A soft breeze rustled the trees, whipping up the dry leaves and whisking them through the canopy. Cleo’s ear twitched towards them, and she sniffed the air cautiously. An out of impulse. She gave a huge, loud yawn and continued tucking away her tent. It was nothing more than a blue sheet coated with combee wax for weatherproofing, but, with the help of a low tree branch to toss it over, it did the job.
As she lifted it off the floor ground, she spotted Spark lying on her back in the debris. Cleo gave the dedenne a nudge with her foot, eliciting a disgruntled grunt.
Spark swatted with her paw and cracked one eye open. “Cut it out, Cleo.” She promptly rolled over and tugged a leaf over herself.
Gave a couple suggested phrasing tweaks for this section here. Though I see that Spark is very much one of those “five more minutes” ‘mons when it comes to waking up in the morning. :V
“Come on, Spark.” Cleo yawned again. “We have to move.”
“Urgh, why? I didn’t sleep a wink.”
“Neither did I.” Cleo cast a glance over her shoulder.
Mischief was crouched beside a brook, scooping up water to throw over his head, and scrubbing his face with his paws. They hadn’t managed to lose the whimsicott [ ]. The small group had been forced to camp out, taking turns to keep watch. But with a suspicious pokemon tagging along, neither Cleo nor Spark had got a wink of sleep. A surprise, given Spark usually conked out like a light.
Mischief had offered to keep first watch, allowing the two girls to sleep before taking over. But Cleo had been unwilling to accept his offer, feigning sleep to keep an eye on him. Even after she and Spark took their turns, neither could rest thinking from the lingering worries that he might be plotting something. His ‘damaged memories’ could easily be a ruse.
This one paragraph seemed long enough that I thought that it worked better as two smaller ones. I also had a smattering of wording nitpicks here and there which I’ll probably decline to point out explicitly as often from this point on.
Cleo tossed her satchel over her shoulders and joined the whimsicott by the brook. She dropped to her knees and took a good long drink before copying him and giving her tired eyes a rinse. A loud, squeaky yawn beside her indicated Spark had decided it joining in was a good idea, and. The way she flopped onto the bank gave Cleo a start, bracing herself to whisk the dedenne out of the brook. But Spark didn’t fall in. She wrapped her tail around a tough reed stem and gulped noisily, her head almost entirely submerged in the shallow water.
Yeeeeeah, I hope that Spark’s a teetotaler, since otherwise seeing her hit the bar must be
something else as an experience. [copyber]
Mischief let out a satisfied sigh and stood up, drying his paws on his stomach. “Well I feel refreshed! How about you?”
Cleo + Spark:
Mischief: “That good, huh?” ^^
Cleo bristled. Would it really be bad Guild etiquette to blast Mischief to the other side of the brook with her psychic?
- snerk -
Yeah, I had a feeling. Though maybe it’s an artifact of me reading the v1 of this chapter almost a decade ago, but I swear that Cleo feels a lot more animated and distinct as a character this go-around.
She stood and flicked water off her paws before turning to address him. But she was cut off when he gasped.
“Yikes!” he said. “You look older! What happened?!”
Cleo’s ears hummed with repressed psychic energy and a canine poked from her lips. “We move. Now.”
I see that Mischief got ‘never remind a woman of her age’ lazored out of his mind by whatever it was that made him Mischief.
She turned sharply to march away, leaving him to follow behind.
Spark scurried along beside her feet, casting a sharp glance back. “I can shock him if you want?”
“No, leave it,” Cleo muttered. “If he really does have some level of amnesia, then I can let that comment slide.”
Cleo: “Also, I’d
really rather not have to deal with an awkward conversation with Tinker after all of this, so as tempting as it is right now,
let’s not.”
Spark grunted at that and scrambled up onto Cleo’s shoulder. But not without another glare back at Mischief. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.
