#Fives would have gone scorched earth had he seen what state Echo was in on Skako Minor. He'd have raised hell

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

When I tell you how violently this art idea struck me in the middle of Sad Clone Simp Hours while writing angsty fanfiction material I do mean violently.

First bit of fan art in a hot minute and it's for copy-paste men that I'm totally normal about deserved the galaxy. Twins just trying to do the right thing. Trying to save their brothers, all their brothers, before it's too late and the war dooms them all.

Fives would have burned the whole damn galaxy to the ground if he saw what they did to his brother. There would have been hell to pay for the horrors they put his twin through and how Echo was forced by means outside of his control to become a brother-killer. Fives would have been a force to be reckoned with as he sought justice for his brother had he not died in 19 BBY perhaps just months before Echo's rescue (I'm fuzzy on the timeline as of writing this).

He died believing he was the last of the Domino Twins. He died believing he was going to save his other brothers by blowing the whistle on the chips. He didn't get to see what kind of man his brother would become and all the good his twin was doing, is trying to do, to protect his brothers.

I think he'd be proud of his regulation-loving twin for giving the Empire hell and Echo's resiliency.

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 36: A Feast For Crows

While Tristan, Dorian and Cole were trapped in the Fade, trouble in the rest of Thedas kept brewing, this time west of the Frostbacks. The Inquisitor is called to action once more. (What, you thought they would have time to breathe? THINK AGAIN)

Read on AO3 | Start from the beginning

“The map you requested, Scout Harding.”

Lace lifted her gaze from the tracks on the ground to the scout standing over her. The sun was blinding in this part of the Dales, and she squinted as she got to her feet. A fat fly buzzed near her face as she inspected the thin piece of rolled up leather that was handed to her, trying to figure out where they were.

After more than two months of exploring the countryside of Western Orlais, Lace could identify most tracks that she came across. The heavy bootprints of infantry soldiers, digging into the soft grass, the lighter ones of scouts and archers that often accompanied them. The tracks left by the peasants and farmers’  soft leather shoes, interspersed with those from goats, sheep, horses and cows. The wheel ruts of carts, wagons and wheelbarrows in hardening mud. Those had become fewer, she’d noticed, the deeper they ventured into the war-torn countryside.

Even since coming to the Exalted Plains, she had even begun to recognise the prints of the fleet-hoofed halla that roamed the region freely. Graceful and intelligent creatures, their snow white fur gleaming in the scorching sun of the Dales. Their gentle nature reminded her of the sheep she had spent most of her life herding in the small village that had once been her home, but the halla’s large brown eyes had none of the sheep’s lack of curiosity, which was so often mistaken for stupidity. The halla regarded them with open interest and no fear, sometimes even getting close enough to eat nuts and dried fruit out of her palm. Lace had come to like them, and it seemed the feeling was mutual; they often accompanied her and the handful of trusty scouts the Inquisition had placed under her command while they traipsed through the verdant, rolling hills, looking for suitable places to set up Inquisition camps.

She had not seen the halla for some time, now. They had stopped following them well before they’d walked past the remains of an ancient elven fort, south of the Evanuris river.

Lace had found that odd. Odder still were the tracks that now marked the ground; irregular, angular prints that looked nothing like they’d been left by shoes or feet, or hooves, for that matter. Scorch marks darkened the soil, the dry grass burnt to ashes, but no remains of a fire could be seen. There was no sign of other animals either, and the birds that hid in the foliage of the few scrawny trees along the riverbanks had gone silent.

That could only mean one thing.

“Evidence of rage and lesser terror demons, half a mile south of the river, ten northwest of Fort Revasan,” she said as she pinpointed their spot on the map. She turned to Scout Finn, the young officer that had been in her group almost ever since she had joined the Inquisition. His expression was serious and aloof as he regarded her now, with no trace of his usual cheerfulness. The other scouts, too, were holding their breaths; Lace didn’t know anyone that didn’t tense, even a little, when demons were mentioned. “It’s hard to tell how many there are, but these tracks are fresh. We need to send word to Sister Leliana. These are the first signs of demons we’ve seen in this place. I doubt they will be the last.”

