what would the timeline in the pokemon legends game set in unova look like since it would take place 30 years in the past?
I think this question is asking how would the game play out potentially (I think??? I had to read it like 8 times oughdhdhd)
If that's the case then I'm not too sure. It could 100% still focus on the original dragon, but more than anything I see it as more of a game where Unova is lagging so behind and you work to fix it up (or help fix it) with younger versions of older gym leaders (Drayden, Lenora) and/or the ancestors of younger ones (Roxy, the Triplets)
So, uh- I may have made a fursona. c: His name is Cilian, short for Sicilian, because that's where a lot of lemons come from.
I've been studying and practicing anatomy a lot more and I'm so happy I could draw a decent figure. I played around with his colors and patterns A LOT before I was able to settle on one design. Overall, I'm really happy with how my little ref sheet has turned out.
ASH WON, WHOO HOOOOOOOO (i know i doubt him but still)
THE FLASHBACK WITH PIKACHU AND ALL HIS OLD POKEMON
Coordinator girls (-dawn) SOOOO PRETTTY, OMG I LOVE IT. THEIR OUTFITS GO SOO WELL TOGETHER AND THEY ALL LOOO SO NICE IN THEIR OUTFITS. max looks a bit funky though
also wow cilan and brock met back up again? i thought cilan didn’t get brock’s name or contact, whatever, still cool
Serena and may holding hands, they!re so nervous for ash, also may is like slightly taller than serena, they look so pretty in the journeys style
lei, omg baby, so tiny, rowlet looks to determined (and the others)
The familiarity of the voice is subconsciously enough to bring you back to reality.
Salvation?
Thoughts crowd your head as your eyes struggle to perceive your surroundings. Your dazed senses slowly begin to come to you, as if you were being born again. The burning sensation on your wrists draws your attention first as you find them tightly bound to a chair, though you're not awake enough to fight them.
"What..," you groan low, instinctively attempting to move your hand as your blurry vision takes in what it could in the dark room.
"Take your time. You won't learn unless I have your full attention."
What?
"Come on, you're usually quicker than this."
How contradictory. Alright, think. Where were you before this? You recall being in the cathedral. Hardly home, but it is home. It's all you've known for as long as you could remember. There was a gathering, a meeting...mass. Yes.
Tonight was to be special, at least for you. Though you'd long since been promoted to priesthood, this was to be the first time you headed the ritual mass alone. You remember standing before the congregation, and before seven trolls upon their knees. You trained for this. It was a simple ceremony: lead the church in prayers, offer devotion to the goddess, preach the merits of suffering. You looked to the trolls before you, some willing in their presence and others not, letting the thurible pendulate from first to last, left to right and back. A clean sweep would end the misery of the frightened, and grant mercy to the devout. One clean sweep, and the congregation would have their acephalous effigies.
You trained for this. You were trained for this.
...
In your recollection your lips mouth the words that sealed your fate: I refuse.
You couldn't do it. It wasn't mercy, it's cruelty. It was a spectacle.
The familiar unease begins to seep into you. Slowly, your heart rate kicks up, faster, harder. You take a deep breath, though the constriction brings more light to your predicament. You were being watched, observed. He caught you. You don't want to be here.
"No," you protest. Your memory fogs your vision. You blacked out at that ceremony, but you distinctly remember your hand driving the thurible across those trolls' heads, as if your body had been but a mere vehicle you had no control over.
"Hm hm hm, it remembers," the voice taunts. You still haven't looked to your tormentor. Every fiber of your being is telling you not to bother, telling you to fight against the ropes binding you down. Fight against the bugs crawling over your skin that you're certain were not there before. You hear the cracking of bones under the sound of your own heartbeat, the sound that always accompanies the Cardinal.
"Ah- fuck!" you exclaim, the legs of the centipedes seem to dig deep into your flesh with each step they take. No matter how many times you've experienced this, it never gets easier. It's as if you're forced to forget the feeling, forced to experience it new, fresh, every single time. You know what comes next. You know it in how they slither towards your neck and your jaw drops open, despite your efforts to keep it shut.
