PlatinumSkinkRemoving his hat and clutching it close to his chest, he lowered his head in a gesture of respect and thanks. “It is appreciated more than you can possibly imagine. Farewell for now, then.” Turning to leave, he replaced the hat before looking over his shoulder once more. “Enjoy the beer, Shade,” he said with a smile.
Drystan wandered, giddily swaying along the way. Today had been a complete whirlwind of emotions. For whatever reason, though, he had a good feeling about Vuduin. Passing a training gym, it was completely empty. Everyone who is still in a position to need the gym must have been out for lunch, leaving the Avatar alone in the room with only his thoughts, his Legend, and his Scizor. Having fared remarkably well since leaving his newfound friend, he finally couldn’t hold it back any longer.
He laughed.
It was a solid, guttural laugh, the kind that’s impossible to fake. The room was quickly filled with it, reverberating around the empty space. Wallowing in it, Drystan lit his cigar and allowed the sweet smell to simply float for a moment. He took a long draw, before continuing to laugh.
“Perhaps I don’t give you enough credit, my host,” Dialga said, in that trademark ethereal tone. It sounded particularly sing-songy now. “Your calling was in acting. Theatre work would suit you, the way you lead on an audience and captivate hearts.” The Legend chuckled. “I am impressed.”
Giving a theatrical bow to his imaginary crowd and the empty room, Drystan relished the praise and respect on offer. He so enjoyed proving himself more than just a pretty face to Dialga. A rasp like steel on steel cut through the air as Deladriss asked the simple question. “Why?”
“It’s not like you to take an interest in the business side of things, my dear,” he said, flashing her a wolfish smile. “Why the sudden interest?”
The Scizor sighed. “Must you answer every question with another question?” Deladriss moved to lean on the wall, calling back as she moved. “I don’t know what you see in them. Do you even know who he is? Then there is that Gastly,” she said with a shudder. “You know how much I hate ghosts.”
The Avatar let off another chorus of laughter at that. “Ah, yes, the big-bad Scizor who is afraid of a little ghostie.” Blowing a column of smoke into the room towards her, he did his best to make it vaguely ball shaped. “Wooooooo. Spooky, eh? ” he said, with another light chuckle. “No, I don’t know for sure who he is, but I have narrowed it down to two.”
“Oh?” Dialga asked, very interested to see exactly what his host gained from the encounter.
“The dark clothing - in my mind - marked him out as either a Dark or a Ghost Legend. From the Gastly, you’d assume it was the latter. But...” Drystan left the sentence hanging to build suspense - and annoy Dialga. “When he allowed Shade to drink the beer, he did so with a gesture. Ergo, no telepathic communication.”
“And the only Dark Legends are Darkrai and Yveltal.”
His host answered with a smile.
Deladriss simply scoffed. “But why him?”
“Human intuition. You should try it sometime.” Fishing out the leftover notes from his deal with Vuduin, Drystan pushed a continuous stream of power into his hands, spreading outwards to anything he would touch. Taking the largest note, he began ripping pieces off, each one reforming into a whole time and time again. Doing this roughly twenty times, he placed the notes together, rolled them up, and replaced them inside his jacket pocket. “And it didn’t even set me back by a meaningful amount.”
Although she wasn’t happy, the Scizor accepted the outcome of the conversation.
“Why did you come up with that spiel about the past?” Dialga asked. “Did you suspect he wouldn’t help if you told him the truth?”
Rolling the cigar in his hand, Drystan felt damn good. He felt as though finding the Orb was assured, and within the near future too. He almost completely missed the Legend’s question - too preoccupied with the possibilities. “I suspected that I couldn’t afford to take the chance. Vuduin seems to be a good guy, if a little ‘Soldier of Fortune’-y. That said, I don’t think it would have made a great deal of difference. We are still working towards the end goal of a safer world. We are trying to prevent mass casualties.” Unable to swallow the smile creeping across his lips, he looked skyward in a defiant challenge to the Heavens. “Just not quite in the way I said. We will see how he fares. With luck, he’ll be worthy of and willing to take a spot in our group.”
“Speaking of which, the second anniversary of our plan is this week,” Dialga stated proudly. “Have you given any thought to the name yet?”
“Yes. Given how much we have grown, it feels like high time to name our little group, doesn’t it?” The Avatar paced back and forward, smoking the cigar and pondering the question. Only when a stub was left did inspiration finally hit him. “Sochraide Para.” With that, Dialga began to laugh audibly inside his head, while Deladriss stared blankly. “It’s taken from the tribal language, to preserve our secrecy. After all, many people wouldn’t agree with this. It translates to The Funeral Parlour.”
