nothing left to say ● will

[Marley Wallace]

if you could only save me 713 words will ryan who knows how long i've been awake now? the shadows on my walls don't sleep. they keep calling me, beckoning. who knows what's right? the lines keep getting thinner. my age has never made me wise, but i keep pushing on and on and on and on. there's nothing left to say now, there's nothing left to say now. I'm givin' up, givin' up, hey, hey, givin' up, now. i keep falling, i keep falling down. i keep falling, i keep falling down. hey! if you could only save me, i'm drownin' in the waters of my soul!

Over thousands of years, Marley had gathered quite a number of nicknames for herself. This much was to be expected, having interacted with the human population – they named things that they had no name for, gave them titles as they saw fit, and labeled that which had already been labeled outside of their knowledge. A name, the like of which she, herself had forgotten over the years, had been given to her by Arceus, but replaced with the simple and fitting “Mew”. Beyond that, still, were titles such as: “Mew the Allusive”, or even the “Phantom 151st Pokemon”. Such titles were not gifted without proper reasoning, of course; she had made herself practically invisible, even more than the other legendaries and enough to make many wonder if she even existed or not, and intended to keep her involvement in society as scarce as possible. After all, who would want a repeat of the last time she got too involved with a group of humans?

However, even the Phantom Goddess was not perfect at her art of being undetectable. There were times when the intelligent would follow a trail, or find a place she'd stayed at in the recent past. These such occurrences had led to Mewtwo's creation, after all. Even more rare then that were the times when someone could actually spot her – in all of her small, pink, Pokemon glory – and attempt to capture her in those sickening little spheres they called Poke Balls. At least, this was how it had been in the older days, when she'd been just an allusive Legendary and she hadn't had to steal a human vessel to remain inconspicuous will hiding in plain sight. Years of habit do not simply leave a person, though; the slightest hint that someone had noticed her out of a crowd and she was gone like the wind, disappeared to Arceus knows where, and was unlikely to return to that spot for some time. It didn't matter what their intentions were. Goodness, sometimes she was even just imagining things and there was no threat whatsoever.

This time, however, that was most definitely not the case.

Neurift City. The pair had chased her all the way from Neurift City, miles out into the ocean to Castaway Isle before seeming to give up their hunt and disappearing as suddenly as they'd come after her. The pinkette hadn't the foggiest what they wanted; for all she knew, they wanted to hurt her for whatever strange reasons humans felt the need to hurt other humans. The idea that she had been recognized as the legendary that helped free Arceus, however, was terrifying. She'd cut her hair, small pig tails being traded for straight, chin-length hair. A new wardrobe, much different than her typical school girl attire. Heck, she'd even stirred up a bit of “magic” and increased the effects of aging on her human body to make her look older than the girl she'd taken over. It was all to keep her identity secret, and yet someone might have... there was the possibility that... It couldn't have all been in vain, could it have had?

The sound of rapid inhales and exhales resounded throughout the area, and any straggling Pokemon that had lurked around the tree she'd collapsed on were easily startled away by the Pocket Monster's loud exhaustion. The chase had been taxing, to put it likely. She'd been so scared of having her identity revealed that she wouldn't allow herself to use any of her powers to help her get away. Helping her Goomy paddle away out at sea had not been the easiest thing she'd ever done in her life, and the sight of land after what had seemed like an eternity in the water was a blessing she could have cried over. Once she had caught her breath, and let her only Pokemon do the same, she figured she would use transform to turn into an Abra and teleport back to the mainland. Until, then, however, she was content with leaning against the trunk of a rugged tree. Vulnerability was the last thing on her mind; why would she even need to worry when people rarely had a reason to come out here, anyway, much less bother a completely normal-looking girl?

deltra of gangnam style

[Will Ryan]

They say it doesn't exist. But if it doesn't exist, from where did the legends originate? They say it only shows itself to the pure of heart. But if that's true then why do trainers claim to have come within a Rattata's hair of capturing it after saying they spent years tracking it down? They say there is no proof. But if there is no proof then from where did the legend of Mewtwo come from? Why was the topic evaded constantly? Legends don't just pop up, they don't come from nothing. Mew might show itself to the pure of heart, but others must have had to find it. Every single one of them couldn't have been liars. No proof? If there was really no proof then why not simply deny the existence of the creature or at the very least label it as extinct? There had to be something. The tales persisted, Mewtwo existed, and it was still listed as an entry in the pokedex! It was still the one hundred and fifty first pokemon! There is always a reason!

