The council chamber was well lit - much like Octavian's office, a skylight permitted natural light to fill out the entire space. The reduced need for torchlight and the maintenance associated with it was welcome, and had the bonus of providing the warmth of the sun to Octavian. Today especially, it was probably the only thing that had kept him awake.
Octavian stared back at Chloe as her long speech about "integrity" and "the pliability of defense" and other nonsense fell from her mouth. She was his opponent today, stepping up to decry his exceptionally long term as Chief Security Advisor. It bored the dragon, being honest, but seeing Bounty react was entertaining enough to make the speech more bearable. He watched the ludicolo flip between outrage at whatever trite disagreement he could dream up to the meowstic's words, and then solemn silence when it was clear he agreed with her but would rather be eaten alive than admit it.
"Do you have nothing to say for yourself, Octavian?" asked Chloe, finally ending her endlessly dull speech.
"I do," mumbled the dragon. "I certainly do. However, I fear it would be wasted upon many members of this council. I would rather save my words for the Grand Congress." He sat back in his chair and stared at the cat. "Is that objectionable?"
"The Chief Security Advisor does not speak at the Grand Congress," said Providence evenly. "It is tradition that they remain silent on the grounds that their work during their term speaks for itself. What use are words in matters of defense, when decisive action and meticulous logistics are what keep the walls strong?" The tropius gave him a warm, motherly smile. "Your own words, Octavian."
The druddigon offered her a wry smile. "Those were indeed my words, Providence. But to call this a tradition is… inaccurate. I have remained silent because I felt my own actions already spoke for themselves. I was decrying my opponents, who believed their empty promises and poor grasp of logistics and defense planning would replace years of invaluable experience. But it is very clear that this election bears a restless climate. For some reason or another, the councils appear to be second-guessing my, admittedly long-running, tenure." He threw a very long, piercing look at Chloe.
"And so you believe that now is the time to speak. The tea leaves clump and provide a sour reading, the stars speak of change, and the councils whisper their concern over your long term and growing powers - and now you wish to speak," spat Chloe.
The dragon settled on looking smug. "Yes. I believe I am owed my fair time before the Grand Congress."
"There's no reason to deny him, Chloe," said Harvest. "It is only fair." The tangrowth put a consoling appendage to the cat's shoulder, but Chloe wriggled away.
"I agree," said Providence, cutting across the cat as she began her angry response, "Perhaps we have taken for tradition what was simply convenience. Octavian should be permitted to speak. Thump?"
The gigalith stared at the dragon for a long while before finally stomping his foot four times.
Octavian looked taken aback. "Four?" he said, looking around the table. "What does four mean? Does it even mean anything?"
"Four means… Thump has no opinion," said Bounty, looking at the Gigalith, confused. "That's a first. He has almost invariably voted for whatever maintained the status quo since he became part of the Council."
"Then what do you believe, Bounty? And you, Archstone?" asked Octavian, looking at each of them in turn.
The ludicolo sighed and threw up his hands. "Fine. If the councils below have made up their minds already then it will matter little. All we stand to waste is time, and we have an abundance of it with how difficult a few actors have made enacting change in Crag," he muttered. "Have your time. Speak."
Chloe did not reply to Bounty's needling and instead simply crossed her arms. "At least I'm interested in keeping this city from burning down, Bounty," spat the meowstic.
"By playing contrarian to everything I've ever supported?" shouted the ludicolo, slamming his hands on the table. "That's how you keep Crag safe? Prosperous? Secure? Ever growing? You treat Crag like a beaten little one! As if corporal punishment and deprivation are how you build a successful city!"
"And you treat Crag like a plant. Simply give it everything it could possibly ever wish for and it will flourish, not even recognizing that it's a fucking plant. It doesn't need any of the garbage you try to give it, and still you try. And sometimes you even succeed! And every time, what happens?" Chloe paused, and put her paw to her mouth in mock surprise. "What's that? Nothing? Of course, how could anyone have possibly predicted that?"
