NyxAbsol
Kyudoka
- 13
- Posts
- 8
- Years
- Alto Mare, Hoenn
- Seen May 21, 2016
I don't own any of the characters, but I do own the plot. The lyrics used in the story belong to the Vocaloid song "Heaven". Listening to the song in the media, Soundless Voice is highly recommended.
With that, please enjoy ^^
•
i. Hello
Our fleeting love is an airship in the sky, chasing after an unseen firefly
Before this love disappears, let's just escape, to a place where we both won't fade away
•
The first time he sees the creature is in the Petalburg Woods.
Large, yellow eyes staring at him curiously, their black pupils darting about and scrutinising the young trainer that gazed at the rare Pokemon in front of him.
Perfectly poised, padded limbs wrapped around the rough bark of a slim branch, dappled sunlight casting patterned shadows on its smooth, lime skin, the Treecko is the most exotically beautiful Pokemon he had seen.
Of course, that's not what attracts him.
It's the obstinate fire that blazes in his eyes, a feisty spirit that refuses to back down from a possible fight. One that aches for a battle.
The boy is tired, scratched up, and, most importantly, completely lost, but he lets out his exhausted Aron out, accepting the unspoken challenge.
(The Treecko's never lost a battle before.)
🍃🍃🍃
The wild Pokemon has the upper hand, and the trainer knows it.
With years of experience and an extensive knowledge of every corner of the forest, the wily Treecko is seemingly on a completely different level. It predicts every blundering mistake, every cunning tactic; every move he makes.
The boy is frustrated, and it's understandable. He wants to befriend the creature, but he has to win in order to gain the Pokemon's respect.
His Aron is already beat up from the hours of circling the maze of foliage that they call a "forest". It's almost positive he's going to lose.
A half-hearted command of Headbutt escapes his lips, and his poor Pokemon steadies his trembling self and charges forward recklessly.
A cocky expression that almost looks like a smirk forms on his face, and a rapid blast of rock-hard seeds escape his mouth, with enough force to drive the running Aron backwards.
The Treecko tilts his head up, about to crow over his (unsurprising) victory, but is instead met with the startling ice-blue of the trainer's eyes.
Unusual eyes, with the same character and resolve that blazed between the frost-ridden walls of those pools.
"Hello," he says.
Hello, the creature almost seems to answer.
The Pokemon is proud, haughty, and he has never allowed himself to give in.
(Yet, he doesn't resist when the trainer taps him on the head with a strange sphere-like device.)
(The Treecko soon learns that his trainer's name is Steven, Steven Stone.)
He's brought back to reality by one simple fact--- he's still lost.
The stubborn Treecko simply scoffs, tilting his head upwards, refusing to lead him through his territory, every cell of his small body challenging the boy to find his way through.
Shaking his head, he doesn't return the newly caught creature to his Pokéball just yet. He wants the Pokemon to respect him.
He wants the Treecko to acknowledge him.
And, with that, the duo continues to trudge through the sticky, packed earth of the woods.
🍃🍃🍃
They get attacked several times.
First, it's a swarm of Beedrill whose hive Treecko (purposely) kicked. They spend a good amount of time running, their breaths laboured and short, and Steven has to make sure that his partner doesn't get harmed by their deadly, razor-sharp stingers.
As they finally manage to shake off the group of angry pursuers, the young boy is exhausted and ready to collapse (he was nicked by a Beedrill's Poison Sting), but his feisty Pokemon isn't quite done with his antics yet.
They get chased several times over, be it a flock of angered Taillow or a herd of Shroomish that he just happens to step on.
Two hours later, he's sneezing, cold, and maybe poisoned, but he's laughing as he falls into a freezing lake. A moment later, the Treecko joins him, a contented Ko, Treecko escaping his mouth. They're both soaked, and it's almost confirmed that they're going to catch a cold sooner or later, but they don't care.
As the two splash the murky water at each other playfully, Steven realises that it's the first time today that he had felt such a strong wave of happiness wash over him.
And as he tilts his head upwards, he catches sight of the forest's exit, and turns to look at Treecko knowingly.
