I own as much of pokemon as I do of Neptune.
On Wings of Ocean Spray
By Farla
The little ones, the short-lived creatures of the world, dream when they sleep. I cannot image such a curse.
Sleep is the only reprieve from the unending now. I sink deeper and deeper into myself, deeper and deeper beneath the dark waters. Only the greatest of calamities stir me now. That is as I wish. Sleep is the closest one such as I can get to death.
I am the guardian. And with Ho-oh lost to despair, Moltres lost to distraction and Articuno and Zapdos lost to battle, my duties become all the more necessary. I must protect them from each other and from themselves.
We grow senile in our old age. Once, Ho-oh flew over the lands, bringing hope and light wherever she went. Moltres, Articuno and Zapdos understood their duties as elemental powers. And I did not slumber deep within the waters.
But time passed. We have no precursors or descendants. There is and shall be only us.
Sometimes, when either Articuno or Zapdos remember the existence of Ho-oh or Moltres, I awaken. Sometimes, when they fight too hard, when one lies at the brink of defeat, I awaken.
Once, I responded instantly to such things. But once, of course, Articuno and Zapdos did not battle, or reject the knowledge of their unending existence. Once Ho-oh had not lost hope and Moltres had not yet given his flame to the humans. Once we were young, not yet weary of eternal life. Once I did not sleep.
Once, everything was new, or at least not so common it was tiring. But after time, everything that is has already been.
Once I swam through the waters swiftly, to explode outward into the air in a rush of ocean spray, to fly on white wings though the clouds until I chose to dive back beneath the waves. No longer.
Sleep is…not wonderful, not awful. Sleep is nothing. When I am asleep, I am nothing. I cannot grow weary and bored of everything if I am not there.
We have each chosen our slow death. Ho-oh loses herself to melancholy and depression, Moltres loses himself sight from a thousand different eyes, Articuno and Zapdos lose themselves to battle. I lose myself to oblivion.
I still awaken, slowly, like swimming through thick mud, when the need for my intervention becomes undeniable. But soon I will not awaken, will no longer hear the call. Soon I will never awaken. I have eternity, and by that timeframe it is soon. Moltres will be lost in his own mind, and if that does not kill him the others will. Ho-oh will die willingly, by her own or another's hand. And I, even if I may not die, will sleep as if dead, and that is enough.