Disclaimer: Fromidam: I knoooow, I've been gone for so long! : 0 *clutches* I'm back now, it's okay. Howwra: Thanks so much for the favourites and follows! Littlesister: Thanks for the follow! Mitsy: Yes, of course! Of course, of course, of course you may! And yeah, I agree; he should've been champion. - _ - Stupid Iris.
*Flails* HOLY SHIT EVERYONE I'VE BEEN AWAY AND HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO COLLECT EVERYONE'S SUBMISSIONS FOR MY CONTEST! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE UPLOAD YOUR COVER SUBMISSIONS SOMEWHERE ONLINE AND SEND ME A LINK/ DIRECT ME TO THEM SO THAT I CAN JUDGE. SHIT. SORRY ABOUT THAT, EVERYONE. I FORGOT ABOUT IT AND I'VE BEEN AWAY AND I'VE BEEN BUSY AND- *continues to ramble on*
Question: -I can't believe I forgot, I'm such a dumbass.
My Answer: *deskdeskdesk*
Characters: Gameverse, and tying in with my previous chapters of characters getting replaced.
Summary: Inspired by Mitsy's comment of, 'I sometimes wonder about that myself: what would happen if I died?'
….Okay, but seriously how could I forget that?! It's my own contest for crying out loud! Everybody just form a line and slap me, alright? Just walk right past and slap me. Just go it. Do it now. ; w ;
Upload your cover art; I'll be checking it on the thirtieth of August becauseIamadumbasswhattheact ualhell *facepalm to the max*
Fade Out
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Fading
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There's no sure fire way to know when you're going to fade. It just kind of happens, like the end of a day, or the start of a night. Unavoidable. Inescapable.
Frightening.
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Fadin
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For some, it happens in an instant- they're there and then they're not, as if they had never been there at all. For others the process is slower, and they age like a photograph, their colours becoming washed out until there's no colour left at all.
Watching someone fade is like watching an artist erase a drawing of a person: first the colours are taken away; then the facial features; and then the details like clothing, or the knuckles on someone's hand. Then, when there's nothing left but an outline, that gets erased, too.
Horrible, isn't it?
Of course, there's lots of talk about it. Debating what's worse, being replaced or fading out. Wondering about how to prevent it. Trying to find out when you're next.
To be honest, I've always stayed out of it. It's all part of the game, after all; you can't exactly outrun what's waiting for you. I've seen strangers try, and it never works out for them- they're the ones that end up getting replaced. The ones that wait, the ones that accept the end with a smile… they're the ones that fade out. They're the ones that slip away peacefully.
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Fadi
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But you know, I've never been the surrendering type. I've never been one to lay down and let others trample on me. I can't be like Marley, silently watching as my hands grow more and more transparent each day. I can't be like Bebe, disappearing without a trace, never to be remembered.
No. I'm more like Mira, like Cheryl, fighting and fleeing and doing everything in my power to stretch out my lifespan. I'm more like Buck, braving dangerous terrain and chasing legends because if I'm going to die, it's going to be by my own terms.
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Fad
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Except no one calls it death. Not in public, anyway. No, that word is used in private, whispered behind closed doors and trapped between cupped palms. Death. A subtle, double-edged wisp of a word, meaningless until it's applied to you.
They managed to forget that. They got swept up in the excitement of life, and forgot what the end result would be. Mira forgot that she would never grow up; Bebe forgot that she was just a replacement for Bill, nothing more. Buck forgot that slaying myths didn't make him invincible, and Cheryl forgot that you can't hide from death. Marley forgot that even bad things happen to nice girls.
But I never forgot.
No. I didn't let myself enjoy life, because what's the point in enjoying it if it's just going to be taken away anyway? Instead I isolated myself, lived underground, prepared myself for the darkness that comes with the end.
But things don't always go as planned. I bonded with my lucario during our long years alone; I learned to love the feeling of the cold cave air slipping over my arms as we trained.
And I met you.
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Fa
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It was hate at first sight. You came to the island to fulfil your part in the game, to take down Team Galactic- and stumbled onto me. As soon as I saw you I knew that you were one of the main players. The stitches sewing your mouth shut was enough of an explanation.
Yes, I hated you. But the thing is, is that I needed someone to remember me.
Because you see, I'd begun to fade- because my hiding didn't stop anything, didn't shield me from what I hoped it would. Like Mira, like Bebe, like Buck, like Cheryl. Like Marley.
Like every other side character in my region, I had tried to outsmart the unavoidable. And failed.
So that was why I needed you. I helped you (or the game, I should say) accomplish what you had to. I was polite but brusque. (Because even though I need someone to carry the memory of me, that doesn't mean I want to be responsible for having anyone miss me.)
I gave you a riolu egg, and a standoffish goodbye. And the next time you came to my home… I wasn't there, was I? I was gone.
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F
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My name? It's Riley.
Remember me once in a while, alright?
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