Recent events have proven quite painfully to the undead boil that he was quite out of luck. It wasn’t enough that he couldn’t find his ghoulfriend at prom, was panged by bouts of self-doubt and loneliness, and he was still coughing up glitter from Cloak and Dagger’s haunted house. The real icing on the cake came when the Fearados attacked.
Merope was hanging out at a stand when the enraged minipet attacked. He couldn’t have helped but to stand and stare in disbelief when the creature first appeared out on the lake, his mind racing as he tried to put the pieces together. Serpentine, watery, and it glowed... was it one of his cousins? A relative that came to visit? He was torn as to what to do; his small size made it all too clear that he was naught but fishfood. If it was his cousin... he didn’t want to be scavenged.
It was while he was locked in thought the Fearados came and rampaged over the area, trapping Merope beneath the wreckage of a booth. He was pretty sure that long splinters of ruined booth still dug straight through his flesh. If he were living, he would have dissipated under the impact.
Instead he lived, fully aware of every stake of wood that pinned him in place. Every tear of cloth and skin still rang clear in his fin-like ears. The experience was one that he would not forget for awhile.
Luckily for him, his luck was starting to turn around. He had no idea why or how he was around Nox’s place at the time. Gleefully, Merope grabbed a glob of mud and hurled it at the Suicune. “HEEEEY! Have some of this!” Not the best thing to say, but whatever.