Octavian rapped his claws against the table and said, "Enough." The two bickering pokemon fell silent and looked over at the druddigon murderously. "You can fight when we're not taxing our poor scribe with pointless drivel. This session moves to permit me time to speak at the Grand Congress in support of my re-election to the position of Chief Security Advisor. So it is decided." He tapped his claws thrice on the table, and the rest of the Council followed suit. "May our guidance keep the walls strong."
As the elders made to leave, Chloe stopped long enough to look at Octavian, her eyes staring daggers at him. "The Grand Congress is later today. Don't think I haven't noticed that the one time we have effected any kind of immediate change in Crag, it was in the service of you and your position. Despicable." The cat's eyes narrowed and flashed purple. "I know what you're trying to do, Octavian," she whispered, "I've seen it in the tea leaves. I've burnt bones to cinders, scattered their ashes across fresh soil, and beheld the sign of the inverted Victor."
She stepped closer to the dragon and pointed a tiny, clawed digit at him. "And I know what they call the inverted Victor. I know who you are, bringer of ill. Were it not for the inefficiency of the Council, I would have seen you frozen and hung from the gates of Crag herself, with bouquets of fairy lilies growing from your empty fucking eye sockets." The cat had worked herself up, and her chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing.
"Perhaps you should consider teaching whoever will succeed you what the position of Elder of the Meowstic Tribe entails," said Octavian, looking unamused.
"Is that a threat?" said Chloe, her voice barely audible.
"No. It is a recommendation." He leaned forward and brought his head closer to eye level with hers. "You've gone senile." He sat up straight again. The meowstic turned on the spot and marched away without another word.
Octavian shook his head and looked up and out the skylight, letting the warm sun drench his face. He needed her dead sooner than expected.
Stone was doubled over, wheezing and clutching her side. The weakly stirring grotle in front of her had stopped bellowing. She swallowed hard and scraped the sprouts growing from her body away as they withered and faded with their sender. "Almost… almost fuckin' killed me," she muttered. Gods above, she felt like shit. Stone pulled her paw away from her side and looked down at the bloodstained fur with a frown. "Bandages."
The lycanroc rummaged in one of her pouches and removed a roll of bandages. The scent of the herbs that had been tucked within was pleasant, and helped still the shaking in her arms somewhat. She glanced over at the berry bushes growing from the grotle's back and squinted. There, oran. The wolf helped herself to a single berry and crushed its juice into the herbs tucked at the center of the bandage. Stone mixed and mulched the bundle into a paste with one of her claws, taking care not to rip the bandage itself.. It took some time, but when she applied the treated bandage over the three deep cuts sitting neatly atop each other, the relief was almost immediate.
A shiver ran down her spine as the herb oils and oran juice made their way into her bloodstream. She could feel her extremities cooling down, like a winter morning in Mist. It was pleasant, for the most part anyway. Between that and the silence of the open quarry she stood in, things felt like they'd be back to normal once the violent intrusion breathed its last.
Speaking of. Stone looked her opponent up and down. A tall, cruel spike of speckled bedrock had impaled its midsection and ruptured through its shell. Blood trickled down the rock, barely visible against the dark stone. "Bad idea," mumbled Stone, watching the wildling die. "And bad luck for me. Fighting you somewhere you could actually do some damage." The grotle's legs, once flailing desperately in the air in a vain attempt to remove itself, had gone still. "Eyelids getting heavy?" asked Stone. The grotle did not respond to her voice - instead, its eyes shut slowly, and the turtle finally went limp.
"Not one to let wildlings bleed out like that," she said to herself. "But gods above those leaves cut fucking deep. Treating myself comes before delivering mercy." She raised a paw, ready to pull the stone back into the ground, but then thought better of it. "Maybe that'll be a good enough deterrent while I work."
She set off, deeper into the quarry, and marveled at the abundance of Runestone around her. Enormous chunks of it floated through the air, following strange geometric patterns that Magnus would probably have spent several hours charting. Now and then she'd stop and inspect a rune anchor that had pushed partially through the surface rock. At one point, the quarry went unnaturally flat and smooth. As the lycanroc looked around, trying to figure out why exactly the surface was seemingly polished to near mirror shine, a distant rumbling put her on her guard.