Amazing what a couple of comments could cause.

Are you aware of the chances of winning straight sevens in Celadon or Goldenrod? Don't worry, I'm going somewhere with this. Now let me explain the basics. In terms of numbers you take one symbol, namely the seven known to set a person and their family for life, into account. One symbol out of every symbol there is on the machine's slot that's your basic probability. One out of whatever. Sounds easy enough right? Wrong the "chance" changes for every other 'chance". With every 'chance' the number becomes larger, thus the overall chance for you to get those lucky sevens goes down. To be exact you "chance" stays one while the "whatever" gets multiplied relentlessly. Regardless of whether you followed the sleep deprived rambled explanation, know this. The numbers aren't in your favor especially when you realize that the outcome is determined before you see the result. So unless you cheat the result by hacking the machine the odds of you winning those sevens are ridiculously low.

Now focus on that for a moment. Done? Good, now that you've put that into perspective, what would you think if I told you the chance of hearing a rumor of a mew sighting was even less in your favor? See the thing is people don't like to joke about that. At all. They don't even like to let others know because there was no point. Tourism? Mew would be long gone without a clue (teleporation is damn near untraceable over multiple jumps and long distances if done correctly) and they just might lose their chance to capture it someone else. Being in the right place at the right time and a great stroke of luck to even get a fleeting clue from lips that were too afraid to whisper. Such an occurrence was so rare that it was foolish not to follow it up if you had the means to. Why not? There was everything to gain and the only thing that would be lost was time. For most that was the only conceivable chance possible. If you think these odds are almost impossible to win then I'll leave out the numbers it would take for a random someone, anyone, "pure hearts" or not to stumble upon mew were. They've been done, time and time again. None of them are reasonable within one lifetime.

Take all of that into account and one could see why Will was flying upon the back of his Bravery, both of them lacking sleep. The pokemon on his last leg despite the extreme conditioning he'd been put through and the small, but noticeable moments of rest given. If the pokemon was running on fumes then the breeder himself was pushing on with sheer determination, grit, and willpower. Miles were traveled ever since those two people he managed to overhear. Whether on the back of a pokemon or on foot he continued. At first he tracked the two who where chasing the creature, until he started to pick up the tracks on his own. Then he outraced them, tracking when they and others would have long given up. Across both land and water, Will used everything he could to follow small trails left behind knowing that any could be the last. There was only one chance in his mind and this was it He had to succeed. Why? That was a difficult question. It was too complex, too much, he doubted even a psychic pokmeon, one that could reach deep enough to see every moment of his life and beyond every barrier that he'd put over his mind would be hard pressed to understand, let alone put a desire into words for a man, woman, or child.

Capture? No. I could never do that, I've grown too much. Maybe in the past I would have tried, but not now. I have nothing to prove. To anyone. I could collect every pokemon in the world if I wanted, but I don't want to. The same way any experienced hunter would refuse to shoot the most magnificent stanler he'd ever seen. I don't need to. I'm not a collector and sometimes I don't even think I'm a breeder. Not at heart. But I am something. There is a feeling there I can't put in words, respect perhaps, I'm not sure. Fight? I was never so petty. I have every bit of ferocity I could ask for in my pokemon on hand. They'd push themselves to the breaking point, to death and then keep fighting without a beating heart, before they considered losing even a option. Not without my permission, not before their own permission. And they'd never give themselves permission. Trust me I know, I've lost pokemon that way already.

Will just wanted to see, if only for a moment, the pokemon that was Mew. The breeder wanted to be worthy enough. He wanted to be more than what he was. He couldn't explain it anymore than someone could explain how they felt when they first saw a pokemon. This is what led him to the Castaway Isle. Eyes bloodshot, body weak, and mind lagging from sheer fatigue. Yet, relentlessly he pushed forward. Unyielding to nearly the breaking point, but he had to see! Just once.

