WEll, it's a fic with one main protaganist and another side protaganist.
It's got a few twisted morals in this story. And no I don't endorse any of what happens in here. SO don't try anything then blame it on me
THe shipping that's in here is JAML no that's not misty and not anyone else. You'll see.
WEll over anything this is a two part monologue I suppose.
one part by each protaganist. ^^;;
heh. so without further ado.
Hearbeats. My mind rings with the echoes of their heartbeats
I run. I run fast. My legs slowly take to air as these crimson wings framed upon my back unfold to the misty air around them. They beat at the air in a sluggish manner, at least in the beginning. The sinews and tendons creak within my muscles, which as well creaks in a monotonous manner, as these wings, which have long not been used, slowly beat at the air. This task in itself is hard for me, lack of practice you see, but many other factors force themselves upon me, both material and moral. The mist thickens, as my already aching limbs and tail feel the irritation of the sting the humid air and the dew provide. My wings ache, groaning in their own silent way, telling me that if I exert them even more, they might give out, and I might never be able to use them again. A grin slips upon my face, as I realize that I talk about these rarely used wings, which are as much a part of me as my black eyes or my cinnabar snout, as a separate entity. My smile turns into a momentary grin, as the mocking thoughts of a parasitic set of wings that threaten to stop working at the only time I ever ask them to work. As fast as the grin comes upon my face, they flee in an even more expeditious manner. For the grim reality of my present, and the doubtful existence of my future once again unfurl as an active memory. Memory, something the elders used to call the living being’s third eye- a mind’s eye. Blocking out any other thoughts from the past, my wings once again become my own, a part of me, as they renew their grace, speeding through the moist air, which seems to shirk away from my very presence now. For my mind holds only one bleak thought, and my face holds it as well, as it is now set in a visage of brimstone.
The waterfalls. It was our drinking hole. But they used it to quench their thirst of life.
The water bothers me no more, even though it should. Is it that I block out my pain, or is it that, I speed through the air allowing none to neither touch nor feel me. A combination of the former and the latter I suppose. The pain has to take a bitter spot in the back of my mind, for it can not help in anyway, except to use it’s effect at the right time. My speed is needed for even though my inexperience at flight brings me pain, it also helps. My haste makes it so that none, not even the air touch me. A touch would mean that I could turn my back to this matter. It could mean I would feel an emotion other than the one I feel at the moment. Revenge
Love and care. All I remember about the clan was their love and care of everyone among them. No, I hold another memory of them. Their heartbeats at first struggle to beat and then fade away in the middle of the night. A jet of water falling on us all, and a branding and a desecration of our bodies.
I see what I have come to see. My nose spots their scent, especially his scent. As these wings upon my back slow down at last, for a moment struggling with me to keep going, but my mind does not heed, and my heart as well I suppose. The mist catches up to me again. I blink away the dew from my eyes. A small part in me wonders if I just imagine the mist, and if the water is from my own eyes? A small miniscule part. Yet. With the blurring dew gone from my eyes, I scour their strange looking home with my eyes. Quite a few of those cylindrical creatures that sprayed my grove with a clear liquid, and then an ember later, our food and prey were gone. Not that it mattered anymore. None to hunt with anymore. None to talk too about what gods created those fiery spheres of the night sky and what god was that which shined upon us during the day. No boasts to be made of who could jump the highest without taking flight. It really didn’t matter anymore. Those despicable men lived in this place, there seemed to be about three claw hands and one number of men around tending to the herd of those cylindrical creatures. And in the corner, in some of form of strange cave, with a hole in the front, I saw the one who was the elder of this clan. That was all I need to see, with this I slowly glided down to a few wing-lengths above their home ground.
Promises. My Promises that need fulfillment are the only thing I can offer to those wing-borne souls of my brethren.
