[BATTLE] SAPPHIRE VS LAMARCK

[lou]

ROUND 3
SAPPHIRE VS. LAMARCK
BATTLE COMMENCE

[creamsicles]

[atrb=style,padding:3px;border:0px solid #D7BCBC;width:400px;background-image:url(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lieeq1apxz1qcdtsho1_400.jpg),bTable] [style=background-image:url(http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k288/Akuhana/sapphire2-credit-prospitian.png); -webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width:100px; height:100px][style=padding:5px;margin-left:125px;margin-top:10px;font-family:courier; font-size:18px;color:#191919;text-align: left;width:230px;letter-spacing:-3px;opacity:0.78]she rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless ∞

Topiary is the oldest of Sapphire's pokemon. He has lived many years and if he could speak the language of humans, he would many stories to tell - one, however, he would keep to himself. It is a special story, something precious and secreted deep in his heart. This is how it goes: Once, a long time ago, Topiary met a little girl; and he remembers looking down upon her small body, ten years old and barely taller than the longest grass blade: a dark-eyed child with a thin, singular line for a mouth; and she had looked at him so intently, so covetously that his blood boiled, that he was already in the air and sending a flurry of cutting leaves at her before the first of her party was even sent out. This is what she said to him when it was over: "I've been looking for you." It wasn't I've looking for one of your kind or I just wanted a Tropius, and he wasn't immediately banished to the depths of a PC box - never to see again the light of day; and when she had run her hands over his smooth pebbly skin, had touched his head and the spaces between his leafy wings in solemn, quiet wonder, he was at peace and was content. Topiary is older now, but Tropius live long lives and he has many years left to share with his trainer - and he is determined that she be able to see those years through with him. Even if she is facing Death's door. Sapphire is mostly conscious now and lays across his back again, cheek pressed into the warm skin; and he can feel her chest moving in exaggeration, leaps and shudders, as she breathes unevenly. She talks to him as they walk - Topiary doesn't dare to fly again - and he listens to her speaking about going home and seeing her mother and have I ever had you two meet? No? I should fix that. Keeping pace with his lumbering, slow steps is Joy, scuttling along at his side and Stripes, high-stepping and heel flicking agitatedly, turning his head and snorting out sparks, glowing faintly yellow. They keep time with him and move as he does, warily and cautiously, but as quickly as they can - they know that even burning and dying, the city ahead is a place of people and great places of people have healing hands for humans, and they are desperate despite the danger. As if reminded of this, that she has little knowledge in treating human ails, Joy puts her little hands in her egg pouch and cries softly. Stripes scolds her in low nickers, nips her curls with his sharp, square teeth but softens when she squeals, bends his neck and head so that he can mouth softly at the bite. Sapphire stretches out an arm and Stripes turns to her; she puts her hand on his head, smoothing the haphazard mane, runs her trembling fingers through the course hairs. She looks him in the eye, and Stripes looks away. "Is it far away?" she asks Topiary and when he rumbles a low sound from the depths of his chest, she knows the answer to be in the affirmative. "Okay. Be careful." But Topiary always is, because he is the leader of her party. It isn't Mumsy, although the Swampert has been with Sapphire the longest, or Dinosaur who is the most open and violent in his defense of their trainer - it's always been the serious, narrow-eyed Tropius, the one who has lent his back to each of Sapphire's pokemon in their time of need. He is always, always careful - he has many that depend on him and unlike Sapphire, he prefers to lead and is uncomfortable in not doing so. It is Topiary who decided to gather up his wounded trainer and lead his fellows to the burning city where he remembers a hospital from an earlier visit - and it is Topiary who sees the young man first. They have come to a broken section of the barrier encircling Ever Grande, a roughly constructed wall that is little more than rubble now. Broken stones and twisted, distorted metal lay in their path, the smallest and sharpest of these cut into the soft pads of Joy's feet and she shuffles painfully; a cloud of dust and grit hovers, collects across the lids of their eyes. Sapphire coughs and turns her head, spits a red gob of blood and tissue into the dust. There is a figure of a man and several shapes that Tropius takes to be pokemon - the air is thick and dirty, and he can't smell anything but dust and stone and metal and fire. He hears noises, shuffling, sounds of stone being lifted and moved; matches the noises to the movements - a path being cleared rather than blocked. There is no purpose for those who defend the city to lay open the way to reaping. "Enemies," Sapphire says into his shoulder, confirms, and doesn't have to say more for him to act. His leaf-wings are churning air, spinning out an Air Slash that clears the dust as it slices toward the man and his pokemon - and even then, Sapphire is speaking, with her words and her hands, the clench of a fist tightening around a loose slab of his skin makes him rear back and bare his throat in defiance, posturing and baying loudly, stomping at that ground and if his size wasn't apparent before in the dust, it should be now. The ground lurches beneath his feet and large chucks of debris catch in the downstrokes his wings take, roll and tumble across the ground - and Sapphire, slung low across his back, is watching the man from over Topiary's shoulder with a striking, intense look under half shut eyes flickering with fever and tiredness, remarkably lucid despite her condition. Topiary and the rest of her pokemon don't balk under their trainer's resumed command; they slip into synch with her as naturally as if she had been whole and hale. Joy moves on Sapphire's spoken word, erecting a Light Screen that shimmers and glitters, deceptively fragile; but a sly hand stretched out and laid across Stripes' back is necessary to stay him from charging. Sapphire hasn't yet gotten a fine look at their opponent's party and Sapphire is a cautious woman - she has two pokemon down and isn't willing to make that three. The Zebstrika snorts and stamps his hoof, sparking unruly static across his coat, but he yields and so there is no collateral damage when Joy pulls out a large egg from her pouch and hurls it toward the enemy's pokemon, as far as her short arms can manage - when Topiary winds back and lets fly a second Air Slash that will smash into Egg Bomb and detonate it prematurely with the intention of propelling the explosion toward their enemies.

[lamarck]

[cs=2][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width:450px,bTable] I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice Every one of us is, in the cosmic perspective, precious. If a human disagrees with you, let him live. In a hundred billion galaxies, you will not find another like him.