The pair pressed on, desperate to reach New City. They were almost at the Moorlands Forest, a huge spread of trees that went on for miles. Ordinarily, Cleo would want to move in silence, but it was impossible with Mischief’s ramblings. Random ‘knowledge’ about berries and bark, and whatever else caught his eye. Stuff that she’d expect a hatchling to come out with. At one point, she was pretty certain he’d wittered on about an oddly shaped cloud. Once they reached the forest, his constant ramblings would become a beacon to any waiting Darkness.
Cleo: “... Spark, we
did remember to bring Sleep Seeds with us, right? Since I get the feeling that we’re going to need to sedate this ‘mon pretty fast.”
Her eyes flit about the sky and she slowed, creeping towards the thick trees ahead of them. She paused, catching a raised eyebrow off Mischief.
“This is the Moorlands Forest,” she said quietly. “We have to be very quiet in here.”
He looked up at the dark trees and nodded, as if he’d completely understood. She hoped desperately he had. If any of Hydreigon’s troops were lurking inside, they’d have all ears and eyes open. And they’d hesitate at nothing to attack. Cleo was not in any shape or mood to fight.
Mischief: “And we’re not just going around these dangerous and sketch-looking woods why, again?”
Cleo: “Because the alternative routes are
even worse for us. Now seriously, just hush up and come along.” >_>;
She shook her head and ducked into the trees. Darkness enveloped them as the canopy blocked out most of the sunlight. The forest was yet to shed all its leaves, but the floor was already blanketed with them. They crunched beneath their feet, and the occasional twig snapped. Each one put Cleo’s fur on end, and Spark tensed on her shoulder, poking her head out to twitch her nose at the air. Cleo trod lightly, trying to avoid making too much noise.
I realize that it’s probably not intentional, but cute pun/double-entendre there, especially since
I’m pretty sure that these three are supposed to have Noivern problems in like five minutes from this point, so it kinda works imagining him shadowing them from above or something like that.
Mischief, however, trampled along behind them, his usually light footwork sounding deceptively loud as the finest of twigs snapped beneath his feet. Cleo gave a glance back to berate him, but he stared at his feet, his expression calculating. Cleo’s lip twisted and she bit back her retort. It didn’t seem like he was deliberately trying to get them attacked, but…
A branch ahead of them bucked and swayed and she tensed, fixing it with wide eyes. A flutter of wings broke the air, and a pair of pidgey took off to the east, their necks sporting matching blue scarves. Outcasts. Probably looking for New City.
… Wait, why are these two just casually flying
over the forest riddled with Hydreigon’s troops when a ton of Dark and Dragon-types, and especially
strong Dark and Dragon-types are capable of flight?
She let out a sigh of relief and forced herself on. Straight ahead. Keep heading north, and they should reach it by the time the sun was high above them.
New City… what was she meant to do with Mischief when they got there? She grit her teeth and balled her paws into fists. She couldn’t take him inside, not without clearance. It was much too risky. Guild members couldn’t even breathe the name ‘New City’ outside of it. Its very existence was kept secret to all except those who inhabited it.
[ ] Mischief could easily be an infiltrator or a spy, sent by Heretics, or even Hydreigon, to fool the Outcasts and feed back their secrets. If the Outcasts’ top-secret safe-haven was leaked, their last swing at an attempt to recover, then that would spell disaster for all who were left.
Oh hey, reminding me that I should get back to my
Xenoblade 3 run where there’s a place that’s
just like this in that game. It’s a bit of a funny coinkydink given that this fic and New City have existed in some form or another as far back as the mid-2010s.
Though IMO, this paragraph works better split in two with a minor extension noting Cleo’s mind turning back to Mischief or else her side-eying him while he’s gleefully off in his own world or something like that.
No, they’d need to find a way to lose Mischief before they got there. They’d make sure he was okay and send him on his way. All he’d wanted was company, or so he claimed. If his memories didn’t return, then he’d be left to deal with it on his own.
[ ] She’d just have to hope he survived.
IMO, it might make sense to take a moment to reiterate
what sort of world / conditions they’re about to leave Mischief to deal with. Especially if they’re harsh conditions that make Cleo feel a bit uncomfortable when she stops and thinks about it.