Scout Finn nodded grimly, rolling the map back up when Lace handed it to him and placing it in his pack. In the months they’d travelled together, she had come to like the boy. He was from the Hinterlands, like she was, raised in a cattle farm not far from her own village, though they’d never met before joining the Inquisition's ranks. “I’ll write up the report as soon as we return to camp,” he said. “Shall I send a runner to the Dalish clan? They should probably keep their halla away from here.”

Lace smiled. Evidently, she was not the only one that had developed a soft spot for the animals. “I think the halla are smart enough to know not to venture so close to wherever demons are. In any case, the Dalish seem to know how to keep out of harm’s way… for the most part.”

She started walking back the way they had come, when a loud crackle made her spin on her heels. The bright green light that flashed before her eyes was blinding; the sky above them seemed to have split in two, spewing verdant sparks that rained over them all. She instinctively reached for the bow and arrows that hung from her back, though she doubted she would have been able to find a target to hit, not with those blinding flares and the deafening screeching sounds that assaulted her ear drums. The other scouts reached for daggers and swords, for arrows and crossbows. They had all been well trained by Commander Rutherford and Seeker Pentaghast; they knew how to hold their own against demons, and it wasn’t the first time a rift had opened before them.

Lace took a deep breath. She nocked an arrow, ready to loose at the first sign of a moving target, when she suddenly froze.

The demon that stood before her was a large, grotesque creature, with two fiery pits where its eyes should have been. It stared straight at her through the darkness of the helm that covered its head, the intensity of its gaze piercing her to the bone. The flesh on its spindly arms was grey and lifeless, and its fingers ended in long, sharp claws. Before Lace or any of her scouts had managed to make a single movement, the demon’s mouth opened in a soundless scream, revealing rows upon rows of sharp teeth.

Slowly, it raised its arms.

The ground underneath them shook. Corpses sprung from the earth, clumps of brown soil still clinging to their twisted, half rotten forms as they stood up, clutching rusted swords and decrepit bows and arrows. One, two, three. Five. Ten.

The demon was now enveloped in a bright, unearthly glow, its arms still outstretched, as if in a plea towards the heavens. The dead kept rising.

Fifteen. Twenty. More.

Lace had never before thought of fear as a palpable thing. She had always thought of it as an emotion, a state, an instinct; now, seeing those horrifying, demonic figures racing towards them, she could feel it solidifying in her gut like a ball of ice. An arrow hissed by her ear a blink of an eye before she ducked. Her mouth moved before her mind had time to form the thought.

“Run!” She clutched her bow tightly as she turned around, scrambling back. “Run, all of you! Back to camp! Get back to camp!”

She heard rather than saw the other scouts running after her. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, until her lungs burned and her throat was dry. The crackling of the rift and the tortured screams of the reanimated corpses carried cleanly through the flat plains; Lace didn’t stop running until they were but faint echoes, mingling with the wind that drifted over the vast plains. Her heart was pummelling her ribcage, trying to claw its way out when she leaned forward with palms on her knees to catch her breath, what seemed like a lifetime later in the safety of their camp.

“Scout Harding,” Finn panted beside her. His brow was gleaming with sweat, his cheeks bright with a ruddy flush. “Are you alright?”

Lace raised her hand to her cheek and winced when she touched the thin cut the arrow had left. She had never before seen a demon such as this, hordes of corpses springing from the ground at its beckon, and it had rattled her. The Exalted Plains were a graveyard already, the lifeless bodies of the fallen soldiers littering the fields of battle, left to rot by their comrades after hasty retreats had been ordered for both armies. If demons could do this…

“We must get word to the Inquisitor,” she said, her voice rough in her ears. “Send the fastest raven— better yet, send two. He needs to hear of this. As soon as possible.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[deaegratia]

A walk on knight’s bread

During her stay there, Nenela learned to love Gridania. The sounds of the wind rustling through the trees, the many different people that lived there in (what seemed like) perfect harmony… The kind conjurers at Stillglade Fane, who helped her so much in her studies. The birds and the waterwheels and of course the kind Mother Miounne, who always had a kettle on to welcome back adventurers from the forest with a cup of tea and a treat. She loved it, and yet… It wasn’t her home. A time came when the conjurers guild had taught her all they could. Gridania would be fine without her. No, Ul’dah was where she was needed most. So she packed her bags, said her goodbyes, and followed the lumber line down south.

