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 Posted: Tue Apr 29, 2014 9:15 pm
As the trees budded and leafed out with the progression of the season, Luke discovered that exploring Camphoreon and the surrounding area was a productive use of his time. In addition to learning the layout of the place where he lived, he was also able to become increasingly familiar with his team, agreeing to battles when challenged and letting them out to spar against one another when he found an area of a suitable size. It seemed to him that they were all talented fighters, experienced and disciplined. It almost seemed unfair of him to simply step into the role of their trainer, especially considering that they were perfectly capable of acting intelligently without his direction. More than he training them, it felt that they were training him, teaching him the complex strategies that they had learned - likely from his former self.
He was a fine trainer... or, he had been.
Luke's hand moved to the white ball he identified as his Pidgeot's, ready to fly back home after arriving at the city's outskirts, but his attention was drawn to a small collection of children crouched around the base of a shrub at the forest's edge.
"Ew! It's bloody!"
"Do you think it's alive?"
"Maybe we should leave it alone..."
"Hey."
The sudden interjection of the older voice startled the three younger into giving their attention, each turning to face the unexpected arrival. Over their shoulders, Luke could see the small shape of a pokemon collapsed on the ground, a stick poking at a wound from one of the children's hands.
"Hey!" he repeated, approaching the group with a stern expression. "What the hell are you doing?! Don't you know that abusing pokemon is grounds to revoke a trainer license?"
Halfway through the angry warning, the children scattered, running back to town with cries of "we found it that way!", "it wasn't us!"
Luke sighed, opting against giving chase for the sake of seeing to the pokemon. It wasn't as if he was a proper Special Ops officer anyway - though as he looked over the creature's body, it readily became obvious that its injuries were not the fault of the children.
It was a Zorua, he concluded, though its colors were peculiar for its kind. It was small, far smaller than he expected; either his perception of a Zorua's size was entirely incorrect, or it was simply an infant of its species. That small body had recently been torn by something's claws, its form limp and bleeding. Luke thought for a moment that perhaps the children had scared away whatever had wounded the Zorua, though certainly, were their intentions truly and entirely pure, they would have taken it to the pokemon center...
He brushed a hand over the little fox's warn neck, confirming the life in its veins. Maybe taking it to the pokemon center wasn't the best choice, though. If it was indeed as young as it looked, it was likely that its mother would come in search of it. And if it was gone when she came, would she come again?
Frowning, he extricated a potion from his pocket and spritzed the wounds thoroughly, undoing a small roll of bandage to cover it. The Zorua stirred lightly as it was handled, eventually settled in a position by which it was curled with its nose hidden in the fur of its tail. With a light exhale, Luke pushed to his feet, placing his hands on his hips with his brow furrowed in consideration. He was hesitant to just leave it there like that...
Eventually the trainer made the decision to linger at a distance, close enough to keep an eye on it but far enough, hopefully, to avoid deterring any pokemon that might come looking for it. Time passed. The Zorua pushed to its feet to pull a leaf from the nearby bush, then lay down again to eat it. Late afternoon set in, and the Zorua wobbled its way underneath the cover the branches offered. As the light dimmed, Luke found it more and more difficult to justify staying out any longer. Ultimately, he gave up for the night.
Thoughts of the dark-type chased him all through the following day, and when he had fulfilled his responsibilities, he found himself returning to that spot, carrying with him a dish for water and a few fresh berries. The pokemon was where he had last seen it, to both his relief and disappointment, and it watched him in quiet curiosity from its shadowy retreat as he offered food and water. When he had returned to a safe distance, it emerged and partook of the offering.
The next day, he coaxed it to him and removed the bandages he had tied. The wound seemed to have healed almost completely, but for good measure, he sprayed another potion on the affected area, happy that it showed no resistance or aggression.
The next day after, the Zorua, expecting Luke's presence, bounced over to him expectantly when he returned. While a part of him was warmed that the little pokemon was so taken with him, he worried that if it became too attached to him, it wouldn't go with its mother even if she did appear. With the injuries to its small body healed and another amount of food and water presented, he made the decision to stop his daily visits.
The days that passed after making his resolution were difficult to endure, and more times than not Luke found himself staring off in the direction of the bush and the infant dark-type that resided in its shade. But surely, he thought, it would have already ventured elsewhere. Even if its mother had never returned, it was still a wild pokemon.