Though, the Clean Place… Mischief had mentioned something about that earlier, but what was thait? It didn’t sound like any location she knew of, although the name he’d given it was vague. ‘Clean’ could be anywhere, provided those who cared for the place put the effort in. Even New City, an underground location, was kept clean.
IMO, the wording for Cleo’s mind turning back to the Clean Place works better having a bit more of an “oh right,
that” framing since she’s turning to this topic after a prolonged period of time
not thinking about it.
An odd sound snapped her out of her thoughts. It wasn’t so much a sound as a sensation, pushing every single hair on end. It thrummed through her body, shaking her very bones. She froze, turning her eyes to the canopy. It was growing stronger, causing the very branches to tremble. Now she could hear it. A deep, pulsing noise. Rapid, like the frantic pecking of a pikipek.
She knew that noise.
Well, it’s not even five minutes yet, but I see the gang’s
Noivern problems are beginning right now. Boy does
that not bode well for how those two Pidgey we briefly saw earlier fared.
“You have to be kidding me.” She threw her arms out to the side, stopping Mischief before he could overtake her. “Get to cover! Now!”
His eyes widened and he stared at her as she ushered him off the path. “Cover?”
“Yes! Hide!” she cried.
“But-”
She shoved him ahead of her, and he went sprawling into a thorn bush. He whined with protest and stood, dragging fine thorns from his shoulder. Cleo didn’t care. It was better to be pricked by a few thorns than face the nightmare that was descending on the forest.
Ah yes, cue the theme song right now:
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9JGOoNZlpbw
The pulsing noise pressed at her ears, causing her to squeeze them shut with both paws. Frantic cawing had joined it, just audible over the hum. She could make out the oily black wings of hundreds of murkrow as they shot over the canopy. Each one heading north, the same way they were.
Yeah, those two Pidgey earlier are
really dead right about now. I wonder if the thought would’ve crossed Cleo’s mind at all, since someone who’s seen as much of this ongoing war as her probably understands that that glimpse of them earlier is probably the last time she’d ever see those two alive.
A dark shadow followed after them, drawing across the floor. Huge, wide wings that were held steady, occasionally flapping as their owner forced themselves on.
Then they did what Cleo feared. They faltered.
Beating steadily, whipping up debris as that awful noise passed over the forest floor. She could feel it beating down on her, taking in her size and posture and feeding that information back to the dragon hovering above them.
Spark: “(I mean, we haven’t been summarily incinerated yet, so maybe the ‘mon didn’t notice us yet?)”
She could see it now, just through the branches. The purple and black scaly body, long whip-like tail, and two huge disks that formed its ears.
A noivern. What was one of those doing out during daylight? They usually stalked the night, picking off their targets. No one survived an encounter with a noivern. All that was passed back to the Outcasts were tales. Horrible tales, and she didn’t want her or Spark to become one.
Spark: “(Wait, Cleo? Is it just me, or is there some sort of ominous drumbeat and brass music playing right now?)” .-.
Cleo: “(Right, I suppose the Monster Hunter music from earlier isn’t helping with us avoiding detection.)”
They’d just have to sit still and hope it passed. Hope that it hadn’t spotted them.
Noivern:
Cleo: “... Okay, yeah, it spotted us.” >.<
That hope was rapidly failing the longer it hovered there, surrounded by a growing army of curious murkrow flocking into the trees. Their heads twitched side to side as they aimed their beady eyes towards the forest floor, searching the foliage for whatever had piqued the noivern’s interest.
Spark: “(Wait,
what?! But we’re just supposed to face the
Noivern for this moment and-!)” O_O;
Cleo: “(Spark, that was in the
v1 of this chapter.
Almost a decade ago.)” >_>;
Mischief: “(Psst! Can I speak yet-!)”
Spark + Cleo: “(
No.)”
A deep chuckle left the dragon’s throat, and he lowered himself onto one of the large branches. “I’m right.” Steadying himself with his wing-claws, he leaned forwards, aiming his echolocation into the bramble. “There’s some little pokemon down here.”
