"Well."
Phi's whole cloak was soaked with water, the cold liquid seeping into her shirt as if trying to possess the thin fabric. Her mouth was ajar with the word as it hung in the air with a defeated sigh, and she was holding a half full, crinkly, store bought bottle of water in her hand, just above her lips. The lip of the bottle was tilted slightly upwards in an exaggerated attempt at holding the water inside it, as if she had been drinking but quickly decided to stop. The girl licked her dry lips, looking down at her partner.
His tired gaze held mild amusement, and it lingered on her soaked shirt in a slightly accusatory manner. The girl paused, deciding to defend her situation in an attempt at grasping the dignity that was quickly fleeing her. Her voice was light and lilting, slightly dreamy in its woolly tone as it feigned a harsh demeanor.
"I have a right to accidentally spill water on myself. Don't judge."
He blinked slowly, and grinned.
"Well- look, I was just thirsty, and then there was a cloud up there that looked just like a Fletchling and there was a Fletchling swarm flying next to it and I thought it was really cool! I have a right to be distracted by awesome symbolism made by nature!" The girl's clouded eyes seemed to break from their dream for a moment as the girl argued, swinging her arm up into the air in a defensive gesture as if it would prove her point. The water bottle tipped in her hand, and the rest of the water promptly fell into the girls lap. She licked her parched lips in envy of the cloth, staring accusingly at the Skuntank that was lying on the ground in front of her.
"You did that on purpose."
He blinked, widened his smile, and swung the tip of his tail lightly from side to side, the action ever so slightly feebler than normal, revealing his exhaustion. Guilty as charged.
She looked down at her clothes, the water slowly soaking further into the threads, and then buried her hands in her face.
"I'm going to have to buy a new one from that vendor."
He nodded.
"... I really need to start bringing my own water to these things."
He grinned, sitting up a bit as if to ask her something, his paws lightly tapping the floor as he held in laughter. She peered through her fingers at the creature, pondering for a moment on the obscure nature of sight, such that if she placed her fingers in just a way, they would disappear all together and her mind would make up the rest of the picture for her. At least, that's what seemed to be happening. She secretly wished that would work with larger things too- like the sunset from last night. Just imagine the splendor it could have been if only the buildings hadn't muddled with the image, broken it and shattered it. Sometimes Phi just wanted everything to be full and complete and serene, no jagged edges nor splintered visions. And then the girl thought of the raindrops, and how they dispersed, stretching thin to the point of no return in a sort of marvelous solemnity.
Could it be possible that there was a beauty in being broken?
... no.
There was too much hurt involved for there to be beauty. Too much love- a picture of such would be splashed with such vibrant darkness that it would just be an imperfect muddle of ugliness... and ugly wasn't beautiful, but cruel and cold and messy. Everyone had a drive for perfection. No one had a drive for becoming broken.
A low growl interrupted her thoughts, and she looked again through the bars of her fingers at Ai. He was looking expectantly at her, as if searching for permission, and she could tell his endeavors at holding in his amusement were weakening as they awaited their release. She sighed, and folded deeper into her wet clothes. "Go ahead..."
A sharp, deranged sound struck the air as he began to chortle, as if in victory. She couldn't help but smile at the eerie, childish noise that pricked the air as if it was a series of sharp, needle-like mallets. It was a sound of the past. Of foolish joy. Of a sort of twisted understanding and contentment. 'I make fun of you, you make fun of me, and maybe we just might make it in this world.'
Of course, any such teasing required she tease back. Phi was inclined to be bitter, and she certainly wasn't going to pass up that chance.