"Ease, Cariral, oh-! I-," you plead in vain. You're already choking on them, feeling them stab into your throat as they make their way down one, two.. three. You want to vomit but you can't; he won't let you. By the time you're able to control yourself you're already hyperventilating. Your throat is sore from the assault, your gut wrenches and you can feel one of them beginning to crawl its way back up.
"Agh, please make it stop I'm-," you choke on your words again. You'd hunch over in pain if you could, certain that the centipede in your throat just bit into you.
"Sorry? Right," the man finishes your sentence. He stands from the seat he'd been observing you from, and you feel his fingers press firmly against your face as he directs your focus to him. Directs your focus from the other bugs nearing your ear.
"W-wait... Cardinal Axeron, l-let me fix this," you begin to panic. You don't know what those are doing, where they're going. You don't know why he's so angry with you this time.
"I-I-I can do better I-"
"No. There's nothing for you to fix. Clearly, this is an error on my part," the Cardinal says odiously.
They're in your ears. You try to scream and thrash, but he's holding your head so tight you fear you may snap your neck. Even that would be a mercy in comparison as the sound of their legs and chirping fills your ears, as the pain rings throughout your head and tears run down your face. Your body convulses, and you can't stop the drool running from your mouth.
"I am so sick of you, Cilian," he says, somehow his voice echoing clear despite the pressure in your skull.
"What an embarrassment to me you are, and after I've been so reasonable," the Cardinal roughly discharges your head from his hold, and the sensations of all bugs disappear along with it. He drags his hand over your head to rid himself of the bit of saliva you'd gotten on his glove. Still frantic, your eyes look over every inch of your body that you could see, overwrought with anxiety.
"To think you’d be as much a thorn in my side as that other wretch was. So much wasted potential," he continues, stepping away behind you as you catch your breath. You come to realize it was all a hallucination, though the pain was very real; you still feel as though you've been stabbed internally, in every place those creatures touched. In every place he touched.
"But you see, I realize now you simply lack the vision,” he says. You hear metal scrape against metal before the footsteps echo towards you.
“I’m going to fix your eyes, child,” he steps into your view.
“What do you mean you’re going to fix my eyes?” you interject, the sharp tone in your voice almost inciting you to feel guilt, even fear for its direction. You find yourself leaning away from the scalpel he draws near your face, and your hands shake as your eyes meet with his.
“They’re clouded, I’ll have to make you see clearly. As I did with your ancestor.”
“I don’t… I don’t want that I don’t need-” your mouth closed shut and your eyes widened.
“See, this is why it’s important to not interrupt,” he smiles.
“I said. I’m going to fix your eyes, Cilian, and you are going to let me.”
Your chest aches as your heart races again. He’s hijacked your body once more and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you can do except yell and plead when he allows you agency over your lips again.
“Hold still, now,” he says as he leans down to you. As if you had any choice. The blade of the scalpel blurs the background the closer it gets to your eye, and you desperately try to regain control of your body to pull away.
“Cardinal I’m sorry please don’t-” your words are cut off by a visceral scream as the scalpel drives into your eye slowly. Slits are cut into you, one, two, deeply. Streams of purple run down your face and the pain makes you wretch. You’ve lost vision in that one eye, and soon after the process is repeated in the other. It isn’t easier the second time in the slightest.
You try not to cry, you really do, but the pain and mental anguish is too much. Your tears do nothing to quell the agony, and neither does the hand that lifts your chin.
“Let me see,” he commands. You try your best to open an eye, not wanting to feel him inside you again, desiring to hold on to some facet of control over yourself without making things worse.
“Attaboy,” he says. It makes you sick. He turns your head, inspecting you as if you were a mere object. You can’t see it, but he’s admiring the golden glow that now seeps from your eyes like sunlight through clouds. You’d thought you’d lost your vision but it slowly returns, painfully and…altered.
You witness a form you’d never seen before, hovering over the Cardinal’s shoulder. Six wings and seven heads, all eyes on you. The words it communicates appear like runes within your recovering sight, chilling you to your very core..
And then you wake up, frantic, hair a mess in your hive. You’re an adult; you have been for many sweeps now. Right. You’d fallen asleep with your matesprit Vaughn…who should be next to you. As if on queue you hear the sound of his music from the shower, which puts your mind at ease.