The prideful creature refuses to admit that he's helped his trainer, but he's, to the best of his ability, guided the boy cunningly to the long-awaited exit--- albeit with a few mishaps that the mischievous Pokemon had caused along the way.
Steven chuckles, hauling his Pokemon out of the water and climbing out soon afterwards, a small smile forming on his face.
"Maybe it isn't such a bad thing to get lost."
Almost instantly, the Treecko smiles and nods against its will.
🍃🍃🍃
The Sceptile watches as his trainer steadily grows, from the carefree boy he once was to a serious young man, calm and collected, handling each situation with technical perfection.
He's happy to see, however, that the childish passion in his eyes hasn't dimmed one bit.
He finds himself starting to change slowly as well.
The sadistic pranks come less and less, and he starts to listen and work together with the teenaged boy.
However, he loves it when he pushes Steven into a lake, or upsets a nest of Durant, because that's the only time he can elicit a laugh from his friend.
The creature now towers over the teenager, but still sees him as nothing less than an equal.
His eyes beam with radiant pride as his trainer fits a gauntlet onto his sleek wrist, the Sceptilite shimmering brilliantly in a myriad of vivid colours, seeming to wink out at him from its protective capsule.
(The Sceptile also notes, with pride, that he's the Pokemon Steven chooses to use against the Champion's last.)
ii. Goodbye
The voice that somehow was a part of me
The eyes that blinked "I love you" perfectly
With a little fib, I let all of it slowly
Fade away
The Sceptile is almost always out of his Pokéball.
He paces around the Champion's room, enjoying his long, unspoken conversations with his partner each day until a trainer makes it up to the top.
He craves the smile that Steven flashes him whenever they defeat someone, a smile so innocuous and thankful that it's hard not to get pulled back into the past--- three years ago, when he'd pulled both of them out of the lake, the same childlike smile on his youthful face.
The duo is unbeatable, unbreakable even.
They can almost read each other's thoughts in the blink of an eye.
And that's why the Sceptile frowns in concern as his trainer abruptly rises to his feet, steel-blue bangs shadowing his eyes, his face an ashen white.
Then, he (almost foolishly) follows the man as they step out of the room, the silky fabric of the Champion's Cloak billowing out behind him.
The war is slowly tearing Hoenn apart.
As the Champion of Hoenn, it is his role to keep the region safe. He and his Pokemon would be the ones fighting against Team Magma and Aqua.
The smooth, red-and-white surface of the Pokéball is unnervingly plain against the complex designs of the five Ultra Balls on his belt, but the Pokemon it contained is far more precious than the other creatures that made up his team.
Even more than his Aggron, his first Pokemon--- the Sceptile he caught holds a far dearer place in his heart.
Five of his Pokemon have fainted, and only his partner remains--- exhausted, beat-up and half-conscious.
It breaks his heart to see his best friend in such great pain, but the Sceptile refuses to enter its Pokéball every time he tries to return him.
The reptilian creature's posture is hunched, ragged and horribly twisted, losing the haughty, proud posture he once bore, and his right eye has turned from its previous brilliant saffron to a dull, clouded silver, giving his trainer a blank, unseeing stare--- the result of taking an accidental bullet to the eye.
Steven's heart lurches as he sees the horrible condition of his last Pokemon.
(It's as if he's unable to see his friend, and the only thing remaining is the fire that burns deep in its heart, reaching his eyes, blazing brighter and brighter, the zealous, frenzied flames leaping so high, it's as though they can touch the stars.)
The Champion's long fingers curl around the Pokéball for comfort, drawing patterns on its metallic shell, trailing them across the brittle metal. His hands are pale and trembling, almost latching on to the small device like a lifeline, as he inspects the area around them.
(He's pretty sure he sees the half-blind Sceptile widen his eyes in shock as well.)
Petalburg Woods, a dense forest of lush greenery, seeming to stretch on for eternity.
"I didn't wish for any of this."
With what's remaining of his vision, the Sceptile looks at those pale, wide pools of cobalt, glistening with the broken pain and dull wisdom--- something that one can only possess when they've witnessed the horrors of the world first-hand.
These eyes carry a childish naivety, something that his Pokemon had almost thought he had lost a long time ago. Childish naivety that's overwhelmed by his fear.