"You are a terrible partner," the dreamy girl muttered loudly, raising her head and putting on an exaggerated pout. He continued to laugh, and Phi was struck by a bolt of silly joy as she fluidly leaped off the bench and knelt at his side. There was an unmistakable grin on her face- likely because it was a serious alarm to a devious plot. He noticed a minute too late as her stained hands moved towards him, the wiry fingers seeking his skin. Oh. Oh wait-
"Tickle tickle tickle tickle!" the girl giggled, voice like a slow, bubbling stream as she tickled beneath his chin, arms, and at the base of his tail, fingers a flurry with her giggles in the light atmosphere. The Skuntank writhed on the floor, coarse, gristly fur chafing the tips of her fingers as he rolled to escape her grasp. The air was filled with his cackles, a note higher than normal in their hysterics, and soon not only was Ai rolling on the floor but Phi was rolling with him. This was some very sweet payback, the girl considered. And there was something... something pure in the silliness of it all. She felt like she could almost grasp what it was, as if it were a creamy cloud hidden deep within her that she just might be able to grab if she tried hard enough. The feeling was like a congealed mist, soapy, slick, and it would break, crumble in her hand if she wasn't cautious enough.
Phi paused to try and grasp the feeling, such was the immensity of the moment. But as she paused, Ai, flailing in hysterics, kicked his back legs into her coat and a hollow tearing sound cut the laughter short.
"What did you..."
The mist she was trying to grasp evaporated in her hands, and Phi's eyes were wide. She knew exactly what had happened without looking. The girl fearfully put her hand into her coat and felt the snowdrop adorned bag, the sanctuary of her past
torn by the force of his claws.
For just a moment, the wind that carried Phi picked up and tore through her as if she were a shadow- barren and flimsy and ghastly. Thin as paper. In that second, her eyes returned forcefully to their dreamy appearance, but they seemed less like they held a dream and more like they held a nightmare. An onlooker who had watched her carefully in their first round battle could almost link how she was looking now back to the wild exhilaration that gripped her in the middle of the battle- but this one was darker. Colder. Ferocious and feeble all at once.
The girl, struggling out of the momentary trance, clasped the strings of the bag in her palms, assessing the damage. It appeared his back claws, blunt yet hardy, had snagged a few threads right at the place where the bag and strap met and torn them loose, but had done nothing to shake the weary sturdiness it still clung to. She was relieved that the bag had not received any amount of great damage and Phi, now regretting her outburst, tried to salvage the joyous and impetuous mood by plucking the empty water bottle from where it lay on the bench and tipping it, as if she were pouring water on herself. Ai twitched his ear, then grinned, realizing that all was forgiven, and the two, together, looked to the sky with a certain amount of relief as they realized that evening was slowly molding the horizon, for the girl was no friend to the sun due to her insistence on wearing her marble coat that trapped the sweat and heat and Kebnia shared in her distaste, the thick clumps of dark colored, grainy fur dealing with the heat worse than she- and both, even, coming from rainy, drizzly climates, such that the sun, now without its former cover, was detestable in its purity as acid rain is detestable in its impurity. That is to say, such unmasking of the sun and sky, though clearer and grander, was impure and poisonous in their vision.
A sort of sigh dampened the air- that of calmness, of the fortitude of their friendship, as a moment respected by both, even if one reveled in the picture and the other cast it an uncaring eye. And then a raucous cheer from the battle fields (which they had left momentarily for some refreshment), akin to that of an unruly mob of joyous Fletchling, tore it thin, like the ticking of a clock pushing them ever forwards, constantly away from the moments of peace and into those of battle and strife.
And yet, there was a sort of peace in those too- a different kind, to be sure, but it certainly existed, molded into being by the exhilaration of working together, of knowing each other in their moment of strife, and this is what Phi prepared to revel in as she stared at her opponent with misty eyes and a queer attitude, that of thought and reminiscence, of not quite being all there as she constantly doted on a single moment, struggling with moving forwards. This was battle, the girl thought. The slowing of time merging with fleet footed action and thought.
It was a sort of way of stopping the world in the vast connection of a singular moment, gasps and cheers and sweat all molding into one memory shared by a million, all slightly different, and yet the core remained the same.
It was time to discover something to remember.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Phi was swarmed with intensity as colors surged into her vision. A sort of darkness swam over the battle field in a bruised ocean of purple from the vigor and solemnity of the coming of battle, but it was confused. Light danced in it, shimmered good-naturedly like a field of stars brought down to earth, winked and giggled in the bruised purple's depths with eagerness and humor. There was a clash on the field, for it seemed dark and yet beneath it shimmered with light. Intensity was underlayed with eagerness, and the darkness shone with light in a sort of subconscious way, as one knows just from a glance that the sneer of an opponent is driven by sport, or the glare of a friend chuckles instead of hisses with deathly intent. The battle field, the girl supposed, was an oxymoron, and such a claim seemed rather fitting, although she couldn't quite pinpoint as to why.