"Keep an eye out for anything pink," he shouted over the brutal winds whipping around them. The man didn't even consider whether or not his pokemon could separate the color from others. With his mind running so sluggish, barely a crawl compared to normal, he couldn't even remember if the Bravary could. "Anything that seems off against nature!" What he could explain in words, he made up with sheer intent. Every detail possible. Focusing on transferring it through sheer willpower. As futile as it might be, he tried his best see miles above ground for anything. After every everything, so much, in this rush his determination was dwindling. Will would even say that his grip on what was what happening might be waning. And if he couldn't tell reality from imagination, how could he trust a memory?

A cry cut across the wind and Will focused on it, only seeing a tiny speck of pink. So small he almost missed it. Instantly he circle his pokemon into a dive, reaching dangerous speeds, no towards the creature though. Away from it, close enough, but not right on. He didn't want to scare it. Will had already stored his weapons, even items that could be seen as such. All he had was his pokemon, and really that was all he needed. His eyes watered as the ground widened in an attempt to swallow them. Then at the last moment, he pulled up. In a move that would be considered suicidal to any avian trainer, he banked to bleed off speed and jump tucking into the ball and rolling into a run while calling back his flier. No time to lose, he sprinted. At a pace that would shame most athletes he ran, as if the fires of Moltres were behind him. He didn't want to harm just to see, was that pure enough?

After what seemed too long he stumbled upon the pink speck. A small girl resting under a tree. An almost soul crushing despair almost claimed him, but he held strong. Slowly, he walked in an attempt to move further passed the girl. Maybe there were still clues. One last trail. Anything. But everyone had limits. And sadly, his legs gave out just passed her. It took everything to catch himself on a knee. Breathing hard, he strained to go further. To move forward before his common sense could catch up to him. Yet nothing would move. And with a pained breath, he fell back against the tree The same one the girl must have been resting on, strange he thought he made it further than that.

It was over, he knew it. He knew it once he realized the other person was here. Why would Mew appear to them both? He wanted to cry, to rage, anything, but he was tired. No tired wasn't strong enough a word. He was exhausted. Idly, he brought out a smoke, something to distract him, but didn't light it after it made its way to his lip with shaky muscles. He hadn't smoked in forever, the entirety of the chase lest he scare off his chance. It fell from his lips and he couldn't find the strength to pick it up. "Nice weather we're having." It was all he could say Well, not all but it was better than the truth and the resulting profanity that would follow.

[Marley Wallace]

if you could only save me 1349 words will ryan who knows how long i've been awake now? the shadows on my walls don't sleep. they keep calling me, beckoning. who knows what's right? the lines keep getting thinner. my age has never made me wise, but i keep pushing on and on and on and on. there's nothing left to say now, there's nothing left to say now. I'm givin' up, givin' up, hey, hey, givin' up, now. i keep falling, i keep falling down. i keep falling, i keep falling down. hey! if you could only save me, i'm drownin' in the waters of my soul!

It was becoming worryingly apparent that the idea of hiding in plain sight under the appearance of an ordinary human being was not working out as the legendaries had planned those years ago. This much had proven itself true time and time again since the Original One's freedom was restored. This should have been a given from the get-go: the merging of legendary souls with human bodies was only supposed to help them up until they discovered where their leader was hidden and freed it from that confinement. They were to have ditched their vessels afterward, and gone back to the way things were – completely Pokemon in mentality and appearance. She probably should have known better than to think she would be secure in that body for many years to come. The chances of being discovered only increased as time ticked by. Back then, such concerns hadn't worried them as much, seeing as they didn't figure their hunt would last more than a year's time, and such things hadn't even crossed her mind until events like these reminded her that she was closer to being revealed every day. In fact, two years ago when she'd first acquired that body, hadn't an annoyingly perceptive trainer discovered her real identity, anyway? The fact that she was only fretting over this then was about as silly as silly could get.

Marley was safe then, back pressed against the bark of a tree trunk and chest heaving as it fought to breath properly, but this was only a short reprieve. She couldn't hide on Castaway Isle forever. That would completely destroy the purpose of acting human in the first place, and staying in place would put her more at risk than the days of her past when no one really knew whether to think Mew was an actual being or not. When she flew from island to island, region to region, and only this whom Victini showered blessings on would have the honor of witnessing her before their very eyes. To go back to times like those would make her more happy than anything at that very moment; to have to deal with the burden of returning the real Marley to her family, however, was enough to rip that dream away from her right from under her feet.