When she first made her way to the Shroud, it had been a relaxing carriage ride. On foot, however, the journey took quite a bit longer. Every day was another challenge. Don’t anger the antelopes. Try to avoid catching the attention of bandits. Most importantly, don’t get lost. Though Bahamut’s flames had razed down many of the trees, there were still plenty of places where the wood was like a labyrinth to her. Finally, after a week or so, the scenery began to change. No more trees, but vast stretches of dry land. Thanalan. How she’d missed this.

Highbridge had not existed for very long. Though it was build over a chasm that looked like it had been there for centuries, it was in fact only after the Calamity five years ago that the ground had split open and the bridge had been built. Its people were willing to give her a place to stay for the night, but not for free. If the adventurer wanted to stay, she’d have to do her part in defending the village from the Qirqin as well. Nenela didn’t waste a second and agreed to help them. After all, wasn’t this what adventurers did? To protect, to ease their pain. Surely she could help the Brass Blades stationed there to take on a few oversized rats.

A few, they’d told her. She’d believed them, right until she saw the hordes of beastmen arriving. No wonder the Blades were unable to prevent the villagers from getting kidnapped time and time again. There were so many, and they just kept coming. Nenela was struggling to even keep track of them. 

Wind, earth, water, none of it was enough to defeat them. Strike one down with a rock, another would pop up as yet another attempted to pick her up and carry her off to gods-knows-where. She’d hoped the Blades would offer more help, but as their number dwindled, they decided to cut their losses and abandon their post. And still the villagers would continue to cry out. She fought desperately, but a single Lalafell just wasn’t enough. Exhausted, she fell to the ground, barely even struggling as the bandits took her away. She’d been so close to home… It seemed fate had other plans.

Nenela didn’t know how long it had been since she passed out, but it had definitely been a while. The cave she was in was not like any other place she’d seen before. Judging by the temperature, she was still in Thanalan, but where? As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she noticed she was not alone. A group of a dozen people or so surrounded her, their hands bound and their faces solemn. Some were crying, others simply looked down in quiet acceptance of their fate.

“The lizards claim they will soon bring us before Ifrit for tempering. All of us are as good as dead…”

The girl looked up as that sudden proclamation echoed through the cave. In her groggy state, she had trouble understanding it, nor could she determine who had said it in the first place.

Ifrit… She’d heard that name before. ‘This place is hotter than Ifrit’s arse,’ or similar phrases about things being extremely warm. Nenela always thought it was simply something people said, not something that actually existed. And tempering? What was that supposed to mean? It sounded like something a goldsmith would do.

Lizards, however… Nenela knew very well what they meant by that. Amalj’aa. Though she had never actually seen any in the flesh, she knew who they were. Beastmen. They’d plunder and kidnap and – her eyes widened as her mind finally connected the dots – they worshipped Ifrit, the Lord of the Inferno.  Of course Qirqin wouldn’t simply kidnap anyone for no reason. They’d sold her and the other stolen villagers to the lizards. Tempering… was that simply a fancy word for kill?

She didn’t have long to think about that, as not long after that a few Amalj’aa entered, bringing in more prisoners. Big strong beasts, more muscle than bone, darker than the darkest coals and adorned with all manner of beads and jewelry. Lizards was too friendly of a word to describe them. They were monsters. The prisoners, on the other hand, were a much more welcome sight. Judging by their uniforms, they were Flame Soldiers. But then she looked at their faces. They were terrified as well. Perhaps it had been too much to hope they would be able to help her.