Boy are these three lucky that this Noivern doesn’t have the professionalism to just summarily spit dragonfire at them and
then pull an “over here!” Like, the Fairy-typing probably would 2 of 3 'mons here help tank things, but shredding their surrounding cover would surely not help for keeping them oriented right now.
The murkrow broke out into excited caws, rustling their feathers and scurrying side to side along their perches. Yet more joined them, scrambling to fit amid their kin.
Cleo’s blood turned to ice in her veins. Say nothing. Don’t make a sound. Don’t even move. She glanced at Mischief beside her, but he was staring up at the dragon in transfixed awe. He was breathing heavily, his fine brown fur on end.
Ah yes, we’re almost at the part where
Mischief brutally beats this Noivern soldier to death in front of the party. Though considering the presence of other parties this go around, maybe he’ll do something different this go around since there
are a bunch of extra Murkrow that need to be dealt with right about now…
The noivern squinted his yellow eyes as he strained to see in the sunlight. But he still found them, his pupils dilating with excitement. His pink tongue poked out and flicked across his lips, and Cleo could make out two rows of sharp teeth.
“I thought this place was empty.” His voice came out as a purr, but it was amplified by his huge, dish-like ears. “But I guess I was wrong. We’ve found ourselves some stragglers.”
Cleo: “(... On the positive side, I suppose that means that they
somehow didn’t come across those two Pidgey earlier?)” ^^;
Spark: “(And found
us instead. How on earth is that an improvement?! And why are we still whispering anyways?!)” >_>;
[ ]
One of the murkrow waved a wing towards Cleo. “This one has a Guild badge.”
Spark: “Oh for crying out loud, the
Murkrow can see us too?!” >.<
Cleo: “... Yeah, we probably should’ve had a paragraph describing them explicitly turning to look at us or something, huh?” ^^;
“Guild members?” The noiven threw his head back and laughed, causing the trees to shake. Once he’d regained himself, he sneered at the Outcasts. “I guess you’re out causing more trouble for Hydreigon, eh? Well, I think you two will make tasty little hostages.”
I just realized, but what
is Mischief doing right now anyways? Since isn’t he crammed into the same hiding place as Cleo and Spark right now? Since beyond that brief mention of him getting tense, we haven’t had much acknowledgement of him thus far.
Mischief: “Wait, but if you’re keeping us as hostages, can’t you by definition
not eat us without ruining the ‘hostage’ part?”
Noivern: “Yeah, I’m just going to eat you first. I can already tell you’d be annoying to keep around.”
Two? Cleo glanced between Mischief and the dedenne on her shoulder. Had he overlooked Spark? Unless… She edged away from Mischief.
That was it. All the noivern needed. He shot from the branch and spread his claws, snatching at her. She rolled and uncurled her ears, firing a blast of psychic blast at the dragon.
Should’ve taken the shot while you could’ve, buddy.
It struck his underbelly, sending him crashing back into the canopy. Branches shattered, raining down splinters onto them. One bough smashed down from above him, but he slipped away, narrowly avoiding it. Several of the murkrow weren’t so fortunate, however. They lay crumpled and broken beneath it, their beaks open in a permanent silent scream.
And I see that we have our first outright deaths in this story. I see we’re working our way up to the main event here.
The flock was in a frenzy, circling above as they looked for a way in. Spark leapt around in the branches, discharging her electricity. Stunned, black bodies rained down onto the forest floor.
Cleo leapt aside, bracing herself for the dragon to retaliate. He turned his head to the canopy, a look of surprise on his face. Then he turned his sneer back onto Cleo. Thick smoke curled from his nostrils and a low growl rumbled out between his teeth.
Spark: “Well, on the plus side, he hasn’t thought of using his dragonfire yet-?” ^^;
Cleo: “
Spark!” >.<
“I’ll make you regret that, little kitty. You, and your friends!” He opened his mouth wide and sent out a purple spray of flames.
