'll be.
>>> WANTED
As a famous musician, it should come as little surprise that DT Carter loves music. She's regarded as one of the best guitarists in hair metal history, and her singing voice is nothing to scoff at either. If you can do anything remotely musical, even if you can only just barely whistle, she'll insist you duet with her immediately. Because her band has risen to high in popularity, people recognizing her alias or even still being fans of her work are far from impossible. Welcome, even! On the flip side, her reputation among the other legendaries is... shaky, at best, and she doesn't take too kindly to many of them, so if you'd like something with a little more tension, hit her up with them.
[attr="class","toripostmidd2"]no slower than me, apparently! so long as you don't stop, though. c;
[attr="class","toripostmid2"]
When it came to the world and their reactions to Victoria Carter (and even earlier than she had taken on that name, back to when she was only heralded with the name Reshiram) it really did seem that they always fell under one of two options, and both at quite radical extremes. For fans and the poor saps who had tried to delude themselves into thinking that the embodiment of truth was the one to earn the favor of over the embodiment of ideals, rare as those people were, her arrival could elicit quite the positive reaction. In most cases, however, it was just the opposite. People who knew what she was like when she drank a bit too much – a nightly occurrence at this point, to boot – the legendaries she let down time and time again, and the millions of humans and Pokemon alike that scorned her for what they stood for all met her gaze with... well, just about the same reaction she was getting from that Meganium over there right about then. A growl and a snort. That was about as much as she could hope for when it came to most people, though. A near timeless age allotted for a great amount of time to make friends, but she'd been coming to the realization that she'd squandered most of that time making enemies, instead. People like Akemi came far and few, and it was hard not to cherish the lack of enmity while it lasted. These visits were purely selfish in a great many ways already, mostly in the fact that one party gave and gave and the only one would only ever take, but mixed in was the fact that the time traveler was one of maybe five people she could count off the top of her head that didn't groan at the thought of meeting her and wasn't exhausting company in the reverse. Her fans could think the world of her, but they'd only ever just be that: fans, none without a clue of who she was or what she had done beyond her career with a guitar in hand and microphone to her lips. Speaking to them was nothing at all like speaking to a fellow legendary.[break][break]
“You hurt your ankle,” they said as though this was new information. “You were walking on it. Sit down.” Straight to business, exactly as expected. In truth, Reshiram hadn't the energy now for unnecessary pleasantries, fighting hard against the sting of tears in the corner of her eyes as she had been for the entire duration of the trek here. It was enough of a struggle to force out a toothy grin: one meant to reassure, but most certainly betrayed any illusion of comfort just in how falsified it must have looked. So she sat as instructed, a great puff of relieved air escaping her mouth as weight was finally removed from her injured ankle, and let the healer do what they did best. “You must hurt a bunch,” Celebi said, and if Tori could lie to her, she would. “Yeah, I really do. Ain't like this'll be enough ta' kill me, though, right?” If mangled ankles could kill, she mused, she'd have been long dead by now. Death had always seemed like something detached from her, though, so far out in orbit that it never even bothered to grace her mind. Of all of the aches and wounds she had sustained tonight, perhaps the most worrying in terms of potential fatalism were the cuts that littered her arms, curtsey of broken glass wedged deep into her skin. Those, at the very least, she'd been smart enough to give a little first aid to. If she was going down, it'd be in a fire – not to something as silly as an infection. The rather morbid train of thought she'd accidentally gotten herself aboard on, however, came to an abrupt halt at the sound of the closest thing to berating she'd allow herself to tolerate, spoken in the form of: “You keep on getting hurt. You should stop that, too.”[break][break]
Logic deemed yet. Logic continued to be cast to the void.[break][break]
“'Ey, not like I'm askin' people ta' beat on me,” she said with a bark of a laugh, her whole body jerking into motion with the sound. It wasn't a lie – although most would argue that starting the fight was more than enough of an invitation to let people “beat on her”. “'Sides, this is just my thing. You heal people, I get the snot kicked outta me. If I stopped getting' hurt, heck, that'd get rid o' half yer clientele! … Er, a bit o' it, anyway.” Even exaggerations could not bypass her truth-oriented filters. Zekrom most certainly had drawn the easier lot in life. On the subject of clientele, though, the white-haired woman couldn't help but find curiosity settling into her mind where pain had been previously taking residency, eyes cast over the springs once more and a question forming on the tip of her tongue. “Now that I think about it... What're ya' even doin' out here in the first place? I mean, I get yer a grass fairy an' all, but ya'd think there'd be better places ta' be this late at night.”