And that one, shattered look is all the creature needs.
The Pokemon wraps his clawed hands around his trainer's shaking ones, gently steadying them; giving him the warmth and reassurement he desperately needed.
For a moment, it's just like three years ago, when the young, small Treecko blinked at the shy Hello he had been offered, and Steven Stone was still the small twelve-year-old that graced him with the most wondrous smile he's ever saw--- a smile that seemed to positively speak Everything's going to be OK--- except now, the roles are reserved.
The man looks into his Sceptile's eyes.
"Thank you," he mutters, each note soft and fragile, as if it was going to break.
The duo realises that, once again, they're lost.
They stumble blindly through the thick undergrowth, their minds and memories hazy with pain and asthenia, neither able to recall the way through.
The burning pain in the Trainer's side makes him vulnerable to possible enemies, and the Sceptile knows it.
The lizard-like Pokemon has scratches and cuts marring its once sleek, pristine body, but it stays as close to Steven as possible, leafy arms almost encircling the man protectively.
No Magma or Aqua members could be seen, but it's still essential to stay vigilant--- after all, they could be easily hidden between the masses of vegetation, waiting to catch the Champion and his Pokemon off-guard.
Suddenly, the teenager stops, and his Sceptile soon follows his lead.
He gazes up at the large juniper tree that towers over them, it's bent trunk holding up cloud-like abundances of (sage)-green leaves.
(The most distinctive feature is a particularly thin, fragile branch, a structure most Pokemon wouldn't be able to balance on, but the faded spike marks from a Treecko say otherwise.)
"This is where I saw you," he murmurs, a brilliant teal peeking through the cloud that had tainted his eyes. "Where I first met you."
The Sceptile (instantly) nods, carefully manoeuvring his large body alongside his Trainer so that his one good eye faces towards the tree, eager to get a better look.
But that's his fatal mistake.
When Steven notices the blast of red-hot flames headed his way, it's too late for him to dodge.
He stands stock-still, his face a deathly shade of white, as a blur of brilliant emerald appears in front of him, and the inferno nears with each passing moment.
"TREECK---"
A broken scream escapes his mouth as he gets the name mixed up, but in his eyes, the Sceptile is a small Treecko once again, and he watches like the young, helpless trainer he once was.
But it's too late.
Far too late.
The Champion runs.
He's lost; he has no destination in mind, but he makes a desperate attempt to escape the Magma Admin's Camerupt. His partner weakly tries to avoid the red beam of the Pokéball, but his movements are far too sluggish.
He runs for what seems like a painful eternity, agony gnawing at both his side and his heart.
When heaviness and exhaustion finally overwhelms him, Steven collapses, and the sphere in his hand rolls out of his grasp.
It skids across a thick, grimy puddle of mud, and falls into the clouded waters of a lake that rests nearby.
(It's the same lake that they fell into three years ago, laughing; playing together for the first time.)
For a split-second, the entire pool lights up in a beautiful, blinding azure, and the shape of a Sceptile appears at the lake's edge.
The Pokemon's skin is charred black from the burns that the Camerupt inflicted, losing all traces of his former majesty, and his eyes only manage to open a fraction, his blind eye almost glistening silver.
Through the haze of pain and injury, the Sceptile raises its head slightly, and barely manages to make out the image of his trainer, his noble trainer on his knees in front of him, body racked with sobs. At first, he thinks that it's just a trick of his wavering mind, a figment of his imagination, but when the once mighty Champion lifts his gaze, pale blue eyes filled with tears, he knows that every part of this horrible scene is real.
Through the years he has been with his friend, he has never seen Steven cry.
"I wish I'd never been lost on that day," he gasps out through clenched sobs. "If I hadn't, I would have never met you. And---and you'd still be---"
He breaks down again before he finishes, and his fists clench and scrunch around the Champion's Cloak for comfort.
There is no chance that his beloved Pokemon will survive. The nearest Pokemon Center is miles away--- Sceptile would surely die before then--- and his healing supplies are far from enough to nurse the Pokemon back to health.
The reptilian beast accepts the shrivelled Oran berry in Steven's palm, but they both know that it's a useless situation.