And then there were those three… A Miqo’te, and two Elezen. Adventurers? More experienced than her, if she had to make a guess. Instantly she felt a bit less embarrassed about getting captured. If people like them had gotten caught, no wonder she hadn’t stood a chance. Right now though, they were asleep. After the beastmen had left, she made her way over to the trio. Remembering her lessons at Stillglade Fane, Nenela deduced the lizards must have cast some kind of sleeping spell on them. A gentle (but firm) slap would likely be enough to wake them up.

The Elezen man bolted upright. “YesmomImgettingupIpromis- Oh.” It took him a second to realize he was not, in fact at home, but in the middle of an Amalj’aa stronghold. The Miqo’te girl slapped the back of his head in a playful manner. “David. Idiot,” she insulted him, though Nenela wasn’t sure if she meant it. The Elezen, on the other hand, woke up in such an elegant manner it was almost as if she had simply woken up from a nap instead of a magically induced slumber. “…Well. That could have gone better, but it seems we are still alive, so I’d call that a success.”

It was only then that they noticed the young Lalafell that had woken them. They introduced themselves as David, Amh, and Furiosa. They were kind enough, but they did not seem very willing to answer Nenela’s questions. How they had gotten here? “As you can see, most likely through that entrance over there. Though I would not be able to confirm it for you, on account of being asleep at the time,” said Furiosa. “Dumb luck, I guess?” said David. “Thancred late,” Amh said, frowning. Well, that was no use at all.

They sat there for a while, until an Amalj’aa broke the silence. “Rejoice, heathens, for your worthless lives shall soon have meaning!” It was time.

To think they were standing in front of a god. It wasn’t what Nenela had imagined at all. When she imagined the gods, they were kind and benevolent. Slightly different in their morals, perhaps, on account of having existed for eternity, but not too unlike the spoken races. But this… The Lord of the Inferno truly was the element of fire personified. Sharp claws, massive horns, and the smell. Like smoke and ash and burning flesh. Her eyes watered and she had trouble breathing. No, she told herself. If I am going to die, I will do so with dignity. There will be no crying today.

“O mighty Ifrit! We bring before You ignorant savages who know not Your godhead! If it please You, Lord, scorch their heathen souls with Your cleansing flame, and mark them as Your own!”

To serve a god that was not your own. To obey his will until the end of your days. Somehow, to Nenela, that sounded like a fate worse than death. In that moment, all she could do is pray. The gods had protected her once before. Surely they could intervene again? Had she not always been faithful? She ignored the tears stinging in her eyes. Please, I beg of you. Do not let him take me.

As she stood there trembling, she heard her fellow prisoners begin to chant. “Oh mighty Ifrit… My one true god… “ The girl waited for her turn, expecting searing heat that would burn her mind away forever, yet all that came was a gentle breeze, not unlike someone blowing on their soup, waiting for it to cool down. Except in this case, she was the soup, and instead of being set aflame she remained cool? She was too terrified to realize that metaphor was not making any sense.

The man, David, tapped her on her shoulder. “Hey… You said your name was Nenela, right?” The girl looked up and nodded. Neither he nor his companions seemed to show any signs of this weird tempering. “Lemme guess. You’ve been having visions, haven’t you?” Nenela wasn’t sure how he knew that, or how that was relevant, but she nodded again. Behind them, Ifrit was raging on and on about how their souls had been tainted and how they would burn for all eternity, but David remained focused and to the point. “Alright, listen Nelly. I’m gonna count to three. You’re gonna grab your cane, and you’re going to heal. I know it’s scary, but you’re gonna keep your eyes on me and you’re just going to do it. Can you promise me that?” She wanted to object, that they were facing a god, that he shouldn’t trust her to keep him alive because ohGodshesgonnaenduplikethatguyintheDeepcroft, and that her name was not Nelly, but in that instant, she realized she didn’t have much of a choice. A final nod, and he quickly ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry kiddo. This’ll be a walk on knight’s bread, I swear.” “What does that even mean?” “Oh, y’know… I’ll tell you when we get out of this alive!”

