#exspiravited

⸻examine meme !! ( @exspiravited )

she is always a delightful sight, even here at this distance because you want to watch her marvel at the ancient figures of long inactive golurk . distantly, you wonder if she can commune with them— she is a ghost, same as them ... perhaps they still have voices ? you have so worked hard to keep them polished, well intact despite the weathering of the elements . at least the ones here in the tower have it better than those lost in the wilds, succumbing to overgrowth &. erosion .

> call out to her, voice reverberating in the open hall > quietly approach, all but sneaking up on her > approach at a range, speaking only when you are in sight

you have learned— one too many times the excitement of seeing her has drawn your voice into the air, otherwise breaking the quiet . she looks at you so violently when that happens, brilliant crimson eyes so alike your own narrowed unto slits . you have seen her fingers curl, a pale mockery of the wicked claws true forme holds— she could tear you apart with a flick of her wrist, unshielded by obsidian scales as you are here . she looks like she might, in those moments .

you wonder, distantly ... what made her react so ? you are struck, in those moments, with a desire to lash out at whatever did it . ( oh, little wyrm, paltry time dwarfed by the monumental life antimatter incarnate has lived ... if only you knew how powerless you were, truly )

The lack of reaction that once may have concerned him didn't anymore, Well that wasn't entirely true, There was still a measure of concern. But only for how she'd been treated before she ended up here by chance or in his hopeful opinion by fate. He'd been able to summarize a little from nights she'd awoken from nightmares or her hesitancy to do things without explicit permission.

He quietly hummed a tune as he deftly picked at any debris, Occasionally tapping at it with a cloth to clear away any fresh blood that leaked from the injury, He could heal the wound once it was clean but he didn't want to accidentally trap any debris underneath. His heart swells when he hears her call him father, This was a newer development and one that delighted him every time even if he tried to school his reaction back as to not spook her.

Her question made him pause briefly, considering, purple eyes lost in thought because only one person came to mind first. He wondered if Giratina missed someone, Not her Arceus for certain but she surely had more then just him at one point?

"I do, You never stop missing the people you love, Even if they are far away or have been gone a long time and for me. That's my Mother, Her name was Vita though it was short for Vitality, she was shiny so unlike my blue feathers, Hers were a lovely pink like cherry blossoms. "

His heart ached at the thought of her but it was nice to think of her.

"Oh. I thought you were being attacked."

Was he lying? Absolutely. Or, probably not. It was difficult to tell even if Ameth were faced with someone who knew him like the back of their hand. Regardless, his expression became an awkward one, and one could almost see the comically large bead of sweat forming on the side of his head, the type to form on characters typically found in silly little animations. His amethyst eyes tore away from her own, stunning and beautifully blood-red, perhaps pretending to feel a little embarrassed, or perhaps genuinely feeling as though he had egg on his face. Ameth did begin to lick the knife he had pulled out to commit the excessive murdering, however, cleaning it of its blood coating and thus showing that he was still on the same thoroughly homicidal page as the woman was.

His little show of humiliation was short-lived, however, as a wide and beaming grin quickly spread over his face again. He held his bloody knife to his side, and somehow made himself appear completely harmless, as he stuck out his free hand in offering for a friendly handshake.

"Ah, who cares. The name's Ameth, but you can call me... Ameth!"

He closed one eye and playfully stuck out his tongue.

If she decided to shake his hand, she would find Ameth's grip to be horrifically firm. Inhumanly strong, even, grip strength that would be more fitting for a Machamp than any human. Maybe he sought to make her his next victim, or he simply did not know his own strength. Seeing how his gaze was utterly vacant, devoid of any intelligent or higher thought, like looking a pug in the eyes, it would seem as though the latter option was more likely...

Even a psychic would have trouble admitting to any coherent thought in his brain. His current mental image consisted of little more than one of those little toy monkeys, those that clinked their miniature cymbals together and performed backflips.

Anyway, despite his face being soaked with blood, underneath she would be able to see a blush forming across his cheeks and nose. His whole face, too, shifted to take on a more docile form.

"You're... really pretty. What's your name?"

An admittedly unnerving string of words, but he seemed harmless...

...

Can there be hope for two bruised spirits? | Cont.

Hope? No, they had none of that, neither for themself nor any to give. Any hope Giratina felt would be that of her own. Arceus held none of it. They could not allow themself to hope. They didn't deserve a second chance, a chance to be a better creator, a better parent.

"I have nothing to give you, Giratina." they merely said, their face hidden within their hands, midnight black hair messy and carelessly tied now also falling into their face. A proper curtain to hide one's shame and regrets behind. "I wish I did. I am hollowed out by the repercussions of my own inactions. All I wished is I could say goodbye to them. And to maybe, just maybe, get to talk to you. Just a little."

The shadows beneath them began to grow longer, a projection of the bottomless grief and sorrow the Original One otherwise would always keep hidden deep within. It was only this guilt, this sadness that kept their white hot unbridled fury for the man at fault at bay. It was the only thing that kept them from blowing through other universes in their obsessive quest for revenge.

Here their daughter stood, infront of them, or at least a version of her, and she spoke of hope she craved but did not want. Another gutpunch of guilt, regardless of how powerless Arceus was to change the past of this particular iteration of Giratina, or to fix their own alternate.

What would it take for the seed of hope and love to return and root again?

They knew, for all Giratina knew, they might as well be a hallucination. A mirage.

Not real.

Maybe it was for the better. For her.

Elys raises her hand.

“Cool, right?”

“..You haven’t exactly given him reason not to feel that way..”

The rain was quiet… far too quiet for her liking. Yet, for some reason, Kyogre felt as if something was crawling against her skin, watching her every motion… her every breath. A slight feeling of dread crossed her mind. Did Hera really find her? The winds were too quiet for Rayquaza, and she hasn’t heard the screams of grunts for it to be Zinnia, either.

Kyogre could feel the other’s proximity….

“I know you are there.”

Kyogre resonated with her Blue Orb! 

“I shalt give you but one chance to back away. Leave now, or else you shalt be visiting Davy Jones Locker by the end of this!”

She still had no idea who it was.

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meme thing I’m not accepting