{ ooc. I've been replaying frlg + am up to the segment in pokemon tower (which honestly... best story beat of the game, fight me. i still think the concept is so neat), and it made me realise
all this umming and thing about what sarana's trainer class would technically be if she HAD to have one in pla... and she'd literally be a channeler
I completely forgot channelers, as a trainer class, existed. And the way they're depicted in frlg is pretty similar to what i've always had in mind for sarana's whole deal.
But on the plus side, hey, if the ones in frlg are all more prone to being possessed by ghosts/spirits because of their proximity to and desire to help them... 🙃}
“I have, let me confess it in all humility, a pitiful human wish that someone should know just how clever I have been.” ok this one is funny because i know hes saying it dramatically and sarcastically just to be a shit
Sarana would liken him, in this moment, to her Ninetales confronted with the dreaded concept of perceived dismissal. All theatrics and exaggerated sighs and faux-pouty looks from the corners of calculating eyes. Vying for a reaction. Searching to be noticed, incessant and oh so very subtle in their minds only. What was given before perhaps not enough— not in emotion, or of her attention given to him in the most obvious of ways, or perhaps both. No matter, her gaze flickers over to him for a moment so fleeting it renders itself little more to her than a blur. Discreet, behind hair long pulled over a shoulder, from under a head angled to the ground. The kind to catch the faintest glimpse of his expression, and force Sarana to keep the corners of lips drawn in that line so fortress-like and unreadable. To mask the ghosts of vague amusement under words of any kind, so long as they did not betray neither herself nor him.
"...Oh dear,"
She says, and eyes stay resolute in keeping away from Volo, resting as they had been before he spoke— when she had offered in response a single laugh that died against her lips something muffled and short. Upon her shawl, which she chases dust and glittering droplets from. He is a clever man— deceptively so. Of that much is she aware. This moment, those words, created with their roots steeped in parts of it all. Yet it is harmless, or so she tells herself. And it was, in truth, a stroke of genius to spare them from the rain. But why not feign ignorance?
"Oh woe is you, indeed. Such a terrible tragedy has befallen you. We should make haste to the village then, yes? I'm certain someone there will appreciate your—"
Her free hand lifts. A roll of her wrist, fingers spreading so that the might comb through the air and somehow catch the words that escape her so. And in the second pass does a click of her tongue sound. The silence that trails long, drawn out. Calm and yet pulled impossibly taut.
"—...awe-inspiring genius."
Fabric flutters but once more, and she folds the garment over her arm. Eyes following the movement as though nothing could catch her focus more. That nothing should.
"Until then, I shall pray for you and your moment in the sun. Whenever the clouds part and it chooses to return."
"...Oh, for all that is— Not a single one of you would survive a day out on your own. Next you'll tell you'd jump head first into a frozen lake because 'freezing cold water is more refreshing'."
Me, getting ready to talk about how Cogita's design is actually heartbreaking because it's heavily based on victorian-era mourning attire and because it's just black and no inclusion of white (save for her gloves/flowers) and lavender she's still in the first mourning stages over the almost total loss of the Celestica/her people and isn't moving on/hasn't moved on (very understandably) for almost 3000 years:
{ ooc. Watching the battle introductions for characters in pla (if they have one) so you can figure out what the Main Pose(tm) for their bw2 sprites probably would've been is realising that all characters except for ingo do what'd be the trainer sprite animation equivalent when introducing who you're facing off against
He does his after you move past that first text box 🧍♂️}
"No. No danger, I am afraid. I would not invite harm to another's abode. Besides, the shrine is far too close to my home-- I would be dooming you, myself and my people all at once, if there was any,"
"It is simply acts of childishness that have taken over. A plague of the most foolish variety."
Naturally, a set of words that is accompanied by her returning the favour. Completely straight-faced. Unamused. Unimpressed. Never mind how the corners of pursed lips twitch.
A gentle reminder that if Sarana was in Legends: Arceus, the main way you'd encounter her (before the post-game + when a quest line for Shaymin and all the Floaro stuff unlocks) would be her standing ominously in some tucked away spot on the map, being like "Oh hey you're looking for all the wisps that escaped from a keystone?? Lmao sucks to be you. yeah it's hard yakka, here's where i saw some" and putting the locations of 3 of them on the map in exchange for items and materials.
And then talking about something completely unrelated immediately afterwards/if talked to again.