“Pray forgive my lateness!”

The blonde Hyur who had come running in along with members of the Bloodsworn was late indeed, for Ifrit had already been slain. He was about to congratulate the Scion adventurers on their first primal victory, when he did a double take. One, two… Four of them? He could have sworn there had only been three last time he checked.

“Too late,” grinned Amh, collecting her arrows to put them back In her quiver. Furiosa simply quirked an eyebrow as she wiped the ash from her daggers. David turned around, holding an unconscious Lalafell in his arms. “Say… You wouldn’t happen to have any Phoenix Downs with you, do you?” Thancred scrambled around in his pockets and handed a crumpled feather to the gladiator. “I see the festivities will have to wait, then. Come, let us retreat to more agreeable surrounds. Camp Drybone, shall we say?”

Part three of Tales from the Desert, this time for ‘Nenela fights her first primal”. Though you could also say ‘Nenela gets her butt kicked and never learns what the hell ‘a walk on knight’s bread’ means and then sort of accidentally becomes a Scion?”

David belongs to @thevantass

Amh belongs to @thewanderersminuet

Furiosa belongs to @alternis

[doublenuzlocke]

Entry #4: You are now KOTONE and it is time to SAVE THE WORLD

This is it.

This is the end.

The wind rages around you like a thousand beasts. The sky bleeds rain and roars thunders, an echo to the furious cries in the air. The waves rise higher and higher, slamming against the earth to drag underwater those on their ways. Fire and ice cover soft soil and angry sea alike. Every single of the elements are trying to strike you down, to strike the livings down, to strike the world down.

But perhaps, I should start from the beginning.

*

Some would say that it all started when Team Rocket was first disbanded. Others would argue that it all began the day the Ecruteak tower caught fire. Some others, that the real start was back when the prophecy was first written, before the islands were even named.

They would all have good reasons to think so, but I would disagree.

A game of chess does not start until all the pieces are on the board, after all.

So it starts here. In a little forgotten town on the south east of Johto.

It starts with you.

*

In another world, in another time, someone would have come to pick up the cyndaquil and the totodile, and help Pr Elm with his research. As it is, you’ve had your marill for a very long time already, so you don’t bother visiting the lab to set off on your pokemon journey.

Someone else does, though.

The ginger-haired trainer bumps into you at the entrance of Cherrygrove city. You don’t particularly want to battle him, because he looks antsy and nervous and generally about to run as fast as he can, but he insists. He wants to see what can his pokemon do, he says. A new trainer, you assume. You decide to indulge him.

The battle itself is short; you’ve grinded a lot on the road. But you can tell he’s going to be a fantastic trainer.

You tell him so, of course. You believe one should always say what they think about other peoples if it is something nice.

The boy accepts the compliment with mild surprise. He tells you he’s in a hurry, and he needs to go, now. You didn’t even get his name.

(Much, much later, you’ll learn how exactly did he get that chikorita. Sometimes, you wonder how different things would have been if you’ve been back to Pr Elm’s lab.)

*

You meet a boy with a cue stick and smelling of smoke near violet city.

You’ve just won against a girl with a very annoying flying team, when you hear a loud cheer and angry grumbles.

You turn around, and- oh, you haven’t realized how focused you were on the battle.

A group of people, five or six, are here. In the middle, a young man with a tacky jacket is laughing, clutching bills in his fists. As the crowd starts to leave, he approaches you with a wide grin.

“Good job girl! Gotta say, using rollout was pretty smart. What’s your name?”

“Kotone.” did he just- “did you bet on our battle?”

“That I did.” he doesn’t even look ashamed about it. “Say, for how long have you started battling?”

Well, a month, maybe two?

The boy looks surprised. A bit because you’re sixteen and it /is/ rather old to start a pokemon journey, you guess. But he also looks kind of impressed, and that strokes your ego juuust right.

