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Post by Celebi "Davy T. Tock" on Mar 3, 2014 3:48:15 GMT -5
Goats were such bossy animals! They constantly bleated and butted heads over their supposed orders. Celebi preferred the embrace of anaconda or python to the angry hooves, tin-chewing mouth, and hypocritical preachings of barnyard animals!
Was it truly too much to ask to be awakened at reasonable hours? The fairy was now beneath the impression that such a term was defined differently by the omnipotent. It was apparently synonymous with the crack of dawn for certain self-obsessed dieties. Stopping time, with Arceus tugging for efficiency, was a difficult task. Davy had managed to pull another two or three hours of sleep from the gilded-hooves of his ever-cruel master. He had won, which he would come to regret.
Now his poor brain, large by most people’s standards, felt as if it was being repeatedly hit with a gong. His body pulled at him, from his borrowed couch, toward the north of the city. The gate!? Celebi truly despised going outside. The pulling refused to stop. The migraine was practically tearing his mind in two. Finally, pulling on a neon pink shirt and blazer, along with a pair of pants with an odd floral patter, Davy moved toward the door. The legendary was fashionable but far too bright for normal company. It was as if Arceus, in boredom, had decided to paint the snakes with the spectrum seen in highlighters and trapped neon gas. A lot of individuals, who he claimed were the dull and boring, avoided him.
Walking straight from his friend’s home, toward where the gate squatted in the distance, Celebi rubbed sleep from his eyes. A card was flashed before human eyes, the thick doors thrown apart, and his frame ushered through. As he passed by, hands in his pockets, he had to chuckle at the door-watcher’s parting words: ”At least the infected won’t miss you!” The silly monkeys were adorable; he had far better sense than to be attacked by one of those mindless animals! It was not as if Arceus would leave Davy unprotected! His powers could easily put such things out of their misery.
The trees whistled beside him as Davy rocketed through the forest. His translucent wings, invisible to the naked eye, beat at a rapid pace. The muscles in his shoulder hurt. Scratches dotted everything from his left eye to his recently healed shoulder. Thump! Thump! Thump! The trees shook as his pursuer, which had announced its present by letting spittle fly into his fair human features, continued its chase. “Just stop this you foolish thing. I do not wish to fight—“ Final words happened to be a whine The fairy possessed a truly soft heart.
His head hurt. The psychic attacks he attempted, which might send the marauding beast into slumber, were weak and sporadic. The world was filled with spots more vibrant than clothing left in a distant berry bush. Why would it not stop? Something hit a tree behind him. The force of the impact set him tumbling, blindly, head over heel.
Emerging into a clearing, where a deceptively cheery and poisonous brook bubbled, the fairy flopped dazed into the grass. Lifting his head, sensing a familiar presence, he blinked rapidly. “Cresselia! How is your day my dear swan? Dreamy and feathery—as always?” The pounding in between his sensitive ears vanished.
Arceus was now paying him to visit his friends? The future timelines involving Cresselia slowly slid into place. It was as if his mind was zipping future timelines together. Was this an important event? It would be simpler if he knew what changed between this simple meeting, in what might be an idyllic location, and these future wastelands. Goats were rather opaque sometimes—it must have been the flesh and bones.
“Oh, my day, has been far from pleasant—there is actually a rather angry individual chasing me. If you would assist in dispatching with it…” The smile grew wider. He pointed as the infected broke free of the tree-line. Angry eyes turned to Cresselia and bellowed. More food!, its demeanor seemed to say.
Killing things was not his style. Davy settled himself onto the ground, slowly transforming into his human form. It was hard to hold serious conversations when you had the countenance of an onion.
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Post by Deleted on May 21, 2014 22:09:22 GMT -5
24 HRS PLEASE | CRESSELIA | DOMINIQUE BELLA VALENTIN |
How long had she been out here? Three days? Three weeks? A month and a half? Honestly, at this point she had stopped counting. She had told herself, time and time again, “What's the point? No one cares. No one misses you. No one is coming for you.” And no one would. Her own Pokemon would not be able to find her, no matter how strong their connection was, because she wanted to hide. She did not want to be seen, nor found, nor spoken to. Nothing would convince her to come back.
Dominique had almost killed him. Cresselia had almost killed him. Enrique. Darkrai. He was supposed to be her enemy, though, the one that she was to spend eternity chasing after, making every attempt to destroy. Why was that suddenly so difficult? The more she thought about what she had done, the closer she had come to actually succeeding in killing him, in her mind she couldn't do it. She had almost done it. She had been right there. She could have done it. But she didn't.
So she exiled herself from the city.
What drove her to stay outside the city: the shame that she couldn't succeed when she had been right there or the horror from the fact that she almost did succeed? She felt it was the latter. The idea, now, for whatever reason, absolutely repulsed her. How had she fallen so far? Had she clipped her own wings by not taking care of Arceus's problem when she had run into Darkrai in a lower state? When he was without his powers? How could I have been so weak?
The biggest problem was that she had allowed herself to care.