Spark: “... Right, shouldn’t have pointed that out for him, huh?”
Cleo dived out of the way, but stumbled as the hot flames skimmed her tail. She swiftly uncurled her ears, throwing a psybeam at the noivern’s head. He flicked his wings, knocking her attack away and rendering it useless. He lunged at her, his fangs glinting in his mouth. Cleo threw herself sideways, and his jaws snapped shut over thin air.
She sent out another psybeam, striking him in the side of the head. He staggered, twisting on the spot to lash out at her. But his wing struck his own ear, knocking himself off balance.
Mischief shot out from beneath the falling dragon, drifting lightly and twirling as he dodged the noivern’s flailing wings.
Mischief:
Noivern: “And what the hell are
you supposed to do to me anyways?” >:|
Great. If he was just going to stand around, he was going to end up getting hurt. Cleo wasn’t willing to go easy on the noivern for his sake, otherwise they’d all be killed.
She shook her head and rushed between him and the noivern, throwing Mischief aside.
Crack!
Spots danced across Cleo’s eyes as the noivern’s wing struck her across the face. She flew backwards, landing on something soft. Her heart froze and she looked back, expecting to see black feathers. But instead she saw brown and cream fur. Mischief lowered her to the floor and stepped over her, his claws twitching as he stared up at the bat-like dragon. The noivern clawed at its face where a soft, green shimmer faded away. Evidence it had been suddenly struck by an unexpected elemental attack.
Noivern: “Oh, that
tears it! Time to
burn, little weed!”
“You’re not being very nice,” said Mischief.
The noivern jerked his head back as his eyes widened. He chuckled, lowering his wings. Then he threw his head back and laughed, causing what remained of the murkrow to join him.
“Nice?!” He snapped a glare back onto Mischief. “I don’t do ‘nice’, Cotton Puff. Not to you Outcasts.”
Murkrow #1: “Um. Boss? I don’t like that look in that sheep’s eyes-” •v•
Noivern: “Shut up, Jay. Don’t ruin my moment here.”
“Well I’m not about to let you hurt my friends anymore!”
Spark: “Wait,
what? Since when were we your-?”
Cleo stared at Mischief, dumbfounded. Spark stood in the branches above him, her body covered with red welts where the murkrow had got in some lucky shots. This could only end badly. What was he thinking?
“I was gonna take you all as hostages,” said the noivern. “But now I think I’ll kill you all right here! Then… I’ll have a little feast.” He inclined his head on one side and grinned. “I quite like my grass-types roasted.”
Famous last words. Though yeah, this guy is definitely pulling out a
lot more stops than I remembered his v1 counterpart doing to
nuke his sympathy pre-death. Like the only thing that he could be doing
more to that end at this moment would be if he just went and casually revealed that he killed and ate those two random Outcast Pidgey we briefly saw earlier in this scene.
He opened his mouth wide, and a torrent of purple flames spewed out, engulfing the whimsicott. Cleo let out a yell, unable to close her eyes. This was her fault. She’d let him follow them, rather than sending him back to that town. If she hadn’t-
The flames petered out, and a look of satisfaction crossed the noivern’s face. Then it fell as his jaw went slack.
Mischief stood there, completely unharmed. He looked down at his body, then up at the dragon. He didn’t look surprised, or confident. Instead, he threw his paw and sent a glowing green energy ball at the noivern’s face. It struck him on the chin, dazing him for a fraction of a second.
Ah right, the type chart literally changing mid-story is a plot point in The End. Guess that explains why Spark wasn’t just reflexively jumping out to take the blow.
He shook his head and fixed his glare back onto Mischief. The whimsicott had adopted a battle stance, bouncing lightly from foot to foot.
“Very well,” the noivern muttered. “We’ll do this the easy hard way.”
I think that Noivern there means ‘
hard’ way. As in the method that has less pithy incineration from range and more biting and slashing his opponents into ribbons.
A deep rumble left his throat, filling the entire forest. His ears began to vibrate, amplifying the sound even further. The air filled with flapping wings and frantic caws as what was left of the murkrow fled from the canopy.
