canisaries
you should've known the price of evil
Hey all! This is a drabble I wrote for a prompt in the Second Anniversary Mini Prompt Bingo. Obviously I didn't finish it in time, but I liked the idea and wanted to finish what I started. The prompt in question was (sort of spoilers) Legendary Foe.
Surprisingly for me, there are no content warnings to announce. This drabble is rated everyone. Enjoy!
---
Sticks and Stones
---
Amy flicked her ears as if it would cast away the laughter echoing in her mind.
Jimmy was dumb. He was dumb and mean. And wrong, too. A four-legs wielding a sword with their mouth wasn’t stupid. Celia wasn’t stupid for thinking that was awesome. It was awesome! Awesomer than the stupid dragons the bagon said were so much better, anyway. I mean, Rayquaza? That thing looked like it had gotten into its mother’s purse and tried on the lipstick. Amy chuckled at her own remark that she really wished she’d come up with back during the argument… but hearing herself laughing all alone in these quiet woods only twisted the knife further.
Or smacked harder with the stick. She was still sore from that whooping. Oh, she’d tried her best to snatch that stick from the bagon’s hands, but he was too nimble, pulling back and returning for a smack on her forehead or snout or, most humiliatingly, her backside. She could easily have bitten him, but then his stupid little crew would have just tattled and gotten her in trouble. Maybe she could have tattled on them, but the thought of it made her sick. She’d fight her own battles… even if she lost them. In the most pathetic way.
She huffed and stopped walking. She’d made it deep enough into the woods to afford that now. No one would see her cry. But just in case, she leapt off the path and slipped through some bushes before finally letting her tears flow.
She wasn’t weak. Rockruff weren’t weak. The feral counterparts of lycanroc were apex predators in the wild. They’d probably eat feral bagon if they crossed paths. And a feral skiddo would kick a feral bagon’s butt! Celia could have joined her in the fight and they probably would have overpowered Jimmy and his crew. Sandshrew are weak to grass attacks and pichu can’t even make a spark without hurting themselves in the process. On top of that, Celia had very big horns for a girl - she could really ram someone into next week. But no, Celia was too gentle to fight, Amy knew that much about her. If she wasn’t, Amy doubted Jimmy would’ve had the guts to start teasing her like that. And he wouldn’t have dared to smack her with a stick.
Amy gritted her teeth. It always came back to the stick. The amount of loathing she had for a simple piece of wood right then was surreal. In fact, she got up on her feet and began searching for one just to break.
There. A fallen dried-up branch. It required some trimming to really resemble the weapon Jimmy had used on her, but her teeth worked as excellent shears. Very soon, she held a mostly-straight stick the length of her leg in her mouth. And a persistent taste of wood.
Now, how should I break it? she wondered. She highly doubted she could break it with just one bite considering most of its smaller branches had already required some chewing to trim. Could she maybe hold it down with her paw while bending the other end with her teeth? That position seemed cumbersome. No, she should find a rock to break it across with her paws! Of course, if she was bipedal, this would be much easier as she could simply grab and bend it with both hands…
She grimaced. The advantage two-legs had in using weapons and tools was obnoxiously clear. Maybe four-legs made up for their lack of dexterity in running speed, but outside the wilderness, that barely mattered anymore. In modern times, you either knew how to hold a quill or a needle or an axe or your most impressive career would be in transportation. As the vehicle.
Fueled further by that indignance, she set out to find that stone. Once she found one she thought suitable, she balanced the stick atop it, stepped back and prepared to pounce…
...but she took another look at the weapon she had herself crafted, and suddenly didn't hate it anymore.
It was no longer a surrogate for Jimmy's stick but its own entity. It had not done wrong against her - no, in fact, she as its creator had the duty of caretaker. She couldn't just destroy it. No, she should wield it.
Well, how the heck am I supposed to do that? she thought, frowning. I wouldn't be in this mess if four-legs could handle their weapons. Except Zacian, yeah, but she's a legend. One of a kind and probably not real.
Still, her paws refused to move. She knew she could not leave these woods without picking up that stick again. Sighing, she bit down on it and lifted it up.
No, not from the middle. She wouldn't reach a thing, and she'd likely only get stuck on something like a bouffalant with its horns.
She slid her mouth to the right and gripped the end of the stick. Well, that was too far. She could barely hold it up and it threatened to slip from her mouth at any moment.