“I approve, my host. We shall soon have the Orb, and our progress can really begin.” The Legend’s ethereal voice darkened slightly, filled with determination and grit. “And only when we stand above the broken remains of that pompous so-called ‘God’ will it finally be complete.”
Drystan wandered, giddily swaying along the way. Today had been a complete whirlwind of emotions. For whatever reason, though, he had a good feeling about Vuduin. Passing a training gym, it was completely empty. Everyone who is still in a position to need the gym must have been out for lunch, leaving the Avatar alone in the room with only his thoughts, his Legend, and his Scizor. Having fared remarkably well since leaving his newfound friend, he finally couldn’t hold it back any longer.
He laughed.
It was a solid, guttural laugh, the kind that’s impossible to fake. The room was quickly filled with it, reverberating around the empty space. Wallowing in it, Drystan lit his cigar and allowed the sweet smell to simply float for a moment. He took a long draw, before continuing to laugh.
“Perhaps I don’t give you enough credit, my host,” Dialga said, in that trademark ethereal tone. It sounded particularly sing-songy now. “Your calling was in acting. Theatre work would suit you, the way you lead on an audience and captivate hearts.” The Legend chuckled. “I am impressed.”
Giving a theatrical bow to his imaginary crowd and the empty room, Drystan relished the praise and respect on offer. He so enjoyed proving himself more than just a pretty face to Dialga. A rasp like steel on steel cut through the air as Deladriss asked the simple question. “Why?”
“It’s not like you to take an interest in the business side of things, my dear,” he said, flashing her a wolfish smile. “Why the sudden interest?”
The Scizor sighed. “Must you answer every question with another question?” Deladriss moved to lean on the wall, calling back as she moved. “I don’t know what you see in them. Do you even know who he is? Then there is that Gastly,” she said with a shudder. “You know how much I hate ghosts.”
The Avatar let off another chorus of laughter at that. “Ah, yes, the big-bad Scizor who is afraid of a little ghostie.” Blowing a column of smoke into the room towards her, he did his best to make it vaguely ball shaped. “Wooooooo. Spooky, eh? ” he said, with another light chuckle. “No, I don’t know for sure who he is, but I have narrowed it down to two.”
“Oh?” Dialga asked, very interested to see exactly what his host gained from the encounter.
“The dark clothing - in my mind - marked him out as either a Dark or a Ghost Legend. From the Gastly, you’d assume it was the latter. But...” Drystan left the sentence hanging to build suspense - and annoy Dialga. “When he allowed Shade to drink the beer, he did so with a gesture. Ergo, no telepathic communication.”
“And the only Dark Legends are Darkrai and Yveltal.”
His host answered with a smile.
Deladriss simply scoffed. “But why him?”
“Human intuition. You should try it sometime.” Fishing out the leftover notes from his deal with Vuduin, Drystan pushed a continuous stream of power into his hands, spreading outwards to anything he would touch. Taking the largest note, he began ripping pieces off, each one reforming into a whole time and time again. Doing this roughly twenty times, he placed the notes together, rolled them up, and replaced them inside his jacket pocket. “And it didn’t even set me back by a meaningful amount.”
Although she wasn’t happy, the Scizor accepted the outcome of the conversation.
“Why did you come up with that spiel about the past?” Dialga asked. “Did you suspect he wouldn’t help if you told him the truth?”
Rolling the cigar in his hand, Drystan felt damn good. He felt as though finding the Orb was assured, and within the near future too. He almost completely missed the Legend’s question - too preoccupied with the possibilities. “I suspected that I couldn’t afford to take the chance. Vuduin seems to be a good guy, if a little ‘Soldier of Fortune’-y. That said, I don’t think it would have made a great deal of difference. We are still working towards the end goal of a safer world. We are trying to prevent mass casualties.” Unable to swallow the smile creeping across his lips, he looked skyward in a defiant challenge to the Heavens. “Just not quite in the way I said. We will see how he fares. With luck, he’ll be worthy of and willing to take a spot in our group.”
“Speaking of which, the second anniversary of our plan is this week,” Dialga stated proudly. “Have you given any thought to the name yet?”
“Yes. Given how much we have grown, it feels like high time to name our little group, doesn’t it?” The Avatar paced back and forward, smoking the cigar and pondering the question. Only when a stub was left did inspiration finally hit him. “Sochraide Para.” With that, Dialga began to laugh audibly inside his head, while Deladriss stared blankly. “It’s taken from the tribal language, to preserve our secrecy. After all, many people wouldn’t agree with this. It translates to The Funeral Parlour.”
“I approve, my host. We shall soon have the Orb, and our progress can really begin.” The Legend’s ethereal voice darkened slightly, filled with determination and grit. “And only when we stand above the broken remains of that pompous so-called ‘God’ will it finally be complete.”