"You'd still be alive..."
Tears stream down his pale face as he manages to complete his sentence, and he feels the colour steadily draining from his once colourful world by make-believe snow.
As he closes his eyes in complete, crushed anguish, a weak, clawed hand brushes its way through his steel-blue hair, the other pushing the man into a tight embrace.
He can positively hear the voice whispering a reply in his mind.
If you had never gotten lost, I'd have never met you.
The Champion snaps as he burrows into his Pokemon, shallow breaths too faint to hear, the defeaning silence around them drowning out his broken screams.
The sadness flows through his veins and deadens his mind. It's a poison to his spirit, dulling and killing off his other emotions until it's the only one that remains. It's as if a black mist has settled upon her and refuses to shift, and no matter how bright the day is, he feels no sun and hears no birdsong.
For the world is lost to her and she knew of nothing that can bring it back into focus.
And he cries, cries, and cries, going limp in the Sceptile's fragile grasp, until the lilting, barely audible sound of his breathing is no more, and the hands that wraps around him feel unusually cold and heavy.
And with that, the snow around him falls, and his world is muted in white, a scar that will last and haunt him for eternity.
"Goodbye," Steven whispers, his voice cracked.
Goodbye, he imagines the Sceptile to reply.
(The Champion fingers the cloak around his shoulders--- once a snowy, lustrous sheet, but now torn in places and tainted with tears, blood and grime--- before ripping it off, fingers carelessly sliding through the silky fabric. It flutters delicately, like a leaf in the wind, before sinking to the ground, where it's about as special as any old sheet of paper.)
(He can no longer look at himself as a Champion, after all.)
(After the war comes to a reluctant end, Steven accepts the Beldum presented to him by his father as a meagre replacement for his Sceptile.)
(He's become a Steel-type master, a master of the most defensive Pokemon, so that he will never have to see his Pokemon die in front of him again.)
With that, please enjoy ^^
•
i. Hello
Our fleeting love is an airship in the sky, chasing after an unseen firefly
Before this love disappears, let's just escape, to a place where we both won't fade away
•
The first time he sees the creature is in the Petalburg Woods.
Large, yellow eyes staring at him curiously, their black pupils darting about and scrutinising the young trainer that gazed at the rare Pokemon in front of him.
Perfectly poised, padded limbs wrapped around the rough bark of a slim branch, dappled sunlight casting patterned shadows on its smooth, lime skin, the Treecko is the most exotically beautiful Pokemon he had seen.
Of course, that's not what attracts him.
It's the obstinate fire that blazes in his eyes, a feisty spirit that refuses to back down from a possible fight. One that aches for a battle.
The boy is tired, scratched up, and, most importantly, completely lost, but he lets out his exhausted Aron out, accepting the unspoken challenge.
(The Treecko's never lost a battle before.)
🍃🍃🍃
The wild Pokemon has the upper hand, and the trainer knows it.
With years of experience and an extensive knowledge of every corner of the forest, the wily Treecko is seemingly on a completely different level. It predicts every blundering mistake, every cunning tactic; every move he makes.
The boy is frustrated, and it's understandable. He wants to befriend the creature, but he has to win in order to gain the Pokemon's respect.
His Aron is already beat up from the hours of circling the maze of foliage that they call a "forest". It's almost positive he's going to lose.
A half-hearted command of Headbutt escapes his lips, and his poor Pokemon steadies his trembling self and charges forward recklessly.
A cocky expression that almost looks like a smirk forms on his face, and a rapid blast of rock-hard seeds escape his mouth, with enough force to drive the running Aron backwards.
The Treecko tilts his head up, about to crow over his (unsurprising) victory, but is instead met with the startling ice-blue of the trainer's eyes.
Unusual eyes, with the same character and resolve that blazed between the frost-ridden walls of those pools.
"Hello," he says.
Hello, the creature almost seems to answer.
The Pokemon is proud, haughty, and he has never allowed himself to give in.
(Yet, he doesn't resist when the trainer taps him on the head with a strange sphere-like device.)
🍃🍃🍃
(The Treecko soon learns that his trainer's name is Steven, Steven Stone.)
He's brought back to reality by one simple fact--- he's still lost.