And so, logically speaking, if it was gone, that meant he didn't have to avoid the area anymore, right? He could just stop by, for no particular reason... just to check... on nothing in particular... because the thing he would have checked on was most assuredly gone...
Even so, he approached the place at the city's edge with caution, banishing his hopes to see the Zorua again as senseless folly. And as he arrived, green eyes fell upon...
...a pair of Mightyena, one growling and snarling to fend off the aggressive advances of the other. He breathed a quiet sigh, biting back wistful feelings. It was good that the pokemon was able to return to the wild, especially after being injured as it was. It was good that it would be able to live a normal life. It was good that-- It was not good that that Mightyena was suddenly running towards him.
Confused and startled, Luke reeled backwards in the face of the wolf pokemon's sudden advance, grappling at his pokeballs but failing to remember which was which and unable to make a selection in time. The Mightyena lunged at him, and though he flinched instinctively, he was met with scarcely any force, falling backwards from his own stumbling rather than from being pushed down from the pokemon's leap.
Indeed, the pokemon perched on his stomach wagging its tail was hardly big enough to push down much of anything. Luke stared at the Zorua with startled features that gradually softened in the face of the pokemon's enthusiasm.
It just didn't seem admissible to try to keep away any longer.
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Posted: Tue May 13, 2014 7:59 pm
The scars on his back somewhat frightened Luke. They gave him the impression that some great beast had split him apart and left him to be crudely stitched shut; the occasional soreness he felt from his spine had become slightly more chilling from the day he had discovered the grisly marks, but he wasn't sure he had the courage to learn about their origin.
The line down his chest, so mechanically drawn that he was sure it could only be surgical, brought him even more discomfort, though compared to the imaginations brought on by the condition of his back, the feelings inspired by the puckered flesh were more ambiguous and real - he could only describe it as grief. It made him uneasy.
He was impartial towards the other scars, if not perhaps a bit curious. A small, round depression in his abdomen, a haphazard array of cuts upon his left hand, over his brow a laceration so subtle he might not have noticed it had he not spent the time to learn his own features, old slashes on his right arm now buried beneath healing burns, bites, and scratches. He need not know the nature of the wounds to know that they told the story of a dangerous life.
Luke fon Fabre, twenty years old. He mouthed the words at his foggy reflection in the bathroom mirror. Just how had those twenty years been lived? There were times that his body felt heavy with regrets that he couldn't hope to understand. It was easy enough to put the weight out of his mind, though; he need only overpower them with the regrets that were within his comprehension: that friends and family were waiting for him to remember a life that fell from him like shadow, that he had made himself an inconvenience to virtually everybody involved with him, that he barely knew platonic endearment for a woman towards whom he had once loved enough to pledge his life to her.
The comprehensible regrets, he found, were the ones that most weighed on his shoulders.
He flipped the switch to turn on the fan and disperse the mist that lingered from the heat of the shower. It wasn't as though it was his choice, though. Had he any influence over the situation, those regrets would number far fewer. All he could do was live the best way he knew how. And who would fault him for that? He could only do as much as he could do, and he would accept no criticism for it.
A curiously scarred hand pushed through damp hair, and with a quiet exhale, he straightened his posture, steeled his gaze, and summoned all the enthusiasm he could muster, "Do your best again today!"
His difficult thoughts fell away as easily as shedding a cloak, and it was with a sense of lightness that he exited the room to face the morning and the day beyond it.
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Posted: Thu Jun 19, 2014 9:51 pm
It was unexpected and perhaps a bit confusing: Luke, alongside a handful of others with whom he had completed the Special Ops department's training program, remained in the classroom after the other recruits - now officers - had been dismissed. The branch commander, Petra Rall, stood at the front of the room in front of the table that was occasionally used for presentations; a moderately sized box rested beside her upon said table, plain and wooden.
"First of all," the small woman said, her hands folded at her waist, "let me congratulate you once again on completing your training. I won't bore you with the same speeches your instructors already gave, but suffice to say, we're extremely happy to have you join the ranks of Kodo's officers. Now, for the reason I asked to speak to you all..."
She unlatched the box and lifted the lid, revealing an assortment of colorful spheres. Some of the recruits straightened up in their seats, and Luke furrowed his brow as he attempted to place why exactly the little orbs looked familiar.