I didn’t feel right about this whole issue from the start. The old Team rocket was involved in the stealing of Pokemon for use in experiments and to use them in their battles. I was part of that team rocket. I can’t be part of this team rocket as well now can I? An organization that murders and butchers an entire tribe of Pokemon, just for their skins, and horns and claws Are we just a group of lowly poachers who do not accept the merits of our fellow creatures? . I still remember it vividly, starting with the death of Giovanni DeLorenzo, they called it a plain crash, but I still think it could have been more. No matter what the old bosses faults were, he was on top of all one thing, a great pilot. I remember overhearing him muttering about how in his heart flying was second to team rocket, after another session where he berated my team. And what a team it was too. Jessicca Menendez, the cat, and me. To the very day it died, it never told anyone the damn secret about itself. But the entire team knew. Jessica and me had both heard the anguish-filled screams that tore away from it on every full moon night. Every full moon, when it found an excuse to disappear into the woods. WE never talked about it. But we all knew who did this to her. Whether she was forced to become a cat, or whether she was already one, was the only thing we did not know.
That’s right
I remember about a few months after the death of Giovanni and Jessicca in that plane crash, she came to me. Surprisingly it was not a full moon night. She whispered into my ears, the secrets of the organization that we both were involved in, what had once been doubts slowly changed themselves into realization. She growled away the secrets to understanding the language of Pokemon. Then she leapt onto me and there we lay afterwards, tangled in a tired raggedy mess of my gaunt and knobby legs and her long furry feline legs. There we formed a friendship based on love that I had not seen until now. And then she died as well, as she fell from the top of the new Rocket hideout, accidentally. Of course, I don’t believe that as well. There were many in the board of the new Rocket family that had been essential in her design. And I suppose they found her useless now. A failed project to their eyes. A good person in my eyes.
So with this statement, I end this letter, again citing remorse to you damn Rocket executives, about the death of that innocent clan of magnificent drakes, and in the process cruelly destroying their environment as well.
Maybe it is old age that has brought a tinge of melodrama to my lips, or maybe it is experience that made me wise to the words of poets. Did the hand that make the lamb, make thee? Blake asked this about the Tiger, but also about himself and his species. Nay, I say. It could not have been a kind and loving lord that made us. For what hand that creates innocence could create malice as well? So to you cruel twisters of my destiny. To you, the Rockets of this world, I shall not tarnish the memory of those Fallen drakes, my original boss, my partner, and my love, who in her own way embodied the true spirit of the old Rocket organization. Silent Determination and pride.
Thus I end this letter of my resignation from this fell organization after wasting sixty years of my prime in it. No, not a wasted sixty years! The first twenty were blissful, but the remaining forty were the wasted years. So I bid your acrid smell, goodbye and a good fall to hurt your very foundation. I think it is my melodrama that makes me hear the wings of fury beating down upon this place right now.
So as I finish these few words, I shall use my handgun for the very first time since it was given to me on that second year as a Rocket.
To protect my world from devastation,
Finally united in heaven’s nation,
To denounce the evil of this truth with your love,
To go myself to the stars above,
James,
Team Rocket blasts off at the speed of light!
Surrendered now to my plight
Jameson Andrew Mathias- That’s right!
Tears. Tears of my soul have yet to fall
The mother of us all, nature seems to mock me now, as I linger hovering atop these men, yet to catch their sight, as she relentlessly sends a drizzle upon myself. It stings at my body and the flame upon me, but I shall endure. Something in that odd cavern catches my attention. A loud cacophony of a sound feeds upon my ears, hurting them not but physically but as well in a soulful manner. As I feel an old soul go adrift into the big fire up above. Neither it is borne on wings nor thus it fly. It just goes there. I sense its presence to be that of a man. But I feel tears upon my eyes and a sorrowful heaving at my breast. No, They are but the drizzle of rain on me, and the sting of the water that causes my labored breath. But it is time to fulfill those promises.
A dying breath. A dying breath, I could not even give that to them, so I offer the dying breath of many others, and my own to them. That is my promise
A single breath, and I find it hard to draw upon the soul-heat that drives at me at all times. My ears still ring from that loud sound. Below, they are all rushing about into the house. So it seems I am not the only one the rain stings. So the mother of us all, nature does reward me as well as mock me then. But I fear, my bones creak with the laden weight of water, and remorse.
Another breath, a familiar heat warms my blood and my throat. Yet there is absence of that soul-flame. The sound has drummed down to a simple echo. Below it seems that they are back out of the cavern. It seems our mother does not credit me a boon, but rather teases me, in an unrelenting manner. The drizzle drums into a torrential screaming of hell-water. It burns my essence away, but I shall endure. They scour below, with about nine and ten claws as many people more attending to their herds of those foul creatures. The rain stings at me, and so does my pain ebb at the blockade I have put in place to keep it from taking away the place of my promise. So it is time.