The stubborn Treecko simply scoffs, tilting his head upwards, refusing to lead him through his territory, every cell of his small body challenging the boy to find his way through.
Shaking his head, he doesn't return the newly caught creature to his Pokéball just yet. He wants the Pokemon to respect him.
He wants the Treecko to acknowledge him.
And, with that, the duo continues to trudge through the sticky, packed earth of the woods.
🍃🍃🍃
They get attacked several times.
First, it's a swarm of Beedrill whose hive Treecko (purposely) kicked. They spend a good amount of time running, their breaths laboured and short, and Steven has to make sure that his partner doesn't get harmed by their deadly, razor-sharp stingers.
As they finally manage to shake off the group of angry pursuers, the young boy is exhausted and ready to collapse (he was nicked by a Beedrill's Poison Sting), but his feisty Pokemon isn't quite done with his antics yet.
They get chased several times over, be it a flock of angered Taillow or a herd of Shroomish that he just happens to step on.
Two hours later, he's sneezing, cold, and maybe poisoned, but he's laughing as he falls into a freezing lake. A moment later, the Treecko joins him, a contented Ko, Treecko escaping his mouth. They're both soaked, and it's almost confirmed that they're going to catch a cold sooner or later, but they don't care.
As the two splash the murky water at each other playfully, Steven realises that it's the first time today that he had felt such a strong wave of happiness wash over him.
And as he tilts his head upwards, he catches sight of the forest's exit, and turns to look at Treecko knowingly.
The prideful creature refuses to admit that he's helped his trainer, but he's, to the best of his ability, guided the boy cunningly to the long-awaited exit--- albeit with a few mishaps that the mischievous Pokemon had caused along the way.
Steven chuckles, hauling his Pokemon out of the water and climbing out soon afterwards, a small smile forming on his face.
"Maybe it isn't such a bad thing to get lost."
Almost instantly, the Treecko smiles and nods against its will.
🍃🍃🍃
The Sceptile watches as his trainer steadily grows, from the carefree boy he once was to a serious young man, calm and collected, handling each situation with technical perfection.
He's happy to see, however, that the childish passion in his eyes hasn't dimmed one bit.
He finds himself starting to change slowly as well.
The sadistic pranks come less and less, and he starts to listen and work together with the teenaged boy.
However, he loves it when he pushes Steven into a lake, or upsets a nest of Durant, because that's the only time he can elicit a laugh from his friend.
The creature now towers over the teenager, but still sees him as nothing less than an equal.
His eyes beam with radiant pride as his trainer fits a gauntlet onto his sleek wrist, the Sceptilite shimmering brilliantly in a myriad of vivid colours, seeming to wink out at him from its protective capsule.
(The Sceptile also notes, with pride, that he's the Pokemon Steven chooses to use against the Champion's last.)
🍃🍃🍃
ii. Goodbye
The voice that somehow was a part of me
The eyes that blinked "I love you" perfectly
With a little fib, I let all of it slowly
Fade away
•
The Sceptile is almost always out of his Pokéball.
He paces around the Champion's room, enjoying his long, unspoken conversations with his partner each day until a trainer makes it up to the top.
He craves the smile that Steven flashes him whenever they defeat someone, a smile so innocuous and thankful that it's hard not to get pulled back into the past--- three years ago, when he'd pulled both of them out of the lake, the same childlike smile on his youthful face.
The duo is unbeatable, unbreakable even.
They can almost read each other's thoughts in the blink of an eye.
And that's why the Sceptile frowns in concern as his trainer abruptly rises to his feet, steel-blue bangs shadowing his eyes, his face an ashen white.
Then, he (almost foolishly) follows the man as they step out of the room, the silky fabric of the Champion's Cloak billowing out behind him.
🍃🍃🍃
The war is slowly tearing Hoenn apart.
As the Champion of Hoenn, it is his role to keep the region safe. He and his Pokemon would be the ones fighting against Team Magma and Aqua.
The smooth, red-and-white surface of the Pokéball is unnervingly plain against the complex designs of the five Ultra Balls on his belt, but the Pokemon it contained is far more precious than the other creatures that made up his team.
