The Will to Change Chapter 4:
Realizations on a Cold Mountain Peak.
His eyes gently pried themselves open, as he took in the soft sparkles of crisp light filtering in from the mouth of the cave, the ashes and glimmers of dull blue-purple faded dragon energy made a little light show as he slowly sat up, sipping water he forced up from the mountain soil. Groundwater was always fresh, and he hadn't eaten in a day or two since he began to climb the mountain. He poked his head out, nearly falling over from the sharp wind, it was an awfully windy day today. He stepped back, stifling a shiver, and curled his tail closer to his waist, picking up the cloak he slept on. It seemed the fur got a bit mottled with dust and dirt, he frowned but didn't want to take the time to clean it, only for it to get dirty. Besides, it was so high up at this point the clouds would soon get it wet anyway.
Before he left, Garth decided to snag a bite to eat, he turned to the cave... Sableye tasted good, he knew it had a den in the cave and that it didn't lead too far into a cave system due to his stalks telling him. He walked quietly into the inky black and he saw in mere shades of grey, and ever-faint wisps of orange and yellow. UV light and the reflective photoreceptors let predator animals like himself see into really dark spaces. He saw little heat pockets from where it must've foraged for gems, monmade tunnels it seemed...
He tied the cloak to his waist, folding it over the base of his tail so it didn't rustle, and slid onto all fours to distribute his weight more evenly, making nary a sound as he crept and slunk into the tunnel. He could hear the feral clinking with jewels, carrying it back to its hideaway. He saw it freeze, the beast knew something was watching it, a primal sense that all things had, by the time the Sableye even turned, Garth had moved into the wall, leaving no trace of his presence, the annoying thing about most ghosts was how quiet they felt to his senses, dull. He eventually poked his head out, following back behind it, a few dozen meters back with it none of the wiser.
He felt incredible joy, a sort of thrill that he felt similar to when he indulged in the thrill that comes from hunting something, being hidden, approaching. It all felt so visceral and real. Truly sublime. He snapped himself from those musings, he could muse on how fun this was when he wasn't in the midst of catching his breakfast. He started to creep closer when he saw the Sableye get annoyed at the gems it carried and stopped to reposition it. It suddenly froze, and he realized why. As he had approached the poor creature, his eyes reflected in the gem, glistening amber eyes boring into its back, and it knew. It began to shriek and spin, but before it finished, his claw came down and slashed it in the throat, and he twisted, using the curve of his claw to shatter its head instantly.
And so he consumed his meal, for that was the law of nature, predator eat prey, were it more perceptive, perhaps it could've escaped.
He soon finished the meal back at the mouth of the cave, glancing at the Sableye's Eye, it was a pretty ruby. He pocketed it, using the cloak's inner pocket for it. The blood on his snout dried and was going to be a hassle to remove due to the cold weather making it grow hard and cold far too fast, he got most of it off of his claw thankfully. Now he could finally get started on the last leg of his journey, he was so close to the top. He strode over to the cave mouth's edge. Peering out over the yawning abyss, the wind whipped at him, trying to batter him. He was ready and had his feet dug down by the claws. He was in a low crouch, his tail as far back as it could go and the spade portion was flat to the floor. He hugged the wall, sliding out of the cave, onto a foothold. Turning and jabbing his claw into the mountain.
He saw a Staravia caw at him as it glided by, but he paid it no mind. It knew he wouldn't attack it had it not. It seemed to have a smug lilt to its chirp, though that might be his imagination. He was slowly making his way up by digging his claws into a portion and heaving upward with the first claw as leverage to jab the second one slightly higher. It helped that the pierced chunks of the wall crumbled enough just barely to let his foot get a handhold. It was the first rule of climbing without flight or digging. Three points of contact were required for maximum stability. His tail made things no easier, he had to keep it flat against the mountain face and away from him or else it would screw his balance over.
He came across a little bit of a nicer handhold that was natural, an incline just enough to hunch over and sit on. He stabbed his claws to his sides so that if it fell from under him he didn't lose all of his progress.