Stone faced the source of the rumbles and watched as a rune anchor roughly thrice the size of any anchor she'd ever seen pushed out of the ground. "What the fu-" The anchor shuddered and began to shine a brilliant cyan, and the light reflected off of the polished rock beneath her paws and blinded her. When she'd finally blinked the spots from her eyes, the massive anchor was no more - instead, three rune anchors stacked atop each other sat in the center of the flattened portion of the quarry. "Feh. Showoffs," mumbled Stone, waving a paw dismissively at the rocks.
The top most anchor began to glow cyan again, then shuddered and slid to the left, dropped down, pushed the bottom most anchor out of the way and stopped glowing. As soon as it did, the freshly displaced anchor began to glow and rose up and stacked itself neatly where its brother once sat. The center block flashed cyan once and then four times and stopped. The process began anew a few seconds later.
"Showoffs!" shouted Stone at the anchors. "Big fuckin' deal, wait 'till you see what I can make fuckin' disappear up my-" She stopped and turned away, shaking her head and grumbling. They were rocks, they didn't care. Stupid fancy anchors.
She continued her journey through the quarry, pushing past untapped reserves of Runestone. The path ahead wound lazily down in a very wide spiral of sorts, down into a natural depression formed by the quarry. She hadn't ever seen a quarry arrayed quite like this one before. The geodes she passed by would crack open of their own volition at times, revealing sparking interiors of purples, yellows and reds.
The composition of the rock beneath her paws was changing as well, shifting from a dull grey to unpolished steel. The rock was also becoming more like the smooth, polished surface of the unnaturally flat section she'd passed a while back. "Good thing it isn't raining," she mumbled. "Imagine trying to get out of this in the rain…"
Stone paused. A large crystal, perhaps half her height, sprouted from the ground a few feet ahead of her. And it was not alone. Further along the path, now curving sharply towards the bottom of the quarry, crystals were jutting from the stone work. They did not seem to break apart the surface they protruded from. Instead, they appeared to have almost phased through the smooth surface stone. The lycanroc tilted her head and walked up to the crystal to inspect it. It glittered prettily enough in the sun, though it was rather translucent. "Odd formation to have here, but these quarries are 'not supposed to make sense' as Magnus would say."
That was a lie, Magnus believed there was order in the chaos of the quarries, but one that operated beyond the constraints of their own reality. Stone recalled him describing it as, "Truly alien. Truly other. Truly renegade." Whatever - the quarries were weird and they kept their cards close to their stony chests.
The ground was finally leveling out, and Stone's interest in the pretty crystals just about shot when she saw it. Her mouth fell open. There, in the center of the flat piece of land she stood on, glimmering and shining with cyan light despite its silvery appearance, was a substance Magnus had only spoken of to her. But there was no mistaking it. It matched the description perfectly. It looked like silvery metal, was cool to the touch even in the open sun, and sang a high and steady note when struck with her claw.
Rune Ore. She knelt down and sized up the deposit. The substance was rare enough that Magnus wasn't sure how large they could get, but this seemed to be enough ore for a few pieces of gear at the very least. The lycanroc grinned. "Oh, I'm definitely quitting now. And when everyone else sees this shit, they're gonna be way more on board." She snickered. "Maybe Thea will ask to tag along."
And so, she got to work. Her claws dug through the stone around the Rune Ore. There was little reason to be especially careful, as the substance wasn't brittle, but it would look so much nicer if she could get the entire surface deposit out in one piece. She hummed a tune that struck out at her from the fog of her veiled memories. The instruments faded lazily into her head and back out again as she hacked more and more of the ore free. It was a rather good song. What was it called?
"Ah, perfect. All freed up," she said, positively beaming. "Let's get you lifted up and tucked away…" She grabbed hold of the Rune Ore and hefted it. A rainbow of colors filled her vision, not unlike the reflections of light through so much shattered glass. Stone felt her body pull away from her, somewhere far, far away. "Lonely Winds on Swordsfall Plateau," she mumbled. "That's what the song was called." There was no Swordsfall Plateau. Not here. Her vision went black.
