DESTINY / DEATH

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As much as Moros detested Castelia City’s subway system, using it on off-hours was somewhat bearable. Especially when his Pokémon refused to cooperate and fly him to his destination and his only other option was to walk or pay for a cab with money he didn’t have.

He headed underground, then took up a spot on the platform to wait for the next train. As he stood on there, the loud twang of a guitar made him wince, and he turned to see a young woman with a distinctive looking bandanna over her hair surrounded by an assortment of Pokémon. She held the guitar, and to his surprise the Pokémon around her also had instruments of their own. 

“You’re kidding.” If they were doing what he thought they were doing… She called out a greeting to the crowd, and then the group of them moved into position with their instruments. They were. Damn it.

The group began to play. Loudly. It wasn’t bad, but Moros had never been interested in music, and the volume, especially in the cramped, crowded underground of the subway platform, was deeply unpleasant to him. People began to crowd past him to watch, and Moros gladly let them separate him from the musicians. 

Send 🌋 and my muse will blurt out the first thing that comes to mind when they see your muse

Moros didn’t like buying clothes. His uniform was more practical than any regular outfit, and he couldn’t care less about fashion. But it was a necessity in order to not stick out. The worst part was finding things that fit. His entire life he’d only had things that were tailored specifically for him. It was difficult to believe that everyone else in the world bought their clothing from a store according to set sizes, which still didn’t necessarily fit correctly. Too loose, too tight, not long enough… It was ridiculously frustrating, but unfortunately none of his lessons had involved sewing the way the Goddess’s had.

Thus, he was stuck pawing through racks of clothes, hoping to find something inoffensive and reasonably well fitting. He needed a jacket—his last one had been torn by his Bisharp, and as much as Moros didn’t care, it had quickly become obvious that other people took notice of such things, and he much preferred to avoid attention and invasive questions.

Finally, something caught his eye. It was black, leather, and didn’t look too small. Moros reached for the jacket’s hanger, only for someone else to grab it at the exact same time. Still holding on, Moros looked aside to at his competition. She was blonde and only a little shorter than him, with look on her face that clearly said she wasn’t backing down here.

Send 🌋 and my muse will blurt out the first thing that comes to mind when they see your muse

Moros jotted something down in the notebook on the table, then flipped the page of his book and continued to read. It was a book about the history of legendary Pokémon in the area that he’d… borrowed from the local library. Normally he would’ve stayed to do his research there, but with the weather finally warm enough for Moros to willingly spend time outdoors, he’d decided to take it to a local café and take advantage of their outdoor seating.

Also at the table were a cup of coffee and his Porygon. The Pokémon floated just beside him, mostly silent aside from the soft hum it seemed to emit and the occasional beep. It was looking down at his book and the notes, but Moros didn’t know if it was reading along or not.

At the sound of a chair scraping across the ground, Moros looked up to see a young woman sitting down directly across from him. Upon further inspection it appeared as though every other table was otherwise occupied, but, still—Moros wasn’t looking for company.

And she was… strange. Her clothes were normal enough, but the cape she had on was not. It looked tattered and burned in places, and the collar of it was strange, standing upright where Moros would expect it to fold over or become a hood. Around the collar were what looked like thick black scales, maybe from a dragon-type.

Definitely weird. 

Send 🌋 and my muse will blurt out the first thing that comes to mind when they see your muse

It was early dawn, the sun just beginning to rise over the ocean. The sky was soft with watercolor blues and pinks and rays of orange. Moros stood by himself overlooking the vista. He liked quiet moments like this, before the day arrived. The waves rolled against the shore, a soothing repetition of in and out. If only it could always be this way… But soon people would be everywhere, the sun beating down too-hot.

He sighed, looking down at the sand and the footprints he had left in it. The only ones on the beach, thanks to the tide. But as he followed his tracks back to the city, Moros saw he was no longer alone. A young woman stood not far away, the sound of her walking muted by the shifting sand.

He blinked at her, but if he was surprised by her arrival he didn’t show it. She was clearly looking at him—the situation called for him to react, but Moros never knew what to say to people even under normal circumstances. Eventually, he said the only thing that came to mind.