"...Wow, this is nice.." He hummed noncommittally. It was not quite morning, but just after that, the sun looked almost silver from the snow and thick clouds obscuring the sun's golden radiance. It made him think about the irony of so many dragons living so far North, maybe a Baxcalibur would, but THREE species of 4x ice-weak Pokemon living here was absurd, Dragonites, Salamence, and his old village. He snorted and used his tailspade, or what was left of it, given it was still halved to try and fish a canteen from his cloak, upon wrapping his tail and pouring it toward his awaiting mouth, he was met with only a large ice block that hurt his teeth. It fell off the mountain. And he heard an excessively pissed-off screech- Oh god, that poor Staravia was hit with an ice block at immense speed... Oops, he called down; "SORRY!" And it let him off with an air slash across his chest. It cleaved into his scales, making a thin line of blood. Damage for damage, it wasn't bad at all, he just shrugged and turned to finish climbing.
No more than two or so days and some odd hours, he finally breached the uppermost top of the mountain. It flattened into a plateau and the ancient ruins that had been here since well before his village was ever established, the taste of ancient strength was strong in the air, Arceus' crucible of creation. He inhaled, and walked to the altar, he wondered what he thought would change. It wasn't like climbing that mountain would magically change his outlook. He snorted, that was stupid and cliche... But perhaps, it's like the sayings so often told; 'It's the journey, not the destination'? That makes sense, thinking back to what he learned of himself with just this short journey. It does feel like something has changed. But he just couldn't put his finger on what.
He brushed ages-old dust from the crumbling stone altar, taking the Sableye's ruby gemstone eye and gently placing it on the altar. Nothing happened, why would it?
He waited, a little expectant, yea... Nothing, this wasn't a magical journey, there was no special reward at the end. Why had he run off like that, he needed to think. But he ended up just running away... He felt like a coward, but either way, he did what he set out to do. Even then, he was still too fearful of any genuine exchange, he knew the Dragonites of the area probably still housed themselves nearby. He sighed and dispersed those tumultuous thoughts that berated him internally almost without his volition. He ended up laughing, what the hell did he get from this? It was comical, damn near one of those crappy t-shirts. 'All I got from my journey to ancient ruins was a wet cloak and maybe some self-enlightenment.' And even then he didn't know if he did, such was the nature of slow changes... Insidious and annoying to spot. He FELT like he changed, he knew he felt a bit calmer, he didn't lash out at the Staravia for slashing him, he understood the reason and just accepted it.
Was that his problem for so long? It was, wasn't it... He took a seat at the foot of the altar, leaning against the crisp stone that refused to ever get frozen. Tolerance was his issue. He was too prideful and blew even the tiniest insult out of proportion because of his own perpetual little temper tantrum, childish and silly. It hindered his combat capability and his emotional and general maturity, and he felt internally horrified. Looking down at his claws, a grimace visible, he was like a stupid child, wasn't he? He knew why he acted the way he did, and at the time it felt right, looking at his upbringing they would STILL say it was right. ''Kill the opposition and force the remainder to cede whatever you wanted'' or what have you? But it left him lonely, it was only in opening up to places like District Zero, Callaghan. He only got his few little friends from unintentionally ignoring what his family and village taught him, and reaching out whether he realized it or not.
"...How had I been so stupid? Is that what Poppet told me so long ago, does kindness breed kindness..?" It did, didn't it? The District was a good example, he helped them, and they him. And over time it was easier to talk to them. He had a small smile, he did feel like that was the answer, he knew he'd still need to fight, especially in Vast. But maybe he wouldn't cause so many...
He could just spar with friends, or find more acceptable ways to fight, fighting had been his entire life, the fight to survive, the fight to grow stronger, and independent. It always came back to take what was needed, but maybe instead of taking what others had, take what others made available, like a fighting arena or something? he'd figure something out.
After resting a few minutes, and ruminating these incredible thoughts he realized he should've been having, he stood and faced the sky. He knew Vast was due south, past Mist Continent or so, which should be... Turn. Perfect.
After so long, Garth discovered what amounted to the most basic Empathy and kindness.
And so he set off back home to Vast.