[atrb=valign,top] He’s standing in the ruins of the barricade, but despite how tired he is of destruction, Lamarck is smiling. Because these particular ruins? They represent a chance. They represent the freedom of movement for the Nox cavalry he’s expecting, they represent a clear path to take back Ever Grande. Return it to the times before Lux arose, before a group of tyrannical rebels came together and… Well. He’s the rebel now, isn’t he? Lux is no longer a scattered group of radical idealists, it’s an institution. And he’s the one fighting it. Very well. His immediate concern is for his Pokemon. Despite having been recently healed, they’re likely tired from the effort of taking down the wall. He turns to them, taking them in. Galt and Danna look fine, the Claydol and Gardevoir were untouched by the efforts. There’s still a cloud of darkness where Danna’s mind meets his, undoubtedly from their earlier encounter, but there’s nothing he can do now about the captive Kirlia they left behind. Gallespie is safely ensconced in her Pokeball, but his other three are anxious, are restless. Little Rakasha is a mass of nerves, fidgeting and pacing. Beside the Dewott is his Sandslash, Zanzibar, who also looks uneasy. Only Jacek seems unperturbed, though that’s par for the course. Back in Rocket, the Magmar was the cornerstone of his team, able to take any sort of flak without so much as a change of expression. Seeing his firm conviction in the crowd of hesitants makes Lamarck want to hug the Pokemon. He likely would, but sounds echo in the quiet clearing, and he realizes quite suddenly that he’s not alone. That he’s under attack. He doesn’t have to give the order, his team draws together of their own accord. They close the gaps, standing nearly side by side, ready to fight as one. Like a well polished machine, they follow the orders he belatedly shouts out. Through the whirlwind of air that whips up the dust, he sees the air slash attack coming through Danna’s eyes. She spots, too, the glimmer of some sort of defensive attack, as well as a projectile heading their direction. Rakasha is the first to move. At Lamarck’s instruction, she casts an Air slash of her own, the attack aimed to try to counter the blow headed their way. A lava plume from Jacek is cast at the projectile, though it explodes before it even is reached by the attack. Lamarck can’t see through the smoke to figure out what caused it to detonate early, but with luck, the plume of fire will burn whatever emerged from it. Unfortunately, the plume isn’t enough to stop the remains of the second air slash, the one that hit the projectile. It speeds through the flame, unaffected, and knocks Jacek over, causing the Pokemon to let out a small growl of pain. A sharp sound rings out, barely audible over Jacek’s yell, as Zanzibar’s claws catch on a rock. The pokemon flings it aside and continues digging his way under the dirt, tunneling towards their foes. Left with only Galt and Danna by his side, Lamarck orders Danna, “Signal beam!” and the Pokemon obeys. A blur of light emerges from the Pokemon, aimed at the Zebstrika opposing them. As for Galt, he acts, as usual, without taking heed of Lamarck’s orders. As soon as the first attack was cast at them, the Pokemon began a soft chant. A glow appeared around him, then spread, heading towards the other team. The Heal Block would, with luck, shorten this battle, and give them the advantage. That done, he cast a swift Ancient Power, sending a beam of energy towards the Tropius. Before it could hit, however, Lamarck spotted what appeared to be the form of a person on the Tropius’ back. “Galt, stop!” because no, there’d been enough killing today. They were at war, but unless he was in immediate danger, Lamarck preferred not to kill. A prisoner’s information would be more useful anyway, or perhaps he could once more try to talk an opponent into joining the side he felt was right… He had to at least give his new opponent a chance. The gun in his pocket, the gun he’d had to use earlier that morning, felt like a rock, like a millstone. He wanted no more killing if it could be avoided. Reluctantly, Galt did as he was commanded, cutting the attack off nearly as soon as he’d begun it. The Pokemon was still alert, still ready to fight, and Jacek shifted uneasily at Lamarck’s order. As usual, Lamarck’s team was a team divided. Gentle Danna and young Rakasha were content to do things his way, but Jacek and Galt believed in showing little mercy. Perhaps luckily for their opponent, Lamarck’s numerical advantage was balanced by the small size of all his Pokemon, in contrast to the large Zebstrika and Tropius he was facing. “Stop!” And this time, the yell was directed not at his Pokemon, but at the man or woman on the Tropius. What with the distance and the dust, he couldn’t see clearly, but he still had hopes they could discuss this before simply leaping into a fight.

[atrb=width,160][atrb=valign,top] TAGS: Sapphire NOTES: Rakasha uses air slash to counter the other air slash, Jacek uses lava plume to counter the egg attack but is hit anyway, Zanzibar uses dig, Danna uses Signal Beam on Zebstrika, Galt uses Heal Block and is stopped by trainer from using Ancient Power TEAM: Jacek, Zanzibar, Gallespie, Danna, Galt, Rakasha CREDITS: Made by Lucius/Hippiecut of PRE

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[creamsicles]

[atrb=style,padding:3px;border:0px solid #D7BCBC;width:400px;background-image:url(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lieeq1apxz1qcdtsho1_400.jpg),bTable] [style=background-image:url(http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k288/Akuhana/sapphire2-credit-prospitian.png); -webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width:100px; height:100px][style=padding:5px;margin-left:125px;margin-top:10px;font-family:courier; font-size:18px;color:#191919;text-align: left;width:230px;letter-spacing:-3px;opacity:0.78]she rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless ∞

