#gaburona

[volot]

“...”

oh, he’s seething. ever so quietly.

[vindictes]

" ... ... who ? "

          “  how subtle. it’s a shame to let you down, but that would work far better on someone like cyrus or ghetsis. you know, someone with needlessly extravagant world domination plans and the foolish desire to control god-like beings.  ”

GIVE  MY  MUSE  A  NICKNAME  /  PET  NAME.

[volot]

hey great great grand bother volo, most respectable and first of our bloodline, i need advice. how much hairspray did you need to use to get your hair to stand up like that with genuinely no regard for the wind?

well, you see, oh destined descendent of mine, carrier of my will........ i will share with you a secret: there is no styling it, so to speak. in truth, it was simply a blessing bestowed upon me by arceus themselves. you, too, surely hold the same fate, should you allow it to grow. as those of us destined to meet god, it will climb towards the heavens!

[electrivolt]

@gaburona asked : he is a stock still thing, her sharp golden eyes trained upon the man even as she approached, one heavy footfall at a time . she slows to stillness when he so much as moves, winces or his gaze turns wild ( with fear? perhaps. you were told to be kind with him, and so you will be ). only when she is close enough does dirge's head fall, offering the crown of it before him with eyes looking not at him, so close, but at the ground.

Cynthia's garchomp— Dirge— she's staring at him, tall and imposing, could so easily tower over him with just a little effort, claws and fangs and all sharpness and rough edges and cold, bright eyes fixated on him and—

( get a hold of yourself, this isn't the same garchomp and you know it, you've seen that one close enough to know the difference. )

Volkner tries to take a deep breath, to focus and remind himself of all those minute differences, tries to steel himself through trembling hands and unsteady breathing. Dirge is big, but she's still shorter than it. She's roughed up after all her battles, but her body isn't more scars than scales, her claws aren't visibly chipped, her fins are whole. Her eyes are gentler.

This is not the same, far from it, so, so different.

( that's right, dirge is careful. dirge understands, follows suit in her trainer's care. this is not the same, he has no reason to believe anything would happen. )

She's slow when she moves, and yet it still feels too sudden, Volkner finding himself holding his breath without even thinking, waiting and holding still and— she's staring at him again, expectantly, her head held low. He knows what this means, he's handled enough 'mons bigger than him to tell. Ah.

He knows she means well, and yet...

( it's fine. this is safe. he's safe, and lux is safe. she's safe. )

Volkner raises his hand, hesitant, staring right back at Dirge. She still isn't moving, isn't doing anything to indicate a threat, not even letting out a sound. He tries to move his hand closer, so slowly it barely feels like he's moving at all, the trembling in it all the clearer the closer it gets. And then it stops entirely, just an inch or so away from Dirge. Volkner lets out a quiet sigh, tries to take another deep breath, and swallows air. In his mind he sees the monster of a garchomp growling in his face, all too ready to snap at the child that only tried to hide, to be quiet and go unnoticed.

He wants to pull his hand away. ( but you have to try at some point. you can't keep hiding away. )

Finally, another shaky breath and Volkner tries, as ready as he could be, eyes shut on instinct and hand pushed forward just a bit more forcefully than he wanted to, and that's enough to make him freeze and curse himself, even when he could never be harsh enough to really hurt such a beast, he should've still been more careful. he should've—

Nothing happens. Hesitantly, Volkner opens an eye, just enough to look at the creature in front of him. Dirge is still there, hasn't moved an inch, just staring at him as his hand rests on her. He opens his other eye, blinks, stares back, just to confirm what he's seeing. His hand isn't moving, still firmly planted on the rough skin, and the garchomp in front of him isn't trying to bite, or claw, or even show a hint of anger. Nothing bad is happening. He's not in danger. She's safe.

Volkner finally lets out the breath he was holding, trying to settle his nerves now that the rational part of his mind was proven right, and hesitantly, he moves his hand, enough to kind of give her a scratch, something quickly stopped when he remembers that a garchomp is, in fact, a much rougher 'mon to the touch than any of the ones in his team. Still, this is... he doesn't really know what it is, exactly, but it feels okay, in a way. Maybe it can be called progress of sorts. Maybe he's moving towards something better, after all.

"... Thanks. Really." Words don't really feel enough, and there's too much to thank her for from having the patience to reminding him that the threats are all in the past now, but it's the best he can manage at the moment. Maybe he'll be able to ask Cynthia later what kind of food Dirge likes. "... I mean it."