She moved just a bit to the left and lifted the stick again.
It was a new limb.
She recoiled at this new, foreign power, nearly losing her grip on the stick. It felt far too simple. Or… much less complicated than she'd expected, at least.
Cautiously, she moved her head around, feeling the weapon follow her motion. She jerked her head from one side to another, and the stick swung with a swish as it split the air.
She paced to the nearest tree, bent her neck to the right and whacked at the trunk. She flinched at the impact, making a mental note not to bite down on the stick so hard to avoid toothaches. She could ease her grip once she'd started the swing, anyway - the stick had enough weight to keep going.
She hit the tree that way a few times, altering the height and angle between tries. Having gotten the hang of that opponent, she switched to another in the form of a razzberry bush - and then to another, and then to another.
Time and time again, she swung the stick, her precision gradually evolving. Each knock and swish she heard stoked the fire raging in her heart. It burnt away all else, even her sense of time - by the time she'd had enough of whacking vegetation, a full hour had passed.
But she wasn't yet satisfied, no. She may have conquered the plant kingdom, but what really mattered were targets that could dodge.
She pondered which of the mon she knew could have been interested in helping her train. Mom and Dad were usually busy. Andy wasn't, but she'd get a terrible scolding if her parents found out she'd been whaling on her little brother. Many of her playmates' parents might react poorly, too…
Deep in thought, Amy began to make her way towards the direction she figured her home was. As her mind was focused only on potential sparring partners and the stick between her teeth, she neglected to pay attention to her path - until she stepped on something that was far too warm, hairy and squishy to be mud.
And it screeched, too.
Amy leaped back with eyes wide. Before her stood a very cranky-looking yungoos, back arched and restlessly wiggling, threatening to pounce at any moment.
“Uh, sh-shorry --” tried Amy, but the yungoos cut her off with a sharp hiss. She stepped back to give the yungoos its space, but the mon had other plans - it only crept closer.
She kept retreating, and the yungoos kept following… until she decided enough was enough. She planted her paws firmly on the ground and spoke. "I shaid I wash shorry. Get ofer it."
The yungoos stopped, beady eyes wide. Then it leapt at Amy's face.
Startled, the rockruff dodged to the side. The wild mon landed behind her with a thump, but it was far from giving up. Amy had barely turned around herself when the yungoos flew at her again, teeth and claws first. She jumped to the right to dodge once more, but this time, she felt an impact in her teeth - the yungoos had lightly knocked against the stick.
This gave her an idea.
The yungoos huffed and hissed, frustrated at its attacks failing to connect. It leaned back in preparation for yet another pounce. Amy turned to the mon and stood her ground, the stick steady in her teeth. She visualized the coming leap, readied her aim and waited for the yungoos' next move.
Seeing its target had no intention of moving, the yungoos jumped with confidence. As the rockruff wasn't going to dodge, the attack was sure to meet its mark, right?
Bonk!
The stick collided with the yungoos' body strongly enough to knock it to the side. It landed with a tumble, rolling across the dirt and finally stopping on its belly. It tried to get up, but its head spun too hard for it to keep its balance until a few seconds had passed. As it rose, Amy tensed her body again, but the yungoos retreated - though not without another furious hiss, of course. The mon dove into the bushes, and its rustling gradually became more distant until it finally drowned in the forest's ambiance.
The threat gone, Amy could finally catch her breath. As the tension in her body subsided, its place was taken by a warm wave of pride.
She held her head and tail up high. Not only could she wield the weapon she'd thought was for two-legs alone just that morning - she had beaten her first opponent.
She sought her surroundings for a higher place and soon found a large rock. She climbed it - if somewhat awkwardly - and once she'd reached the top, she puffed out her chest and stared down all that surrounded her.
Go ahead, world! she proclaimed in her mind. Hit me with your best shot! I can take on any foe!
Some way ahead, near another large rock, rustling arose. As soon as Amy had pinpointed the source, a canine figure leapt out onto the rocky platform and stood proudly on its four feet.
The scattered sunlight caught the gold that emerged from its head, withers and rump. They shimmered like fire, and similarly shone the blade it held between its teeth.
A simple look from its yellow eyes froze Amy to her core. Her jaw fell open, dropping the stick off the rock with wooden clangs, but her eyes could not break away from the beast’s mesmerizing gaze.