Despite the overwhelming strength of the oxymoronic bruised purple, other colors still inhabited the space- but it was more as if they were the purple, except you couldn't see them unless you looked at it from a different view. The purple was iridescent. When the gaze shifted to the gamy, eager, and goofy Charmander, the purple revealed a yellow, shimmering and sun like. When it wandered towards the trainer, the gazer was struck with a feeling of similarity, for from Curt leaked a warm orange that, when laced with the bright yellow, seemed to meld perfectly within it, as the yellow, too, melded into the orange. When at last it landed with the immensity of awe on the hard, determined dragon, it was clear that the bruised purple was his- and yet there, too, shimmered iridescence, for a determined yet lovely and lighter purple mingled in it like a mist. It was a sort of protective color, lingering in every other one that twisted the field as the bruised purple cloaked it all.
Curt spoke, and her eyes once again lingered on his form as they had on Bailey's and every other opponent's, trying to discover who he was and the metaphors and similes he held. Longer, and the girl could have been transfixed on his color, trying to name how he moved and spoke in just a few words, but the anxiety of the stadium was tense in the air and there was no time- their hushed whispers and swarms of excitement banished all lingering thoughts.
"Just Phi, please," the girl commented, voice a lingering mist as she slipped her hand through the now wet fabric of her coat and into the petrified bag, retrieving at once three items, fingering, for assurance of accuracy, the bruises and scratches of the two pokeballs, each a vault of memory and thought. The third item were the goggles, again, those that she had removed accidentally in her first match, but the tightness of her pinky finger across the strap conveyed a purposefulness not viewed before. She did not retrieve her playing cards- those, as the crowd had surely noticed, were reserved solely for Osh, such was the necessity of randomness in his sporadic fighting style. The action should not have been surprising, too, for Kebnia had fought without them in his few rounds. Phi had bounced between the two Pokemon for the last few battles, confident in Keb's endurance, aware that Osh, having rested for a few rounds, could certainly hold his own again, and fitfully annoyed at herself for entering in a tournament with two unusable Pokemon. Of course, she could have used the two in her hand now, but the combination of Keb's eagerness and a fervent wish to feel again complete surprise left the dreamy girl unwilling.
Changing the goggles into her other hand, Phi swept away thoughts of the previous battles as she balanced the pokeballs in her wiry fingers, opening both at once before quickly stashing the now empty capsules away. A wild and dark green penetrated the bruised purple like tendrils of ivy, growing rapidly, infecting the area as they curled and twisted like snakes. Both of her Pokemon shared almost the same color, the girl thought, the Herdier a stout and hardy emerald, and the Archeops a darker, wilder green, and when the two blended, it was as if the battle field was turned into a wild, raging forest. She pondered on the image, gazing at the two and letting memories, for just a moment, infect her wavering stance and misty vision.
