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Sombra gaves another of her breathy, ethereal sighs. "We want t'not be in pain. I wind up contemplatin' any means of not bein' in pain, in the end. Not wantin' t'be loved is . . . a weirdly comfortin' idea that ain't ever happenin' fer real. It ain't a real goal."

Sombra perked her ears as she loped through the corridor between the neighbouring dormitories, aware that she was being followed. She let Shadow keep after her until she returned to Brisa's room. Using doors was . . . grounding. She felt real. "Got somethin' on yer mind, fella?" she asked...

"I'll speak with Brisa, an' try to get her to talk to friends, or therapists, or whoever the hell she'll agree to tell. Thanks, partner. I appreciate yer time." She turned to leave. "An' good luck." <><><><><>

"Brisa hates the idea of someone scrutinisin' her private thoughts. It's a visceral reaction. Her perspicacity, an' her luxray vision, an' her insight into the Radiance an' Shadows folks display... Those're all forms of scrutiny. Her resentment of what her pa did don't extend so far as resentin'...

Sombra cupped her cheek and rested her head in her paw. "'Course she has. Plenty, in fact. Fer instance, why d'ya think her familiar looks like that? Brisa dreamed as a kid that she might one day be a zeraora, a wanderin' champion of justice who'd protect the innocent, strong enough to depend...

Sombra listened, nodding along until the Shadow-charizard mentioned Starr, and that earned a bout of dry, hacking laughter. "Y'know, I bet she would talk t'Starr about her crushes. In fact, I'm certain of it. By sky an' stars, that'd be a conversation to witness." She pinched the bridge of her...

Sombra laughed properly at that. "Interests. Funny way of puttin' it. Ah, but I'll let it warm me all the same. Owen's 'obligations' an' Brisa's 'interests' aside, their friendship is more meaningful than y'might even realise. I've though of him as a brother fer a while now, an' even Brisa seems...

"Our heart bleeds fer others," breathed Sombra, and the final syllable became a chuckle as dry as bleached bone. "An' fer ourself. Brisa feels such love, an' scarce ever seeks reciprocation. It is . . . a painful way to live."

"Sounds like yer sayin' I oughta try to persuade her to acknowledge her own heart," whispered Sombra. "I can only try. An' if she pushes me away... Well, perhaps you an' yer host can get her t'see th'truth if I can't. I couldn't say." The illusory wine-red stain on her chest grew a little larger.

Sombra nodded, her mind – if it was her mind – filling with memories of past pain and imagined future hurt. She ran a paw down one side of her face, her claws tugging at her shadowy fur, "I am afraid," she whispered. "That by seekin' out what we want, we'll be hurt worse. Waitin' in hope is...

Sombra's face twisted darkly. "I resent him fer representin' the concept of a world where the best outcome one can hope for is survival, bleak an' tainted by the blood spilled to achieve it. We ain't got... We will always fight fer a victory worth achievin'." She sighed. Her chains shifted in...

Sombra made an expression somewhere between a grimace and a smile. "Are we alive, Wishkeeper? I can think and act as if I were a person. Is Brisa doin' my thinkin' an' feelin' as she dreams, or is it the Shadow energy itself?" She shook her head. "Losin' love an' loved ones is a cruel agony...

"If'n we can't be loved or it's unhealthy somehow, is it possible to just . . . stop carin'? Harden our heart an' live without seekin' affection returned." Sombra looked at the sleeping forms of Owen and Dave. They'd give different responses, she was sure. She didn't want them. She wanted to...

Sombra shrugged. "Is it possible to not want what you want? We ain't after fame, anyhow. Colosseum cheers are just a salve on the wound." It was subtle, but Sombra's chest still reddened from time to time.

"Y'seem to care so much about safety, though Owen is more'n able to handle hisself," remarked Sombra. "I find myself obsessed with somethin' else." There was a pain in Sombra's chest, very nearly every second of her inexplicable existence. "We just want to be adored," she whispered, sadly...

"Hey there, fella." The Shadow-luxray took a seated position and bowed her head as if exhausted. The chains of light at her neck and limbs were less extensive and prominent than they had been, but they remained, floating weightlessly. She sighed, and filled the air with her fatigue. How to talk...

Sombra padded silently from Brisa's dorm to Owen's. She passed unseen and unheard, scarcely perceptible even to a Spectrum warrior, save for a shift in the air. She sought counsel, hardly knowing why. Perhaps it was in the nature of Brisa, and therefore of Sombra, to seek answers to questions of...

I'll have pokémorph prompts, please!

"Sure thing, partner," drawled Brisa, her whole body thrilling with the satisfaction of post-combat hormones and pain. "An' when yer ready, jus' give the word an' we can do this again." She grinned. There was nothing like a good fight to get the measure of someone, and irritating battle tactics...

Like hell are you gonna finish me off like that, you arrogant prick. Brisa forced herself conscious, forced herself up one paw and then the rest, forced herself to keep fighting. This wasn't over. Brisa's Blaze of Glory activated! She detonated in a flurry of blows. One paw to the legs to...