#aruseus

👟 - 4 (it got startled, uses horse type move)

👟 - Kick my Muse in the… chest

“Hold on, isn’t that--”

Well.  It doesn’t matter what that was.

     Curse these snowstorms.

     As of late, it is as though they have learnt how to sneak up on her without warning. Unpredictable, without the initial, harrowing stirring of the wind. Without a sudden drop in temperature, or the impending sense of dread they bring. Luckily, Sarana had already pitched her tent. Luckily, she had already decided that today’s trek through the plains had been enough, when the level of snow had reached just above her ankles, and icy pangs clawed their way through thick fabric and fur. The woman had no plans to peek outside-- just to spend the remainder of the night in the company of her beloved pokemon, fire set in the heart of their temporary home, smoke billowing out through the top.

     Yet it seemed as though fate had other plans.

     It had started with the white fur of her Zoroark standing on end. Then, her dear Alolan Ninetales attempting to peer out of the entrance of the tent and out to the snow covered landscape. And then, a short cry-- a trill that Sarana has long memorised. Something is outside. In the cold. In the middle of the storm. Not a human-- it is not reminiscent of the sound she would make for that--, but instead a pokemon. And indeed, when she lowers herself down to Primrose’s level, she can scarcely make out the form of a being in the distance. A Wyrdeer, perhaps? No-- it does not look all that accustomed to the current weather.

      She cannot leave them out there. To leave the poor creature to freeze to death would be horrific, in Sarana’s eyes. There is little time that she wastes, finding a few lengths of rope, tying one end to another, before looping it once around her waist. A heavy weight is placed on the other side, and not a single word need to be ushered for the rest of the pokemon within the tent to know what it is all for. The woman, of course, plans to leave the safety of their home, and venture outside-- to whatever is out there--, but not without taking the right cautions. A means to find her way back, should anything try to turn the blonde around. 

horse-kicks him cutely =^v^=

Just like that, 02's breathing slows.

It stops.

He feels his eyes drift shut and all the doors open before him, swinging on their brassy hinges and his body falling still. The expanse of the heavens swirl around him and 02 is no longer standing. His legs have left solid ground and he is adrift in an ocean of nebulae and cosmic wind. His eyes drift up, to the Empyrean of holy light and heaven.

He hears paradise and paradise speaks back, and its voice sounds like gentle winds and the way that stars sing. He falls in a filigree of silver waterfalls and floats through a chapel of heavenly light. Everything is quiet. The doors are open and he can see everything, but it doesn't hurt. It feels like peace. It feels like safety.

It feels like purpose. He prays to the sky and it answers him.

The machine's body is embraced in the hazy mist of eternity and he hears words talking to him. They are gentle and kind, soft like a whisper that he's been waiting to hear for so long. The words of so many gods have been cruel and hateful, or cryptic and unhelpful. They have been more hindrance than they have ever aided him. They were so useless.

This one tells him he is worth something, and it makes him think.

〔 Okay. 〕

He says it so quietly he may as well be whispering.

“You.

He doesn’t like the chill down his spine, like the power he felt earlier will come for him. If his assumptions of who it belonged to was true? Then he would be severely comprehended by his lack of sight.