#subspaceswell

it calls to him. it calls to him, and archie listens—he listens very well.

its voice is both familiar and unfamiliar, somehow. it sounds nothing like HERS, but he recognizes it from sometime, somewhere. it has whispered to him in the past; archie knew that much, but he couldn't recall the circumstances of their correspondence. its voice does share traits with hers, however. when he is one with water, he can hear them, CLEAR AS CRYSTAL, and they speak with purpose. the volume and tone of their voices EBB & FLOW and RISE & FALL like the tide, and though they are both soft-spoken, their voices exude a terrifying sense of PRIMORDIAL POWER.

archie runs his calloused fingers through his wet locks as he enters the sea and treads the waters, disregarding any form of seafaring gear. he trusted the sea, and he trusted that it would embrace him, just as he embraced it.

he takes a good look at the clear blue sky, and he takes a deep breath before he submerges himself completely beneath the waves.

Things where aren't should they be.

This doesn't make any sense. Where is here? She can't see anything, but then she blinks. And then she can see it. A figure looming above, below, around. The only figure in her sight, at all edges of her periphery. Everything else is framed in an absolute, undulating darkness.

I am where?

It observes her in silence. Rooted in place, she screams. Thrashes. The silence remains unbroken. The figure remains unmoved.

Eris Evans wakes up in ethereal limbo, before the intangible presence of a familiar god.

Do what you want with me. She blinks again.

the world parts like the sea torn by an enormous claw, and the shadows writhe as It crawls out from beneath them, each claw hauling a body under the weight of a world's gravity that does not suit them.

giratina drags itself into existence, shadowed first and then shedding them like a second skin as palkia's domain spreads around them endlessly -- space all encompassing what was and would be.

the distortion chews at the edges, unraveling where the tunnel allows it to climb -- and it would tear at them for eternity, as the space would allow it to go on and on and on.

kin of mine. it has been too long.

here, it has no need to shout. here, it need not bellow.

It seemed there was almost no emotion from their Kindred. A relief perhaps. A worry for later. There was a more pressing and ominous threat made clear.

Some entity that Giratina had tried to track, but it was difficult when you were a singularity with milkions of everchanging mirrors to check. Never mind making sure your powers did not damage the outside world to cause a minor catastrophy.

"You would not fight alone." They claimed, feeling their presence with a calm mind and body. "Be welcome to manifest in my realm."

The hours pass and those thrums turn into deep droning noises, though there's nothing that picks them up as audible.

And then it ebbs and flows like the slow undulation of waves, the feeling of a massive presence that could not be quantified. Titanic does not even begin to describe the vastness of that feeling.

"Hear me," it says- though it does not use words, "I come. I am coming. For you."

The vibrations in the air are familiar, subtle, tickling the edges of Eris's senses and dislodging old, buried memories. During busy workdays, the Devon ascendant finds herself coughing more frequently, heavy breaths catching in her throat and interrupting her charismatic siren songs addressed to the business elite. During sleepless nights, she tosses and turns, wrestling with an unknowable, uncomfortable pressure. (It's as if something is perpetually perched atop her chest. Weighing her down.)

It doesn't take long for the paranoia to set in. Eris's perfectly-composed mask starts to stretch and tear at the seams, revealing pockets of anxiety, bitterness, and anger.

A disorienting dizziness confines her to the underground labs, where she can at least suffer in peace. And then one day, surrounded by backlit screens and eerie contraptions, the 'reformed' researcher's bloodshot eyes fly open in a clarifying moment of recollection. Chain.

She remembers this feeling. Arceus, it's like being thrown back in time. Back when Galactic was standing on the precipice of everything, the leashed god-forms at their supposed beck and call.

Something is watching over you. Perhaps your next journey will be safe.

And it broke. Not simply broke, but completely shattered.

Both you, and the client were flabbergasted by this, and you saved face and kept your cool through the cleaning process. After that anomaly, serving foul tea was out of the question and would be too much of a nudge in the wrong direction.

And if it stayed at that, that would be fine. It doesn't.

It's the teacup, and then a glass you pick up, completely empty, shatters in your hand.

And then it's other things. The piping breaks, a pot falls through. Things start breaking outward as if a pressure inside of them was exploding out.

Manifestations of a sort.

And then you hear that slow, horribly flanging cry from somewhere else.

You've got it's eye. If it ever comes back to this place...

What are you going to do.

Falling apart.

The teacup detonates, abruptly halting negotiations as the syrupy-sweet liquid oozes across mahogany, Eris Evans and her latest big-name client sent scrambling to their feet. The well-rehearsed apologies are already flying from her lips, her air of graceful professionalism immediately coating over the unexpected incident with a glossy sheen. An incredulous laugh, a sharp call to her assistant, and all is smoothed over again, a new meeting time rearranged with handshakes and surface-deep goodwill. So sorry.

However, as Eris peers down at the Devon PA feverishly working to sweep up the porcelain shards glistening at her feet, a scowl cracks her mask. Inefficient. Not on schedule. Not right.

Everything was going her way, until it wasn't--and the prominent researcher finds such repeated outcomes unacceptable. She's on edge, and when the poor corporate underling nervously fumbles the dustpan loaded down with teacup shards on his way out of the office, Eris fires him on the spot. (Just to feel in control for a moment again, trying in vain to whet an insatiable appetite.)

She wasn't sure if she should like this feeling. Celeste never was one to like being watched in private by anyone; especially by someone she didn't know.