The first bout of wind had bowled him straight over, and from his position he had tumbled toward the shallows of the Poni Ocean, and it had only been by the grace of Arceus (nay, the deep bond of friendship, for Arceus was not with him, or anyone) that his current partner, his Lucario had taken notice. Once he was helped to his feet, the next round of winds whipped all around him, howling with such anger, such ferocity that he had to force his eyes shut, that they didn’t begin welling with tears and hindering him any further.
Then the ocean followed suit. There had been a sudden... delay in the waves that always pounded Poni’s rocky coast, and raising an arm to try and shield his eyes from the wind, opened them in an attempt to find its purpose. And oh... how he so dearly wished he hadn’t. In but the few precious seconds he had to react, a shriek of pure fear had escaped his lips and he had turned away from the coast, his legs feeling as though they were of iron as he made to break away.
But it was futile, for the rage of the seas in the wake of the all-Father’s death was greater. The object of Gladion’s fear crashed against the coast, seemingly rumbling the very earth, and continued from there. The wave, one larger than any had ever seen even in the worst of monsoon season here, swallowed up all in its path, chipped and cracked stone as it surged. The whitecap that spearheaded the assault struck his legs just as he had recalled the Aura Pokemon (no he did not wish for her to go through this) and he instinctively brought the Pokeball to his midsection and an arm to his face as he was thrown forward.
Water. Water all around him. And it was cold. So, so cold. So frigid it was that it burned, and how so very unlike the seas of Alola. Oh yes... something was very, very wrong in the world. But he couldn’t focus, because the monstrous wave’s ebb was beginning, and without thinking a cry of fear sounded from the boy. But it was not heard, for like everything else, it was swallowed by the ocean, and only icy, salty water met his mouth. Paranoia guided his movements now, his eyes squeezed shut and oh god he could not breath, he couldnotbreathhecouldnotbreathe.
The hand not keeping his Lucario’s pokeball to his body reached out fruitlessly, scraping against the slick earth of the coast as he reached for something, anything to latch onto and keep him away from the ocean. The skin and nails of his fingertips scraped and ripped and tore as they sought in vain until finally. A deep crack in the earth met his feeling and an iron grip from his hand latched on, aching, burning fingers digging into the inner rock of the crack for dear life (very literally).
When finally the water returned to ocean, at least for now. Gladion’s entire body was wracked with pain. No doubt he had broken some manner of ribs when he had so forcefully fallen on his companion’s pokeball, and he did what he could to spit out the oceanwater. His attempt to stand was feeble and ridden with pain in his midsection, and he only made it to a crouching position before the quakes of the island send him to his knees with a sharp gasp of pain.
This would not, could not, stop him, for the threat of another oncoming wave loomed. And so he crawled, no shame in his entire being, as he weakly crawled away from the coast. And when he finally far enough away that the ground was damp with oceanwater? He retched, dry heaved until it actually happened, and the water that had forced its way into his system was vomited out.
Burning tears flowed from his eyes as he tried to empty his system. And as he sat here, clinging to dear life as he tried to rid the excess of water, the very foundation he knelt on began to tremble, and soon the water he spat turned to vomit mixed into the saltwater and in due time, there was some matter of blood that mixed in with it.
And it was here, among howling winds and lurching seas and heaving earth that Gladion rose himself to his knees as straight as he could muster. The Pokeball in his hand was tucked between his legs as both hands meekly clasped together, blood from his earlier free hand ran freely down the digits from where his fingernails had been torn off in his desperation.
Gladion never thought himself a religious person. Whatever gods may have been there had never been around to help him when he needed it, but now, among the first rays of the end of all things? A time where the very elements rose against all things in uncontrolled rage? He found himself seeking out the name of any deity he could think, the Tapus, Arceus, even those Pokemon of Legends from other regions.
Amid the primal screeches of all matter of Pokemon on the island, the quake of the earth around him and the spray from the raging waves that soaked his back. As soaked, and broken and battered as he was... his hands were clasped in desperate prayer.
“O’ father Arceus, who art in his Halls of Creation, to the Tapus who have watched these islands for eons past and eons to come, to the almighty gods of other regions, Groudon, Kyogre, Rayquaza, Giratina...” He was grasping at straws here, any Pokemon whose name he knew even slightly was prayed to in this, his darkest hour. “I know not what has happened, claim not to know what calamity has stricken this earth, but I pray that order be returned, for the safety of all things, of all people. I pray for my sister, and my friends, and my teammates... even my family. I pray at least for this: let them be in greater position then I, in this... end of all times.”
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
kaledo-art
2087