Cleo closed her eyes and retreated into the bramble. This was it. No one survived a fight with a noivern. All that would be left of them would be scattered throughout the forest.
Well, there’s obviously a first time for everything since otherwise this is going to be a very short story, but the overall atmosphere of dread and “crap, we’re dead” comes through a
lot stronger in this chapter than what I remember from its original version.
The noise pressed down on her ears, shaking her bones. She clenched her teeth and dug her claws into the soil.
It stopped as suddenly as it had started.
When she opened her eyes, the dragon was recoiling backwards. Spark let out an exclamation of surprise as she watched, standing on tiptoes on a high branch.
Mischief:
Noivern:
Murkrow #1: “Seriously, boss. I
told you there was something wrong with him!” OvO;
The noivern righted himself, beating the air with his wings. He swooped towards Mischief for a counter attack, but the whimsicott leapt back, twirling in the air. A bright flash of purple and pink light washed over the dragon, blasting him back the way he’d come. He landed in a crumpled heap on the forest floor.
Cleo’s amber eyes widened. What on earth was going on?
That would be a Moonblast, hon. A particularly potent move for picking apart dragons that I’m sure you’ll become
really familiar with in the coming chapters.
The murkrow, seeing their leader had taken a nasty hit, shot back down through the canopy like oily darts. Their talons spread, and beaks wide open, they aimed their attacks right at Mischief. He twirled towards them, catching them in his dazzling light attack. Each one struck by it dropped like ripe berries. Those left rethought their actions and turned back towards the canopy.
Murkrow #1: “Nope nope
nope. Seriously, why on earth did any of you think that was a
good idea after the Boss just got dropped like that?!”
The murkrow gone, Mischief turned his attention back to the noivern. The dragon scrambled to his feet, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to work out how on earth the tables had turned so suddenly. A look of terror filled his eyes and he inched back from Mischief.
Whelp, time to see how brutal this version of the
Noivern deletion scene stacks up relative to the original take.
Cleo crept from the bramble, watching intently. A quick glimpse of Mischief’s face answered her unasked question as to what had unnerved the dragon. A creepy grin had replaced the whimsicott’s usually docile smile. A chuckle shook his body, then he leapt straight at the noivern, striking him in the chest.
Ah yes,
there’s our slasher smile in canonical action there.
The noivern fell backwards, flailing his wings. His teeth snapped at Mischief, falling short. The dragon was pinned beneath the whimsicott’s frantic paws. Each one struck the dragon repeatedly as Mischief laughed like something had gone wrong. He was oblivious to the wings beating at him, trying to dislodge him. He struck the dragon on the chest, nose, neck, head, ears. Bloody welts rose where his claws scraped, and deep bruises appeared beneath the dragon’s scales.
Orange flames spewed from the noivern’s mouth, singing Mischief’s fluffy fur and lighting the canopy aflame. He didn’t care. He just continued laughing. Shrill hysterical laughter that chilled Cleo to the core. Smoldering leaves fell down around them, and Cleo’s heart sank as she looked over at the burning branches. The dragon was trying to take them all with it.
I can’t tell whether or not it’s an artifact of this fic trying to stick to a certain target rating, but if you want to play up the horror angle a bit, I think that you have a bit of room to get a bit more brutal while still remaining firmly in the bounds of a T fic. e.x.:
The noivern fell backwards, flailing his wings. His teeth snapped at Mischief, falling short. The dragon was pinned beneath the whimsicott’s frantic paws. Each one struck the dragon repeatedly as Mischief laughed like something had gone wrong. He was oblivious to the wings beating at him, trying to dislodge him. He struck the dragon on the chest, nose, neck, head, ears. Bloody welts rose where his claws scraped, and deep bruises appeared beneath the dragon’s scales when suddenly a sharp crack rang out.