Cresselia was comfortable in the tree, on the branch, up high and away from everything else. It was silent, for a few fleeting moments at least. The voice reached her ears, and she turned her eyes down to find a Celebi near the base of the tree. The divine sight did not disturb her. “Less epilepsy-inducing than usual...” The mutter was to herself, and lacking any usual emotion she may have had. She did not answer his question, instead turning that pink gaze to what was chasing after him. Infected. Dispatching it...
There was a small sigh accompanied with the tugging of the dress up and around her legs as she slipped from the branch of the tree. Her feet hit the ground delicately. “You have a knack for getting in trouble, Davy.” It was all she said before her hand lifted, feathers protruding out of the soft area of her wrist, bright and glowing. There was a sparkle drifting off of them, and her eyes were lit with a vibrant fuchsia. The same color outlined the beast, and with a little effort, it stopped.
She was not killer. She did not want to be. Every part of her fought to be and fought to be...good.
But she could not.
With a flick of the wrist, she smacked the monster's head off a nearby stone with a resounding crack before tossing it far away. She heard the dull thud a few moments later. How many times had she done that in the last few weeks? Cresselia tried not to kill them, as much as she wanted to put them out of their misery. She didn't want to be constantly reminded of her status as a...monster.
“What are you doing here, Celebi?”
Her days had been filled with less dreams and feathers than ever. There were only nightmares. Or not sleep at all. | [attr="class","cresselia"] |
MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS & THQ [newclass=.cresselia]background-color: #daa7b6;text-align:center;color: #daa7b6;height:100px;-webkit-transition: all .5s linear;-moz-transition: all .5s linear;-ms-transition: all .5s linear;-o-transition: all .5s linear;transition: all .5s linear;[/newclass][newclass=.cresselia:hover]background-color: #83d2bd;text-align:center;color:#fafafa;-webkit-transition: all .5s linear;-moz-transition: all .5s linear;-ms-transition: all .5s linear;-o-transition: all .5s linear;transition: all .5s linear;[/newclass]
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Post by Celebi "Davy T. Tock" on May 26, 2014 4:48:24 GMT -5
How long had the swan been trapped in the jungle? The worst person to ask for the time was one of its gods. Tap-dancing around the clock, pulling the hands in any direction (including upwards), made wristwatches relatively worthless. Being immortal as well, lacking so much as a single grey hair, Davy barely noticed the passage of minutes or hours. Lingering in place long enough to see the end of a month, such as the lion and lamb of March, was rarer than his mint-skin turning pink. Bouncing from place to place, an onion-headed pinball, led to a relatively unstable existence. Fleeing for his life more frequently than most, people were horrifically easy to offend, the god should have been more fit. Either that or, with a weak heart, he should have died a hundred times over. Maybe that was inaccurate. A few thousand times likely landed closer to the value. Davy, standing before her (levitating), was not exactly in the role of savior. He was a beggar coming to a dream for its feathery protection. Large black pupils were dilated beyond belief. The bright blue outsides were gnawed at by nervousness and spent energy. Teleporting away, without a throbbing migraine, was a simple matter or even a child—if they had been taught the intricacies of temporal-manipulation from the cradle. With an inability to focus, which some would argue was always the case, it would have been certain amputation to jump into the time stream. The fact that his aunt, the great Dialga, would eat him was still a motivating factor. Big eyes stared up at Cresselia when she spoke. His mouth, this form lacked lips, pulled down in the tiniest of frowns. Have the robots taken her away from me? Arceus, is this what you wished for me to find? Must he always be delegated to the realm of jovial jester and bringer of cheer? Staring down at himself, truly seeing nothing even in his human form that might cause epilepsy, the tiny god frowned. “You must be particularly susceptible.” Turning slightly, staring at the rusting bushes, he shook. “No one else has ever accused me of such..” She sounded wrong. Where was his Dominique? It appeared he may have to be a hero—without a cape or an other nonsense (it seemed to cause her incontinence and seizures). “I apologize my love~” A wink followed as he turned to the beast. “I am truly sorry for this..” While he seemed to direct the words at Dominque, as if apologizing for his constant trouble-making, the tone was far too sad for that. “I think I may be the god of trouble-making instead of t—“ A wince. Wings twitched as eyes closed. Crack! A skull bounced off a rock. Watching the body vanish into the brush, eyes rolled skyward in a prayer, he lifted his gaze to the other legendary. Swallowing, staring at the area and her form, he blinked. “I think the better question, my dear, may be what you are doing here..” He waved her questions aside. “We know I travel to and fro like a dandelion in the wind..” A frown. “I’ve never seen your hair so out of place.” Legs appeared beneath him. His human form took shape as he revealed his rather bright clothing. “Whatever has happened, Cresselia? I feel your pain—Father knows your pain.” How did a goat make an onion and a swan? “ I think I my be here to help you—“ A pivotal moment in time—he could feel it. Arceus had chosen the wrong person for this task. The old goat truly was senile. @tagged
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