I promise. I promise nothing else now. I expect nothing, but of the order of the skies and flames of heavens above to treat me unfairly yet justly for the crimes I am about to commit. I accept the order of it all. A balance
A last willful breath, and the mouth heats to the sense of desperation, as my tongue burns in an unexpected manner. I accept the unanticipated pain, welcoming it into the threshold I already hold. The soul-flame that is the bane of those below and me creeps in my stomach. It heaves its way through my body, lurching and burning all it seizes. A blackened heart slowly wanes within me as it holds in an ill manner to a last few heartbeats. My throat wrinkles and shrinks inexplicably to this soul-fire. At last it reaches my mouth burning it away, and I let it all out. A flame heaven sent, as it burns away at the water drifting down below, and slowly circles the creatures melting away at their armor like skin, and slowly into their bodies, burning their blood. They light on fire, and in a disconcerting aftermath, there remains nothing but charred ashes below, Humans, and those strange cylindrical beasts all lie burning. The cavern as well is gone. Their clan destroyed. Yet is it not the same with me. My home gone. The creatures that lived amongst my clan are also gone. My clan desecrated and destroyed. And yet here I live holding on to life due to that last soul-fire. No, I realize now in these last few beats of my blackened heart. It was not soul-fire, but more or of a bane-fire. My heart beats end.
I watch my body fall down below, claimed by none, amongst those who fell at my breath and claws. The rain again increasing its claim upon the world, falling on the fires extinguishing it, and I now go to the soul-flame above to take a place with my kin. The place where I saw that man’s soul go strangely. A thing unwanted, but I accept unwillingly. The rain increases and at first falls through my soul-presence, and then again it increases, hell-fire eating at my soul-presence, dousing my wings of fire, pushing me away from the flames of heaven, and I fall corroding away, through my own old body, and I fall again through the earth below that caressed me while I once slept upon it. It now scratches and slashes away at me. The pain comes back manifold. I still fall, and then I feel an impact, liquid. It stings.
Hell-Water
~~~~
Well teh ending was strange. but meh. go figure.
It's got a few twisted morals in this story. And no I don't endorse any of what happens in here. SO don't try anything then blame it on me
THe shipping that's in here is JAML no that's not misty and not anyone else. You'll see.
WEll over anything this is a two part monologue I suppose.
one part by each protaganist. ^^;;
heh. so without further ado.
~*~Untouched Remorse~*~
Hearbeats. My mind rings with the echoes of their heartbeats
I run. I run fast. My legs slowly take to air as these crimson wings framed upon my back unfold to the misty air around them. They beat at the air in a sluggish manner, at least in the beginning. The sinews and tendons creak within my muscles, which as well creaks in a monotonous manner, as these wings, which have long not been used, slowly beat at the air. This task in itself is hard for me, lack of practice you see, but many other factors force themselves upon me, both material and moral. The mist thickens, as my already aching limbs and tail feel the irritation of the sting the humid air and the dew provide. My wings ache, groaning in their own silent way, telling me that if I exert them even more, they might give out, and I might never be able to use them again. A grin slips upon my face, as I realize that I talk about these rarely used wings, which are as much a part of me as my black eyes or my cinnabar snout, as a separate entity. My smile turns into a momentary grin, as the mocking thoughts of a parasitic set of wings that threaten to stop working at the only time I ever ask them to work. As fast as the grin comes upon my face, they flee in an even more expeditious manner. For the grim reality of my present, and the doubtful existence of my future once again unfurl as an active memory. Memory, something the elders used to call the living being’s third eye- a mind’s eye. Blocking out any other thoughts from the past, my wings once again become my own, a part of me, as they renew their grace, speeding through the moist air, which seems to shirk away from my very presence now. For my mind holds only one bleak thought, and my face holds it as well, as it is now set in a visage of brimstone.
The waterfalls. It was our drinking hole. But they used it to quench their thirst of life.