And you get no explanation on how she can see them or what her deal is at least until the protag gets kicked out of Jubilife Village.
{ ooc. Actually I forgot I made a post about this ages back but Visually(tm) and Speficially here are the places she has a chance to be at for each map
A gentle reminder that if Sarana was in Legends: Arceus, the main way you'd encounter her (before the post-game + when a quest line for Shaymin and all the Floaro stuff unlocks) would be her standing ominously in some tucked away spot on the map, being like "Oh hey you're looking for all the wisps that escaped from a keystone?? Lmao sucks to be you. yeah it's hard yakka, here's where i saw some" and putting the locations of 3 of them on the map in exchange for items and materials.
And then talking about something completely unrelated immediately afterwards/if talked to again.
And you get no explanation on how she can see them or what her deal is at least until the protag gets kicked out of Jubilife Village.
“Either I’m embellishing a story for shocking effect, or I’m the only one telling the truth in a room full of liars.“ hi jess hows the weather
A room full of liars.
That is always what they have been—or, at least, those who played a hand in the young one’s banishment. Liars and thieves, who stumbled in upon the morning shore and in lieu of listening to the water and foam lapping at their feet, trying to usher them back into the sea, they tore themselves from it. When met with the vast land of Hisui, when their eyes fell upon the sight of fellow human beings who long knew the innerworkings of the region, they had claimed it theirs for the taking. A fresh canvas to build upon, even if it meant unknowingly using the foundations built by people millennia back. A dangerous, unviable place, that man had described it as, and the pokemon even more so. The campsites among toppled and crumbling ruins vital, even if they could serve the same purpose away from what was once towns or temples to honour the stars, the unknowable, but was still home to the surviving few.
From day one, the very premise that village had been built upon was a lie, perpetuated by the loyal, the persecuted and the lost.
Sarana’s brow furrows, lips drawing into a line for what feels to be the umpteenth time within the span of a few minutes. Heart strings are tugged and pulled, scraping along the depths of her chest. This has gone too far now. The Nobles falling victim to frenzy, the sky taking upon itself both patterns and colours described only in tales told to the medium when she was a little girl. And now, the hero—the child—who sought to stop it all has been cast out. Banished by that same, lost liar. Left to die over nothing more than ill-placed suspicion.
And in the name of their people, no less. The Celestica.
Perhaps it would be easier, to simply accuse Volo of lying. Point the fingers at him to give her mind one more chance to refuse the reality placed before her—of that brave, young soul being left to fend on their own, and maybe already no longer of this world. He is a man with the tendency to embellish, that is true. A theatrical heart when it comes to tales that must be made taller for a certain response, or to heighten the value of an item no rarer than the dirt beneath their feet. But that is simply it—for stories. For sales. And she knows the tones, the inflections, the dramatic gestures and expressions which accompany them.
He wears neither. From a glance up, stare as piercing as it had been before—sharpened, and yet terribly guarded; like a cornered creature ready to strike out at the slightest provocation—, the woman can tell that much. And what reason would have Volo to lie about this? No, in fact, the hushed voice, the shifting nature of his gaze, it resembles more of those rarer times. When his own smile had faded with the sunlight, and solemn words followed suit. Even if the version he has told her sounds far direr, and infinitely more unfair on the child, Sarana cannot see him lying about this. Far more likely would it be that those of the village have downplayed the situation, either to preserve their own morality, to give Kamado the benefit of the doubt, or to reassure themselves that the one who fell from the sky would be just fine on their own.
Out there. In the cold climate of Hisui. With a couple of days to learn what she had been taught for over a decade, just to have the faintest chance of surviving more than a week.
“…Very well, I believe you,”
Fingers unlace themselves from beneath the medium’s chin, and with a swift movement, she falls back into the chair, a huff of air escaping from her form. Her head turns, and eyes shift to that accursed building’s side, inwardly cursing how it dares to take its colours from the sunrise. She must find them—before something else does. Something dangerous, or someone willing to prey on vulnerabilities. With the sun setting, and hours slipping by, there would be no time to assemble the others for a search party. They are too far; too spread out around the land. Sophora should be fast enough—her Ninetales and Zoroark proficient enough to track their scent. But perhaps, with this much knowledge on their situation, he might have heard the faintest hint of a last known location.
“Volo. Where were they left? Do you know anything about where they might be?”