It swished its pale red tail, jumped off and ran away, disappearing into the woods.
Surprisingly for me, there are no content warnings to announce. This drabble is rated everyone. Enjoy!
---
Sticks and Stones
---
Amy flicked her ears as if it would cast away the laughter echoing in her mind.
Jimmy was dumb. He was dumb and mean. And wrong, too. A four-legs wielding a sword with their mouth wasn’t stupid. Celia wasn’t stupid for thinking that was awesome. It was awesome! Awesomer than the stupid dragons the bagon said were so much better, anyway. I mean, Rayquaza? That thing looked like it had gotten into its mother’s purse and tried on the lipstick. Amy chuckled at her own remark that she really wished she’d come up with back during the argument… but hearing herself laughing all alone in these quiet woods only twisted the knife further.
Or smacked harder with the stick. She was still sore from that whooping. Oh, she’d tried her best to snatch that stick from the bagon’s hands, but he was too nimble, pulling back and returning for a smack on her forehead or snout or, most humiliatingly, her backside. She could easily have bitten him, but then his stupid little crew would have just tattled and gotten her in trouble. Maybe she could have tattled on them, but the thought of it made her sick. She’d fight her own battles… even if she lost them. In the most pathetic way.
She huffed and stopped walking. She’d made it deep enough into the woods to afford that now. No one would see her cry. But just in case, she leapt off the path and slipped through some bushes before finally letting her tears flow.
She wasn’t weak. Rockruff weren’t weak. The feral counterparts of lycanroc were apex predators in the wild. They’d probably eat feral bagon if they crossed paths. And a feral skiddo would kick a feral bagon’s butt! Celia could have joined her in the fight and they probably would have overpowered Jimmy and his crew. Sandshrew are weak to grass attacks and pichu can’t even make a spark without hurting themselves in the process. On top of that, Celia had very big horns for a girl - she could really ram someone into next week. But no, Celia was too gentle to fight, Amy knew that much about her. If she wasn’t, Amy doubted Jimmy would’ve had the guts to start teasing her like that. And he wouldn’t have dared to smack her with a stick.
Amy gritted her teeth. It always came back to the stick. The amount of loathing she had for a simple piece of wood right then was surreal. In fact, she got up on her feet and began searching for one just to break.
There. A fallen dried-up branch. It required some trimming to really resemble the weapon Jimmy had used on her, but her teeth worked as excellent shears. Very soon, she held a mostly-straight stick the length of her leg in her mouth. And a persistent taste of wood.
Now, how should I break it? she wondered. She highly doubted she could break it with just one bite considering most of its smaller branches had already required some chewing to trim. Could she maybe hold it down with her paw while bending the other end with her teeth? That position seemed cumbersome. No, she should find a rock to break it across with her paws! Of course, if she was bipedal, this would be much easier as she could simply grab and bend it with both hands…
She grimaced. The advantage two-legs had in using weapons and tools was obnoxiously clear. Maybe four-legs made up for their lack of dexterity in running speed, but outside the wilderness, that barely mattered anymore. In modern times, you either knew how to hold a quill or a needle or an axe or your most impressive career would be in transportation. As the vehicle.
Fueled further by that indignance, she set out to find that stone. Once she found one she thought suitable, she balanced the stick atop it, stepped back and prepared to pounce…
...but she took another look at the weapon she had herself crafted, and suddenly didn't hate it anymore.
It was no longer a surrogate for Jimmy's stick but its own entity. It had not done wrong against her - no, in fact, she as its creator had the duty of caretaker. She couldn't just destroy it. No, she should wield it.
Well, how the heck am I supposed to do that? she thought, frowning. I wouldn't be in this mess if four-legs could handle their weapons. Except Zacian, yeah, but she's a legend. One of a kind and probably not real.
Still, her paws refused to move. She knew she could not leave these woods without picking up that stick again. Sighing, she bit down on it and lifted it up.
No, not from the middle. She wouldn't reach a thing, and she'd likely only get stuck on something like a bouffalant with its horns.
She slid her mouth to the right and gripped the end of the stick. Well, that was too far. She could barely hold it up and it threatened to slip from her mouth at any moment.
She moved just a bit to the left and lifted the stick again.
It was a new limb.