This was her room. Scattered with clothes, books, and camping supplies. Cramped but brilliantly lit from huge skylights. Quiet, but if she cracked a window even an inch, the sounds of bustling Driftveil would flood in immediately.
These were her hands. Typing out a text. "Derek, you know damn well we don't get a lot of chances like this. We're going on that hike to the Swordsfall Plateau. Bring a pokemon to ride on if you're gonna be such a baby about it."
She sent it off and swiveled in her chair to the right. The nerve of that guy, trying to get out of this. "The second he finds out you're coming with me it's like... whatever." She picked a brush up off her desk and looked in the mirror to start brushing her hair out. This was her face. Her dark brown hair. Hazel eyes. Dark circles. Eye shadow and late nights. If you're gonna have one, why not have both, right?
Danse padded over to her, his long nails clicking against the wooden floor. He dropped his head on her lap and purred as she began to brush out his fur. "Maybe he just gets jealous." She finished brushing Danse's hair out, earning herself a contented, curious mew. The absol species made odd noises.
Danse stood up on his hind legs and rubbed his face against hers.
"Mind that thing on your head, Danse," laughed Ivy. "You'll scratch me with it like last time." She ran her hand down the length of his back.
Someone knocked at her door. "Come in."
"Ivy," said the brunette as she walked in. "You still going to the Swordsfall Plateau today?" It was Ruth, her sister.
"Yeah. Derek tried to get out of it but-" she began.
"He wasn't trying to avoid playing third wheel," said Ruth, eyeing Danse for a second longer than Ivy found comfortable. "His mom is sick and he's going to the hospital."
"Wait, are you serious?" asked Ivy, sighing. "Ugh, fine. I'll go and see him and see if he's okay." She stood and began searching for her wallet and belt. "And then I'll go on that hike."
"Come on, Ivy. That's crazy. You can't do that hike alone, you need a buddy to look out for you," said Ruth, crossing her arms.
"You really do take after mom, you know that?" said Ivy, looking up from the backpack she was now stuffing full of camping supplies.
"Tsk."
"Alright, look," said Ivy, rising to her feet to look her sister in the eyes. "I get you're worried. But I'll be fine. It's a quiet place and if you don't go out and bother keldeo or those husks he's guarding you'll be fine. It's a historical trail and everything!" She scratched Danse's head. "Besides, he's gonna be with me." The absol sat down and adopted the smuggest look he could manage. She brushed past her sister and then stopped at the top of the stairs.
"Why didn't Derek just say his mom was sick?" asked Ivy.
Ruth rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Ivy. He's tired of the game."
"I'm not gonna go and tease him while his mom is sick, Ruth," said Ivy, feeling hurt. "I have tact, you know."
"You've said some things around him that don't make that all too clear." Her sister crossed her arms, and added, "So are you really that surprised?"
"Ugh. Yeah, yeah. Fine. I'll apologize and check in on him and clear shit up. And then I'm going on my hike."
"Ivy…"
"Ruth…" echoed Ivy. She threw her sister a wide grin. "I'll be fine. See you in a couple days. Catch up, Danse!" She took the stairs two at a time, and opened a door to a welcoming white void.
Stone sat bolt upright, shivering uncontrollably and gasping for air. A horrible mixture of emotions slammed into her stomach, and all at once it felt like her head was going to explode. Tears rolled down her eyes and over the hideous smile she wore. Soft laughs and aching sobs fell from her mouth. She'd never been happier to be alive and wanted so badly to be dead. The memories had not been blocked off like some restricted section in a library. They'd been dammed. Kept at bay by some force she could not understand.
She was a pokemon now. A fucking pokemon. By the gods that saw her pass from one life to another, why the fuck wasn't she just always one? She clutched her sides and curled up into a fetal position as the emotions began to collapse into sorrow. She sobbed into the cold stone. "Why? Why did I have to be human?" Stone looked at the Rune Ore through eyes swimming with tears, making the ethereal beauty of the ore all the more otherworldly. "Why did you have to make me remember? How did you even do that?"
