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He dodged and weaved and did everything he could to avoid and graze past what Brisa was going for, but her attacks were simply too accurate. He winced at a grazing shot from Brisa's first hit, but then quickly swiveled his head around, having lost Brisa in the chaos. He felt her to his left, but by the time he turned, the Z-Burst came.
And then rather than try to dodge, he reached toward it. It called him. And then, he grabbed it.
The energy still hit him; it cut through his scales and singed several more. Owen was lost in the blast and the smoke left behind; Brisa would see, if she tried her X-Ray Vision, that Owen was fine and standing, but his body had changed... He was Wishkeeper's size.
His wings had frayed themselves; from each wing were not membranes, but solid Blacklight flames. Perhaps now he only flew by the levitation of Blacklight itself. Those same flames gushed from his mouth and his tail, and his eyes had turned a deep red rather than their striking blue. Spikes jutted from his shoulders, tipped white, but most striking of all were his scales. From orange and a cream front, he was now a deep black with a glimmering, almost prismatic front, almost like a Milotic's scales. His whole body subtly crackled with Blacklight power, and the flying element had completely left. In its place was the inner Dragon might latent within him.
And held in his hands was something Brisa would recognize--her own attack, ensnared by Blacklight threads and wrapped like a cocoon. Owen had claimed her own attack. Usurped it.
"...Now I remember." His voice boomed with chaotic energy, and yet the way he spoke was calmer than ever.
The injuries Owen had sustained... So much of it had gone away.
Owen telegraphed the attack deliberately, slowly aiming and throwing the attack right back at her.
And then rather than try to dodge, he reached toward it. It called him. And then, he grabbed it.
The energy still hit him; it cut through his scales and singed several more. Owen was lost in the blast and the smoke left behind; Brisa would see, if she tried her X-Ray Vision, that Owen was fine and standing, but his body had changed... He was Wishkeeper's size.
His wings had frayed themselves; from each wing were not membranes, but solid Blacklight flames. Perhaps now he only flew by the levitation of Blacklight itself. Those same flames gushed from his mouth and his tail, and his eyes had turned a deep red rather than their striking blue. Spikes jutted from his shoulders, tipped white, but most striking of all were his scales. From orange and a cream front, he was now a deep black with a glimmering, almost prismatic front, almost like a Milotic's scales. His whole body subtly crackled with Blacklight power, and the flying element had completely left. In its place was the inner Dragon might latent within him.
And held in his hands was something Brisa would recognize--her own attack, ensnared by Blacklight threads and wrapped like a cocoon. Owen had claimed her own attack. Usurped it.
"...Now I remember." His voice boomed with chaotic energy, and yet the way he spoke was calmer than ever.
The injuries Owen had sustained... So much of it had gone away.
Owen telegraphed the attack deliberately, slowly aiming and throwing the attack right back at her.