Sapphire takes no triumph in having only clipped and irritated the Magmar - the initial advantage of surprise has been stolen away without any lasting damage. More so, the enemy's pokemon are able to counterattack and her foresight in having Joy erect a Light Screen pays off: a blitzkrieg Signal Beam is filtered through the barrier, lessened to pretty colors and an uncomfortable tingling sensation that runs from the tips of Sapphire's outstretched fingers, where she had been a laying a hand on her Zebstrika's back, to her elbow. Stripes, already on edge and eager with aggressive intent, ducks out from underneath Sapphire's hand and skitters away from the attack, but not before fastening his teeth around one of Joy's curls and dragging the Blissey squealing and terrified out of range as well. In this time, a glowing ring of light spreads outward from a floating figure in the clearing dust - a moment later, a moment too late, and Sapphire can identify it as a Claydol - that looks suspiciously like a Heal Block and this isn't something that a Light Screen can stop; and when the Claydoll then sends an Ancient Power streaking toward Topiary, her pokemon's wings are stirring for a Leaf Tornado that isn't aborted even when the other trainer calls off his pokemon's attack: Topiary, unconcerned with a command made by a trainer not his own, presses his advantage in the pause and the result is a spiraling flurry of cutting leaves and air drilling toward his attacker. Sapphire doesn't stop him. She watches the man with wary eyes, drags herself upright by taking hold and bracing against one of Topiary's shoulders; looks down upon the battlefield and sees the opponent's party clearly now that the air has been blown clean, four pokemon: Gardevoir, Claydoll, Dewott, and a Sandslash. (She's sees too a conspicuously large hole dug near the crumbled wall, but takes it as one of the Sandslash's attempts at destroying the barrier from beneath rather than evidence of the presence of a fifth pokemon.) Because Sapphire knows that Claydoll is capable of both rock and ground type attacks, has used Heal Block and subsequently rendered Joy's restorative abilities useless, and because three out of her remaining four pokemon are weak to one or the other types, she immediately singles it out as her first target. That the man has called out to her isn't significant reason for her to take heed of him - stop!, he'd said and Sapphire had thought something along the lines of: Oh, I know you. His face is familiar and well known to her, and Sapphire has a wonderful memory kept in practice by waitressing - she can recall obscure faces, what the headlines of the paper someone read while drinking coffee were, the sixteen different ways indolent Mr. Lane of Apartment 79, Bullard Complex might want his pork choplets prepared as he chatters about his twenty-nine grandchildren and goodness, he's only eighty-two and wouldn't a fine lady like her to saddle up with his lazy-eyed son and make a few more? Slow days and small paychecks, tips made by an agreeable customer. Did she thank them? Yes, of course. Faces like water slipping through her mouth, swallowed and put into her blood; hands that held cups and forks and buttered bread, marked by age and weather and injury. Liver spots and the shrug of a bare, freckled shoulder. Where did this one fit in? Oh. I know. Dried blood breaks in flakes across her throat, the lines of her mouth as she speaks, gathers in the space between her breasts - a phlegm ruined voice, sick with congestion: "Oh, I know you want me to stop, but I don't think it's for a turkey sandwich with extra tomatoes and club soda. I don't think you want to discuss the weather unless it has something to do with it being a sunny day, which may mean that my Tropius doesn't need preparation time to fire a Solar Beam?" She knows his name: Lamarck. She knows that he is friendly and likes to talk, that he's an irregular customer regular only in his orders, and although she doesn't see it, knows that he has a little pidgey: a small pokemon, brown with a light underbelly, short-feathered. An acquaintance on small talk, exchanging-opinions-on-the-weather terms. He is not someone whom Sapphire thinks of as close or particularly important in her life; he doesn't have power or influence over her feelings and certainly not her actions, she feels no loss or betrayal or anything at all by discovering his allegiance - he is not endeared to her, is a nonfactor in her happiness. So, she doesn't stop; even as she is speaking to him (and maybe he doesn't even hear her over those crackling, snapping charges), Stripes has recovered and is streaking across the ground like a loose missile, wrapped in writhing electric charges, a brilliant yellow bolt that thunders in a vague circle around his trainer and fellows and makes no move to charge directly. Instead, recognizing his powerlessness against Claydol's primery type, he looses a Shockwave at the Dewott; Joy, out of eggs to throw and having had her healing abilities sealed, is content to wait behind her Light Screen, confident in the Zebstrika's speed to act in her defense - and when Topiary spreads his wings and launches himself into the air, Stripes' running loop becomes centralized around her. Topiary is uneasy about flight with his trainer wounded, but Sapphire is insisting and he doesn't resist. His large wings whip the air into gusts with each long downstroke and in support, he sends a glittering array of Magical Leaves down at their enemies. Sapphire is whispering to him all the while: "That's it. There and there." Because she has no shame in bringing violence to a familiar face, he has no hesitation either.

[lamarck]

[cs=2][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width:450px,bTable] I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice Every one of us is, in the cosmic perspective, precious. If a human disagrees with you, let him live. In a hundred billion galaxies, you will not find another like him.

[atrb=valign,top] A quick belch of Lava Plume from the Magmar takes care of the worst of the leaves, though the ones high enough to hit Galt aren’t stopped. The Pokemon is sent spinning by the force of the leaves, catching himself with a struggle. Down below, Lamarck cringes as he sees his request, his order wasn’t obeyed. He doesn’t recognize Sapphire, but he won’t stand and be attacked. He’s given his opponent a chance. Now, he’ll do what he must. He places his hand in his coat, clutching the grip of the small pistol. Next he knows, there’s a shockwave flying at Rakasha, and magical leaves heading towards all of them. At Lamarck’s shout of surprise, Danna steps in front of Rakasha, taking the attack for her. The Pokemon falls back under the force of the assault, clearly shaken, and presses a trembling hand to her face as the current passes through her. From behind her, Rakasha leapt forth, vaulting her to aim a retaliate at the Zebstrika. At last recovered from the hit he’s taken from the earlier leaves, Galt swoops in to protect Lamarck and the others from the second attack. Thankfully, they’re small and close together, so he’s able to protect Lamarck, Danna, and Jacek from the attack through Extrasensory, shooting down the leaves with a beam of psychic force. Rakasha, who’s attacking one of their foes, is out of range, and is struck though she doesn’t pause in her attack. Though she’s bruised and in pain, she presses on, attempting to hit the zebra Pokemon. Beneath the ground, Zanzibar trudges forwards. The Sandslash is steadily digging his way along, guided by sounds rumbling down from above. It’s then that the words that sounded in Lamarck's ears register. He recognizes the voice even if the wind steals the meaning of her words. It’s the waitress from the restaurant he frequents. Suddenly, she’s no longer a nameless foe, another oppressor seeking to personally kill or maim him along with destroy the government that once ran his region fairly. Now it’s someone he knows, now it’s an astute young woman who’s bloody and exhausted but still trying to fight for a cause she surely believes in as fervently as he belives in Nox, if not more. And he’s not sure if he can do this. He knows there’s a chance. He’s fought people he knows before. Killed people he knows. But he has to give her another try, just one more. Mercy’s on his mind, and he almost chants a prayer to Entei out of habit as he turns to Galt and gives the signal. The dark glow of the heal block disappears, and praying she can hear, he screams, “If you’ll stop fighting, I can help!” Help heal those wounds. Help talk her around, make her see her efforts are for the wrong side. If all else fails, he can take her into custody. Anything would be better than leaving her another body on the ground. He’s seen too many of those today. He’s caused too many of those today. Three have fallen to his pistol, and he hopes there’ll be no more. Third time’s the charm, is it not? He watches anxiously for her answer. Galt’s watching suspiciously, impatiently- if it weren’t for Danna backing him, Lamarck’s not even sure Galt would have obeyed. And perhaps the Pokemon would be right, for while he’s none too forgiving, his judgment’s often wiser than Lamarck’s own. Aiding refugees outside of battle is a sign of a soft heart, but within battle it’s a sign of a soft head. He’s often said that to his own people, but he finds it so tricky to follow.