She got to her knees and crawled over to the Ore and seized it. "Take it back," she said to the rock. Silence. Her face broke. "Please. Please take it back." Silence. Her arms trembled.
"Fine." She tossed the Rune Ore into her bag and started back up the path out of the quarry. "Fine. Fuck you." She looked up to the skies and took a deep breath. "FUCK YOU! SEE IF I CARE! I'M GOING TO DIE A NOBODY! YOU HEAR ME?" She stomped her way up the path, cracking the stone surface with every step.
If this is what the gods wanted, they were about to be sorely disappointed. Something nipped at her in the back of her head. They would be disappointed. They would be. It nipped again.
Ivy…
Stone drove a fist straight into the ground beneath her, shattering the smooth pathway and creating a huge formation of jagged stone and glittering crystal all around her. Only where she stood remained smooth. She breathed heavily and stared down at her clawed paws. "I'm fucking gone, Ruth. Dead or transported or - whatever. It doesn't matter. I'm gone. I'm gone and things are easier." She clutched her head as memories of her sister's smiling face and Danse's strange, wagging tail flashed before her eyes.
And then she saw them. Valor. Outrider. Ran. All of Nomad. Even Thea.
The lycanroc took a long sip from her waterskin, trying to slow her breathing down. She corked it and sighed. "Fine. Fine." She pointed up at the sky again. "But whatever I'm fucking doing, I'm doing for me." She pointed at her chest, and then out in the direction of Crag, so many days away. "And for them. You hear me?
"Not. For. You."
Mother Superior's cooperation would at the very least ensure he'd never have to do something as dull as this ever again, reasoned Octavian. He snapped his thoughts back to the room he stood in - back to the Grand Congress sitting all around, watching and listening. Presumably listening, anyway. The blasted meowstic would not stop running his mouth about meaningless drivel like "external outpost systems" and "purpose built crumpling defense." He had just about driven half of the older pokemon to sleep. The younger ones clearly had stopped paying attention a few minutes into the long-winded talk.
Once the assaults were carried out against Crag properly, he could simply pull a few strings with the Defense Corps and let the city bleed the standard defense forces until they became desperate and begged for help from the Corps. Proof enough that the Superpower Defense Corps were the only entity truly able to meet Crag's defensive needs, and that all defensive personnel should be moved purely to scouting duty.
And it would be voted in with a minimum of fuss. The Council would be desperate for answers, solutions, anything. Anything to save their pathetic necks. Octavian focused on the little cat talking to the Grand Council and felt a sense of disgust well up in him. This city was a mismanaged nightmare held together through dumb luck and his own incredible maneuvering alone. But it would run smoother soon. So much smoother. His eyes traced the meowstic's body from head to toe. No armor. Nothing to defend them but their tea leaves and flashing eyes.
Scattered applause brought him out of his contemplation and he joined in halfheartedly. "Thank you for your words, Shield of the Morrow," said Octavian. "If you are done?"
The meowstic inclined his head and gestured for Octavian to take the center of the chamber. The dragon offered him a small smile and then stepped up into the middle of the room. The ornate skylight above drenched him in the warm sun and shook the drowsiness from his body.
"Council members. Fellow Craggers. Friends," began the druddigon. He paused. "This is the first time I have argued for my position. I abstained in previous elections because I knew I had done a good job. I knew it. I knew it well. I orchestrated much of what led to the prosperity Crag knows today. Insofar as our trade and our security is concerned?" He tapped his chest. "My claws guided those changes and those efforts. Our prodigious stockpiles?" He tapped his chest again. "Worked by the very same claws.
"Crag has seen calamity threaten her walls in the past. Our history is a long and storied one of incursions barely held off. Of raiders nearly triumphing. Of cooperation. Or learning. Of growth." He paused and took a deep breath. "And of incredible violence. Vulgar displays of power at the hands of the Superpower Defense Corps and our own citizens in the Defense and Reconnaissance forces." He stomped his foot, waking several elders. The young ones, however, were listening very closely. Octavian suppressed a smile.
