So, the idea came to me while I was doodling and watching the tenth movie for about the hundredth and seventy third time. And I really wanted to draw some pretty blood… So, weirdness was thus born! A little information about the story: It's rated T because there will be blood in later chapters, none of those little cartoon scuff marks. There will also be some cursing… And, well, Cresselia is in this fic. I think that's pretty self-explanatory for the rating. Also, it's set maybe two or three years after the movie… AND "Dream". Think of Dream as a companion piece…
I'll try to have a chapter up every week or so, but I can't promise anything.
I don't own Pokemon.
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Equilibrium
Chapter One
"Cresselia."
The metallic swan's head rose toward the deep voice from where she had been scolding a minute group of Wingull: The small water-flying Pokemon retreated in haste at the phantom that had formed in the edge of the trees. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she caught sight of the floating, ragged black Legendary, and her small arms balled into something akin to fists. An overheated whirring grew on her back as her thin, metal wings began to buzz with psychic energy.
Darkrai seemed unphased by his counterpart's display of violent attention, and continued to float aloofly where the ebbing trees met her small field. The swan, which noticed his lack of caring, killed the faint aura growing around her wings instead, and began to float toward the den in the northernmost corner of the field. "What do you want, Darkrai?" The swan's voice resonated with a biting, razor's edge. She had not forgotten what he had done, and despite the elapsing time since the condemning incident, Cresselia had never forgiven Darkrai for escaping off to the little town of Alamos to save it from Palkia and Dialga.
"I'm leaving."
The quick statement, like pulling off a band-aid, was painful and left both a reverberating feeling of shock in her mind, and a foreign, almost hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Caught completely off-guard, the metal dream caster's head whipped around yet again, her eyes staring holes in the nightmare maker. Her mind reeled against the two short, to-the-point words, as her eyes skimmed across the black Legendary's face, searching for the faintest trace of expediency or hilarity. There was none. Instead, Darkrai's face remained an expertly molded piece, showing no form of his future intentions, what he meant by his words, or emotion; he was apathetic as the day was bright. Cresselia could, however, identify the faintest traces of impatience growing in his sea green eyes, where she had expected the flicker of mischief to be. As soon as her shock absolved, the swan's blood began to boil angrily and her skin grew to a fever pitch.
"Leaving where, Darkrai?" Her voice was still teeming with expectancy and the uncertainty her mind had harbored a moment prior, and it held the slightest of whispers, caused by the thin, nearly unmoving line her beak had produced at his sudden statement.
Darkrai, once again, made no physical indication that her words had had any effect. Instead, he floated idly, unmoving. "I'm going back," His deep voice said bluntly, as if he had expected her to know. Yet, each word was pushed. "To Alamos Town."
The stale air between them hung heavily on Cresselia, despite the lofty breeze that wove through the cedar trees and cast their beautiful scent over her island. He's going back to his human pets? The amount of antagonism in her mind was enough to surprise even her. The simple venom in that one thought alone made her almost numb. Her eyes narrowed at her partner, pupils becoming nothing more than feline-like slits against her amethyst irises. And once more, Darkrai showed no signs of relaying the utter poison dripping off of her in thick, oozing strands. Though something quick, almost as quick as his words and just as potent, struck her chest heavily, almost like a physical blow. Like something had decided a swift kick to the breastbone would wake her up from her raging stupor – and in fact, it did just that. All anger was put aside as quickly as it had come, and instead of razor sharp words leaving her tan beak, a sigh did. "How long?" She finally asked, voice exhausted and chagrin.
Finally, Darkrai's shoulders collapsed from their stiff, ragged position, into something more casual. His voice, however, remained weary. "I do not know."
Cresselia rolled her eyes toward the cave, silent and forlorn in the mid-morning haze. It had been a lovely day earlier; the sun was blaring comfortably and warmed her back. But it seemed as midday grew closer, so did the clouds and the fog. Curious, as usually it was the other way around, Cresselia took to studying the oncoming storm clouds, as if they entertained her more than anything else could. Even though she wasn't looking at Darkrai, she could feel his need to get away from her, or in the very least, to leave.
