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Logging all of the writing. Stat distro as usual. Everything above has been logged!

Owen nodded, folding his wings back. "That's a good way to look at it," he said, inspecting the plants one last time. Satisfied, Owen slowly got to his feet. "Seems like you know what you want to do. I hope you can help people back home the same way you grew here, Saltriv."

Owen sighed, nodding. "I guess that's why I can take it so well. You get used to it, er... retroactively." Owen hadn't summoned Wishkeeper in a while. As time passed, they became more and more alike, blended, faded into one another. "But, that's why I treasure how things are now, y'know? Even if...

Most, Owen repeated mentally, hiding a chuckle. "I don't think I will," he admitted. "I'm forgetting this. One day, I'll remember... but I think it'll be so distant that it won't have much of an impact. That's... too bad. But I'll treasure it when I can, like now."

"Maybe!" Owen said. "Though, I don't know if he'd want to get involved in something like this to begin with... He's not a fighter. He's technically just a civilian..." He sighed, looking skyward. "Still, crazy to think that it's almost over... that it already is for Cibus..."

"An author," Owen repeated, grinning. "Well, that would be something. I know about someone back home who's kind of the same way. Smeargle, actually. He's apparently a talented fighter, but his true passion is in storytelling. Illustrations. I'm a pretty big fan." He chuckled, sighing. "...Yeah...

"I've been doing fine," Owen replied, inspecting nearby plants before looking back at Saltriv. "Chronicling everything that happened? Never really thought about that; figured the news like with Puff and the others would've done that for us..." Then again, primary sources like journals could be...

Owen was on one of his morning strolls, wings flared to enjoy the rising sun. So early in the morning, he could afford to take up that kind of space while walking down the wide roads. Spotting Saltriv doing some writing in the garden, Owen decided to take a small detour. "Saltriv," Owen...

Mewtwo took the rock and tilted his head. It did look like him a little. Maybe he would keep it somewhere. Rocks were nice. Toast growled again. Zinc sighed. "I'm so glad you're able to get along with people," she said, smiling at Mewtwo. "And thank you for visiting, Nate, Rocky."

Soda waved back, returning to his mozzarella sticks. Wheat didn't move as usual, but Soda didn't mind. Overall, Soda was left in higher spirits by the end of it, a sense of purpose quietly kindling itself in his mind.

That was confusing. Mewtwo preferred it when he could just kill people. But if he was going to do things on his own, maybe killing people wouldn't work in the long term. Maybe he had to be more like that tiny Salamence. Mewtwo eyed Rocky, raising a hand. "No, no no, let's not do any killing...

Soda waved idly. "I'm tired," he muttered, but gave Dave a reassuring nod. "And... yeah, fuck it. Thanks. I think... I'm gonna go and talk with Maple and everyone else, say I'm alright to go and see if they agree and whatever. After that... I'm gonna start looking at community service and...

Mewtwo tilted his head, pondering this. So, it was bad to do things that were permanent to others, if they didn't want it. And people usually didn't want to die. Was it okay if he only killed them temporarily? He wasn't sure if that was possible, but he could figure out a way to do that, if he...

Mewtwo thought about that. That was true. It was because that's what Zinc said. And others who visited. It was also something the red-hat Charizard said. Mewtwo gazed at Nate again. Was Nate afraid of him? Mewtwo probably could try to kill Nate. But Nate was better if he was alive. He wanted...

Mewtwo considered this, tilting his head down in thought. Toast made growling noises again. Mewtwo looked at Nate, then Rocky. Mewtwo wondered, does killing things make him happy? Does being powerful make him happy? His old master thought that taking things away would make him happier. Was that...

"Tch... Nothing big." Soda glanced at the wall to clear his thoughts. "I'm gonna stick around on Cibus. Help with restoration. If they'll let me. Maybe... I dunno, maybe by then I'll feel like I made up for it a little." He sighed, arms crossed. "...Yeah... Maybe that'll be my life. I'm old...

"Tch..." Soda glanced away at that. "Yeah, yeah..." Finally, he took one of the sticks. In some of that silence, during which he downed two of them, he took a long, steady breath before saying, "I think I need to make up for it."

Mewtwo wasn't sure. But something Nate said echoed. Decide for himself... He didn't know how to do that, or what that meant. How did people come to decisions on their own? Where did their decisions come from? Nothing? How did that happen? Mewtwo stared at Nate and there was a flash of curiosity...

Mewtwo placed it back and the star-shaped brand on his chest closed. He took the Pecha next and bit into it. Once again, his expression didn't change, but he seemed to appreciate it. Toast growled and made what might have been a whine. Mewtwo looked down and tore a piece of the Pecha, dropping...

Mewtwo blinked for what might have been the first time, then brought his hand toward his chest, at the center of that five-sided star. He reached inside and Zinc winced as it made an unsettling, deep sound. Then, he pulled something out that dripped with thick, dark fluid and pulsed...