The water bothers me no more, even though it should. Is it that I block out my pain, or is it that, I speed through the air allowing none to neither touch nor feel me. A combination of the former and the latter I suppose. The pain has to take a bitter spot in the back of my mind, for it can not help in anyway, except to use it’s effect at the right time. My speed is needed for even though my inexperience at flight brings me pain, it also helps. My haste makes it so that none, not even the air touch me. A touch would mean that I could turn my back to this matter. It could mean I would feel an emotion other than the one I feel at the moment. Revenge
Love and care. All I remember about the clan was their love and care of everyone among them. No, I hold another memory of them. Their heartbeats at first struggle to beat and then fade away in the middle of the night. A jet of water falling on us all, and a branding and a desecration of our bodies.
I see what I have come to see. My nose spots their scent, especially his scent. As these wings upon my back slow down at last, for a moment struggling with me to keep going, but my mind does not heed, and my heart as well I suppose. The mist catches up to me again. I blink away the dew from my eyes. A small part in me wonders if I just imagine the mist, and if the water is from my own eyes? A small miniscule part. Yet. With the blurring dew gone from my eyes, I scour their strange looking home with my eyes. Quite a few of those cylindrical creatures that sprayed my grove with a clear liquid, and then an ember later, our food and prey were gone. Not that it mattered anymore. None to hunt with anymore. None to talk too about what gods created those fiery spheres of the night sky and what god was that which shined upon us during the day. No boasts to be made of who could jump the highest without taking flight. It really didn’t matter anymore. Those despicable men lived in this place, there seemed to be about three claw hands and one number of men around tending to the herd of those cylindrical creatures. And in the corner, in some of form of strange cave, with a hole in the front, I saw the one who was the elder of this clan. That was all I need to see, with this I slowly glided down to a few wing-lengths above their home ground.
Promises. My Promises that need fulfillment are the only thing I can offer to those wing-borne souls of my brethren.
~*~
I didn’t feel right about this whole issue from the start. The old Team rocket was involved in the stealing of Pokemon for use in experiments and to use them in their battles. I was part of that team rocket. I can’t be part of this team rocket as well now can I? An organization that murders and butchers an entire tribe of Pokemon, just for their skins, and horns and claws Are we just a group of lowly poachers who do not accept the merits of our fellow creatures? . I still remember it vividly, starting with the death of Giovanni DeLorenzo, they called it a plain crash, but I still think it could have been more. No matter what the old bosses faults were, he was on top of all one thing, a great pilot. I remember overhearing him muttering about how in his heart flying was second to team rocket, after another session where he berated my team. And what a team it was too. Jessicca Menendez, the cat, and me. To the very day it died, it never told anyone the damn secret about itself. But the entire team knew. Jessica and me had both heard the anguish-filled screams that tore away from it on every full moon night. Every full moon, when it found an excuse to disappear into the woods. WE never talked about it. But we all knew who did this to her. Whether she was forced to become a cat, or whether she was already one, was the only thing we did not know.
That’s right
I remember about a few months after the death of Giovanni and Jessicca in that plane crash, she came to me. Surprisingly it was not a full moon night. She whispered into my ears, the secrets of the organization that we both were involved in, what had once been doubts slowly changed themselves into realization. She growled away the secrets to understanding the language of Pokemon. Then she leapt onto me and there we lay afterwards, tangled in a tired raggedy mess of my gaunt and knobby legs and her long furry feline legs. There we formed a friendship based on love that I had not seen until now. And then she died as well, as she fell from the top of the new Rocket hideout, accidentally. Of course, I don’t believe that as well. There were many in the board of the new Rocket family that had been essential in her design. And I suppose they found her useless now. A failed project to their eyes. A good person in my eyes.
So with this statement, I end this letter, again citing remorse to you damn Rocket executives, about the death of that innocent clan of magnificent drakes, and in the process cruelly destroying their environment as well.
Maybe it is old age that has brought a tinge of melodrama to my lips, or maybe it is experience that made me wise to the words of poets. Did the hand that make the lamb, make thee? Blake asked this about the Tiger, but also about himself and his species. Nay, I say. It could not have been a kind and loving lord that made us. For what hand that creates innocence could create malice as well? So to you cruel twisters of my destiny. To you, the Rockets of this world, I shall not tarnish the memory of those Fallen drakes, my original boss, my partner, and my love, who in her own way embodied the true spirit of the old Rocket organization. Silent Determination and pride.