"Necessarily vulgar. Necessarily brutal. Many of you are unfamiliar with war. Some of the very eldest among you may remember it. May remember when my arrival helped turn the tide when all seemed lost." He gestured to a particularly thick concentration of elderly pokemon. "You remember the blood and anger. The sickening fear and desperate struggle. You have looked into the eyes of the Abyss itself and seen the writhing and broken bodies with its clutches. Citizens torn in half by claw, maw, energy and steel. When The Unbroken were still a threat, we bore witness to their atrocities. To the mockery they made of life."
"It was an affront to The Alpha!" shouted an aged slowking, rising from his seat. "They were no better than wildlings - no, worse!" The crowd murmured their agreement.
Octavian inclined his head. "They were. And they were defeated. By these very claws." He raised his arms. "The effort was communal. A single push driven by the full might of what Crag could muster, but I will rightfully insert myself as instrumental in that victory. They were my plans, my tactics…" He paused and sighed. "And my head. Failure was death for me.
"And I wager my head every term I serve. To fail is inexcusable. Intolerable. It is against the very dragonsoul that burns in my body. Wishing no ill will to my opponent, he does not understand the dangers of this position." He began to pace. "Yes, I am safe up here in the uppermost levels of Crag. But when war comes - and war inevitably comes - I must rise to defend her. To fail is worthy of nothing less than death. And if the enemy at our gates does not end me, then the executioner surely will. And I will deserve it wholesale."
Murmurs ran through the crowd, many voicing their agreement, and a few looking at the Shields of the Morrow apprehensively. It was working. Make them feel there is no better option. And make them feel the Council has perhaps lived past its usefulness. And make sure one of them doesn't live a day longer.
"So, Grand Congress. I ask you: who hardened our trade routes?" asked Octavian. "Who began the stockpiles? Who expanded the duties and powers of the SDC? Who helped fashion our defense and recon forces into a proper pointed claw? Who began the regular patrols of our lands beyond the walls?" He tapped his chest. "I did. And every single one of those initiatives has been a boon for this city.
"The stockpiles have seen us through times of uncertainty back when I'd just become Chief Security Advisor. But they gave us a cushion upon which we could reliably fall upon. And yet we never needed to. But it was and it is there." He paused, and listened to the mutters ripple through the chamber.
"And then came the establishment of our Guard - the hired mercenaries. They'd been in Crag for ages, but it was I that negotiated for their extended stay, for their pay and for their powers. And Crag now has unparalleled security within her walls against outside attacks." This was true - admittedly, Crag still saw petty crime in its lowest levels before one hit the ground, but that was neither here nor there.
Mutter of agreement filled the chamber. "And then, with the establishment of proper defensive protocols and recon duties, we reaped twice the reward. Safer woods to venture into. A zone of peace outside our own walls where attacks were unlikely. Roads that traveling caravans could walk without fear. Merchants flocked to the city to ply their wares, to rest - whatever it may be. They did so because they knew Crag was safe. They took heart when they came across patrols, because they knew their journey was safely at an end. And we see their prosperity echoed all around us." That was half-true. The highest levels of Crag saw boundless prosperity, and the rest caught whatever overflowed. Whoever failed to catch their fill mattered little to the dragon.
But now was the time to drive the knife.
"I believe I have made an excellent case for myself. For my re-election. And if I may, I have but a single thing more to add before I surrender the floor." He cleared his throat. "The Council has become a tangled web of bickering and inefficiency. Some elders are at each other's throats every passing day." He glanced at Chloe and Bounty. "Others are enablers. They placate. Assuage. Massage. They are neither help nor hindrance." His eyes passed over Providence and Harvest.
"Some favor the certainty of what is. And fear the uncertainty of what-might." He looked at Thump. "And some…" He took a deep breath and looked at Archstone. "Some have simply never been fit for the position at all."
Chloe rose from her seat, shaking. "And what do you propose then, Octavian? That we dissolve the Council? That we surrender Crag to your will? You know nothing about what running a city entails - you know only how to defend it and hoard." She narrowed her eyes. "How fitting."
