Has he Changed at All?
He knew there was an issue looking back. All of his time was spent leaving, to go to Vast. To find a new place to restart, and yet look at him. Back to the same habits, no addiction, that led him to such ruin. What did it say about himself that he sought change, but had never even begun to attempt it... Garth pondered these thoughts with a grimace while flying over the deep blue seas, heading to another continent. He needed to think, to evaluate what he even wanted. What point was seeking all of this strength to be free of all chains if in doing so, it binds him to one path? He is contradicting his own beliefs and mindset with that...
He hadn't brought his communication orb or any of his riches. Just his cloak, crown, and his berry case. Nothing else was needed, he should visit home, what was left of it anyway. He needed to remind himself of what he was trying to change.
He soon touched down on the loamy soils of the Sinnoh Shoreline, shivering and pulling his cloak tighter, snow fell gently to the beach's sands. Exhaling steam onto the air, he refused to fly fast, to speed through. He needed to see it all, to slow down and think about what he was doing.
As he marched through, making snow tracks and broached into the forest proper, he could feel memories dancing behind his eyes. It was all so familiar, even after the years have passed. As he got closer to where the village once stood, he could still feel the air burn against him, the smoke in the distance. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, nothing was wrong, done and over. Keep moving.
And so he did, he finally made it to where the village had been, the ruins still seemed to seep gentle plumes of acrid smoke, and the fires of a god were not prone to dying, eternally smoldering in his former home. He bowed his head as he walked along the cracked path, ignoring the stinging in his feet from the occasional hot ash. Taking it all in, whispering gently; "I'm sorry, all of you. I really am.." He gave a mirthless chuckle, "Why am I even speaking? It's not as though you can hear me, maybe I am a bit crazy? Hmph, never. How could someone acknowledge they are crazy, if they are crazy after all..."
Though he had the idle thought that only someone crazy would talk about whether they are crazy or not out loud, to nobody at all... He brushed those thoughts aside, that were musing to distract him, he couldn't let himself procrastinate. He walked deeper in, a library, gone, he could see where he would've sat, on the forest's edge, to train with his brothers and sisters. Why had he left, for what purpose? Hubris..? He brought all of this destruction onto the village, to his family and friends. To them all, he would shed a tear were he not so used to refusing to show that kind of weakness. It really said something that he was so weak that he could not cry by himself. Growling and kicking loose gravel and stone off the path.
He had finally gotten to where he needed to go; His home. The structure still stood, but only barely. It had completely fallen over in some portions, a few walls and pillars stood, but the once grand structure was gone. He blinked, seeing what it all used to be, sighing shakily. He sat on a ruined step overlooking the village. He was moping, he shouldn't.
He spent a few hours just staring, deep in thought. He knew his pride was to blame, he had the arrogance to challenge an irate Reshiram, and he could still feel the sting of the capricious deities' fires. Spared only to emphasize their point, in a way that burned more than the fire. To be spared out of some punishment or pity. Maybe that was what kickstarted his childish little tantrum of a desire; Kill the gods? How pitiful, he couldn't even kill his pride. He would use the time in solitude to work on it, to think and remember. Maybe channel it elsewhere... He knew it probably wouldn't hold up in Vast, it was too draining. Dealing with it all, most of it of his own making.
Maybe he should pray to Azelf, he wondered if Azelf even remained in Azurine Lake, he knew the guardian was close since his village had them as a centerpiece of their religion... After all, where would we have gotten our strength, if not for the Will to grasp it? He stood, dusting the stone dust off of him. Padding along the main path, examining all of the buildings, some still had doors or a wall. But it was mostly rubble, he took a left, toward the forest's edge. Paths lead into it, these had been spared some of the wrath of the dragon's ire since it'd have burned the forest... It was nostalgic, it felt like he could close his eyes and see himself as a Gible and Gabite, It was easier then. Train, get stronger, and make Father happy... Of course it was, that was childhood, wasn't it?
He spent a half hour taking in the scenery, he had seen ferals near the forest's edge, they didn't dare get close to the village, it still constantly smoldered after all, nothing of value to the mindless beasts either. He saw a feral Dratini near the lake he sought. Creeping over, and whistling in a sharp tone, it was a clicking noise that he knew the feral would understand. His people had always used ferals as a model for some of our fighting styles, the rules of nature were what we followed. Ferals of great strength were a peak to overcome, consume the weak, and grow ever stronger. But respect those more powerful, he lost that along the way somewhere.
Even so, he continued, the Dratini hissed, and he growled back, flicking his claw at them in a quick gesture, it got the idea and skittered away, keeping its head bowed. He let it slide by, ignoring the weak feral. Kneeling at the waterfront, it was a miracle, ironic enough that the supplies kept here remained, leaves and stones. It was customary to send offerings to Azelf before we had left to fight or do important events, fold the stone to the leaf, make the little raft... And place the offering.
He wondered idly how long it had been since Azelf received a proper offering, Was it still worshipped by the other villages nearby? Had they been abandoned so as to escape the wrath of Truth on their heads? He knew the Aeries of the Dragonite and Salamence were still there, they had bad blood with the Salamence, but we had tangential allies with the Dragonites... Maybe he could visit? No, not in good faith. He shook his head off the musings that assailed him and finished folding the little raft, reaching a claw to his throat, and plucking the reverse scale near the base off, the only scale flowing the opposite direction, a precious gift. He put it on the raft, and gently floated it out to the center of the lake.
It was rare to see Azelf ever take the offering, but one could always know it was taken, it would typically vanish when one stopped looking at it. He closed his eyes for a span of 10 seconds, opening them. It was still there... Had he been spurned even by Azelf? He got up, feeling downcast, and turned to leave. Walking back down the path. As he traversed, he heard a crisp splash at the lake ring outward, turning his head to see that the offering was gone...
"Thank you." He whispered he assumed the being would hear him, and his heart felt a bit lighter. Preparing a camp in his old house, melting stone to replace it, forming it into a rough approximation of his childhood home, and fixing what he could. It still wasn't the same, but maybe he could find solace in sleep. He needs to change... He had friends for once, Nyrinn, Callaghan, most of DZ, even Malune as a partner, he couldn't lose what he had all over again, it's happened thrice.
And with those tumultuous thoughts, he would have a rough sleep. No dreams, of course, just the quiet black and nightmares, such is the curse that comes from invoking the anger of Darkrai. Maybe he'll figure something out and kick the angst out of his head tomorrow..? Yea, surely.
I have been having some burnout with PMDRP, so in a way, this is a way to just get some character development while not being online much, this is the canon explanation as to why he vanished off the face of the planet. He also left a note at his castle that says he left and not to bother the area.