[electrivolt]

@gaburona​ asked : they will say that she is a hurricane, a force of nature to be reckoned with in battle. they say that she is cool and aloof, eclipsing even the horizon at dawn when they see her in the streets. but now, more than any other time, she has never been more gentle, more careful. 'tis not because he is weak ( no, you know more than most that he is strong ), but because he deserves the rest, deserves a period where nobody but bless't two know he is here, so that he can relax ... get re-accustomed to things . her hand so very slowly runs through his hair, wild, longer than it was when she last saw him-- a year ago now ... " nobody else knows. roark, myself and you ... he's holding off to give you just a little bit more time ... anything that you need, if it's in my power to get you, you will have it . if it's not, by the gods, i'll make it happen all the same . you need only say the word . "

Safety is not something he’s ever been truly familiar with. He’s known survival, fight after fight and the loneliness that comes with knowing there is no one else in the world really looking out for you— but safety? Safety was always rare. Ripped from him so many times he’s gotten used to never holding onto it, never trying, never hoping, just keeping quiet, to himself, you can’t be betrayed and let down and stomped on if you’re by yourself, right? But. He would be lying if he said this wasn’t welcomed, something he needed so desperately in the wake of spilled blood, the struggle to keep himself alive through injuries and a tired soul, and the way he still feels so lost being just— returned to his own home as forcefully as he was taken from it, as if the last year didn’t exist, or wasn’t all that important even with all the pain it brought. Just how much did he anger Arceus to earn all of this?

And yet right now, back to what he could consider home, Lux resting his head on his lap, his fingers curled in his ‘mon’s fur, letting himself breathe and heal for once, soreness, wounds and bruises pushed to the back of his mind this one time... somehow, this is some of the safest he’s felt in his life, no matter how close he was to seeing it end mere weeks ago. 

“... I’m fine.” A lie that slips out far too easily, such a trained response it is. And yet the irony of how desperately he needed to leave Twinleaf just for a little while, to breathe in some fresh air and not be stuffed inside a room and forced into bedrest, it’s not lost on him. It’s a little hard to even realize what he wants, what he needs if anything at all, when he’s still coming to terms with so much in so little time. “... Sorry—  all of you have been doing more than enough already, I just... I think I just need time.” Something he would’ve never dared to admit before, let alone ask for. He’s just so... tired, worn out and falling apart at the seams, it’s getting harder to keep everything hidden away like he used to. Maybe he doesn’t want to go back to that. 

“Thank you, really. You’re already doing more than I could’ve ever asked for.” Just a little more time. A little more after all the physical hurt fades away, and he maybe will be able to say he’s okay and mean it, for once. Maybe he’s bringing himself to believe in something ( someone, all of them, really— ) again, now.

[electrivolt]

@gaburona​ asked : Examine! A sleeping Dirge.

examine items / accepting.

It’s Dirge. It’s just Dirge, Cynthia’s beloved friend, resting so peacefully on such a quiet day. There is nothing to worry about, Dirge knows you well, Dirge knows that you are a friend, knows to be careful around you— ( no matter how much terror given form in your mind still feels like a weakness, still enrages you think about. 

> leave    > stay still

( look closer, stop allowing him to keep this hold on your life. )

You keep forgetting just how big a fully grown Garchomp can be until you’re this close to one once again. You know how easily even Dirge can tower over you if she tries, you can see the claws and fangs sharp enough to tear anything to shreds if she has to. Dragon types are some of the most difficult ‘mons to handle and keep under control, and you know what a Garchomp allowed to snap and follow its instincts can do—

> leave     > focus ( you are safe. )

You are safe. This is safe. You repeat it like a mantra at times, like the one thing keeping you alive. It’s easier if you stop thinking about what used to happen years ago in what has become your city. You think about Cynthia instead. About a close friend and all the time spent together. About all the silly and downright stupid things Dirge has done before. You think about how even in battle, despite your own memories and the constant reminder of that man and his flawless monsters, Dirge has never felt so... out of control and prepared to turn on you, on anyone. Dirge is different.

Dirge is safe. Even when your own mind wants to betray you, Dirge is still safe.

You take a deep breath. Things are different now. You can just sit by the sleeping Dirge and wait for Cynthia there.

This is safe.

[dawnedon]

Examine! Your hall of fame photo :))))

Send “Examine!” and an item or person and I’ll write an RPG description of it/them. | accepting!

You walk past your Hall of Fame photo every day, multiple times a day. It hangs proudly in your living room, easily visible to those who do enter your villa.

You take a moment to take the photo off the hook, figuring the frame could use a good dusting. It's something you take pride in, on the same level as your badges. Leaving it dirty would be a disservice to yourself, your team, and the hard work you put into your victory.

You stand as tall as you possibly could among your team. The taller members, like Emperor, Dela, and Leo are situated in the back, easily able to tower over your height. Azrael and Hecate are at your side, being smaller and easier to fit in the frame, and Esme is held loosely in one arm.

There's a big grin on your face, and stars twinkle in your eyes. You also sport a victory sign, held proud towards the camera. Cynthia encouraged you to smile and pose how you liked, and you certainly did. You were utterly starstruck that day, unable to fathom how fast everything had happened to you.

It's the clearest photo of you that exists. You wanted this picture to be taken - you had wanted a Hall of Fame photo ever since you watched Cynthia's battles on TV with Barry. It was everything you ever wanted and hoped for. You had proved everyone wrong; especially those that hadn't believed in you.

With the picture frame dusted off and the glass cleaned, you hang the photo back up.

[rockheadcd]

🐤 steven and roark let's gooooo

/ tweet shitpost bonanza | not accepting.