Octavian took the insults on the cheek, and when he spoke, he fought to keep the smugness out of his tone. "I am not suggesting we dissolve the Council and make me sole ruler of Crag. I am not fit for the position anymore than anyone in the Council is. I propose we trim the Council. There are too many seats. Too many opinions. Too many special interests. Too many points of failure and inaction - or action and failure." He came to a stop from his pacing in the center of the chamber. "Personally I would start with Archstone or Thump. I relinquish the floor."
Chaos reigned in the chamber as voices filled the air.
"Trim the Council? The dragon is mad!"
"Crag has been paralyzed by inaction and terrible decision making for years! We have five water requisition stations on my floor and none on the floor above or below! It makes perfect sense!"
"Remove Archstone? His family is responsible for building most of Crag!"
"His family is responsible for fucking themselves into Oblivion itself! Look at that bibarel - his eyes drift independently of one another!"
"The time has come to trim the Council, Octavian is right. That gigalith never speaks - his family can. But Thump? Silent. So dedicated to the old ways that he believes speech is a waste of words better saved for a more pressing time!"
"The Council shouldn't be trimmed, but it should have the tribes changed! The Ludicolo Tribe has sat upon it for ages, and they have become nothing more than farmers without ambition! They feed us well and good but what of their interest to strive for better things? For a brighter tomorrow for the little ones?"
"We should trim the Council and replace several members with more security oriented ones. The crime in the lower levels rises and falls with the stockpile orders and I would rather not have to listen to yet another story about how someone had their home broken into and their jerky or jaw toner stolen."
Octavian closed his eyes and let the conversations wash over him. He opened a single eye and saw Chloe, still staring at him, furious. Her arms shook and she appeared to be doing her best not to pick him up and launch him across the room.
He smiled.
Chloe stared into her cup of tea, her eyes heavy. The patterns were clear as day. The Renegade - Giratina herself, rose over a cracked orb. Calamitous Renegade, omen of ill changes. At her side, an attending machoke watched the cat nearly nod off.
"Elder Chloe. Bed. You've stared at those lumps long enough," mumbled Brace.
"There is a terrible change coming, Brace," mumbled Chloe. "Terrible, terrible change. It must be a blessing to have a mind so unbothered by the knowledge of ill tidings."
The machoke shrugged. "Less to worry about the better, I guess." The door to the elder's chambers thumped several times. "The elder will be turning in for the night shortly. Return tomorrow," said Brace, calling out towards the door.
The door to the chamber burst open, revealing a solrock. Chloe spun in her seat, her eyes glowing.
"You first, die," said the solrock in a monotone. A purple glow surrounded it, and the machoke fell to the ground, convulsing and groaning, and then laid still. The solrock slammed into the floor, then the ceiling, then was launched from the room out into the hall, where it crashed into and embedded itself in the far wall.
Chloe stepped over the body of the machoke, her eyes still glowing, and seized hold of the solrock with her mind. The rock tried its best to force her out of its own headspace, but it could not. Her will overrode theirs, and the rock began to shake and crack. Orange spokes broke off the rock and a low rumble filled the hallway.
"P...lease… mer...cy," groaned the solrock in the same monotone.
"MERCY!?' shouted Chloe. "Kill my guard, then try to end my life and you beg for MERCY?" Deeper cracks formed on the solrock and it began to fall apart in earnest, but then all at once, her grip over its body disappeared.
Her mouth was very full? Pain exploded on her neck and warm blood gushed from the jagged wound on it. A zoroark strolled into view as the meowstic grabbed her throat and gagged. She coughed, spraying blood over her chamber floor and looked up at the smirking fox as it held up a single, dripping claw.
"Your guard's not dead," he whispered, snickering. "Obviously. But I'm also not your guard." He gave her a small wave. "Oh, and before I forget. Had a message for you." The cat fell to her knees. The zoroark leaned in very close to her ear and whispered, "Keep the walls strong."
Chloe's eyes closed as she choked on her own blood. Tears formed in the corner of them as her consciousness began to fade.
I just wanted to be a mother.