[atrb=width,160][atrb=valign,top] TAGS: Sapphire NOTES: Dewott uses retaliate on Zebstrika Magmar uses Lava Plume to counter the first grass attack Claydol uses Extrasensory to block part of the second attack Sandslash is still using Dig underground TEAM: Jacek, Zanzibar, Gallespie, Danna, Galt, Rakasha CREDITS: Made by Lucius/Hippiecut of PRE

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[atrb=style,padding:3px;border:0px solid #D7BCBC;width:400px;background-image:url(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lieeq1apxz1qcdtsho1_400.jpg),bTable] [style=background-image:url(http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k288/Akuhana/28.png); -webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width:100px; height:100px][style=padding:5px;margin-left:125px;margin-top:10px;font-family:courier; font-size:18px;color:#191919;text-align: left;width:230px;letter-spacing:-3px;opacity:0.78]she rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless ∞

When the Dewott leaps at Stripes, he catches him at an odd angle. Stripes, his skin electrified and glowing yellow and vibrant, has been galloping in a loose, protective circle around Joy; but when the Dewott strikes him, the Zebstrika is caught in midstride – and while Dewott’s weight and physical strength is hardly anything in comparison to his own – it is at the right moment and the right angle, and he overbalances, goes down hard. Head over heels, he tumbles and rolls, thrashes instinctively with the intention of crushing the smaller pokemon beneath his flailing, bludgeoning body, kicking out viciously all the while with his sharp hooves and his mouth is open, square teeth snapping and seeking his enemy’s flesh to seize and tear. He fires off a point-blank Shock Wave and then another, scrambles to stand, bucks and leaps and kicks when he does, tears around in a furious frenzy. Joy cries and cowers in terror behind her protective Light Screen and above them both, Topiary burns. Slow with care for his trainer’s health, he has failed to dodge the Magmar’s Lava Plume and his hip and right wing are alight, his leaf wing consumed so quickly that it is flakes and ashes and curled, useless veins before he even begins to fall. He tilts, an odd angle – he’ll spin out, crash, and crush Sapphire behind his body – so he folds what is left of his wings, tucks his legs under, and drops like a stone, lands on bent knees and sags from the impact: a poor landing and the shame of any flying pokemon. Topiary is not nearly as young as he once was - he has been with Sapphire for ten years and while Tropius live long lives, no fighting pokemon maintains its battle readiness for its entire lifespan, there are injuries and wear and tear; and he has had both. His legs begin to buckle, fractured between foot and knee, but he drags himself along on his belly, slowly, his long neck limp and trembling with the reverberations of his roars, open mouth bellowing spittle and hatred. Sapphire, mostly unconscious on his back and having not heard Lamarck’s desperate scream, lies with her stomach pressed flat against his skin, vacant-eyed and dripping fresh lines of blood down his sides, the wind knocked out of her damaged lungs, broken insides smashed against her spine from the intense pressure of their sudden breakneck drop. She is unaware that the flames have now trespassed across Topiary’s flanks, have been reaching for his back and shoulders, licking at the tips of her fingers, eating the skin and the fat beneath; before her unseeing eyes, his cellulous scales crack and break, shatter and are made ash. When Stripes runs toward them and grabs her by one dangling, skinny wrist, she doesn’t even respond; his mouth is too big, too much pressure, and he isn’t gentle – he crushes her bones, tears the muscles and Joy is screaming in high-pitched shrills that make his hearing warble as he throws his head around and bodily swings Sapphire off of his burning, seizing companion. Stripes rapidly reverses, dragging his trainer along in the dirt, and Joy scrabbles at him with her tiny, disproportionate hands and he’ll kill her she’s hurt she’s dying stop it go slow be gentle. Topiary screams. He is monstrous in his agony, immobile and stagnating in the fumes of his own burning flesh, half aflame by now; but his eyes are bright and alive and hating, his mouth is open and full of blunt molars and what would be a dark, empty throat if not for the sun there, growing large with light and power and intent, pointed directly at his enemies. Raises his head, the Solarbeam in mouth and his eyes are those of an animal at bay, half torn to pieces and cornered by the huntsman’s dogs, awaiting the man to come tramping through the woods with his gun and his bullets – snarling and hateful and raging in its last moments. Turns his head, and their eyes meet: Sapphire, whose stare is suddenly clear and vivid, Zebstrika's manhandling having jolted her from catatonia. Her mouth opens, rounds, then moves and it all happens in what couldn't have been more than a second, but between them, it's so slow and long and Sapphire wants to hold it and keep it because this is the moment where Topiary looks at her and in that language between trainer and pokemon, spoken in a lifetime of friendship and familial love, broken obstacles and dashed dreams, realized shortcomings and forgiveness and acceptance, towns and cities and long nights at the edge of the known world where the air was so thin that you could die, that secret and special language spoken in body movement and glance and breath and feeling, in this way he says: I love you. And then, she closes her eyes.

OOC: Post version number 2. Because number one was lost to the backspace button and Cream not saving stuff in Word. Bad post is bad post because Number 1 was beautiful D; Also this is really late and I'm really sorry. Also also, you might not see me for two days - my cold medicine got an upgrade.

[lamarck]

[cs=2][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width:450px,bTable] I am constantly amazed by man's inhumanity to man That it was the most faithful, gentle hearted who did not survive, because they sacrificed themselves for others, they took risks trying to help each other, they went peacefully trying to be examples of courage for others.

[atrb=valign,top] He’s been hesitant to use Jacek. The Magmar is one of his strongest, is one of his oldest, but he comes from a time in Lamarck’s life that he can’t be proud of. Shouldn’t be proud of, even if there still lurk some vague pinings for a simpler time, a successful time. Funny how he was such a spectacularly useful Rocket, and now he’s a poorly organized, barely recognized Nox rebel. But Jacek has retained both the efficiency and the brutality of a Rocket, and it is this that makes Lamarck hesitant to call upon him. But he’s not the one to suffer at the hands of this poor judgment call. The Tropius facing them is, except Lamarck’s not entirely sure it was bad judgment, because the beast was attacking them. Was large enough to crush all of them under his bulk, and he’s afraid he might lose someone anyway, because Rakasha has fallen under the force of a shockwave and flailing limbs, and he can see one of her arms is at an odd angle, one of her legs has turned purplish red with what he suspects is more than a bruise- internal bleeding. The sound of her cry is unmistakable and rumbles through layers of dirt, and to his relief, his other companion from his Rocket days is there. Zanzibar hauls her bodily down into his tunnel, kicking up dirt behind him in his wake, just as a second attack crashes into the dirt behind them. Lamarck, from this distance, with the ground between them, can’t tell if she’s alive. And Zanzibar doesn’t emerge again. He turns to the grass type facing them. He fights the urge to help. He remembers Tropius, knows the species from his childhood days. They’re foreign, but the cult had obtained one- through what means is best not to ask- that stood in the center square. Whose fruit was given to those in need of it, to those who’d earned it with their devotion. Whose canopy shaded him as he sat on one of the hard stone benches, working on his homework away from the crowded, chaotic house. He remembers the sweet smell of its leaves and branches. The soft, slightly tart crunch of its fruit. But this isn’t home, and this isn’t a time to be soft hearted. This is war. (but does war call for watching a Pokemon burn to death? He can’t say.) Danna’s beside him, holding his arm, and Galt hovers just above his shoulder as he takes a risky tack. He wants to ensure this woman can’t fight on, but he doesn’t intend to cause permanent harm. Not needlessly, at least, and not cruelly. He takes a risk and walks straight towards Sapphire and Topiary, out onto the battlefield, out to where he’ll be close enough to reason with them. Danna’s mind sinks into his and he can feel wordlessly how worried she is, how she wants him to hang back, he catches the faint echos as she implores Galt to give him his usual reminder that he needs to use his head and his common sense- And then it comes. There’s a beam of green light, faster than any human could hope to move and avoid, but Danna’s no human. She’s in front of Lamarck in an instant, five feet ahead of him, and it’s enough to absorb the beam for him but not enough to stop the momentum as it flings her bodily backwards. She crashes into him, slowed only slightly by another extrasensory from Galt, enough to spare his life but not much more. He’s unconscious, and if he doesn’t have two black eyes and a concussion from this by tomorrow it’ll be a small miracle. And she’s alright. Her trainer just stared death in the eye, but she’s simply battered, she’s still able to rise and to fight. It’s never hit her before how fragile humans are, and perhaps she’s never been the stoic Galt is, but right now she’s surpassing Lamarck in the ‘heart over head’ category. It breaks every rule she’s been raised with but she uses Psychic, this time without the intent to harm her foe. Instead, with it she grabs a pokeball from Lamarck’s belt. His last Pokemon, his precious Gallespie emerges, flopping on the ground. Seaking can breathe air, at least for a little while, but they’re as good as helpless out of the water. Gallespie can’t even turn herself. Danna’s forced to turn her around, hold her and aim her towards her ‘target’. Beside Danna, Jacek gives a roar. ~This isn’t a battle, this is war- this is death-~ but Danna’s not listening. A neutral observer, Galt hovers wordlessly between the two as they both aim attacks. Jacek aims another Lava Plume, spitting it at Joy with all the force he can muster. But alongside him, Danna’s holding Gallespie, who aims a weak waterfall, the current of it spluttering down softly towards Topiary, aiming to soothe any remaining flames. For all the brilliant successes of their past missions, this battle can be called nothing but a mess, and Galt suspects, a failure. Lamarck’s passionate when it comes to winning the hearts and minds of others to his cause, be it through honesty or tricky, though open debate or through sabotage and propaganda. But he’s never had the strength to battle without hesitation, without Jacek and Zanzibar to press him to fight on, to resist the urge to back down. The team is breaking apart, torn in two different directions. Zanzibar fights for justice, Jacek with brutality, Danna favoring acuity and with an eye on peaceful solutions, Gallespie with mercy.. Rakasha bears the common sense of the team, and it’s her task, with Galt, to keep the team on an even course. On a single course. Without her and without Galt’s usual constant commentary, they can’t even come together and choose a single goal. Jacek cares little if he hits more than his target, if he hits the human even. Gallespie is striving to save their foe. Danna’s not sure where she stands, but with Lamarck’s body on the ground, she can’t help but wonder why humans have chosen to go to war. Why they’d risk their fragile lives. Why their Pokemon agree to fight in it, knowing how easy it would be for their people to fall before them. She doesn’t want to do this any longer. If she has her way, this will be Lamarck’s last battle. She’s heard the cause, been the one he practiced so many of his little speeches on, tested his pamphlets with, but it means little to her now. No cause, no matter how righteous, is worth risking the life of her trainer. ~Is this worth it? Is any of this worth dying for?~ and it’s shouted psychically to anything close enough to hear her. She’s had it, she’s had it with war, with blood, and with death- be it of their own team or of others. She’s had enough.

[atrb=width,160][atrb=valign,top] TAGS: Sapphire NOTES: Dewott is knocked out Zanzibar uses another dig to pull Dewott underground Magmar uses Lava Plume to attack Joy Claydol uses Extrasensory to slow Danna's fall Danna uses Psychic to let out Gallespie Gallespie uses a weak waterfall over Topiary TEAM: Jacek, Zanzibar, Gallespie, Danna, Galt, Rakasha CREDITS: Made by Lucius/Hippiecut of PRE

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[atrb=style,padding:3px;border:0px solid #D7BCBC;width:400px;background-image:url(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lieeq1apxz1qcdtsho1_400.jpg),bTable] [style=background-image:url(http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k288/Akuhana/28.png); -webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width:100px; height:100px][style=padding:5px;margin-left:125px;margin-top:10px;font-family:courier; font-size:18px;color:#191919;text-align: left;width:230px;letter-spacing:-3px;opacity:0.78]she rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless ∞

Topiary is steaming in silence, wet and black, ruined and limp; stretched across the ground, the the ashes of his flesh, blistered and his skin cracked and split in open weals bone deep. One eye is shut, the other half-open and white, dripping mucous and tears down his slackened face, open-mouthed, tongue lolling and raw. Sapphire lays between Stripes' forelegs, broken and pale, her long hair curling tangled and crooked over her shoulders, around her brittle tossed arms; white skinned and veins faint colors at her throat and wrists and feet, insubstantial and lifeless. Stripes bends his head to mouth a lock of her hair, tugs it, snuffles at her face, presses his mouth to her pulse, but she doesn't wake and Joy crowds them, putting her hands over the woman's skin and touching and crying. But Stripes has felt a pulse jumping weakly in her neck and has hope; and this is the moment that the Lava Plume smashes against Joy's Light Screen. The barrier flickers a moment, then shatters, and Joy curls over her trainer protectively. Her skin blisters, bubbles and chars, but Blissey, who are known more for their defensive capabilities, are thick-skinned with multiple layers of insulating fat, and the damage, while painful, is only superficial. She squeals and Stripes, skittering instinctively back from the fire, barks shrilly in response and tosses his head; even if her wounds are only skin deep, even if Joy is safe, he turns on his heels, rearing and screaming in piercing angry notes, wild-eyed and baring his teeth, swathed in electric leaping bolts and pawing at the air. The Wild Charge is reckless and furious; he's a glittering, shining bolt tearing across the ground, ripping the dirt beneath his hooves, frothing foam and fury at the mouth. Sapphire's father, the esteemed Professor Birch, had once joked that the Zebstrika's unnatural and aggressive attachment to her Blissey was the result of his 'defective Egg Group senses'; but Sapphire hadn't looked any further to explain his behavior. She had rubbed his nose and said very seriously, "Don't ever hesitate to protect your girl." And perhaps it was because she had had her own share of strange relationships, or maybe it was because she had known what it was like to have had feelings that couldn't be shared or related to, but Sapphire hadn't ever discouraged Stripes. She had looked and seen his devotion, however fruitless and adolescent as Birch said it would be, and she hadn't questioned it, had taken him and spoken to him, read him passages from her father's books on pokemon physicality. She had not told him how to go about his courting, but she had sought to educate him and curb dangerous tendencies. Inherently, Stripes had known that he couldn't treat Joy as one of his own species - she was weightier but smaller and tender - he couldn't play fight or bite at her teasingly as he would have done with another Zebstrika. He couldn't put his hooves against her or herd her as one might a mare; instinct called for him to demonstrate his strength against rivals, but that only terrified and confused her for she had neither the matching instinct nor the personality to appreciate his efforts. To this, Sapphire had to said him in a suggesting manner, "Accommodation is a useful tool in human relations." So he had tried, and when on that magical day that Joy had laid against him and slept in the awkward, bony cradle of his folded legs - soft and pink and pliant - Sapphire had met his eyes and there was something there that had made him wonder if her all suggestions and support had been saved, leftover from a time when she herself had needed them. And now, he thinks, because she had understood his need to connect to a reticent loved one, she wouldn't begrudge him the opportunity to avenge Joy's hurt would she? Even as the Gardevoir calls out: Is this worth it? Is any of this worth dying for? And Stripes doesn't think about that because his friends are lying deathly still on the ground, his beloved is crying in pain, and he is a trainer's pokemon. He has chosen to share his life and his power with her, and she has given him equally in return - the nuances and philosophies of war don't concern him. His world consists of his trainer and his friends and Joy, and by extension all of the things that all of them care for: there are battles to be fought and foreign lands to see, comrades to be kept alive, homes to defend, dreams to be realized and more and more and more... What is it worth to question the sacrifice for these things when they are more than ideals, when they are what they have lived their lives for? They are tangible in that a person can see the agony brought when any one of these is lost. They are important and irreplaceable - if they weren't precious enough to protect and stake their lives and happiness on, then they are selfish and irresponsible, Stripes believes. No one but themselves can protect their own happiness.

[lamarck]

[cs=2][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width:450px,bTable] war, no matter how necessary, is a crime There is no such thing as a “war hero”, because there is nothing about war that is heroic

[atrb=valign,top] She wants it all to end. Full stop. Danna doesn’t care about Lamarck’s cause, doesn’t care about this battle, doesn’t care about the war. She cares about her trainer, small and crumpled on the ground, a thin trail of blood dripping from his nose, his face blackening with bruising. She should care about more than that, should care about the awful stench of burnt flesh from the Pokemon facing them, about the young woman lying similarly still, about the cause they’re fighting for- She doesn’t. She turns Gallespie towards Jacek, then drops her gently into the dirt, giving her a choice. Or somewhat of one. The seaking is gasping for air now, not able to stay out of the water much longer. She can’t focus enough to send water coursing at Jacek, to try to stop him, and Danna takes pity. She levitates the pokeball again and sends Gallespie back, sends the pokeball into Lamarck’s hands. She turns to Galt and something wordless passes between them, or perhaps there’s actual communication, words sent silently through the power of telepathy. There’s a twitch in the earth, and the tip of a blue tail pops up. Danna doesn’t glance at it. Doesn’t flinch. And then she gently makes her way over to Lamarck, seizes him with Gallespie’s pokeball still in his hand, and something pulls her back, and by then there’s more than just a tail above the dirt. Rakasha’s limp body appears beside Lamarck, and Danna can see the faintest rise and fall of her chest as she struggles to breathe. She slips her other hand out, one on Lamarck’s forehead, the other on Rakasha’s back, and they disappear. Left behind with no clue as to whether Danna will return, one might expect Lamarck’s team to gather around the other Pokeon capable of telekinesis, the Claydol hovering above them. They don’t. Zanzibar pops his head up from the dirt, from the hole he’d pressed Rakasha through. The Pokemon trades a brief glance with Galt, but it’s clear more has passed between them, because without hesitation Zanzibar charges at Jacek. The two have been companions longer than any other of Lamarck’s Pokemon, have faced death together, but Zanzibar betrays no expression as he crashes into him, a slash flinging the fire type forwards. There’s a long gash down his back, and it’s deep, but more importantly, it throws him into the path of the Zebstrika charging at him. Jacek’s caught dead on, thrown back, and he rolls onto his side instead of rising, trying to catch his breath. If he feels betrayed, he shows no sign of it. Instead, he fires off a confuse ray, sending a beam of rainbow-colored, faint light at the Zebstrika. His feet claw weakly in Zanzibar’s direction, for the ground type has followed along, grimly pursuing Jacek across the hard-packed dirt. He’s carrying a rock he’s picked up, a none-too-small piece of rubble, and the look in his eyes is distant and cold. Galt hovers silently, a wordless observer. Without Danna, he can not heal, can do nothing for their foes. But he drifts silently nearer, trying to survey them, trying to get a look at their trainer. ~It’s over~ he says softly, says aloud to the three Pokemon facing him, though he’s none too sure if they’re all still capable of listening. His voice is soft, calm. ~Enough.~ Sooner or later, Danna will be back- he can’t imagine she’s left them permanently. Sooner or later their healer will return, but he won’t keep her here if there’s still fighting, if this isn’t resolved. If they want aid, they need to stop fighting. He’s not sure if they’re fighting for their cause, or for their friend, or for their lives. With death hovering in the foreground, inching closer, perhaps he should be more concerned for finding peace, for finding a solution all present can stomach, and less focused on his curiosity. He hangs silent, a passive observer. He can’t heal, he won’t fight. All he can do is wait.

[atrb=width,160][atrb=valign,top] TAGS: Sapphire NOTES: Danna teleports out with Lamarck, Gallespie, and Rakasha Zanzibar uses Slash on Jacek Jacek uses confuse ray on zebstrika TEAM: Jacek, Zanzibar, Gallespie, Danna, Galt, Rakasha CREDITS: Made by Lucius/Hippiecut of PRE

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[atrb=style,padding:3px;border:0px solid #D7BCBC;width:400px;background-image:url(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lieeq1apxz1qcdtsho1_400.jpg),bTable] [style=background-image:url(http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k288/Akuhana/28.png); -webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width:100px; height:100px][style=padding:5px;margin-left:125px;margin-top:10px;font-family:courier; font-size:18px;color:#191919;text-align: left;width:230px;letter-spacing:-3px;opacity:0.78]she rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless ∞

The other team mutinies. It's terrible and frightening to see them turn against one of their own and, while it is to Joy's advantage to have subdued the most volatile of their enemies, watching as the Magmar is practically thrown into oncoming path of Stripes' driving hooves makes her nauseous and ill, horror struck and riveted in place - and Stripes' spares nothing in his assault. Squealing, he bowls straight over the other pokemon, stamping his hooves and throwing wild shots of electricity across the field and the Magmar, thrown back, fairly bounces along the ground before rolling to a stop. Persistent even in the face of a second attack - Stripes is turning on his heels, lunging into another Wild Charge - it fires off a Confuse Ray that catches him dead on in the eyes. Stripes screams shrilly, rears and paws at air. He drops down, kicks out with his heels and turns in circles, wild with confusion and directionless, unfocused rage; bucking and throwing his back around, spine crackling with his bone-jarring twists, leaping huge and his hooves leave the ground. He moves like he has a rider to throw, as if someone has sat on his back and used every dirty trick in the book, practices that no decent human would use against a sentient being: put studded spurs to his flanks, cockle burrs beneath an over-weighted saddle, a bucking strap raw against his belly. He snarls, lips peeled back and baring wide square teeth, and it isn't a sound that a Zebstrika would make of his own accord: it's an ugly, feral sound - the kind that baseless, unintelligent animals make when cornered and held at bay, driven to self-preservation. He is unreasonable, and if Stripes remembered that he'd had beloved ones to protect, that knowledge is muddled and filtered out by irrational defensive behavior and the propensity to snap and kick and trample any that draw near. Joy clings to Sapphire, smoothing a trembling hand across her forehead and her skin is burning with fever. Limp, head lolling, throat bright with veins and fever heat red, she is broken in Joy's arms; her breathing is uneven and rattling, thick with phlegm and blood, and for one delirious moment, the Blissey imagines that there are pieces of bone swimming in her lungs, butterfly stroking through crushed tissue and blood vessels. She's dying, Joy thinks and is helpless as she looks around and sees: Topiary, black with char and unmoving; Stripes raging and thrashing, the whites of his eyes huge as his pupils skitter in their sockets. It's over, says the Claydol in his thought-speech. Enough. And Joy knows that it is. But Turtlekins doesn't. The Tortoal is even older Topiary, and it is a fact that is often forgotten. After all, he is one of the quietest of Sapphire's pokemon, slow in body but not mind; he is intelligent but reserved, alien in his stoicism and set apart from the others, different. Of his companions, he is the last pokemon Sapphire reaches for, but it isn't for a lack of battle prowess or power - it is because when things go sour, Turtlekins, for all his sluggish social graces, has a propensity for saving the day. He can do the things that not even Sapphire can bring herself to do. By Sapphire's outstretched hand, dangling slack and still, fingers half curled, is a pokeball. It rocks once, twice, and then the Torkoal materializes in a flash of light, snorting steam from his nostrils. Joy, sniffling, watches him wide eyes as he languidly stretches and then lays down before them a layer of Smokescreen followed by a thick, poisonous Smog. Joy has half the mind to bring up another Light Screen, and there through gaps in the rapidly closing noxious clouds, she can see Stripes not far from the enemy's reach, still leaping and kicking and twisting. She can hear him screaming and shrilling a war cry to an imagined opponent, throwing his back and rearing, shrouded in electricity and dripping sparks that sputter and die in the dirt. No. No. No. She scrabbles at Torkoal with one hand, the other arm weakly supporting Sapphire and she drops to the ground; Joy cries and digs her tiny fingers into the furrows and cracks of his shell, unfeeling slabs of bone and rigidity. And still he spews toxin and smoke, and one reptile eye, half lidded and hard, clinical as it rolls lazily in its socket, turns to look at her, at the Egg Bomb nestled in her pouch. She knows what he's asking of her, and she won't do it. No. Never. That slitted eye turns to Sapphire, follows the awkward lines of bulges stretching skin white and raw - bones broken and pressing at wrong places; the slant of her limp neck, head dropping back, face delicate and bloodless white; and then the eye looks back at Joy. Joy sobs, clutches her trainer and keens brokenly, and maybe Stripes isn't as far gone as she'd thought - because his voice rises above the smog and her cries, a high piercing note of distress and frustration. He hears her, he calls for her: Where are you? Where are you? His eyes are glittering wet, but lucid for a moment - and he knows that he might be bewildered in the next, so he lunges at the gaps in the fumes but they are thickening and he isn't quick enough: it isn't safe. He can see Turtle looking at him and Stripes has always known that he was different than the rest of them - harder and distant - and he should hate him for having doomed him, but he doesn't. He knows that the battle is at its end and that they have failed to bulldoze their way through to Ever Grande, that Sapphire's condition has worsened, that Topiary may be dead and there is little standing between the enemy and Joy and his trainer. He understands, and it passes between them. He doesn't hesitate for regrets when he trades his brilliant electric coat for one of fire, wraps himself in it and swathes his skin in the heat and curling flames, dives into the thick of the smog without a single wounded cry. As he leaps, everything slows for Joy; her body moves but she doesn't comprehend - the hand that takes Topiary's pokeball and recalls him, that brings a human's drooping, wounded body to her chest and carries her away from the battle, away from the Zebstrika making his leap of death, is foreign and unattached. The world turns on its axis by the sloth of her brain, slow with incomprehension and terror and agony: he is on fire, if he leaps into the smoke, he will die - it will explode and he will die. A wall of fire and poison, and would his bones be left? What would she find in the ash? Don't do that, don't die. Don't do that, don't die. Don't die. I love you.

*the last move used by zebstrika is flame charge and wasn't mentioned by name

[lamarck]

[cs=2][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width:450px,bTable] Where is your brother?

[atrb=valign,top] Galt is the first of the team to react, hastily sweeping back, evading both smoke and fog as he rises up, up, up into the sky above. But below him, Zanzibar and Jacek have not fared so well. Both are within the confines of the smog, both are within the smoke, and both are poisoned by it. Feet planted, Zanzibar continues the laborious walk towards Jacek, rock still clutched tightly in his hands. The Magmar is bruised and battered from Stripes’ feet, is barely able to rise, but he does so nonetheless, and fixes a tired stare on Zanzibar. The fire type’s chest rises and falls slowly, his attempts to breathe labored, but there’s a fire of another type in his eyes. They meet clumsily, Zanzibar fumbling the rock as he tries to strike out with it, Jacek using a Faint Attack that’s accurate but without power behind it. The two go down in a ball and then there’s no attempts to use attacks at all, merely desperate scrabbling around in the dirt. They’re coiled together, Jacek clawing and tearing at any part of Zanzibar he can reach, Zanzibar trying to bring the solid spikes on his back into play, trying to spear the fire type. This is no longer the fight of one who seeks to protect his team versus one who seeks to protect his vision of morality. It’s simply a fight of one brother turned against the others, no more a clash of ideals than was Cain and Abel from the legends. It’s jealousy and rage and the realization that their fundamental differences aren’t matters of opinion so much as their natures. A dim flash of green light, and Danna is back, Danna is back with Lamarck in her arms. She’s holding him upright, if one could call it that; he’s hunched over, peering weakly at the field through two swelling black eyes, unable to so much as lift an arm without her assistance. The concussion has left him nauseous, has left him dizzy, and he’s only vaguely aware of the fight going on before him. He is aware that, without him, his team has fallen apart. ~ He insisted,

[/b]~ she says to Galt, but the Claydol doesn’t answer, doesn’t say a word from his perch. Lamarck makes a weak noise, an attempt at speech that he can’t quite manage, and Galt tries to separate the fighters. He uses extrasensory, a beam of light going down to try to divide them, but it’s halted by the latest attack. A second slash from Zanzibar penetrates the Magmar’s skin, leaves his claw stuck in the Pokemon’s side, and Galt dares not tear them apart lest it do more damage.

Zanzibar’s mutiny, Jacek’s disobedience and violence, neither one has even registered in Lamarck’s mind. But it has in Danna’s, and she reaches in, trying to share her awareness of both with him, trying to help his tired mind process. Trying to let him know that they have, at least, vanquished their foe- for it appears they’re retreating from the battle field. Well, all but one.

What Lamarck acts on is the last, the only fact that sticks in his mind. The fight between Jacek and Zanzibar is beyond his comprehension, but what he can understand is the presence of the Zebstrika when the other enemies have departed.

He doesn’t think it over. Weakly, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pokeball. Danna has to support his trembling arm, help him draw back enough to throw it at the charging Zebstrika. His eyes fall closed, and for a minute, it feels like he's back in his rocket days, but his motives are different this time, aren’t they? Because his intention, this time, isn’t to break the bond between trainer and Pokemon, but to preserve it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obey your trainer obey your trainer obey your trainer there is no team there is no team there is no team you are here to serve you are here to serve you are here to serve remember when you grew attached to that skitty and then she was transferred? disobedience means death disobedience means death disobedience means death never harm a human without being given orders never harm a human without being given orders never harm a human disobedience means death be prepared to lay down your life for your keeper- keeper- keeper?

but the man who rescued him from that revolving-door life, who rescued him from the times when he faced only foes intent on harm rather than competition, is not a keeper, is not-

some of the lessons have faded over time but there’s one, one still drilled into his head-

never harm a human. Never never never never

~ There’s… no place in this world for enemies~ the Magmar gasps out, and Zanzibar can’t tell if he’s referring to the girl, or to himself. ~ no place for civility in war~

He’s killed before, in this war. He’s very nearly killed in Rocket, stopped at the last second by Lamarck. But perhaps Lamarck’s visions have become just as entrenched in his mind as the teachings Rocket once beat into him, because he hesitates, and gently, he pulls back, removing his bloody claw without tearing further into Jacek’s flesh.

And then the fire type reaches for him weakly, not for support but with his claws extended, and Zanzibar knows he can’t let this go on, can’t let himself take the easy way out. Because if he does, Jacek is left for Lamarck to handle, and Lamarck can no longer even see them, can’t even lift his head.

He turns swiftly, and before regret and sorrow can stop him, he lashes out with a slash, he tears open the Magmar’s chest and stomach. Blood gushes, and Jacek sputters weakly, then collapses, then falls back. Danna stares, transfixed, until Galt gently descends, turning her face away.

Jacek lies still. Zanzibar embeds his claws in the dirt. Lets the blood soak into the ground. Returns, slowly, to his trainer’s side.

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TAGS:
Sapphire

NOTES:

• Jacek is dead
  

TEAM:
Jacek, Zanzibar, Gallespie, Danna, Galt, Rakasha

CREDITS:
Made by Lucius/Hippiecut
of PRE

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[tsun]

VICTOR: SAPPHIRE

+ 500 to Lux