✰ MOROS AESTHETIC ✰

          ONLY WHEN THE SHADOW STEPS into the light does n’s attention turn away from the distant horizon.  he turns,  expression derived of emotion.  for once,  n himself is conflicted with how he feels.  should he be happy to see an old ally?  angry to see someone who aided ghetsis with his plans?  indifferent,  since they had no real relation in the first place?  his own uncertainty is unnerving and still NEW.  he wonders if it’s always supposed to feel like this or if the situation surrounding the emotion makes it feel that way.

     while n can’t claim to be any good at detecting human emotion,  he can see that moros isn’t reacting to …  positively  to being called out.  he wonders how far he’d be followed if he simply moved on ─  or if moros might have initiated eventually.  but there’s no sense in dwelling on the different possibility.  n wants to face what’s directly in front of him.  he doesn’t flinch,  his demeanor remaining calm.  open. 

     ❝ ah ─  did i strike a nerve?  my apologies ;  i meant no negative connotation with my word choice. ❞  he wonders if it’s the right thing to say.  he’s still learning to understand people emotions,  after all.  as it stands,  he’s mostly going off of intuition and assumptions and,  as he’s come to learn,  the chances of a misunderstanding are far greater when dealing with another person. 

     this is especially true when the said person is shrouded in mystery.

     it’s weird,  n reflects,  that he’s known the shadow triad just as long as he’s known the other people he grew up around ─  and yet??  he knows relatively  nothing  of them.  perhaps it’s because they had never TRULY wanted to serve him in the first place.  that was ghetsis.  the shadow triad remains to be another remnant of his own manipulation.  he doesn’t RESENT or BLAME them,  of course,  rather he can’t help wonder about their motivations in continuing to follow him after his true nature was revealed. 

     there’s still lots he has to figure out about humans,  apparently. 

❝ i’m not quite sure ‘sentimental’ is the right word.  maybe:  nostalgia?  perhaps it is because our relationship was never more than our association with team plasma? ❞  a casual hum follows the statement,  oblivious to the shock that’s captivated moros.  he’s still near blissfully unaware of the effect his presence has on some people ─  especially those who closely followed ghetsis.  he could probably be a bit more careful with his carefree and straightforward word choice too but,  hey!  he’s learning!  … trying to,  at least.  he’s trying.

     ❝ regardless,  the answer is simple :  neither of us could hold a proper conversation among a crowd,  so i decided to wait.  i did not venture here sooner because i wanted to be sure i was more confident in my suspicion that you were really there,  and it looks like i was correct.  you do still marvel me,  i must admit.  you and your brothers possess abilities i could never imagine. ❞  such a bird - walk of an explanation probably wasn’t necessary.  hopefully it won’t make things stranger than they are.

❝ and what of you,  shadow?  with your abilities,  surely you could have found me sooner.  and your brothers?  quite frankly,  i believe this is the first time i’ve seen you separated. ❞

As soon as N started to talk, Moros remembered something he’d tried to forget. When N said he meant nothing by his phrasing, it was impossible not to believe him. He spoke honestly—innocently. It still astonished Moros that someone like Ghetsis played any role in raising someone as genuine as N. All of Moros’s bitterness rolled off him like it was nothing.

But still, despite knowing that N held no ill-intent toward him, it was hard not to take offense at his words. He wasn’t wrong—they had never had anything but Team Plasma connecting them together, it was true. But Team Plasma was... everything. His mission, his ideals, his allies, the institution run by his mentors and caretakers since his earliest memories, the culmination of his master’s ambition and his one singular purpose. To hear it dismissed so casually was, was... Moros didn’t have words for it.

N’s explanation of his actions was perfectly logical, but for all his thoughtful analysis it seemed not to have occurred to him that Moros might pose a threat. He’d willingly walked himself away from the crowds and to a place where they would be secluded enough to talk freely. Did he think there would be no resentment between them? N had upended his whole life. Moros still hadn’t forgiven that.

“I wasn’t looking for you,” he said. Neither was Ghetsis; he was in no position to care about such things. Did N even know what kind of state he’d left the man in? Did he even care? Asking about his brothers only compounded Moros’s pent up frustration.

He didn’t know where they were. He’d thought their loyalty to Ghetsis would stay strong—and it had, for a while. But eventually the day came when they decided to leave, confirming what Moros had always known. They were weak. Selfish. They’d run off just like the rest of Team Plasma. And Moros was the only one left.

“Our crossing paths was nothing more than coincidence, however unlikely. But if you think for a second I’d let you walk away without—” He stopped, biting back the rush of emotion. Moros was silent in most situations, remaining deliberately detached from the world around him. But here he found words coming to him unbidden, unraveling his best efforts at control. Try again. Keep it together.

Moros / @doomedgod