“Oh, Arceus, I know I've failed you on every conceivable level, but how much of a crime would it be to show a little pity for me every once in a while?” she gasped through rapid breaths, though she was thankful to note that they were slowly returning to normal. In her majestic form, such a run would not be so taxing; however, in this frail form, each inhale and exhale had sounded like the sort of noise you'd hear from the demons rumored to crawl out of the waters from demon lake. Another punishment from the great deity, she pondered? Difficult to doubt. Even after helping to free him from the grip of a man with too much ambition, her crimes against him had not gone completely forgiven, and karma was still choosing to hit her hard. At this rate, she was afraid it would never stop.

The shape of a massive bird-type soaring over head did nothing to prove otherwise.

Panic gripped an exhausted mind and, had feet not been so sore and lifeless, she would have bolted and started her role as Ratatta in the never ending game of Meowth and Ratatta all over again. But no, as far as she was concerned, the pinkette was practically tied down to the tree base, salmon eyes wide and shaking in terror. This was it. The duo had returned, possibly refreshed, and had caught her with every guard down and unable to lift back up. She would be discovered, captured, taken in by those horrible, horrible scientists. Maybe, so weakened, she would be unable to break free. … No. No, she would break free, alright. The Wrathful Goddess would not be chained down like the Original One before her. Unfortunately, a city and the surrounding areas would probably be laid waste in wake of her violent tantrums, something she did not wish upon the region now or ever. And so she pretended she was invisible. Sucked in her breath despite the way her heart was pounding against her ribcage and believed with every fiber of her being that she could dissolved into the stark scenery behind her. If she had the energy, she would gladly transform into another Pokemon, pretend to be one of the locals. Perhaps a Bidoof, something unappealing and world stepping over. Most definitely not the Phantom 151st Pokemon that she was.

However, when the Braviary came collapsing to the ground, worn out to a state even worse than her's and it's trainer – not one of the duo and in just as bad condition as its Pokemon – tumbled off of it and onto the support of the tree, she nearly let out a cry of joy. Her short reprieve was lengthened that much. In addition, despite the fact that this newcomer was even worse off than she, he was likely a stronger trainer than she, and would be able to help fend off her pursuers if they ever chose to come back. The goddess chose not to vocalize any of her thought process to him, though, seeing as her panic was only starting to die down and he looked about ready to pass out at any minute. And so she waited. Waited until there was evidence that she was not about to be leaning against the same tree as a half dead stranger and she could beg his mercy and ask him for protection.

How pathetic.

The psychic-type who had destroyed more than almost every other legendary to walk the Pokearth having to rely on a weakened human for protection.

Moments slipped them by like sand through loose fingers, and a wait far too long for a girl who had never quite known the true definition of “patience” taunted the pink-haired gijinka, yet the boy said nothing. There was a small shuffling sound that came from his direction, but that could have easily been taken as the sound of one of the rare local Pocket Monsters shoving their way through scarce tufts of grass. Not worthy of even a head tilt in that direction. However, before she was about to throw consideration to the wind and wake him herself, he said breathlessly, “Nice weather we're having.” That was when realization struck. Voices were a thing that never really left her; not for a long time, at least. Names were forgotten, faces cast to the void, but voices were always stored away, always recalled and matched to an identity upon hearing them again. And she knew this voice. Not just one used in a brief conversation she'd overheard, but that of a person she had spoken to. Those were the only ones worth remembering. The memory was foggy, though. Either he had not made much of an impression, or a good portion of time had passed since last hearing it.

Feeling strong enough to lift herself to her feet, Marley did just that, leaning against the tall plant for support as she took a long look at the person who had come to join her in their “catch your breath”-fest. Red hair. Generally straight face. William Ryan. “... Will?” she breathed, just to make sure, before instantly regretting it. He must not have recognized her, changes to her overall appearance failing to spark memories in his mind, and she should have known it was safer that way. If he remembered her, she was just that much closer to having him find out. If she remembered, he wasn't much of the type to go spilling the beans about much of anything, but he was a human. Humans by nature wanted things that were never meant to be their's. And if there was one thing never meant to fall into human hands, it was a Legendary Pokemon.

deltra of gangnam style

[Will Ryan]

If you were blessed at birth to meet one legendary in your lifetime which would you choose? No, don't answer too quickly because you only meet that one. Just once. In that one meeting you had to make whatever impact you wanted, whether it was enough to meet them again or capture them was solely up to your own force of character. Strangely enough, the more you considered it the more it seemed like a curse than a blessing. You were guaranteed one chance, but that was it. Would you rather forsake such a boon in the hopes that you could run across a legendary on your own through sheer chance? Numbers were brutal on that end. Still, that single chance...was it enough for a man to have a second chance afterward? You'd never know when only that you would. It could be in the beginning where you too young to remember. Perhaps at the end when you'd already on the verge of crossing into death. Worst of all it could be somewhere in between, when you were too weak to let the encounter do anything other than influence you. Drive you. For another chance. Such an occurrence could drive someone insane.