Eventually, he flashes you a wide grin. “The name’s Gold. What’s yours?”

*

A little farther down the road, after a session of intense grinding, you meet a girl setting up a camp. Normally, you would have said hi and kept walking, but dusk is near and the fire in front of her tent is really tempting. So you ask sheepishly:

“Excuse me ma’am, could I stay here for a while? I’m a little cold.”

The young woman, far from being offended, smiles gently and propose to share some food.

You’ve only intended to warm up before leaving, but you’ve never learned to keep your tongue to yourself. You start talking, and she starts answering, and it soon evolves into a really passionate chat about pokemons and travels and the places you’ve both seen. Turns out, you’ve managed to borrow the fire of a very nerdy researcher (currently studying illusionist pokemons, such as ninetales or stantlers, she tells you. Apparently, she’d heard about an Unova pokemon able to take human appearance, and it fired up her interest on the subject.)

When you go in the morning, you have a new number registered under ‘Crystal’.

*

To be fair, you don’t /intend/ to run into troubles. It just… happens. But hey, Slowpoke Well is Rocket-free now, right?

You run into the ginger again. He’s different, this time; he seems harsher, angrier, in the way he looks at you, the way he barks orders at his pokemons.

You beat him, once again. He almost /growls/ at you.

“Listen.” his voice is cold as ice. “I will destroy Team Rocket. I respect you, but don’t get in my way!”

Only then, do you realize that the anger was never directed at you.

*

You run into Crystal again between your third and fourth badge. (This will become a more common occurrence as time passes.)

She recognizes you immediately. Must be the pigtails.

“So, how have you been?” trying not to stare at her legs, but you don’t tell her that.

You chat once more, hang out for a few days -neither of you are in a hurry, and you need to grind anyway. Funny thing, you never see any of Crystal’s pokemon.

When eventually comes the time for you to leave, she slips a ™ in your bag. “You’ll do more things with it than I ever will,” she says with a smile.

You don’t know if that’s true; but you sure do kick butts with that Return ™.

*

The first thing you see when you enter Ecruteak is a fistfight.

The second thing you see is Gold in the fistfight.

How he wins is beyond you; you quickly rush by his side to drag his ass to the pokemon center. His lips are bleeding and his face swollen, and yet he can’t seem to stop smiling stupidly.

“I won.”

“And now you’ll forever have a crooked nose.”

“Yes, but it’s badass.”

“For fuck’s sake, Gold, will you be seri-”

“Gold?”

You turn around to see who spoke. An old man in the pokemon center, looking at the two of you with squinty eyes.

“I knew a Gold, back in my time. Had a tendency to open his mouth a little too wide too.”

Your Gold snorts. “Now that’s funny. Gold isn’t a common name though.”

The elder laughs too. So do you. ‘Gold’ must be a cursed name.

*

You start at the hand touching your shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay?” concern is not an emotion you’re used to hear in grumpy ginger’s voice. You can’t bring yourself to care.

No. No, you’re not okay.

You take a shaky breath, try to collect yourself  enough to speak- it takes you a couple tries, but you manage eventually.

“My n-noctowl…” you stutter between tears. “s-she died-ed. A tr-ainer k-killed her…”

“…I’m sorry for your loss.” You huff. You’re tired.

“Why do you even care?”

There are many things gingerhead could do. He could leave. He could yell. He could spit out some more impersonal lines that would fail to make you feel better.

Instead, he starts telling a story.

A boy and a vulpix.

Happy. Friends. Fun.

Lack of attention.

Tripping. Falling, falling, falling down.

Heavy sound.

Red beneath head, red on sharp rocks.

There were two friends. Now there is only one.

(“I don’t even know your name” you whisper in the hug.)

(“Silver. The name’s Silver.”)

*

There is something wrong with the lake of rage.

Heavy rain pours over you, triggered by a hundred rain dances from a hundred Gyarado. The powerful beasts scream to the sky, of scorching anger and unspeakable pain, and you suddenly feel very small in your overalls.

