#dewla

Though he had known her only hours, Shepard knew that Dewla was tenacious, a small but significant force of nature. Spewpa were known to be docile, to sit and wait out their evolution period, to master patience and store their energies for battles to come. But Dewla was impatient, aggressive, and though her body was enveloped in a delicate chrysalis she hurled herself around the battlefield, chasing down every and any Pokémon unfortunate enough to cross her path.

And though she was a beast at heart, Dewla was no fool. Her protective coat, the defensive fuzz, was her life line until her budding wings were flight-ready, and too often she strayed across wayward Litleo and their weak but dangerous Embers. She learned to reflect on her position, just for a second, and mastered Stun Spore. Thick clouds of murky gold often enveloped entire sections of Route 22 as she paved her path of destruction. Dewla was not to be trifled with - once her target was cripped she brutalised their bodies with constant, consistent blows.

Night had long since fallen and Shepard stood atop the cliff, basking in the moonlight. He surveyed the area, the racing track dead ahead, the giant looming mountain of Victory Road to his right. His eyes were dead-set on that Mountain, and Dewla sensed its importance. Her trainer gazed at it with hard eyes, hungry eyes. Their target was set. 

She is small but she is fierce. She became a glowing gem on that cliff edge, Détourner Way hosting her final evolution. Her form was lost to the ether as her old body became one with the cosmos, the universe shaping her new frame, strong, winged and nimble. As the light dissipated she burst and spiralled upwards in a shaft of moonlight, her wings wide, segmented, in some sections grass-green, in others emerald with crimson squares. Her eyes were large, round and stygian, the blackness of night lit up by pure alabaster cubes. 

Shepard watched in fascination as his Pokémon took the the sky, fluttering with grace despite knowing her body for only seconds. It was second-nature for a Vivillon to fly, he supposed, But damn, Dewla flies so gracefully.