The first to be released, by a millisecond or four, and the one on the right side of the field, was a Herdier. She took her portion of the field with stout solemnity, paws planted, right beneath her shoulders, in the earth with rock-solid intensity, almost ingrained in the field, digging her claws into the ground as a tree digs in its roots. And yet, when she moved, she picked herself up swiftly and easily, breaking the illusion of her connection with the earth. The moment she was out of the pokeball she planted herself with a certain stubbornness, her eyes twitching as they leaped across the field. For a moment, she loped quickly for a few paces to obtain an easier position for the beginning of battle, revealing the swiftness of her stout gait, and the compact nature of her build. Her earth colored fur was sleek on her frame, appearing to be soft and silky, but stray tufts of fluff revealed its thick, compact, and wiry nature, prone to confuse claws and teeth as they saught her skin. Her left ear was flopped over in a softer appearance than the rest of her, contrasting the thick, hardy nature of her build. Despite this, the steely tint in her eyes and the compactness of her build, along with the stout assurance of which she held her head, hinted at her boulder like body and lone wolf nature. She moved swiftly and utterly silently, with a gait like that of a wolf- moving in quick, steady bounds, loping swiftly and easily along, and so compact was her movements that her back, straight and level, lifted only slightly higher into the air, only subtly betraying her swift, easy movement so that she looked less like a dog and more like a phantom, so smooth was her long-legged gait, so consistently straight and level was her back. The few bounds she made betrayed only slightly the swiftness and steadiness in her wolf-like gait, but Phi knew that when she got moving her longer than normal legs and compact yet slightly larger than average build became as swift and silent as a shadow. She ran on velvet paws and utterly disappeared. Such was the namesake of Velvet- the beast with velvet paws. And beast, too, was a fitting description. Somewhere in Velvet's genetics and upbringing, she had become more a wolf than a dog, more a beast than a pet, for the swift and utterly silent lope belonged not to her species but more to that of a Mightyena, and her steel heart and steadyness of foot, achieved often through acrobatic twists and calculated maneuvers, belonged more to Liepard than Herdier, and though her larger body could be attributed to the levels she had gained without evolution, the longer than average legs could not, and even, if you were familiar enough with the species, it became obvious that her snout protruded farther from her face than the chubby, pug-likeness normal to the line of big hearted dogs. Velvet was a queer creation in a species of domesticated kindness, for she was as wild as a wolf, as steady as a rock, and as silent as a shadow.
Phi had always admired Velvet's stout solemnity, if worried for her lone wolf nature and the severeness of her solitude. But Velvet had learned to be good-natured, and the large, long-legged Herdier, though built of rock with a soul of iron, was as protective as Phi of their team mates, and though both build and nature were wildly different than Osh's, she shared an aloof yet competitive spirit that tautened her muscles and loosened her heart.
Phi moved to glance at her other Pokemon, but stopped again on Velvet. The Herdier had a pair of goggles, similar to Phi's yet strangely different, more torn and battered and loved, hung around her neck. She flicked them onto her eyes with a shove of her snout while Phi observed the eerie stillness of her ears, the constant twitching and swiveling of a normal creature absent and instead replaced by stone cold silence and a statue-esque appearance. There was a reason for this, of course- Velvet was deaf. It was a dangerous way to live in such a world, with such an occupation.
But there was a reason Phi respected Velvet more than anyone else in the world, for it was she who taught her not only about the values of being serious, but also how to truly battle. Everything about Phi's battle style was derived from her interactions with Velvet. It was why, too, she tended to use sight instead of sound during battles, why she and her Pokemon always had one eye on each other. It was Velvet who taught them how to fight and for that, Phi and her team held eternal gratitude, because it wasn't just fighting that they were doing- it was understanding and learning and loving all at once.
Phi finally broke her gaze on the Herdier, her dreamy eyes gleaming with the softness of gratitude, and averted it towards the second Pokemon. He was an Archeops, grand and wild, figure imposing on the field. His black eyes were pins, wild and furious, and he hopped awkwardly onto the battle field in the manner that birds do, cocking his head in aviary movements as he emitted sharp, shrill, gurgling cries that bubbled in the air like a white water river. His wings were tucked into his side, and his stance was awkward, timid, and ever so slightly forlorn as he hopped along the ground. He cocked his head, curious.
She called him Sans, after the frightening scene in a comedic play that she nicknamed the "Seven Ages of Man" speech. The last line, she recalled, was this, and this the girl whispered beneath her breath as her gaze wandered over the wild bird's form.
"Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." [OOC: From William Shakespeare's 'As you like it']
He had been Sans, she considered. Fossilized. Dead. He had lived two lifetimes- one modern and one ancient, and the ancient still lived in him, while the modern confused, intrigued, and frightened him. He had the air of something truly wild. It was hard to find that in this world nowadays- a world of communication and understanding, where people and Pokemon lived alongside one another, but it was evident in Sans. From his wings, huddling jaggedly upon his body, to his stance, bird-like, free, and primitive, to his eyes, bright and darting. He imposed a sense of wildness unto the field- of disorder and chaos, as if he could create discord with just the flapping of his wings, as if he was discord himself, jagged and crude with a wild spirit and a coal heart. But, the girl supposed, he was wise. He taught her to wonder and he taught her to fear- to marvel the unknown, but be wary of it all the same. He had lived two life times, and yet he was the one who taught her how to learn new tricks, and how to learn from the old, and, in a round about way he taught her perseverance, even though it appeared that was what he lacked. After all, perseverance was vital not only in training and battling with him, but simply in finding him. The better part of her journey in Unova had been to find the fossil, and search for a way to restore it. It was curiosity, and perhaps a tad bit of desperation, that strove her to such lengths, and wisdom was granted to her from it. It was queer, the girl considered, how absolute nothing could produce such wonder and awe. Another oxymoron on the field- a nothing that was something.
The girl let her gaze wander for a second more, and then ran her hand through her hair in exhilaration, starting at the top of her forehead and pushing it back. Even the memories of these creatures was enough to shorten her breath in awe and excitement, and to strengthen her wiry, stained fingers in determination. The wind picked up- the wind that carried the girl, and she snapped her own goggles onto her eyes, again marveling at both her own Pokemon and her opponents. The wind surged forwards, and a certain degree of wildness infected the girl's gaze. She was ready for battle.
Phi bowed, one hand on her stomach and the other on her back as she bent at the hips, an act of gratitude and respect that was a habit since she had been a child. The announcer called the beginning of battle, and Phi spoke. Swiftly the words traveled, and yet they were ever so slightly smooth and silky in the memory that constantly swarmed the girl.
"Curt, was it? I do hope you don't mind if I take the first move- or moves, really." She paused, looking for both of her Pokemon's eyes. "Sandstorm, Sans. Velvet..." Phi stopped talking, trailing her words as if she were still speaking, or was going to saw something more. Although she made a few quick, queer movements (a patting on her shoulder, a mouthing of the word 'caution,' a dart of her eyes towards the dragon, and a quick, purposeful flick of her left hand) she left it at that, and let the bird take to the skies.
A short, hopping run and a massive flap of his outstretched wings sent the bird away from the earth and into his world. There was no doubt of his wildness now- he stroked the air with his wings and tossed his head in a shrill cry. Wind tussled the feathers and seemingly tossed him, his flight seeming far from steady as it curled and darted through the air, following the currents that flowed as if he was floating in an ocean of gas. His flight seemed almost effortless, so fluid were his twisting movements as the bird began to pick up speed, the ground seeming to grow beneath him. It did, in fact, grow, dust billowing out of the earth and ravaging the air with nagging teeth, seemingly called into existence both by his call and the rapid spiraling of his flight. At first, there were only a few particles, such that an unknowing onlooker might not even notice them, and then, out of the blue, the air was a shade darker as they swirled, and then, all of a sudden, there was sand everywhere and seemingly out of nowhere, swirling and twisting the world into fitful mirages, following swiftly and wildly the currents of the air just as the Archeops was doing, so that the sand seemed to flow with him- and at that point, one might wonder that the sand was even coming from him. Phi always wondered at the move, for it seemed to call dust and earth out of nowhere, fitfully molding the still air into a tantrum, wild and chaotic. She pulled her coat tight, aware that only seconds more would be needed to complete the move, and she was pleased, because the wild and the chaos of the sandstorm made Sans pleased, and the bird was filled with vigor. Granted, it was not quite set in stone so soon- but even now, it seemed that the world always had been sand and always would be sand, despite the fact that the storm was controlled only to their area, stinging the trainers, too, who stood at its outskirts, but only just scraping the crowd. To control the wild and the chaotic was something she and Sans had spent long on learning, but so it had been done. If Curt's Pokemon could get to him fast enough, she considered, the storm might die, and the girl, long practiced in the art of peering through the shifting sands, kept a watchful eye upon them. The other she reserved for Velvet.