“Oh, thank gods.”

At least some people are okay with-

Wait a second

Gold?

And sure enough, it’s him, with his ridiculous hair and smoke smell.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, because no offense, you like the guy and all, but you would have thought he would be wasting his money on the other side of johto rather than purposely put himself in danger.

He shakes his head and smiles at you. It is so obviously fake you want to punch his teeth out.

“Eh, I thought it would be something worse. Thankfully it isn’t.” he interrupts you before you can ask anything, the smart bastard. “There’s still something wrong here, though. Wanna investigate together?”

*

Of course the answer is Rockets.

Of fucking course.

You explore the ‘’’’’souvenir shop’’’’’ (read: Rocket Hideout) with Gold by your side. The boy doesn’t appear to have any pokemons with him, but it turns out a cue stick can do a mean amount of damages when used correctly

All in all, you clear the place with relatively few problems.

“So this is what forced the magikarps to evolve…” man, you wish Crystal was there. The nerd would have known what to do with all these buttons.

Eh, you guess it’ll stop working if you wreck it. No big de

“Look out!” Gold screams. He throws his body over yours, slamming it against the floor. It hurts. You could have yelled at him so, so hard.

There’s a crackle of electricity.

The self-destruct blasts your hearing off and positively obliterate the control panel.

Your head is tingling. For a few second, you don’t think. You can’t think. All you can do is breathe, breathe and watch the wreck in front of you.

Slowly, you raise a hand, and lay it on the heavy body shielding you.

Gold’s shirt was burnt off by the explosion.

So was his skin.

(You scream.)

*

You stay beside Gold’s bed for three whole days. He’s still sleeping when you leave, but you know you have to move on your journey eventually. Also, the nurses are not-so-subtly urging you to let them do their damn job.

So you leave, and leave your phone number behind.

*

The hospital call twice on your journey.

The first time, they ask for everything and anything you might know about Gold. It puzzles you. You already told them all the necessities, right? What more do they want?

“We can’t find anything about this boy.” they explain. “No birth certificate, no trainer license, no family.”

“By all accounts, your Gold friend does not exist.”

*

The second time they call, the conversation is much shorter, but leave you in a similar state of panic.

“Your Gold friend is gone. He has run away.”

*

The problem with Crystal, is that she has a tendency to notice when your smile isn’t quite honest.

“You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever upset you, I won’t judge.”

…

You know what? Might as well.

So, you tell her. She openly winces when you evoke the self-destruct (her hand mindlessly raises to her side; now you know where is her scar from) but otherwise listen silently.

“Yeah, I see why you’re worried. If he was conscious enough to escape a hospital though, then he probably wasn’t in a too bad shape.” Crystal is a great liar. You almost believe she thinks what she’s saying.

You sigh. “Even though, we’re talking about /Gold/ here. The guy attracts more troubles than bets money.”

Beside you, your friend takes a sharp breath. You turn your head; never has ‘pale as a ghost’ better applied to someone.

“Gold?” her voice is shaking. You’ve never seen her like this.

“He’s still alive?”

*

When you find Gold, eating berries beneath a tree, you almost punch him. Almost, because he manages to speak before your raise your fist

“I swear I can explain.”

Oh, he better. Why doesn’t he exist legally? Why did he run? Why did he take the hit for you?

“How much do you know about Ecruteak legends?”

Gold, explain. Now.

“Kotone. I’m supposed to be dead.”

*

Heat on your skin

Keep going, keep walking

There are still pokemons in there

Keep going

Knees on the floor

Kee p g o ing

Can’t

Br e a th e

*

The reunion of Crystal and Gold is full of tears and hugs. You feel a little uncomfortable standing there; this is not a scene for you to watch. But you’re also so, so happy for them. You can’t imagine what it must be like, living so long with no one you knew by your side…

Speaking of which

“Crystal,” you ask once the waterfalls have died down, “how are you alive?” The Ecruteak fire was more than a hundred years ago. These two are childhood friends. How?

