So this is late in coming but due to some staffing issues work has basically eaten me alive. I’ll be sparse around her for a bit until we find replacements for the relived personnel at work. Which in the meantime probably means we’re on a semi-hiatus for now. Hopefully short lived and I can come back here to get to replies I owe. 

I тнιик чσυ lαcк тнε тαѕтε вυdѕ иεεdεd тσ тяυlч εиjσч тнε мεαт σƒ α Gσd.

HISSES

There are some details of a person which they will solemnly take to their grave, Sapphire thinks while floating in Kyogre’s pool. 

The cavern is dark and quiet around her. Peaceful. At such odds with what most know of the leviathan. Despite what she knows of the other’s might, what her anger brews and what her cries are like echoed in thunder, she harbors no fear of the ocean. Or the creatures hidden within. Even now she knows Kyogre slumbers below. That whether between them currently pulled taunt. Digging into her in a way that defies explanation. A chain that leads down into the darkness of the sea. Barely glimpsed in the trenches of Hoenn. 

The disquiet that brought her to the Cave of Origin doesn’t cease when she drops into the pool. Instead she can feel Kyogre, though asleep, is restless. There is a similar itching under her skin. She cannot settle properly. Like her bones will not settle beneath her skin.

At these times when she feels the pull of them, stronger than usual, she wonders what it means. There is a bond - there is no denying this. The moment she set her hands on there forsaken orbs she lost a piece of herself to them - Kyogre and Groudon. 

Her eyes can see too much detail of the cavern. More than when she first made her way downwards. Before she dropped into the salt water pool. It had pulled her in, and down, down, down. Until her own feet may as well have settled on the seafloor. Kyogre’s influence is muted but present. Always. She is a natural force. 

One that Sapphire knows has bled over into her, a detail she fears to consider too deeply. Just once seeing her eyes a shade much too blue has led her to understand that bond has physical side-effects as well as emotional. 

With a few kicks of her legs she propelled herself to the edge of the pool. Bracing herself back against the uneven rock, pitted and uncomfortable against her palms, she heaved herself upwards to sit at the lip of the pool. Feet still dangling in. Clothing hanging sodden on her, uncomfortable. 

She’s thankful for the darkness of the cavern. Even thankful for the faint hum that she can only assume is Kyogre. It’s only during her summons she ever hears the sound. It eases the quiet around her to sit more comfortably. Comforting, in a surreal manner. Not meaningless, however, Sapphire knows what the leviathan wants of her.

Most would assume she was mad, she knows. Even as she stands to dry herself off, to change into the spare clothes she brought along - she knows. Which is why she tells no one. 

Winging out her hair makes a racket. The splattering of the water echoing in the space around her. Dripping along the floor is a much softer pattering. There is no one else to hear. Not even wild pokemon venture here. They have too much sense to linger in Kyogre’s grounds. Sensible of them to avoid it. Sapphire can understand why even if she no longer feels fearful of the embodiment of the sea. 

“Southern islands...I’ll take a look once the weather calms some.” 

There is the storm outside which would make it difficult to safely investigate anything on the waters. Kyogre might not like it but by now she recognizes that Sapphire is only human. That only a sliver of shared power between them cannot grant her protection from a storm swept sea.

Yet all her grandmother can do it tut looking at the product of her labors. 

There are splatters and drips of ink on the page. Strokes progressively more uneven, slanted, and messy. A few of the characters look tidy nearer to the top of the page. There’s just a single splat of ink where Sapphire had let her temper win out. A dark, bleeding blot of black that has begun to soak into one of her other attempts at her kanji.

“What do they teach girls these days? Nothing.” Misuko’s tone is contemptuous  as she sets the page of smudges down. “Too much of that nonsense about leaving home to be irresponsible with those little beasts.”

Sapphire loathes having to spend much time with her grandmother. Mitsuko Hakura is a demanding woman. Always stern faced and quick to criticize. Nothing ever seems to please her, as far as Sapphire has ever seen. The woman constantly picks at each detail about her granddaughter she finds below her standards. Be it her clothes or her hair, the dirt under her nails or the scrape on her knee. If the woman is capable of smiling it would come as a surprise.

Headstrong like your father, her grandmother has told her.

“You need to learn to carry yourself like a young lady should. By now you’re too old to run around like some wild child or to let yourself be fighting with those children. That mother of yours-”

The words begin to wash over her as white noise. Sapphire doesn’t want to listen. She doesn’t want to stop running along the seashore or climbing trees. Has no interest in learning all the things her grandmother claims will temper her. Soften her edges. Polish her into something worthwhile. 

Hands on her back and neck pull her from her thoughts in a rush. Forcing her to straight her back and raise her head. Her grandmother’s hands aren’t soft, or rough exactly. But the hand on her neck makes her want to duck away. Past attempts have shown it only makes the woman more determined to fix her posture.

“Don’t slouch, it doesn’t suit a lady.”

Sapphire only clenches her hands against her thighs and wishes she could go home.

“We’re going to try again. I want to see something legible this time.”

There aren’t other options for her when the blank parchment is set in front of her. Not for her aching hands or her tired eyes. Complaining will only encourage Mitsuko to teach her what she calls temperance. Protesting will only annoy the woman. Sapphire isn’t too keen on not getting to eat dinner just because her grandmother insists she learn to write gently. Which seems impossible.

The worst at the faithless husbands. Always so terrified of being exposed to the wives and the children. Tramps of the worst order. Not able to be honest for a moment and want sympathy at every turn. Tatsuki has many a memory of them trying to earn her good graces through feminine sympathy. An excellent angle to play, never genuine. No - these men bore her most of all. They are far too easy to take advantage of.

But perhaps the most galling of all are the smitten, lovesick fools. Earnest belief in their eyes. Hearts soft, tender, and waiting for world’s heartbreak. She would’t envy them that. Life is a cruel mistress, perhaps there is none crueler to be found. With time they’ll learn.

It is the push of their message, the idillic and unrealistic romance that she finds appalling. A fool cannot know better. The masses wanting to be fooled is another matter entirely.

Spare her the flowers or the sweet words. Wedding dresses were just fabric in the end. For each broken vow and bitter heart there is she thinks people ought to be smarter. But people also often fail to learn. 

Romance is a price tag and love is a fleeting - neither are forever. So why commit? 

Scorned wives and women shout terrible things at her. Call her cheap and accuse her of ruining what was always broken. You cannot steal what is not owned. Cannot break trust that was never there. She won’t cry tears or ask for forgiveness. No sacred covenant has been broken, just one more weak man to add to the pile - mortal and flawed. 

Boys cross her with words beyond their means. Refusals are met with childish tears and violence. Tatsuki drags those in the dirt. Grinds them down until they understand that they are not invincible nor untouchable. Spits on them when she is done, pitiable creatures she offers no pity. Teaches them that real promises do not feel empty. Instead they evoke belief in those promises offered. 

    “Nope! And they dig themselves inta holes really well too. ‘s half th’ reason Interpol hasn’t put me behind their fancy-dancy bars yet! Everythin’ that comes at me ‘nd I beat down started it.”

    “’s kinda fun, honestly.”

   “It won’t, but that ain’t th’ point. Sometimes, fucked up people like me gotta pander t’ others, so th’ idiots don’t get wise~”

I dunno why small kids keep pickin’ fights wit’ me, Scamp. Do I look like a fighter or somethin’?