The stout dog's gaze was locked on her as soon as she was released, and it watched as she called the move, familiar with the movement's of mouth and the way that her partner moved. For long hours the two had worked together, and Velvet could argue that she might even surpass Ai in her understanding of Phi, and the same for the girl's understanding of her. Then again, Velvet was always watching- sight was precious, and her eyes were keen. Thus, she saw when Phi, already instinctively understanding the stubborn patience in her eyes, detailed the conditions of her first move- Velvet knew already what it must be, she could feel it pulsing within her, a certain wild ferocity grasping her brain with suggestion as she observed those she must fight. She knew, too, what she thought she must do with the move, but Velvet had long learned not to trust that instinct, for her eyes, though as fleet and steady as her paws, always missed what Phi saw. She was bewildered in that aspect, but- ah, nevermind that, she had plenty of time to ponder elsewhere. Now, the Herdier could feel the wildness of battle seizing her. She would watch and act, and Phi would think, for now.
Quick, plucking gestures of her partner's stained hands gave a message as clear as words, and the long-legged dog, standing as still as a statue, waited for the sandstorm to envelope her. It didn't hurt her, in fact it helped the stout creature, and she had Sand Rush to thank for that.
Phi watched as sand enveloped the velvet pawed beast's body, knowing not just from what she had told the Herdier but also what experience had told the both of them would happen. As soon as the sand misted the dog's figure, she was gone. Utter silence accompanied her form as it slinked through the waves of sand like a shadow, swift and silent. She bounded with a sense of sturdiness, but also of swiftness, and each time the velvet pawed beast leaped she passed immense amounts of ground, so that as soon as someone spotted her, she was gone, like a phantom, an illusion of the sand. She ran in an arcing path, occasionally darting jaggedly off at an angle, and her fangs gleamed in the dark aura of Crunch, the shadowed light gleaming constantly, so that if the opponent knew what to look for, that was their beacon. (It is worth noting here that Velvet, though not strong in attack, had an incredibly wide variety of moves, such was her adoration for versatility, but she preferred to use her teeth above all else- it was good, then, that her parents had gifted her moves such as Thunder Fang, although Phi, upon learning this, could only wonder more at where such a queer creature had come from.)
Velvet loved fighting this way. In an instant, she would be at her opponent, and such was her endurance that she hadn't lost an ounce of breath, for although she ran almost as fast as Osh, Velvet was tough and long legged, built only of rock. She loved, too, the way she attacked, for the velvet pawed beast knew that the best way to win against an opponent was first to gain the upper hand, and her favorite way to do this was to knock her opponent off their feet. Thus would the shadow attack, ramming her shoulder against theirs before abruptly turning and clipping them with her fangs, never stopping, always moving and on her feet, cat-like and fluid. She reveled most in the fact that there was no warning- such was the speed and cover given to her by the sand, and such was her silence that there was not a single warning of her approach but the gleaming of her fangs. They were living in her world now, at least, she hoped they would be, granted that Sans managed to pull the last fragments of the move off, lest the storm die, but still, for now, it was her world- where everything came quickly and without a sound. The lone wolf, swift, steady, and solitary, was enacting her vengeance on the world.
Such was the long-legged dog's plan as she bounded on velvet paws towards Embertail, for he was around the size of she and the only one on the field of which her favored style of attack would work, such was the bulk and steadiness of her other opponent. Velvet planned to ram him, knock him off his feet, and then finally utilize the Crunch she had been charging, for the quickness of her style made moves like Crunch need more time to charge than she preferred to give, often revealing her location and weakening their strength. Her style of battle called for quick, sharp, continuous attacks, and she would happily dart in and out, clipping her opponent with her teeth but never quite taking hold. This was Velvet's plan, but a pat on the arm and the mouthing of caution allowed the fleet-footed dog to be wary of her opponent's movements, and guided her attack towards his arms instead of wherever she ended up hitting first. Velvet wasn't all too sure what to expect, but it was obvious that Phi was wary of something (could it be the dragon, of whom her partner had pointedly glanced at?), and so the dog kept up her guard. She cast one eye, sacred vision protected neatly by her goggles, through the folds of sand towards Phi, reveling silently in the thrill of the semi-finals.
Sans cried again, sharply, gurgling, like a frothing river, and all three of them grinned at the wildness of it all.
