of thunder.

-DAY 24: Favorite Gen 4 Pokemon-

           But it bothers her none, for she has seen all            of personas alike fumble through listlessly.            So let it be that she withholds her positioning            midst a branch in partial slumber. 

Sable fur that seemed to glisten was soon revealed from where it was previously hidden, vivid golden pools meeting his own as the pokemon revealed itself to him.

                 Proud. That was all he could think from watching.                    It was more than aware of its place and power.

          There is a respect unlike any other that has breathed,           that has been given life to the now of meeting. Thus           leading to the extension of one's own respect. Though           she be proud, though she be aware of what lies within           her by means of prowess, she dare not let it bubble           forth in unnecessary boil. There is innocence merged           with respect from a youth now upholding positioning           before her. Even going as far as offering up a gesture           of peace. So let it be that a tail, graced by a golden peak,           flicks once in acknowledgement to the other's gesture.

                            As if those powerful eyes didn't hold such as it were.

          Ever so even when the flick of reflexive motion through           opposing digits is given. One that she knows well, one           that births a readiness. Or rather, rekindles that readiness.           For decades, she has roamed this forest and dealt with           the attempts of capture. All of which were shattered pipe           dreams all in the end. All in vain.

                      So let it be that inquisitiveness is                    met with a dip of mane graced crown.

                                           This is her home. 

{/The sound of buzzing was heard, and it was so loud. So fast paced that the small vole didn’t really think twice before dropping to all fours and scampering away as fast as she could. It sounded like one of those things that the humans have, and then a worse sound. Like thousands and thousands of leaves all being crunched and crunched again. The four month old had naught any inkling as to who they were, or what was going on really.

Either way, the vole was training, working on being more human like. It was supposed to be safer, her brother lied. It wasn’t safe here, and now she was terrified. Four months was too soon to die, and she knew it. It was a shame her little body did too.

                                                      “Squea!”

Her heart rate was beyond the normal pace, and she wasn’t speaking as human anymore, but rather in large chittering noises, soon turning into distressed squeaking. The buzzing was gone, and the constant crunching was too. 

          A queen of this terrain, prowess unbridled in           any form, could tear apart the sense of any           who crossed within these woods. But intentions           were pure, thus leading to the mere connection           of oculi to escaping frame. Postural correction           is granted throughout powerful physique, pads           easing their tightness of stance along the compacted           earthen splendor beneath her. Eyes so bold begin           to gleam, brow arches now furrowing in focus through           the shrubbery that withheld the youthful other in           sheltered actuality. But it goes without saying that           fear has wracked her, seized her hand and yanked           her into an abyss of nothingness that is intimidation           and blissful ignorance.

                             Oh, to be young and carefree of                                   what is and what isn't.

                            The years have kept her here,                  death could not hold her and so here she stands.

          The queen of verdant plushness as far as the eye           can see. Even now as a child intrudes and infiltrates           the sanctity of silence, save for the shivering of leaves           that are kissed by the breeze rolling through so listlessly.

          All is peaceful, all is calm. A serenity only she knows,           for the years have blessed her so. So let it be that           reassurance to the youth's safety be granted. Footwork           carries her onward by wayward whim, back to the           depths of the forest where she may partake in further.. patrols.

                   A small breath is released in her exit.                                        "Lux."                                     So young.

Curiosity had him; so much to where he had stopped and bent down out of curiosity.

                      Therein this moment's lapse do the eyes                       of this unnamed Luxray find chestnut counterpart.                       There is a detachment at first, followed by                       acknowledgement and expectancy.

                                            A queen of this terrain.

                             "Lux.."              Soft, yet experienced and proud.                      Feminine, yet stern.