Even more than his Aggron, his first Pokemon--- the Sceptile he caught holds a far dearer place in his heart.
Five of his Pokemon have fainted, and only his partner remains--- exhausted, beat-up and half-conscious.
It breaks his heart to see his best friend in such great pain, but the Sceptile refuses to enter its Pokéball every time he tries to return him.
The reptilian creature's posture is hunched, ragged and horribly twisted, losing the haughty, proud posture he once bore, and his right eye has turned from its previous brilliant saffron to a dull, clouded silver, giving his trainer a blank, unseeing stare--- the result of taking an accidental bullet to the eye.
Steven's heart lurches as he sees the horrible condition of his last Pokemon.
(It's as if he's unable to see his friend, and the only thing remaining is the fire that burns deep in its heart, reaching his eyes, blazing brighter and brighter, the zealous, frenzied flames leaping so high, it's as though they can touch the stars.)
🍃🍃🍃
The Champion's long fingers curl around the Pokéball for comfort, drawing patterns on its metallic shell, trailing them across the brittle metal. His hands are pale and trembling, almost latching on to the small device like a lifeline, as he inspects the area around them.
(He's pretty sure he sees the half-blind Sceptile widen his eyes in shock as well.)
Petalburg Woods, a dense forest of lush greenery, seeming to stretch on for eternity.
"I didn't wish for any of this."
With what's remaining of his vision, the Sceptile looks at those pale, wide pools of cobalt, glistening with the broken pain and dull wisdom--- something that one can only possess when they've witnessed the horrors of the world first-hand.
These eyes carry a childish naivety, something that his Pokemon had almost thought he had lost a long time ago. Childish naivety that's overwhelmed by his fear.
And that one, shattered look is all the creature needs.
The Pokemon wraps his clawed hands around his trainer's shaking ones, gently steadying them; giving him the warmth and reassurement he desperately needed.
For a moment, it's just like three years ago, when the young, small Treecko blinked at the shy Hello he had been offered, and Steven Stone was still the small twelve-year-old that graced him with the most wondrous smile he's ever saw--- a smile that seemed to positively speak Everything's going to be OK--- except now, the roles are reserved.
The man looks into his Sceptile's eyes.
"Thank you," he mutters, each note soft and fragile, as if it was going to break.
🍃🍃🍃
The duo realises that, once again, they're lost.
They stumble blindly through the thick undergrowth, their minds and memories hazy with pain and asthenia, neither able to recall the way through.
The burning pain in the Trainer's side makes him vulnerable to possible enemies, and the Sceptile knows it.
The lizard-like Pokemon has scratches and cuts marring its once sleek, pristine body, but it stays as close to Steven as possible, leafy arms almost encircling the man protectively.
No Magma or Aqua members could be seen, but it's still essential to stay vigilant--- after all, they could be easily hidden between the masses of vegetation, waiting to catch the Champion and his Pokemon off-guard.
Suddenly, the teenager stops, and his Sceptile soon follows his lead.
He gazes up at the large juniper tree that towers over them, it's bent trunk holding up cloud-like abundances of (sage)-green leaves.
(The most distinctive feature is a particularly thin, fragile branch, a structure most Pokemon wouldn't be able to balance on, but the faded spike marks from a Treecko say otherwise.)
"This is where I saw you," he murmurs, a brilliant teal peeking through the cloud that had tainted his eyes. "Where I first met you."
The Sceptile (instantly) nods, carefully manoeuvring his large body alongside his Trainer so that his one good eye faces towards the tree, eager to get a better look.
But that's his fatal mistake.
When Steven notices the blast of red-hot flames headed his way, it's too late for him to dodge.
He stands stock-still, his face a deathly shade of white, as a blur of brilliant emerald appears in front of him, and the inferno nears with each passing moment.
"TREECK---"
A broken scream escapes his mouth as he gets the name mixed up, but in his eyes, the Sceptile is a small Treecko once again, and he watches like the young, helpless trainer he once was.
But it's too late.
Far too late.
🍃🍃🍃
The Champion runs.
He's lost; he has no destination in mind, but he makes a desperate attempt to escape the Magma Admin's Camerupt. His partner weakly tries to avoid the red beam of the Pokéball, but his movements are far too sluggish.