As Cresselia stared at the clouds gathering above her little den, her mind pulled the images of Darkrai's last official visit to Alamos Town up to her mind's eye. Blood had clung, dried, to the wisps along his shoulders, and the ruined tassels that hung from his waist. The small, sharp spikes on the back of his arms had been severely burned, as well as his forearms, and parts of his claws. She knew, underneath the soft, black layer of mist-like tufts, there were numerous bruises. Under is visible eye, there had been a large patch of Arceus knew what, although she had come to assume it was some sort of bodily fluid that was definitely not supposed to see the light of day, and Cresselia could only imagine how torn up his face was under the plume of white hair. Shaking herself from the terrifying images, Cresselia turned her head violently back toward the phantom, beak opened to speak.
But Darkrai had already turned and disappeared into the forest. The lunar swan stared blankly after his retreating form, and then shifted her gaze back to her den. Hopelessness flooded over the Legendary as her eyes darted, back and forth, between the two. She could either follow him to this Alamos Town – after all, what were the chances that Palkia and Dialga were going to fight again, and there, no less? Or she could stay home, at Fullmoon Island, waiting and all the time wondering what was actually going on, or if Darkrai would even come back in one piece. The swan's eyes narrowed dangerously at the decision, and she cursed whatever force of nature was making her make this decision.
With a small huff, and not a further thought to the responsibilities she was leaving behind, Cresselia shot out of her clearing like a rocket after Darkrai.
Chartreuse eyes stared, confused, at the swan's sudden arrival. But neither of them said a word. In a rare and brief moment of total realization, Darkrai had to lower his head further into the ragged, sharp red points of his armor to hide a small smile.
The trip to Alamos Town was much longer than Cresselia had ever imagined. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, she had somehow managed to convince herself that Alamos Town was a mere skip, a hop and a jump from her own island. As soon as the two had set into their third hour of non-stop traveling, however, Cresselia was beginning to become doubtful. Not only had she convinced herself into such an outrageous trek, but she had also shirked most of her responsibilities, not unlike Darkrai had those years ago. She was tempted more than once to turn around and head back, but unlike Darkrai, she didn't know the way back. That sole fact, as well as her worries from before, primarily of her reckless counterpart's nature and his ability to attract large quantities of danger, was the only reason that kept her glued to his side.
It did not help that halfway though a particularly thick forest, Darkrai took it upon himself to merge with the shadowed ground. The rest of the grueling journey was filled with numerous disappearances on the phantom's part, and a large, colorful arrangement of swearing on the lunar swan's behalf, enough so to make even the hardiest of sailors blush with modesty. It was also antagonizing when she could swear she heard the darker Legendary's cruel snickers from somewhere within the trees, even when she could not locate him with her eyes. Despite Darkrai's off-color sense of humor, Cresselia had managed to survive the forest, and was not displeased when she caught the receding line of trees just ahead of herself. The large redwoods became further in distance, until they stopped abruptly in a small clearing that gave way to what appeared to be a lake. In the center was a large cropping of rock, an island, and atop the island, sat a town.
The swan had to admit that the sight, from such a distance, was very beautiful in the late afternoon sun. Golden rays filtered exuberantly over the hills furthest from her and bathed the silvery, shimmering city in an almost surreal aura. The water beneath it, for the most part, was shadowed by the large town, but where the gold struck the blue, white ribbons of glitter were born. Along the rocky cliffs that surrounded the city, the reflection of the slight disturbances of the liquid that created a natural moat brought even the most solid of rock to life. Beside her, Cresselia was only barely aware of the phantom's presence, lingering in the shadows of the forest.
"This," He started, deep voice still and steady. The swan could, however, pick a small trace of smile out from behind the barrier of calmness, "is Alamos Town."
Chapter one! Woo hoo! This is my prep for the Nanowrimo, which yes, I am aware is in November. But, I do need to work on not switching my tenses every seven seconds, so this is helping me. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, I won't need so much padding… I'm also working on consistency, you know, that little thing that helps you finish stories? If any of you notice it takes a little longer than it should (like… two weeks, maybe?) for me to update, don't feel shy about poking me or something. I mean it, I need to finish this. xD My goal is to have it done before June, which I think if I work hard enough, I can have it done before the end of April. So, with out further adieu, the end of my exaggeratedly long, boring, author's note.