Crystal smiles.

“Ever heard of the Shamouti Islands?”

*

A song. A call for peace.

The pain on her side dulls.

Water around her ankles, her calves, her waist-

Her chest and shoulders and neck-

In her throat and in her lungs-

Silence.

*

You end Team Rocket at Radio Tower with Silver’s help. Few are the grunts who escape; at long last, that threat is gone.

In the newfound peace, you become champion. Who would have known. You take some time to visit Kanto and some more to visit your friends.

Silver travels with you for a while, his goal finally complete. He is, you realize, a lot softer than he lets on. Soft hair and soft skin, soft hands and soft heart.

(You wonder if his lips are soft, too.)

Crystal and Gold are still on their own quests for knowledge and money (respectively) but you still keep in touch. Turns out, buff arms are really nice for spooning during cold nights.

(She doesn’t need to know half of your conversations with Gold are about how cute she is and how warm she makes you both feel.)

For a while, there is peace.

For a while, life is good.

Then it starts snowing. In the middle of summer.

*

“Who even hear that stupid prophecy and think ‘Imma try to catch a that birb’? I thought the last Rockets were smarter than that!!”

Gold is screaming and ranting on the top sit, right in front of Silver. Crystal looks like she agrees, but she doesn’t talk as to keep her focus on her driving. Thankfully. You don’t want to know what a helicopter crash.

(You still can’t believe she actually stole the thing. Like holy shit.)

*

“So, here’s the plan.” And now we are back, to the end. Back to the beginning of this tale.

“You two” Gold points at you and Silver. “are going to get the three treasures and get them back here. Once it’s done, Lugia will thing, and everything will get back to normal. Just remember to close your ears.”

Okay. You can do that. The storm roaring around you will be an hindrance, but you have your and SIlver’s team to help you. You can do it. You will do it.

“What about you two?”

Crystal points at the birds.

“They’re going to attack you if nothing is done. So Gold and me are playing bait.”

…

…

…

exCUSE yOU?!

“No worries, we’re immortal. Probably. We’ll hopefully make it.”

No no no, these birds are being of LEGENDS. What if they kill them?!

“Well, you don’t need our help to have adorable little puppies together, do you.”

Stop joking about this! What if they die?!!

“Then it would be about damn time.“

You can’t

You don’t know how to tell them how much they mean to you. So you don’t.

Crystal starts when your lips touches her own.

“Stay safe.” you whisper. Then, louder, at Gold: “Stay alive too, you idiot. You’re one of my best friends, alright?”

*

Two treasures in and you slip into the sea.

You’re more angry than upset, frankly. You were so close- so close! just one last treasure left! But nooo, you had to overlook that one patch of ice, on the island of the titan of goddamn ice-

Through blurry water, you see Silver extend a hand to grab you before you’re too far gone.

When his palm contacts you, your vision fades to fur.

Pain shoots through your being from the sharp teeth buried in your shoulder. Powerful jaws drag you up, up, out of the water- and you’re on the snow again, in front of the ginger.

Wha-?

Blood still stains your clothes. You haven’t dreamed that. Gears turn in your head, forming a crazy, crazy idea.

You lower your gaze.

Where, by all accounts, should be the marks of heavy boots, you can only see a mess of canine pawprints.

Ninetales.

Sadly, time is running scarce: you’ll talk about this, but later, if the world is still standing.

“Guess I’m a furry then.” is all you say, before getting up and running again.

*

You did it.

Lugia’s song fill the air, a promise of forgiveness. The storm calms around you, listens to the call of the deep sea.

The smell of smoke fill your nostrils.

“Good job.” Gold’s voice is weary and tired, but ô so proud. “You saved the world.” Beside him, Crystal sneakers.

You do, too.

You fall on the sand laughing your heart off, surrounded by people you love and adore.

Above you, the clouds stir away, revealing the blazing sun.

You did it.

From now on, everything is going to be okay.