In all honesty, the Will that he was right now in this moment would choose to walk his own path and try to find a legendary on his own. This current WIll didn't want that boon. It would only slow him down at this point. Hinder his efforts, drive him mad. Because, despite numbers, Will had found that one chance. But he didn't know if it was out of reach yet. And he couldn't speak for his past and future selves either. All he could think of was now, this moment. If he could just move. Push this damned body further! This couldn't be his limit! He'd been all across the continent for years now. He was more than this, he had to be. In hindsight, it looked foolish. To drop everything he was doing for this chase. A chance so small he couldn't be sure if it was a chance in the first place. Then again, what else did he have? He didn't really want to dwell on that. Too many mistakes that he didn't want to relive, to many choices that he'd be doomed to repeated. It was easy to remain right here in the present, where he was so close yet so far away.

Even if his hand refused to pick up this damned cigarette...

"Will?" That threw him more than a name should and it shook him to his core. Will didn't give out his name lightly, if ever. He could count the people he'd told his 'real' name on one hand. Usually, he'd prefer "Ryan" as a title to go by. It was a simple thing to switch out his given name with his family one, but it was more effective that he'd hope to believe in hiding him. Even unbidden, the faces, faded from years of his isolation, jumped to the forefront of his mind. Names accompanied them short after. Lyra. Elena. Lorelei. Odd how they were all females. Stranger still that he couldn't remember if he'd ever given them his real name personally. But there was no doubt they had made a strong impression. However none of the voices he remembered matched the one that just called on him. It was unnerving to say the least. Others that might have know his name might consider him more a monster than a person and he didn't leave them alive on a whim. That team he'd hunted down in the past was long disbanded though, but the chance that one had slipped through and was looking for revenge wasn't out of the question.

The way this woman, and he could tell that much, spoke his name lacked any venom. Slowly, he turned...well it was more like he merely slumped in the direction of the speaker. The shock of pink that had drew him here was nothing more than a head of  hair. A Nurse? No Joy was on such speaking terms with him. He struggled to scan his mind, but nothing came up in his exhaustion. He knew her, he had to, the same way she knew him. He was just so tired. And he must have looked it at this point, a complete mess in her eyes. Not to say that she was in a much better condition. For a moment a fire blazed inside him and raged to consume her, question her. Had she beaten him here? Had she already seen the elusive pokemon he'd spent days chasing? Had she stolen his chance!? Then ask quickly as the fire flared, it died out having little else to feed on. That was unlikely. Tired enough to draw on strings he seemed to be. He hadn't fallen so far to accuse a person he'd given his name to so easily. He must have trusted her in the past. Even if he couldn't remember it, he could respect it.

Shakily, he brought up a hand to run through his hair and push it back. Gentle features became more apparent without a veil covering his eyes. The same hand fumbled for the dropped cigarette even as he answered. "Been a while," he spoke casually, albeit full of weariness. He could still push more. With the cig finishing it's journey to his mouth, one hand grasped against the tree while the other found purchase on his knee. And with painful slowness he pulled himself up, legs almost buckling beneath him but holding. His mind grasped feebly for the right responses for 'small talk'. Should he flatter her, be polite, he didn't know. There was no telling what face he wore last time they must have met. "I think I remember your face, but not much else..." Maybe if he wasn't so sluggish, it would be easy to call upon the memory. However, right now he couldn't. Even so, leaning heavily against the tree as he straightened he studied her. All his false personalities were blurring together at this point, being unable to differentiate between them and keep them under control. If he spoke too much, he might slip between them. If he spoke too little, he had little doubt she'd be scared off. So he stalled, reaching into his pocket for his lighter with the hand that wasn't firmly pressed against the tree. All the while he tried to place her.