She recoiled at this new, foreign power, nearly losing her grip on the stick. It felt far too simple. Or… much less complicated than she'd expected, at least.
Cautiously, she moved her head around, feeling the weapon follow her motion. She jerked her head from one side to another, and the stick swung with a swish as it split the air.
She paced to the nearest tree, bent her neck to the right and whacked at the trunk. She flinched at the impact, making a mental note not to bite down on the stick so hard to avoid toothaches. She could ease her grip once she'd started the swing, anyway - the stick had enough weight to keep going.
She hit the tree that way a few times, altering the height and angle between tries. Having gotten the hang of that opponent, she switched to another in the form of a razzberry bush - and then to another, and then to another.
Time and time again, she swung the stick, her precision gradually evolving. Each knock and swish she heard stoked the fire raging in her heart. It burnt away all else, even her sense of time - by the time she'd had enough of whacking vegetation, a full hour had passed.
But she wasn't yet satisfied, no. She may have conquered the plant kingdom, but what really mattered were targets that could dodge.
She pondered which of the mon she knew could have been interested in helping her train. Mom and Dad were usually busy. Andy wasn't, but she'd get a terrible scolding if her parents found out she'd been whaling on her little brother. Many of her playmates' parents might react poorly, too…
Deep in thought, Amy began to make her way towards the direction she figured her home was. As her mind was focused only on potential sparring partners and the stick between her teeth, she neglected to pay attention to her path - until she stepped on something that was far too warm, hairy and squishy to be mud.
And it screeched, too.
Amy leaped back with eyes wide. Before her stood a very cranky-looking yungoos, back arched and restlessly wiggling, threatening to pounce at any moment.
“Uh, sh-shorry --” tried Amy, but the yungoos cut her off with a sharp hiss. She stepped back to give the yungoos its space, but the mon had other plans - it only crept closer.
She kept retreating, and the yungoos kept following… until she decided enough was enough. She planted her paws firmly on the ground and spoke. "I shaid I wash shorry. Get ofer it."
The yungoos stopped, beady eyes wide. Then it leapt at Amy's face.
Startled, the rockruff dodged to the side. The wild mon landed behind her with a thump, but it was far from giving up. Amy had barely turned around herself when the yungoos flew at her again, teeth and claws first. She jumped to the right to dodge once more, but this time, she felt an impact in her teeth - the yungoos had lightly knocked against the stick.
This gave her an idea.
The yungoos huffed and hissed, frustrated at its attacks failing to connect. It leaned back in preparation for yet another pounce. Amy turned to the mon and stood her ground, the stick steady in her teeth. She visualized the coming leap, readied her aim and waited for the yungoos' next move.
Seeing its target had no intention of moving, the yungoos jumped with confidence. As the rockruff wasn't going to dodge, the attack was sure to meet its mark, right?
Bonk!
The stick collided with the yungoos' body strongly enough to knock it to the side. It landed with a tumble, rolling across the dirt and finally stopping on its belly. It tried to get up, but its head spun too hard for it to keep its balance until a few seconds had passed. As it rose, Amy tensed her body again, but the yungoos retreated - though not without another furious hiss, of course. The mon dove into the bushes, and its rustling gradually became more distant until it finally drowned in the forest's ambiance.
The threat gone, Amy could finally catch her breath. As the tension in her body subsided, its place was taken by a warm wave of pride.
She held her head and tail up high. Not only could she wield the weapon she'd thought was for two-legs alone just that morning - she had beaten her first opponent.
She sought her surroundings for a higher place and soon found a large rock. She climbed it - if somewhat awkwardly - and once she'd reached the top, she puffed out her chest and stared down all that surrounded her.
Go ahead, world! she proclaimed in her mind. Hit me with your best shot! I can take on any foe!
Some way ahead, near another large rock, rustling arose. As soon as Amy had pinpointed the source, a canine figure leapt out onto the rocky platform and stood proudly on its four feet.
The scattered sunlight caught the gold that emerged from its head, withers and rump. They shimmered like fire, and similarly shone the blade it held between its teeth.
A simple look from its yellow eyes froze Amy to her core. Her jaw fell open, dropping the stick off the rock with wooden clangs, but her eyes could not break away from the beast’s mesmerizing gaze.
It swished its pale red tail, jumped off and ran away, disappearing into the woods.
---
Last edited:
