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Brisa – flesh and blood, radiant, zeraora Brisa – laid Astrid's head down again, and stood to face the goddess of the seas. With battle-hormones saturating her own body, and Lugia covered in injuries left by her own paws, Brisa couldn't help but shiver with the thrill of having dusted a goddess...

A good effort... Forecast this. Knock 'er dead. Brisa clung to consciousness by a thread within a kind of battle-drunk daze, shedding her corruption just barely faster than she generated it to keep her restorative plasma flowing over her body. She forced herself to her feet, panted for...

The burn sustaining her wasn't gonna be enough against this kind of environmental beating. Good thing Brisa didn't need to sustain herself. She could finish Lugia off right then and there. Her allies, her friends – they'd each used the opening she'd created to unleash incredible attacks with...

The sea goddess actually fucking winced. Incredible. Now they were in with a shot... All Brisa had to do was get as many shields down as she could. They'd agreed on this while training together. Brisa was the team shieldbreaker for this fight. Hopefully her Quick Attacks would still be strong...

Instinct ran her body more than discipline or training. The movements may as well have been there since birth, waiting for her to use them. She ran on two legs, claws ready, power streaming from her fists as she first delivered another electric impact that made her heart sing, and then...

Brisa talks shop with Owen about the Colosseum season to take their minds off Soda and give her better odds perhaps. She wants to know what he knows about the fighting style of Ho-oh, Team Drumstick and Balm & Cepa. She's sufficiently interested in this that she's also done her own research...

The Legend had spoken, and while Brisa hardly understood what had happened, the zeraora body now sprinting across the battlefield belonged to her. How could she possibly hold back now? She'd give Lugia her best goddamn shot. "Stick t'the plan!" she yelled to her allies. "I gotta improvise...

Brisa's Arcflash ignition felt different again, like that time in the training bunker with Owen. It was smooth, plasma rippling along her body. It felt . . . like there was something just out of reach. Waiting for her to grow just that little bit stronger. Push herself just that little bit...

"I just want ya t'be okay," said Brisa, feeling like she'd run a mental and emotional marathon. "If that means ventin' around me, or sparrin' all-out, or takin' a goddamn break, just let me know." Next up, taking a little time to decompress and meet her Colosseum schedule. Then take Owen to see...

Amongst all the things she could comment on, only one thing stood out to Brisa. "I weren't scared of you," she said, quietly. "Not fer real. Just scared for you. Scared of wrongin' you." She looked at the elevator and at Owen's new, splendid form. Would Cibuseans see it? Surely. "Now might be...

Brisa relished the transformation, quitting her dashing, kiting technique to stop and appreciate the grandeur of Owen's Blacklit form. The power was one thing, the control was another. Fantastic. Goddamn outstanding. Hmm. If y'had to pick a guy. Y'know? Brisa shook her head clear and threw up...

Was this that threshold of power he'd mentioned? Well, pokémon so often grew into new powers and abilities when pushed. Brisa would gladly give Owen one hell of a push. "You got it, Owen," she answered, Blacklight and electricity surging in her body.

Brisa weathered the hits with gritted teeth. She was doing okay, but the pain of the Paragon – it's twice as hard when yer alone, ain't it? – and of her Arcflash burn had worn her down already. "I can go plenty harder than this if'n y'give the word, Owen," she growled, catching her breath a moment.

Brisa strolled out onto the Colosseum field with a kind of delight in her she hadn't felt in a long time. Not since... Well, not since before all the spy bullshit. Not since going up against Ho-oh. Funny, that. The feeling inside her was somewhere between that intense joy of going into battle...

"As y'say, partner." Brisa conserved her energy, using little darting Quick Attack jabs to pop Owen's defenses and force him into taking a hit or two. Nothing serious. But it'd certainly build up an immobilising effect. Some shit's gonna happen, you know. This is Owen we're talkin' about...

Interesting. "Have it your way, fella." Brisa focused on her ideals, drew on the intent to push herself to her limit, and felt the potent mix of joy, pain, and electrical current that accompanied a Brilliant Paragon. Then she kited Owen, looking for an opening, wary of his stance . . . and...

"Whatever y'need," she replied. "I figured you might wanna let loose somehow. Show me what ya got." Brisa's fur ignition was a little smoother this time. The burn... felt different. She shivered, shook off the feeling, and built up charge.

Brisa shrugged. "Any number of things. Yer Blacklight developin', the stress of keepin' yer feelings bottled an' containin' yer Perceive, yer encounter with more exotic energies in the Tree, yer 'threshold of power' y'mentioned earlier... Any of that intuit as plausible?" She furrowed her brow...

"Yeah. I gotcha." Brisa sighed. "We gotta talk t'Diyem anyway, 'bout that shit we discussed at Zekrom's place. I meant every word in there, y'know. Team's fuckin' organisationally dysfunctional. If y'wanna separate out the, uh, sleeper agent thing from that we can have that talk without Pop...

Brisa nodded and gave Owen a begrudging frown of understanding. "Ain't really my thing, but I'll be honest, nothin' surprises me 'bout you no more, partner. Anyway, ah, it's an option. I'd just have t'be faster'n you in an emergency scenario, I guess." She skewed her mouth and tilted her head...