The noivern’s eyes widened as a pained howl rang out. There was a brief flash of fear across his face when he jerked his head up and orange flames spewed from the noivern’s mouth, singing Mischief’s fluffy fur and lighting the canopy aflame. He didn’t care. He just continued laughing. Shrill hysterical laughter that chilled Cleo to the core. Smoldering leaves fell down around them, and Cleo’s heart sank as she looked over at the burning branches. The dragon was trying to take them all with it.
Or something like that. Some food for thought, anyways.
[ ]
She rushed towards Mischief, barking at him to stop. But her pleas fell on deaf ears. His orange eyes were frenzied, and that sinister grin was still on his face. His paws were coated with blood, which spattered his entire body as he continued to pulverise the noivern.
The dragon’s attacks grew weaker until his wings fell uselessly at his sides. His head flopped to the floor as his eyes rolled back, and blood trickled from his mouth as he gave one final breath.
“Mischief… Enough.” Cleo reached out a trembling paw to the still-frenzied whimsicott. “Stop! It’s over…”
I think that you’re missing a step here, to the point that I wonder if something used to be here that you accidentally axed during editing. e.x. Something to the effect of:
“Mischief! Get out of there!” she cried. “He’s trying to burn the forest down with us in it!”
But he didn’t stop. He just kept pounding and pounding as the Noivern’s fire cut out. Another crack came, and then another, and another, each one mixed with increasingly loud and frantic screams. There were splashes of red starting to fly up from patches of damaged scales now, as what was happening finally sank in for her:
Mischief was going to kill this Pokémon.
Plus or minus a bit of brutality in either direction depending on how much you want to lean into the “this is obviously uncomfortable and horrifying for Cleo to watch unfold”-ness of this moment.
Spark crept along the branches above her, cautiously dodging the smoldering leaves. They needed to get out of the forest, and alert the Guild before the entire place went up in flames. If it spread across the Moorlands, then the pokemon sheltered beneath it may would be in trouble.
The noivern was barely recognisable. Cleo couldn’t help but feel sorry for the dragon. Mischief refused to let up, lashing at the fallen noivern’s face.
Spark: “Cleo, the ‘mon’s a hardened soldier from the Darkness. A hardened soldier from the Darkness who was
planning to eat us. He literally took time out of battle to
stop and gloat about how he was planning on eating us. Maybe be a bit more sparing with your empathy, hm?”
Cleo: “Look, I thought that Mischief was just going to get rougher about knocking him out or at worst slice up a wing membrane, not
this!”
“Mischief!” she snapped. “Stop! Please!”
He jerked his head towards her, fixing her in that sinister grin. Her heart froze and she took a step back. He shot from the dragon’s body like a furry cannonball, knocking her nose over tail into the ferns. All wind left her body as he bounced onto her chest, his paws raised to lash her face. There was that laughter again, his eyes blazing with blood-lust.
Cleo:
Spark: "Okay, yeah,
this is getting out of hand right now." O_O;
“Cleo!”
A jolt of electricity coursed through his body, and he spasmed, falling off her. Cleo leapt to her feet and stood, ears humming, ready to blast him.
Cleo: “... Also, I think that Mischief smeared dragon blood all over the front of my body right now and I’m not sure if I my fur's ever going to feel clean again after this.” X(
When his orange eyes met hers, she saw what she could only describe as madness. He tried to force himself up, but his body jerked as Spark’s thunderwave took over him. In a few moments, that madness melted away into confusion. He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something.
It never came.
All strength seemed to leave his body, and he collapsed into the undergrowth.
Spark: “... All’s well that ends well?”
Cleo: “Spark,
the forest is on fire right now and Mischief just beat a freaking Noivern to death in front of us before getting about two seconds away from doing the same to me! On
what planet is that ending well?!”
Spark: “I mean, my baseline assumption was that we were going to die in painful, horrible fashion thanks to that Noivern, since there’s literally zero encounters on record that
didn’t end that way, so… we’re still making out alright in the grand scheme of things?” ^^;
- Spark jumps aside from a burning tree branch that almost crushes her -
Spark: “Or at least we
will be making out alright once we bail from this burning forest.”
