@d_s_t_e's one-shot: Neither Angels Nor Demons

"Edgar, I think this city will be perfect."

The Murkrow on my shoulder caws and bobs his head on its skinny neck.

The rain continues to pour as I stand at the end of the Olivine City dock, looking out over the turbulent sea. A storm is coming. The wind blows back my hood, and I tilt my head up, savoring cold taps of raindrops against my closed eyelids. Edgar's talons push off my shoulder. I hear his wings flapping circles just above me. Water runs over my lips, and I open them slightly to let it filter in before tipping my head back. Edgar lands on my shoulder once more, water running from the tip of his crooked beak in a thin and constant stream.

I pull the gray hood of my sweatshirt over my head once more, the water-soaked fabric moist and heavy. I turn and look out to the little port City called Olivine, scanning my eyes over darkened buildings illuminated only from within. In the first row of buildings beyond the shoreline, a larger building holds aloft a brown wooden sign painted white with the image of a coffee cup and a fanciful swirl of steam.

"We shall satisfy our hunger before the time is ripe," I say to Edgar.

He flies out ahead of me, landing on the sign and stretching downwards to tap his beak on it impatiently. Just as I extend my hand to push open the door, he lands again on the crook of my arm.

I imagine the water droplets on my face evaporating like the steam on that painted coffee cup as I step into the warmth. Flames dance wildly inside a magnificent fireplace. A family with young children gathers around it in rough semi-circle, holding out their hands to it as the water flees their clothing and puddles at their feet. A Charmander stands by, watching the flames intently, but whether as his designated duty or simply taking comfort while the storm outside rages, I couldn't say. The rest of the space is filled with square tables, around which I see scattered men in sailor's uniforms, and the large area of the bar, where a few more customers sit with their backs turned to me.

Edgar spreads his wings and shakes out the water from his feathers. I lift my arm and he flutters back onto his usual resting place upon my shoulder. One of the sailors turns to look at us, but the man behind the bar perks up immediately at the notice of a new customer. Spotting an open barstool, I settle myself next to a man with an Umbreon and reach for the small menu standing upright on the wooden surface of the bar.

"I would recommend our stew," the man behind the bar suggests. "Hot and hearty! Looks like you could you it."

I smile. "Yes, I'm sure I do." I sweep my sopping hood back off my head with one hand. "I'll take your largest bowl. And a biscuit on the side, if you have any available."

"Of course." The man bows slightly and walks back to what I assume to be the kitchen area. He returns quickly. "So, what brings you to Olivine on a night like this?"

"Oh, sightseeing." Anticipating the response, I bite back my smile.

The man frowns, but a voice from the side pipes up instead: "Sure didn't pick the right season for it."

I spin my stool to the left. The man I barely took notice of on the way in is regarding me, his expression nearly unreadable. He's older than I am but not yet middle aged. He's bearded, with rough brown hair. Even seated at the tall barstool, his feet rest comfortably on the floor, where his Umbreon sits curled around them. The dark Pokémon fixes me with a quiet start out of bright red eyes.

"On the contrary," I reply. "When the nights are dark and the weather inclement, there is no better time on this earth to see the sights. You have not seen the world until you have seen it on a night such as this."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the man behind the counter staring. He stands completely motionless for a moment or two, blinks and rattles his head, and walks back into the kitchen.

The man to my left responds simply by saying, "It's a full moon tonight."

I frown. I'm sure he's right, but we will never know it. The dark clouds drown out every last one of the stars tonight.

As if reflecting on what he just said, the man reaches down to pick up a worn brown backpack. I lean over as he zips it open, seeing neat bundles of ropes, a package of metal bolts and rings, and a small device I recognize to be a belay. This is climbing equipment.

He catches me looking, and I return his gaze steadily. He looks almost amused as he zips the bag shut once more.

"I see that you're no stranger to the night yourself," I remark.

"I've been out a time or two."

"A local, I'm assuming. Might you have something worth showing to a worn and weary traveler?"

The man behind the bar returns carrying a steaming hot bowl of stew and a large flaky biscuit, which he sets in front of me. The bearded man takes the opportunity to order another drink.

I rip the biscuit into four separate chunks. I take the first in my fingers and offer it to my Murkrow, who accepts it with an eager flap of his wings. "Here you go, Edgar."

"Edgar?" The bearded man raises an eyebrow.

"Once upon a midnight dreary..."

"While I ponder weak and weary," the bearded man continues quietly, looking down at the ring left in the coaster by his glass.

Smiling, I skip ahead. "And quoth the Murkrow..."

"Nevermore!" Edgar pronounces proudly.