"These, as you may already know, are mega stones," Petra explained, holding up one of the multicolored gems. "They're a type of mineral discovered in the Kalos region that resonate with certain pokemon to cause a temporary additional evolution. I asked you all to stay behind for a bit because each of you meets two conditions. One," she held up a finger, "you're talented and experienced trainers, and two," she raised a second finger, "you have a pokemon that's capable of mega evolution. Since it's within my power, I'd like to better equip you and your team. To that end, I've prepared for each of you a trainer's keystone and a mega stone corresponding to one of your pokemon. I'd like to confer these upon you in recognition of your effort and ability, so if you could gather around here..."
The fledging officers stood as instructed and moved to form a loose queue leading up to the table, Luke lingering near the end in his uncertainty. He was familiar with mega stones and mega evolution, and he knew that his Aggron was one of the species that had the ability, but...
It was with a frown and a reluctant disposition that he approached the commander, holding back as she presented a keystone and a gray-colored Aggronite for him to receive.
"Commander," he started, his tone subdued to avoid unnecessarily drawing the attention of the room's other occupants, "I appreciate the gesture, but... you know I can't use this." Petra, after all, was one of the few individuals to whom Luke had confessed the nature of his situation. She had to know that the Aggron for which he was being given a mega stone couldn't possible mega evolve.
"Because of your relationship, right?" the woman responded, earning a nod in reply. She hummed in thought then held the pair of stones forward insistently, "Well, these would be left over if you don't take them, so why don't you go ahead and accept? You can decide what to do with the stones after."
The stones were placed in Luke's hands, and he regarded them unwillingly for a moment before giving his thanks. There was encouragement in her smile, and he was fairly certain he knew what it implied. It wasn't a secret to any of the officers or instructors that he didn't command his pokemon in battle; he simply released them and allowed them to decide their own actions. He hadn't really been much of a trainer at all lately, except by the technicality that he was registered with the League and carried pokeballs. He supposed this was probably his subtle push towards repairing that. As a representative of the Pokemon League, he supposed it didn't reflect very well for him to be so distant towards his team.
He didn't have a great deal of confidence in his abilities or potential as a trainer... but hell, when did he ever have confidence in anything? He didn't need to have full faith in his actions; he just needed to act. Maybe things would be clumsy for a while, but he was sure he could eventually reestablish the bond he'd had - or even improve it from what it had been before. He wouldn't stagnate. Even if he was sure of nothing else, he was sure of that.
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Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2016 7:14 pm
"I wonder if I should learn kickboxing..."
The white Aggron cast a glance at his trainer. If he had eyebrows, one would have been raised incredulously.
"It's not that ridiculous," Luke replied, shifting his gaze to Tartarus. Tenebrae and Sephira were in the midst of a practice battle, but Luke trusted his Umbreon enough to leave the younger Zorua e to him at least long enough to have a conversation. "I get plenty of days off as long as there's not something major going on."
Tartarus paused. kickboxing? Just how much of a living weapon do you intend to become?>
"What-- You know that's not what I mean!" Luke objected, surprised. "I just thought it would be interesting! You know, something new. A change of pace."
The Aggron snorted.
"I already said that's not it," Luke said. "Jeez, where you even getting all this..."
Tartarus mused aloud, his red eyes watching the pair of dark-types as lunged towards and dodged away from one another. Occasionally Tenebrae would slow down, signaling to Sephira to do the same so that he could offer guidance. Tartarus nodded at the Zorua before continuing,
Luke frowned, not in thought nor fully in anger. His reply came without hesitation, the words curt, "No, I wouldn't." With that said, he left the Aggron's side and began moving towards the two battling pokemon.
Of course peace was better - if one could even call this ephemeral quietness peace. Who in their right mind could think fondly of having their life endangered? Of facing gnashing fangs bearing down on one's neck, be they literal or metaphorical? Of the coolness of one's palms, the shallowness of one's breath, the pounding of one's heart, the sharpness of one's senses, the readiness of one's limbs, the almost intoxicating sense of serenity that filled one's head and focused one's mind even in the most chaotic of situations...
Noooo, he didn't miss it at all. He wouldn't long for it. Peace was better.
"All right, you two, good work! Sephira, let's take a short break and then do some work with your illusions, okay?"
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