Thus I end this letter of my resignation from this fell organization after wasting sixty years of my prime in it. No, not a wasted sixty years! The first twenty were blissful, but the remaining forty were the wasted years. So I bid your acrid smell, goodbye and a good fall to hurt your very foundation. I think it is my melodrama that makes me hear the wings of fury beating down upon this place right now.
So as I finish these few words, I shall use my handgun for the very first time since it was given to me on that second year as a Rocket.
To protect my world from devastation,
Finally united in heaven’s nation,
To denounce the evil of this truth with your love,
To go myself to the stars above,
James,
Team Rocket blasts off at the speed of light!
Surrendered now to my plight
Jameson Andrew Mathias- That’s right!
~*~
Tears. Tears of my soul have yet to fall
The mother of us all, nature seems to mock me now, as I linger hovering atop these men, yet to catch their sight, as she relentlessly sends a drizzle upon myself. It stings at my body and the flame upon me, but I shall endure. Something in that odd cavern catches my attention. A loud cacophony of a sound feeds upon my ears, hurting them not but physically but as well in a soulful manner. As I feel an old soul go adrift into the big fire up above. Neither it is borne on wings nor thus it fly. It just goes there. I sense its presence to be that of a man. But I feel tears upon my eyes and a sorrowful heaving at my breast. No, They are but the drizzle of rain on me, and the sting of the water that causes my labored breath. But it is time to fulfill those promises.
A dying breath. A dying breath, I could not even give that to them, so I offer the dying breath of many others, and my own to them. That is my promise
A single breath, and I find it hard to draw upon the soul-heat that drives at me at all times. My ears still ring from that loud sound. Below, they are all rushing about into the house. So it seems I am not the only one the rain stings. So the mother of us all, nature does reward me as well as mock me then. But I fear, my bones creak with the laden weight of water, and remorse.
Another breath, a familiar heat warms my blood and my throat. Yet there is absence of that soul-flame. The sound has drummed down to a simple echo. Below it seems that they are back out of the cavern. It seems our mother does not credit me a boon, but rather teases me, in an unrelenting manner. The drizzle drums into a torrential screaming of hell-water. It burns my essence away, but I shall endure. They scour below, with about nine and ten claws as many people more attending to their herds of those foul creatures. The rain stings at me, and so does my pain ebb at the blockade I have put in place to keep it from taking away the place of my promise. So it is time.
I promise. I promise nothing else now. I expect nothing, but of the order of the skies and flames of heavens above to treat me unfairly yet justly for the crimes I am about to commit. I accept the order of it all. A balance
A last willful breath, and the mouth heats to the sense of desperation, as my tongue burns in an unexpected manner. I accept the unanticipated pain, welcoming it into the threshold I already hold. The soul-flame that is the bane of those below and me creeps in my stomach. It heaves its way through my body, lurching and burning all it seizes. A blackened heart slowly wanes within me as it holds in an ill manner to a last few heartbeats. My throat wrinkles and shrinks inexplicably to this soul-fire. At last it reaches my mouth burning it away, and I let it all out. A flame heaven sent, as it burns away at the water drifting down below, and slowly circles the creatures melting away at their armor like skin, and slowly into their bodies, burning their blood. They light on fire, and in a disconcerting aftermath, there remains nothing but charred ashes below, Humans, and those strange cylindrical beasts all lie burning. The cavern as well is gone. Their clan destroyed. Yet is it not the same with me. My home gone. The creatures that lived amongst my clan are also gone. My clan desecrated and destroyed. And yet here I live holding on to life due to that last soul-fire. No, I realize now in these last few beats of my blackened heart. It was not soul-fire, but more or of a bane-fire. My heart beats end.
I watch my body fall down below, claimed by none, amongst those who fell at my breath and claws. The rain again increasing its claim upon the world, falling on the fires extinguishing it, and I now go to the soul-flame above to take a place with my kin. The place where I saw that man’s soul go strangely. A thing unwanted, but I accept unwillingly. The rain increases and at first falls through my soul-presence, and then again it increases, hell-fire eating at my soul-presence, dousing my wings of fire, pushing me away from the flames of heaven, and I fall corroding away, through my own old body, and I fall again through the earth below that caressed me while I once slept upon it. It now scratches and slashes away at me. The pain comes back manifold. I still fall, and then I feel an impact, liquid. It stings.
Hell-Water
~~~~
Well teh ending was strange. but meh. go figure.