Everything is alright. It was just a dream. A frequent, terrible nightmare.
He awoke screaming in pain as his left felt like it was burning up.
His breath was ragged as he curled in on himself, clutching his stump with his right and fighting back tears.
In a second warmth surroundet him and he was lifted up and into someones arms.
Her voice came in a hushed tone as she carefully held him, delicately holding him to her while looking him over in fear of injury.
Manuvering him like he was made of glass she placed him in her lap, rubbing little circles on his back and leaving small kisses on his sweaty forehead and hair.
"I´m here. It´s ok. You´re safe."
Her voice.
How thankfull he was for it.
It guidet him through his haze untill his eyes fluttered open and he was able to look at her.
Her warm eyes full of worry and fear still looking him up and down.
He had to smile.
She had never seen him have these night terrors so of course she´d look for injury.
"It´s ok."
His voice was shaky, almost too quiet to hear but she caught every word.
Her eyes locking with his she used her wings to encompass him and bring him close.
"You soundet hurt. Are you in pain? Did they make you work too hard again?"
He smiled at her.
She soundet worried yet was trying to stay calm, for his sake.
"No. It´s just phantom pains."
Her face fell for a second before she brought him closer once more, carefully placing a light kiss on his forehead.
"I´m so very sorry dear. I heard that people with missing parts have these but since you´ve never said anything this caught me off guard."
"It´s ok."
He smiled at her.
He should be the one appollogizing, having caused her to be so concerned, yet still.
She cradled him for a while longer before carefully letting go.
Still her eyes were filled with worry, though tiredness slowly started to seep into her expression as well.
"Would you like me to stay by your side tonight?"
His crimson eyes shot down as he felt a pang of guilt.
He was acting like a child.
He wanted to say no but before he could even look back up at her she had layed a hand on his shoulder and lowered her head to his level.
"I want to stay dear."
Tears once more pricked at the side of his eyes and he drew a shaky breath.
Though these tears felt different.
Happy.
Was there such a thing as happy tears?
Oh well.
"Yes please."
His voice soundet shaky.
He felt pathetic for a moment but then her arms embraced him once more and her wings closed around them as they layed down together.
Warmth overtook him as he couldn´t help but think of his mothers warm embrace.
His lips curled up into a small smile as he breathed in the scent of honey, lavender and something like caramell.
In just a minute he was asleep.
WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS
2. How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?
He uses that word very strictly because it's not easy for him to like someone.
7. What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?
Me (I don't want this dude's attention fr but..): "Cilian!"
Best friend: "Cilian!" or whatever nickname they give him.
Romantic partner or even moirail: "Cici!" or "Cilian Avacci!"
16. What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?
Any customers that had complaints about his or his coworker's food that got away alive.
27. What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?
Cilian considers his powers to be the worst gift he's received and he has to cope with the trauma that came with it every day.
34. How do they greet someone they like / love?
He greets his friends with a hug, maybe the double cheek kiss and asks how they are, what they've been up to, how glad he is to see them.
He greets his lovers pulling them to a kiss, asking those same questions but he'll also caress their face and not let them go from his grasp. Maybe he'll pick them up if they let him.
49. Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?
No. LOL
He would smile very sincerely and say it's terrible and he's not eating it but he appreciates the effort. And then he'd offer to help them remake it if it's his friend or lover.
Anxiety, Excitement, Panic, Enthusiasm for Cilian? :)
Anxiety
Tapping his foot or rubbing his hands together. He'll also look visibly stiff and rub his eyes, hunch over in his seat or hold his head.
Excitement
Gets really close to someone if he's talking to them, putting his hands on their shoulder or back especially if they're walking towards something like a place he's excited about. Otherwise he'll smile and sway a bit.
Panic
He gets extremely stiff and anything that gets into his hands would probably be crushed. He'll clench his teeth hard enough for you to see a vein on his face, and run his fingers through his hair often.
Enthusiasm
Somewhat tight hugging, probably claps and dances a bit too depending on what he's enthusiastic about.