[attr="class","toripostbot"]YOU CAN'T THINK OF DYING WHEN THE BOTTLE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND
[attr="class","toripostmidd2"]this post is short and bad, forgive me. ;o;
[attr="class","toripostmid2"]
Eventually, she would learn the best cure for her injuries was to remove herself from situations that caused them entirely before they blossomed scarlet against the white canvas of her skin. Eventually, she would learn that the easiest way to avoid all of the aches and the pains and the potential for missing teeth would be to steer clear of those who would try to inflict them. Eventually, she'd learn that the bottle was her greatest enemy, not her best friend. Until that day, though, she would be stuck in this same cycle: drink until she forgot who she was, smash a glass against the nearest patron's head, and end up bloodied and beaten in the alleyway just outside the poor bar that had to put up with her less-than-pleasant antics on that particular night. It wasn't even necessarily enjoyable, either. Sure, the adrenaline high that came with a thrown punch and a knee to the gut was phenomenal, but more often than not, she couldn't even remember come the morning, and it couldn't have been more positive a feeling than the pain she felt come the sun's rising was negative. Logic should have told her to wise up and put a cap on how many beers she swallowed in a night. Of course, logic wasn't exactly her area of expertise. As she was, a creature fixated on truths and the “nows” of life, she couldn't even bring herself to imagine what good restraint would do her. All she knew was her routine – the one that had her come back night after night with no hope for change.[break][break]
Making the trek from Irisia to the Firefly Springs shouldn't have been anymore than a mild convenience on any normal day. Despite the area's generally unknown status in the past, time and the region's sudden decrease in size had made it more known and accessible over the past couple of years, even springing an easily navigable path straight from the city to the glittering springs should a person know how to find it. Upon adding an ankle that was at best sprained and at worst broken into the mix, however, it was no wonder why Victoria was finding it quite the nightmare making the trip. It wasn't even as though she wanted to go for the sight seeing, either – a near infinite age had allowed her to see sights all the more beautiful all over the world, many lost to time, and she'd be caught dead sober for a week before she decided to torture herself over something as silly as a “pretty okay” view – but rather the fact that it was the most likely place for her to come across just about the only person she'd want to see her in her current battered state. Being famous in the music industry certainly had its upsides, but even those couldn't compare to some of the upsides that came with being acquainted with the legendary Pokemon. For one thing, it tore a hole through her medical bills (well, the ones she didn't have). For another, it swapped out the tediousness of sitting through a hospital visit for the company of one of few Pokemon that seemed to not hate her guts for one reason or another. That aforementioned logic would scold her for abusing her acquaintance's willingness to heal time and time again without ever giving anything in return – but there was a reason she reigned over truth and nothing else, and for as long as she could brush the guilt aside like swatting away a Cutiefly, she failed to see anything wrong with this arrangement.[break][break]
Pushing through foliage and low hanging branches (wincing as the twigs snagged against existing cuts on her arm and accidental pressure on her bad foot sent pain shooting up her leg), the white-haired woman basked in the feeling of relief that came with the sight of rippling water before her, the end of her journey signaled with the view of Volbeat and Illumise swarming low in the clearing. Just in time, hopefully. She'd heard rumors that this was where the wandering healer was going next, and while she usually hated the idea of following such unreliable information, there was just times when it couldn't be helped. Ideally, the rumors were not just rumors; ideally, she'd also made it in time. “Akemi!” the dragon called into the clearing, failing to see the form of another “human” with a single glance and unwilling to go searching with her wounds. Surely, if she called enough, Celebi would come to her. “'Ey, Akemi! You here?”
[attr="class","toripostbot"]YOU CAN'T THINK OF DYING WHEN THE BOTTLE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND
