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Post by Genesect on Jan 31, 2014 22:15:00 GMT -5
"Hey, he may not be the best-lookin' of the bunch, but this here lug's my boss." Luckily for Claudius, Blade wasn't the proud type, the jibe taken at Genesect's look earning a bit of a chuckle from the over encumbered bug.
"Still, would be nice if Genesect was as compact as yours... anyway." Shrugging it off, he pressed on, letting the conversation take the attention away from his tired muscles and battered body. Thankfully, as an insect with a definite exoskeleton, broken teeth was not a part of his concern. He was, however, still as tremendously injured as the dragon, each step taking a little extra time just to correct his balance.
"Not Eevees? Meh, then human rumor's led me astray again." With a chuckle of his own, he glanced back towards the Druddigon: "And forgive me for being blasphemous, I guess, but what Arceus does has little meaning to me. You know. Lab-born."
But why was Genesect here? "Dunno about my boss, though. Showed up on our beach one day, broke through our defenses like it was nothing. Turned out he had the same story as the lot of us, and out here in the wild, strength is power, so he runs the party now. Besides, he's simple and straightforward with what he does. Likeable but irritating."
He left the rest of it a mystery, and pushed forth next to Claudius, moving towards the other group's medical bag. "Chicken? My wings don't let me fly." Well, at least they would have a place to settle down... but why did it have to be so far away, in all this heavy mud! Trudging another few steps forward, he glanced up, seeing that the rock was, indeed, a little bit closer. "Oh, hallelujah, I can get this guy off my back soon... ugh, and maybe fix up my back." He didn't have a chance to do it during the battle, but coming up on this last stretch, Scizor more properly recognized the damage that was upon his body. Much of it was his mangled shoulder, where Claudius had chewed on him with flaming fangs, and the point of his back where he tightly hugged and clawed against him, further dented and maiming his vestigial wings.
"Ugh, you know, I gotta handle it to ya." Scizor grinned: "I've been in my share of scraps, and the only other one who could hurt me this bad was this guy on my back. I might be a savage, but I know when I would have been goosed. Ugh..."
Finally reaching the rock, he would set Genesect down, resting the disabled bug on his front side so as to not further stress the cannon. He clicked his claw in front of his eyes, then rested his ear against his back. "Meh, he's breathin. Sturdy little guy, ain't ya?"
Does it dream?
In his own unconscious stupor, Genesect's thoughts rattled around in his brain. Machine as it was, what it saw in its own memory, its 'dreams' came across as vivid. What he was recalling, was a conversation held outside of his tank. One of his earliest recollections, a group of scientists discussing their creation, and what it would be capable of.
Not its combat ability, but its... 'humanity'.
Will it feel?
Can it love?
Can it betray?
Each topic wove into the next, excited psychological and psychic babble rolling past his eyes, to discuss his emotions and brain activity. But ultimately, one discussion sank the most...
How will the world see him?
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Post by Keldeo "Keenan Valero" on Feb 2, 2014 6:30:21 GMT -5
The ladies seemed to adore Keldeo—some of them. It was likely not his somewhat sour disposition that won him the glances. Then again, unlike Genesect, the goat had mastered the art of changing, switching, and concealing his true appearance. Which god, when given the chance to appear as whatever they wanted, would choose plain or ugly? “Eh, Keldeo kind of cheats. Most of the gods do.” No lightning struck him down. While his master would likely have been a strong and muscular human, he likely would not be quite that handsome. “What’s the wages like on your end? Mine pays me in morality lessons and sound beatings.” The Druddigon would never switch sides. Claudius just found it easier to drive himself forward if his tongue was moving as well.
Allowing the goat to drape more comfortable, that horn was too sharp for its own good, the dual-colored dragon just chortled. “Wouldn’t it be? I wish we had one of those shrink rays or something.” The water-type was far from heavy though. While muscular, there seemed to be a distinct lack of fat, he was compact. “If wishes were fishes, huh?” The reptile was tired—a bag of groceries might quickly tucker him out in this moment. His walking was far more even. His head hurt. Maybe, next time, Claudius would avoid butting his head into a solid steel wall. Maybe.
Chortling, glancing about as if the goddess might be lying in weight, Claudius could not help responding with good humor. “Human rumors would have you believe that they created the world, the stars, and made Arceus for a marketing campaign.” The dragon had stopped believing in the silly monkeys quite a while ago. Frowning at him, resisting the urge to growl as Keldeo was, the dragon just shrugged. “Understandable I suppose. Though, if you want to talk that way, then he made those scientists and laboratories.” Not overly religious, in terms of actions, the reptile did believe in Arceus. “I met him once.” It was actually just a brief glimpse of his foot, Claudius really had little intention of expanding.
“Just used that canon huh? He’s pretty fast for a piece of steel.” This clone had just accepted an attacker into its fold? Neither Keldeo, or any of his disciples, took kindly to things like invading forces. They had bowed so easily? Strength was power in the wild though. Having a weak leader, with diplomatic ideas, meant little in the face of hunger and incoming battle. “Hm. I see—I don’t know why you didn’t just ask the guy.” There had to be a reason the purple-thing had decided to shove himself into that little enclave. “Haha. I know that dichotomy—Keldeo is the same way. He’s equal parts fire and water.” Oddly enough, the fiery temper was mostly seen in normal everyday conversation. Battle had a tendency to quell his master and make him placid.
Could chickens fly? The dragon had eaten quite a few of them. The little balls of feathers seemed determined to do little bit stick in his teeth. “Haha! There is that I suppose, young pu—what on earth do bugs call young ones? Pupa?” Claudius nodded twice. That was what the little worms were called—right? Whistling a tune, trying to ignore the pain in his bruised jaw, the large best pushed through the mud. He tried to ignore the feeling of pull on his clawed-feet. “You can. I’ll give you a potion or two too—we always got enough.” Keldeo was the type to be over-prepared. A life spent with parents who sometimes rushed headlong into fights, without any foresight but what booze provided, made the young colt a bit paranoid.
The Druddigon swelled with pride. “I’ve got a few years on you—you did pretty good.” Claudius had been around a few blocks before. Experience was useful. Then again, with a craggy hide like his, it was easy to get some sort of advantage when up close. “Goosed? Do you mean cooked?” Phrases changed far too much for the reptile to keep up with. A savage? This was certainly not how he pictured an encounter with a ‘savage’. It seemed nearly civil, even without any sign of tea.
Finally, half collapsing on rock, the dragon laid his master upon the stone. The goat continued to shift his chest in and out. Kneeling beside the camouflaged bag, which had been obscured by a pile of rocks, he pulled out a variety of bottles. “Does he breathe? Do machines need to?” HE had pictured that, like the stupid laptop Suicune had busted, such a being would just flicker out. “He seems pretty sturdy—no bones to worry about.” Finally, taking the potion with him, the dragon allowed himself to flop on the stones.
“Drink up, sire.” The bottle was pushed against stubborn lips. Finally, after coaxing and bloody gums, the liquid was lapped up.
Teal eyes, at first frantic from their nightmare, startled awake. He was too tired to move. “These liquids are as ghastly as three hundred years ago—“ Then Keenan allowed himself to sigh. Could machines taste? The taste of both blood and wood-smoke still rested heavily on his tongue. Did they understand likes and dislikes? “Spray the potion on the gashes in his armor.” One hoof gently tapped a scaled armor, batting it away, as Druddigon moved into a protective position.
“I doubt he is any more up to this silly bravado than I am, Claudius. Leave us be.” If the insect happened to wake up, so be it. Emotions had their own strength over gears and cogs. [/align]
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Post by Genesect on Feb 9, 2014 20:27:47 GMT -5
"Goosed, cooked, bricked. Whatever you want to call it."
Finally, the Scizor had the chance to treat his own wounds. Letting Genesect rest where he laid for the moment, the bug took a potion in hand, a small swig given before a thick cough. "Hell, that's not smooth at all." Shaking his head, he forced his way through the rest of the fluid, just to get it over with as quickly as possible, before crushing the bottle in his claw. He then gave a glance towards Claudius:
"What, boss here? Yeah, he breathes: somewhere under all that, he's still a bug-type like the rest of us." He looked back towards Genesect, turning him on his side to look at the more-penetrated parts of his armor. Keldeo's blade of cobalt had managed to do quite a number to the armor: it was rare to see the machine wounded at all, much less bleeding from under his chassis! Shaking his claw clean, Blade sighed. "Feh, 'no bones to worry about'. I don't have bones either, buddy. Just the 'armor'."
Well, this had to go somewhere. Taking a small towel from the bag, Blade cleaned the wounds as best he could, signalling back towards Claudius for another potion...
"Hm?"
That was a different voice. Somehow, Keldeo was quick to regain consciousness... was that a potion, or one of those bitter revives? As soon as the smaller legendary awakened, Claudius was quick to change tune, standing in complete defense of the musketeer. "Tch."
At least Keldeo was generous enough to offer another potion. As instructed, the bug focused, spraying the fluid into his wounds as best as he could manage. "Your call, Musketeer." With the medicine applied, the bug stepped back, Keldeo's consciousness creating a small 'line' between the two groups he didn't feel was wise to cross...
"Rebooting..."
Ah, it was about time for Genesect's processing to kick in again. Weakly blinking at first, light began to return to the cyborg's eyes, an audible whirr kicking up behind his head. With a twitch of his claw, consciousness slowly came back, his sight a thick veil of static covering his eyes. It slowly gave way, seeing the topaz eyes of the Scizor first, before scanning the surroundings.
There stood the Druddigon, heavily wounded, alongside a collapsed, yet conscious, Musketeer. The Musketeer that was still the very symbol of hypocrisy in his eyes. Keldeo was one who pitied humanity so much as to accept their form, and as far as Genesect knew or was concerned, this was abhorrent to the rest of the Unovan Musketeers. Perhaps it was one saving grace, that Genesect still wasn't in a position to fight.
"Analysis-"
"Oh, shut it, boss." Lightly clicking his claw to the back of his head, Blade sighed., Genesect's eyes trailing towards him:
"Meaning?"
"I don't know much about knighthood or whatever they follow, but I do know that one who fights that hard over a damn word has something to fight for. C'mon, you and I are cut from the same cloth."
"..." Once more, the insect's eyes refocused, turning back towards the colt with a slightly different light. "Inquiry." Somehow, even in his monotone, Genesect's tone managed to be more 'level' and calm than before:
"You see us: 'legendary' and accomplice. Similar. Born into same world. Raised to similar power. Both seen anger. Both seen violence."
Letting that settle in, he got to the point:
"Inquiry. Why do you look down on those born in the hands of man?"
Was Keldeo just like those scientists, who saw no value other than in their product? Either way, Blade sighed: "Mr. Philosophical, again..."
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Post by Keldeo "Keenan Valero" on Feb 14, 2014 4:27:21 GMT -5
Why were there so many phrases that meant the same thing? Claudius did not understand the need for constantly reinventing the metaphor. “I guess so—though, to me, I’d rather be bricked than cooked. The laptop merely stopped working. “It didn’t turn into a pile of liquid after Suicune froze it in place. He could not imagine the sensation of boiling. It would be much more excruciating than simply shutting off. He hoped he went like a machine—just unplug him and end it. “I just call it losing, kiddo.” Doubtlessly, if they had continued, they would end up in the same position as the two on the ground.
Then they would all be eaten, like that lumpy potion being tossed down that steel tube. “Medicine isn’t supposed to taste good.” He hadn’t even checked the expiration date. These tubes had just been thrown into the camouflaged bag without a second glance. No doubt his master, who was known for repeatedly checking everything, had opened the bag twenty or thirty times. “ They need to get better blenders.” Why couldn’t humans make these for themselves? It wasn’t his problem. The bruises began to fade—slowly. “Don’t litter.” The reptile didn’t really care; his master might decide to eat it off the ground.
They used to kill ‘witches’ by people with stones. Was Genesect in a constant state of torture? No wonder he was such a boring guy. “Can’t he take it off?” The eagle-sharp eyes tried to detect a movement in the armor. He saw nothing. “ It must be hard to breathe.” Whistling through dagger-like teeth, the noise fluctuating with his forked tongue, the elder Pokemon shook his head. “Yowch.” It looked like the larger bug-type had gotten into a car accident.
Claws reached into the satchel. The little beaker looked miniscule in those ham-like fingers. Shaking it slightly, trying to shift around the spices, he waited for it to be taken. His master would never allow a wounded opponent to lay untreated—unless they were truly monsters.
Dropping the vial, kicking it gently to the side, Claudius remained standing in front of his master. While he trusted Blade, he did not trust either god. He was also prepared, if the goat went on the offensive, to stop him. Keldeo wouldn’t hurt him. The hard-headed idiot would just claim otherwise. “Here we go…” The dragon hoped this didn’t implode in his face. It could.
It probably would.
The word was strange. It was a mechanical utterance. What kind of living soul needed to announce its consciousness. The goat could not stand. One leg was twisted oddly. The potion had worked on blisters, bruises, and tinier bruises. As he watched, with darkened eyes of teal, Keldeo wondered how much like his desktop, which was shattered in a garbage bag, Genesect was. The idea that he was against his family’s ideals would have made him laugh. Were these not the gods who had learned the wonders of human drinking? Did he think that Terrakion had sat upon stools as a bull? There had been little but rage
[/u] but Keldeo now realized how silly it was. Machines knew no better. “ …….that was a good fight. Th—“ The Druddigon took the opportunity to lift the last bottle to his master’s throat. Fingers grabbed the cool metal. Fingers! Truly, ignoring the inventions and thought, these were the reasons to appreciate a human form. Lifting it to his now human mouth, gulping gratefully, Keldeo felt the warmness spread. Listening to the exchange between the pair, steadily being reminded that they did have similarities, the goat frowned. “I recall it being you who began to sling mud needlessly.” He paused. “ I apologize for any unneeded or unwarranted comments. I am the knight of fire and water.” His temper was nearly as vibrant as his hair. “I do not look down upon you. I see you as youthful, inexperienced, it does not make you worthless.” The beaker not sat comfortably in scarred hands. His injured portion remained as it was. He looked a bit like a centaur, horn from his forehead, half-sprawled against the stone. One hoof kicked at the red stone. His anger ebbed and flowed. Years of meditation kept angry bleat“You assume that I betrayed all which I hold dear—I believe I can change physical and remain the same.” Identity went far deeper than body. Was that steel shell, without its ‘soul’, this metal monster? “It is also not the same cloth---human inventions tend to reflect their desires. It is caution.” Weapons. Warfare. Pokeballs. Axes. The primates, so small and defenseless in this land, just wished to control. The Gods did not like that. Maybe that was what deities had nightmares about: an end to their reign. The day humans made their own storms and crafted their own oceans. [/align][/blockquote][/font]
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Post by Genesect on Feb 25, 2014 20:36:25 GMT -5
"Jeez..." As Keldeo's answer reached the pair of insects, the Scizor was the first to give his word. The sudden response, cutting off his 'boss', earned a curious look from the Genesect: fallen as the man-made legendary was, his face was not one for showing much expression, but seeing the Scizor reach up with his claw and shake his head against it? It was rare, to see his ally show such 'caring' about this whole matter.
To the Scizor, this was just frustrating. What was with these 'gods' and these little arguments between them? Oh, sure, he and his boss had his own score to settle (the scientists of the city had pushed too far against them to so easily sway their minds), but this? "You know... what, was it 'Keenan'?" Blade shrugged. "I never claimed you and I, or even you and Boss, were related in any way. Come to think of it, I don't even think it matters in the slightest for what he asked."
"Blade-" The whirring of Genesect's mechanical voice was cut off-
"Uh, uh, uh, I'm not done here." With the crushed potion still in his hands, the claw tightened, it falling to the hard desert floor in two pieces. His focus remained on Keldeo: "Yeah, you can be cautious of us all you want. But just because it was human hands that made these claws, doesn't make it their choice for how they're used. I am me. My boss is my boss, and we just want to act on our own terms. You know. To live. So I'll put it bluntly: you want to be scared of us? I'm all for that."
Scizor grinned. "But be sure its us that you're scared of, and not the humans you're mingling with."
"..."
Well that was quite an... 'interesting' outburst. Before anyone could say anything in response to him, the honestly self-entitled little bug made his way next to a taller rock, to cool off a bit in the shade. He was venting, and not in a way that entirely made sense to Genesect at the moment.
"Blade is... blunt." Turning his head back towards the other pair, the armored insect spoke up: "He has one point." Like it or not, Keldeo did look down on them, as far as Genesect could figure... but, for one reason or another, he was incapable of admitting, or even believing that fact. Slowly, Genesect began to right himself, pushing back to his knees. Briefly, the time of day flashed before his eyes, the 'boss' making his analysis:
"Desert will become more dangerous when night rolls around. More temperate. More activity. Nightfall soon... safer to stay in one place. Analysis: best action, truce."
((Blaaaaah xD))
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Post by Keldeo "Keenan Valero" on Mar 3, 2014 3:49:46 GMT -5
The goat turned his eyes, still smoldering and prideful through all of the pain, toward the Scizor. The left hoof, cracked from the charge, hit the ground with a distinct chink. It was a noise of disapproval. The cobalt signal represented a threat. “Jeeze—you are the pinnacle of elegant oration.” The goat murmured irritably. His frame shivered. The blisters continued to shrink. It left the god feeling drowsy. This desire for sleep seemingly did little to dull his tongue.
Had this apprentice not learned to obey his master? Had his being left standing, whilst his master collapsed, given him a skull too large for its tin casing? Keldeo had a reason for his disputes with his brethren. Celebi had destroyed various missions, by randomly appearing, and had just proceeded to be an immature idiot. 'caring' about this whole matter. .“You may also use D’Artagnan if you wish—Blade--it was my name for nearly three hundred years. Dumas then decided to borrow it.” His legs quivered as he moved to rise to a standing position. It was as if he was a quivering colt all over again. He had little care for the scientists; the beings were often cruel. He did not believe the city should be punished—it was a waste of effort and innocent souls. “I am not afraid of you nor your master, Tin-Blade.” The laughter that emerged was truly amused.
It hurt to laugh. A cracked rib, as it jabbed a sensitive organ, produced a wheeze. Druddigon claws hovered over his shoulder—he would knock out the goat if this proved too much. Keenan could abstain from violence. “I happen to consider all supposed gods, or at least, these who claim to be such to call themselves relatives. “ It was a strange family; it was still a family of a kind. “We are the web weaved to keep the world afloat and connected.” What did Genesect contribute? Violence? Did they truly need another god to spread chaos and war? “If I perished tomorrow? I reappear within our fountain, with fewer injuries, in a short period.” It was an experience that supposedly changed a god. The goat nearly collapsed; his legs shook further beneath his compact frame? Teal eyes, which had darkened, closed. “I am not afraid of humanity either—just their dark and base desires. Which seem no different to me than unwarranted hostility.” The child went to cool off in the shade. It was expected of an annoyed teenager.
The young god turned to the younger one. His eyes, which were still far darker than normal, reopened. Keenan was not known for his even temper. It took him a moment to rein it in. “That is an ironic choice of words.” He truly did not wish for the insults to his pride to go unanswered. If he had a cap or gloves, as was once customary, he would slap the bug in the face and challenge him for superiority.
The mane ruffled in a cool breeze. Finally, staring towards the city, he debated on walking towards the city. His dragon could fly him, in human form, and they would be back within the hour. Night would yet to have fallen. With a sign, damning himself for morals, Keldeo lifted his muzzle to orate: “I accept your truce. We shall sit here with you until daybreak and go our separate ways.” If the violet-insect continued to insist on violating the city, Keldeo would have little issue killing him. Genesect seemed aware of some facets of human life. “There is food in my bag as well.” His stomach was empty and intended to remain that way. [/align]
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Post by Genesect on May 17, 2014 19:38:28 GMT -5
"Feh. Relatives?"
With a smirk, and a dark chuckle, Blade left those two words hanging in the air. Keldeo's sensibility and 'kindness' with the sentiment was entirely lost on the cloned bug. Aside from 'Boss' and the other one in their group they were looking for, this Scizor didn't consider much to be family. If Keldeo was related to Genesect, then where was he, for all of the insect's life?
No, Blade thought. It was a pitiful sentiment from someone looking down on them, a flimsy attempt to relate to Genesect in the vaguest sense possible. Hell, the Druddigon was more in tune with him, at least, then this colt ever would be. He was done talking, reclining in the shade of the rock, a claw grasped over his wounded shoulder.
"Analysis..." With a whirr of his processor, Genesect gave a glance towards Keldeo. "'Keldeo. Fourth Musketeer of Unova, fourth 'god' of Justice. Portrayed in legend as naiive; straightforward. Today, confirmed..."
A small whirr spun in the insect's head.
"'Stubborn'." As odd and monotone as it sounded, it was almost clear that Genesect was trying to make a joke here... 'almost'. "In that, at least, you are 'similar' to Blade."
At the very least, their truce had been finalized, but to what end remained unclear. After everything, they were just going to rough it out in the desert? With a sigh in the distance, the Scizor looked up towards the sky, just thinking about it. everything was so surreal, just why did this happen? Heck, why were they even here in the-
Oh. OH.
"Oh, shit, that's right." Putting weight back onto his knee, Blade called out towards Genesect: "Hey! We were looking for Flare, right? Its near nightfall-"
"..." Genesect's neck turned towards the bug briefly: "You fear... for the safety of a Volcarona?"
"Hey, if these guys found you, then what's that say about her?"
He did have a point there...
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Post by Keldeo "Keenan Valero" on May 30, 2014 3:01:49 GMT -5
The brushing aside of the offered glove, by the crimson Scizor, drew brows downward. Crimson lines, neatly trimmed, now rested just above teal eyes. Darkening from Caribbean blue to deep teal, the color of an ocean storm. Being brushed aside, instead of paid some amount of respect, rubbed his horns the wrong way. Taking a deep breath, pushing aside the temper that had once controlled him, the musketeer allowed himself time to recompose. Mayhap the enemy is not Genesect; it may be this particular insect. “Yes, Blade. All legendaries, or immortals,, even those who may be made by man, may be considered members of the same family—“ It made existence far less lonely; Keldeo hoped, in this case, that the branches of this particular tree were unimaginably far apart. “Acceptance of such terminology is up to the newborn god.” This being is not one of us. The part of him that disliked legendaries shifted with bile. The web woven by Arceus, straddling the strands with spindly hooves, happened to possess large gaps between each god. The family was littered with skirmishes, battles, and long-seated hatred. It did not mean that his kin were no longer considered members of his family. Watching the steel-type lean against the rock, massaging at its wounded shoulder, the goat sighed. Why must we treat such useless loudmouths? Am I truly still so sentimental and soft-hearted? No musketeer would allow any Pokemon to languish in pain? D’artagnan happens to be a musketeer. Charity was demanded of him. His godly duty forced it. Petty feuds would have to wait. He was to display all positive characteristics of his fa— tch.Naïve? What did a toddler know of the world? Keldeo was aware of the darkness of the world. His hooves had navigated the coldesty, wettest, and most rocky of terrain. This being had been brought into the world as a weapon; it made decisions with only the most basic of information. A hand, tipped with cobalt nails, tightened into a fist. Nails cut into his soft palms. “I am not the fourth god of justice. I am the de facto leader of the musketeers—“ The use of ‘god’, with that stereotypical sneer portrayed in robotic whirs, drew another burst of pink into his cheeks. With a quiet sigh, another brief bout of meditation, he shifted painfully. “I happen not to be naïve—or any more so than yourself. “ He had more experience. The other data is moderately accurate.” Watching the gears literally turn, likely rusty and useless, the goat sighed. It seemed the purple-bug had some sense of humor. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, remembering he was likely uncultured, he conceded. “I am confident in my abilities and unlikely to move from my side of an argument.” There is noting to liken me to your particular red friend.With a sigh, dropping his head, the goat shifted. Two pokeballs moved into his hand. A Feraligatr appeared from the first with a sloppy salute. It seemed a sexual joke was on the tip of its tongue; it proceeded to finish a punchline. The lack of laughter, and instead just a glare, made him sigh. “Every goat’s a critic..” Turning to the other two, waving sloppily, the big-blue buffoon chortled. “Whatcha want bossman?” Turning toward the Druddigon, rolling his eyes, he looked upward. Fingers rose to point at the Genesect. “You will accompany Claudius and search for this being’s Volcarona.” With a bobbing head, moving away, the silly gator just nodded. “That’s one of those butterflies ? The fluffy one?” Nodding, allowing a tired sigh to emerge, the musketeer waved him away. “Oui, mon écuyer. Soyez sur. Mon ami.” “They will find …Flare.” Whatever happened to creative names or the beautiful languages of the past.
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Post by Genesect on Jun 1, 2014 19:35:15 GMT -5
Feh...
Really, all of this still put the Scizor on edge. As the word 'family' left Keldeo's lips, a brief, sharp glare was shot towards the goat, before forcing himself to look away. Really, what kind of word was that to bring in... what was family? Family was who was there for each-other. Yes, Flare was his sister, and the Genesect his 'uncle', as far as he cared. The words of an idealistic calf meant little to him right now. Hell, he wouldn't have tolerated this at all if it weren't for that Druddigon...
Meanwhile, Keldeo's defensiveness to his rank almost brought a true laugh to the robotic legendary: "It is not my thoughts of your lineage, but rather how the Unovans have portrayed you." Truly, Genesect did not have a filter when portraying his thoughts, and he sincerely doubted that Keldeo acted as any sort of leader. His elder Virizion, after all, openly spoke against Keldeo's ideals: he was about as much a leader to the rest of them as he was 'family' to this newer legendary. His answer, at least from the war machine's perspective, only affirmed that natural stubbornness...
Ah, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. For now, the search was to be afoot... by both the Druddigon, and this new Feraligator? With a blink, the Scizor looked over, and, testing his legs, stood up, tapping to test his knees and arms. "I'll tag along. Don't get the wrong idea, but..."
Blade grinned: "Flare doesn't do well with strangers. Without a familiar face you'll be dealing with a face full of soot..."
Her timidness, at least in part, was part of the reason that she was left alone like this. Before their last separation, Flare had caught wind of a few infected Pokemon, and as Genesect left to scout, an infected Pinsir had managed to get around to where Flare was hiding: Genesect came back to a roasted cockroach, a burnt clearing, and no sign of where the oversized moth had flown off to. If she was still wound up:
"... Though I can't guarantee she won't roast us anyway. Sheesh, she can be a loose cannon..."
"... Fair assessment." With a whirr to his voice, Genesect looked towards the Druddigon and the Feraligator. This still left one problem:
If they all went, who would watch over these two wounded legends?
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Post by Keldeo "Keenan Valero" on Jun 12, 2014 22:15:04 GMT -5
The goat had once been naïve enough to believe the entire world his family—or at least the Pokemon within it. Centuries had informed him that such thoughts were idealistic, stupid, naïve, and—worst of all— needlessly dangerous. He knew what a mistake it had been for his brethren to ignore Kyurem He would not allow himself to do the same thing with Genesect. The Scizor on the other-hand, with its poorly allocated name, could be ignored. He protected the rights of Pokemon the world over; that did not mean he was forced to enjoy the company of each and every one. Teal eyes darkened at the glare. Another burst of potion, smelling faintly of lilac this time, ghosted over his shoulders and torso. Wounds began to heal. When it came to battling, as had been proven in his mind, he was superior. His family had only claimed victory when all three turned their blades on im. Regardless of whether or not Virizion approved, which was unlikely considering the lack of awareness of Keldeo’s true goals, the foal found himself uncaring. He knew the principles of the musketeers. He just happened to control his drinking, winching, and idiotic behavior to a reasonable level. “It happens to be how one Alexandre Dumas portrayed one D’artagnan that is woefully incorrect. I assure you—as a child—that there was good reason for me to take issue with my family.” Buckets full of vomit. Cleaning taverns. Good-natured little shoves that left him up to his hair in Tauros manure. “You also claimed they have been reaffirmed—or affirmed—which indicates some nature of opinion.” His shoulder shifted back against a large stone as he slumped. His body wished for sleep to heal is wounds. Keenan would not relinquish such things. “Tell me, brother, how came you to be charging at the walls of a human keep?” Why did others never understand that such actions only made things worse? They called Pokemon savages—and the rebels responded with attack. Big white teeth, minus a missing one in the front and a yellowed one in the back, were the picture of dental perfection—if you happened to be an alligator. “The more the merrier! That’s what the musketeers always say—“ His trainer just sighed. While the beast was a battling powerhouse—a virtual tank—he had taken a dozen too many bashes to the skull. “I’ll be glad to have you—at least you’re not a mosquito.” He reached down to scratch at a raised bump near his underarm. It seemed that those little pests loved gator stew. “A face full of soot? I did always find ash therapeutic.” Muscular shoulders rolled as he rose to his full height with a yawn. “I am not scared of a bug—Volcarona or not. I’m not certain how you drag a flying type somewhere though—truss ‘em up like a kite?” The Druddigon, used to the antics of Jean, just patted the overgrown dunce on the shoulder. “You just ask them to come along like anyone else—“ If not, as they didn’t want the thing dead, the Druddigon could just punch it a few times. The two reptiles moved off towards the north of the desert—the winds might have made any flying type take roost. “Hurry up, Blade! I didn’t crack your skull all the way through, did I?” Claudius chortled. The Feraligatr blinked in befuddlement. “You mean you fought your new friend?” The dragon-type would explain whilst they walked. It would likely take the whole trip. “I do love cannons! Master Keldeo used to man those on some siege or another—they’re a lot of great booming fun!” A chuckle. “Get it?” All the members of Keldeo’s team rolled his eyes. The goat would watch over himself. He could still destroy the infected of this dessert. If worse came to worse, and he was forced to call for aide, Pravus could arrive in a short period of time. He needed a way to pass the time. “So, mon ami—“ The descriptor was false. “Comment tallez-vous?” (‘How are you?’). Eyes closed as he dreamed briefly of home—Suicune would be worried. She always worried. Then again, considering this was common in his line of work, was that at all surprising? “Non..” He just had to laugh at his life sometimes. Where was the justice in his own existence? Was there a reason he felt as if life constantly attempted to destroy him? He had not bowed yet. Teal eyes flickered open after a few seconds of sleep. “Non.” (Please wait 48 hours before responding <3)
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