I haven't come back to this pairing in a long time, so forgive me if any emotion was put wrongly or something that's not supposed to be. I doubt it though, since this is just writing...but whatever.
Pairing: [Darkrai, Cresselia]
I don't own Pokemon. But I own more than one hundred Pokemon in my PC. (Does that count?)
The swan gleams like glittery gold, a calm aura permeating her body. Her eyes are innocent, unscathed of the world's true and unruly wrath. Her pink translucent veils cling onto her small paws, paws of which grab her sand-yellow underbelly. Her snout is slightly agape in mild confusion.
He, he does not envy her. He never would envy her, for she is only made that way, and he is made this way. And the fact that he loves her protects himself from being infiltrated by hate, a hatred he doesn't bother to seal, as he has none, none whatsoever.
The icy winds brought forth by the cold shores makes a sound, as if a monstrous creature breathes against your ear. He has to embrace himself with his "puny arms", or so he tells himself. He shivers, he occassionally gets dragged, he gets goosebumps, but he doesn't mind nonetheless. He still manages to hear her ever serene voice, in the midst of this flighty blizzard.
"Darkrai?" She innocently chimes, eyelashes batting as she gets blown away by shards of ice. She slowly floats back to her earlier position, striving to be on her ground, as the winds try to throw her away once more.
He wants to shout at her, he wants to beckon her to come with him. He wants to pull her into an embrace, to fight the pestering hailstorm. But he can't. He won't.
It's not his fault, it's not that he wants her to suffer. He just wants to protect her, surround her with people who are good. One who won't lose control, one who can control their emotions. He - he only struggles to do both.
"Please...lis-listen to me..." She begins to grow weak in her voice, having been whipped at with ice for the umpteenth time. She grits her teeth, breathing growing harsh. "Ju-just...please..." her voice shrinks to flailing mutters. He feels nothing of guilt-free, he won't deny anything. He can feel the helpless pokemon slowly failing herself, he can feel herself shaking harshly. But he won't help her, and he despises himself for such.
"Please..."
He could barely hear her utter that word, as it is only a raspy whisper. But he could hear the ominous "thud", that high fall that signals the depressing news - the news of her end. He knows that the day will come, but never like this. No, not at all. He didn't know it would end this badly. He tries to hold in his storming emotions, but not of rage. He wants to "restart", he often hears humans with those strange manmade objects say. He wants to redo it all, starting from his accursed existence. But he can't. He won't. Because the world doesn't work that way, time and Dialga does. He'll give it up, because he actually cares. He cares that he's shut out, he cares that he's overpowered with dread and darkness, and he cares that he isolates himself.
He lets himself crash down the ground gracefully, uncaring of the wind and where it may take him. He falls on the rocky incline beside her, the swan who's probably uncaring of his situation. He forces himself to throw her a tight embrace, uncaring of her cold body. He lets himself sob freely, uncaring of his bleeding arms, cold sea breezes, the large waves that come and crash near them. He doesn't even care of the black pulses that he can't control to keep, she won't be affected anymore anyway. For once, he's ignorant, because, without her, he's just one with no rival. One with no repairer. No confidant. With no purpose.
Without her, what is he?
Nothing, that's what.