He runs for what seems like a painful eternity, agony gnawing at both his side and his heart.
When heaviness and exhaustion finally overwhelms him, Steven collapses, and the sphere in his hand rolls out of his grasp.
It skids across a thick, grimy puddle of mud, and falls into the clouded waters of a lake that rests nearby.
(It's the same lake that they fell into three years ago, laughing; playing together for the first time.)
For a split-second, the entire pool lights up in a beautiful, blinding azure, and the shape of a Sceptile appears at the lake's edge.
The Pokemon's skin is charred black from the burns that the Camerupt inflicted, losing all traces of his former majesty, and his eyes only manage to open a fraction, his blind eye almost glistening silver.
Through the haze of pain and injury, the Sceptile raises its head slightly, and barely manages to make out the image of his trainer, his noble trainer on his knees in front of him, body racked with sobs. At first, he thinks that it's just a trick of his wavering mind, a figment of his imagination, but when the once mighty Champion lifts his gaze, pale blue eyes filled with tears, he knows that every part of this horrible scene is real.
Through the years he has been with his friend, he has never seen Steven cry.
"I wish I'd never been lost on that day," he gasps out through clenched sobs. "If I hadn't, I would have never met you. And---and you'd still be---"
He breaks down again before he finishes, and his fists clench and scrunch around the Champion's Cloak for comfort.
There is no chance that his beloved Pokemon will survive. The nearest Pokemon Center is miles away--- Sceptile would surely die before then--- and his healing supplies are far from enough to nurse the Pokemon back to health.
The reptilian beast accepts the shrivelled Oran berry in Steven's palm, but they both know that it's a useless situation.
"You'd still be alive..."
Tears stream down his pale face as he manages to complete his sentence, and he feels the colour steadily draining from his once colourful world by make-believe snow.
As he closes his eyes in complete, crushed anguish, a weak, clawed hand brushes its way through his steel-blue hair, the other pushing the man into a tight embrace.
He can positively hear the voice whispering a reply in his mind.
If you had never gotten lost, I'd have never met you.
The Champion snaps as he burrows into his Pokemon, shallow breaths too faint to hear, the defeaning silence around them drowning out his broken screams.
The sadness flows through his veins and deadens his mind. It's a poison to his spirit, dulling and killing off his other emotions until it's the only one that remains. It's as if a black mist has settled upon her and refuses to shift, and no matter how bright the day is, he feels no sun and hears no birdsong.
For the world is lost to her and she knew of nothing that can bring it back into focus.
And he cries, cries, and cries, going limp in the Sceptile's fragile grasp, until the lilting, barely audible sound of his breathing is no more, and the hands that wraps around him feel unusually cold and heavy.
And with that, the snow around him falls, and his world is muted in white, a scar that will last and haunt him for eternity.
"Goodbye," Steven whispers, his voice cracked.
Goodbye, he imagines the Sceptile to reply.
•
🍃🍃🍃
🍃🍃🍃
(The Champion fingers the cloak around his shoulders--- once a snowy, lustrous sheet, but now torn in places and tainted with tears, blood and grime--- before ripping it off, fingers carelessly sliding through the silky fabric. It flutters delicately, like a leaf in the wind, before sinking to the ground, where it's about as special as any old sheet of paper.)
(He can no longer look at himself as a Champion, after all.)
🍃🍃🍃
(After the war comes to a reluctant end, Steven accepts the Beldum presented to him by his father as a meagre replacement for his Sceptile.)
(He's become a Steel-type master, a master of the most defensive Pokemon, so that he will never have to see his Pokemon die in front of him again.)
Bidding you goodbye, bidding you goodbye, just tears me up inside
So I have to say goodbye to you now
Let's bid our goodbyes
So I have to say goodbye to you now
Let's bid our goodbyes
•
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Word count: 2787
[A/N:]
🍃🍃🍃
Word count: 2787
[A/N:]
Well, I'm sorry it's sad, but I love y'all </3 I also may enter this in the 2016 Watties. I hoped you enjoyed it, and votes, comments and constructive criticism are very much appreciated!
~Nyx
~Nyx