The man behind the bar jumps, almost spilling the drink he's pouring. Few people know that Murkrow can be taught to repeat certain words.

I take a large spoonful of stew. It burns my tongue immediately, but it is a good, hot pain. My mouth waters, craving more. My cold and hungry body yearns to have that warmth inside my stomach, and I can barely eat rapidly enough to satisfy. I pause only to offer Edgar his second bite of biscuit, and then only when he caws for it.

After a while, I realize that the man is still watching me. "I suppose you consider yourself a young prince of darkness."

I swallow my latest bite and gasp in air. "You might say that."

"Well, if this young man is a prince of darkness, I suppose that makes you the king, Walter," the man behind the bar says cryptically. Before I can ask what he means, a customer at the far end of the café waves a hand to flag him down.

I turn to Walter instead. "Perhaps you would care to explain?"

He smiles only slightly as he finishes his drink in a single gulp. "If you want to find out, I suppose you'll have to follow me." He tosses a pile of coins onto the bar and turns to leave.

The coins clatter and shine with light reflected from the fireplace. Edgar leans forward, beak opened slightly as if to snatch. I take a third piece of biscuit and shove it into the opening instead. I won't have any thievery tonight. I sweep the final piece of biscuit into the pocket of my hoodie and leave my own pile of coins more discreetly. Edgar is still chewing when I reach the doorway.

I pull open the door, expecting Walter to step through and lead the way, but he pauses and looks back. "Come, Annabel."

The Umbreon gets up lazily from the floor where it has remained all this time. She stretches like a cat before trotting over to join us with a slightly accusing look.

"She doesn't like the rain," Walter explains, stepping out into it.

But it's my turn now to ask. "Annabel? As in —?"

"She was Miranda's Pokémon," Walter interrupts, and his expression hardens.

He doesn't want me to ask, but I do so anyway. "Who is Miranda?"

"She was my wife." 

Walter leads the way down the edge of the shoreline to the western edge of the city. On the left, we pass white picnic tables with built in umbrellas folded and dripping. The wind off the sea fills the air with the smell of salt.

"Was as in divorced?"

He stops walking mid-step and spins around. "No! How dare you say such a thing? Impudent little..."

His tall figure towers over me, eyes wild as water streams from the rough tangle of his beard.

"Ok, I'm sorry. I didn't know." I want to back away, but tell myself to hold my ground, returning his wild gaze with one that's calm and steady.

The corner of his mouth twitches, and then he takes in a breath. "Miranda would never leave me." He turns to glare off in the direction of the sea, as if the stormy waves hold the cause of all his misery. "And I... Never in a thousand years..."

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry. It's just that you're so young."

He looks back at me, and his tone softens. "We both were. Miranda was so beautiful. She lit up the world with her smile, and when she laughed it held its breath to listen. But when we were together our very souls intertwined to create such beauty as I have never felt before or since."

He spoke with a passion, his eyes shining as if reflecting starlight even through the rain. I wonder how often he has had these thoughts that he can speak them so eloquently and with perfect ease. He could almost be a poet himself. I wonder if this might be what Miranda loved about him, this girl who would name her Umbreon Annabelle.

As we begin to walk once more, I take special notice of the Umbreon. The glowing yellow rings on her black fur grow brighter and brighter as evening is swiftly turning into night. When we reach the western edge and turn to the north, all that I can see of her are those yellow patterns hovering in the air like glow sticks suspended by invisible wire. The yellow stripe I know to be circling her tail swishes back and forth with every step.

We pass darkened houses whose window panes shine yellow with the light and warmth of families huddled close within. Every door is closed and every street is silent. Rain and wind are rulers of this night, and we are those who flourish in it. The wind switches, and rain blows into our eyes with the force of needles.

As I see the building we approach, I feel a stab of disappointment. Is the local gym the only place worth seeing? Walter's judgment may perhaps be less than what I gave him credit for.

A concrete walkway wider than two ordinary streets rolls up to the grand entryway. The walls are cold steel, layered in a downward slope that pours the rain into the surrounding grass. Impressive, but probably more so when those plates of steel are shining in the morning sun. At night, it is grand and empty and holds no special interest whatsoever.

But Walter does not lead me to the gym or even comment on its presence. He leads me around to the place where the city rests against a cliff of rough white limestone. It stretches up higher than the roof of the grand gym building, but, as I crane my neck to see the top, Walter taps my shoulder, turning me around.

"We can climb this baby cliff," he says. "Or you can follow me up that one."

"That one" is one of the tallest cliffs I've ever seen. Far off to the south, I see pinpricks of light where the cliff hangs low, but it rises in segments like a staircase, bit by bit until it reaches to its height in the section right before us.

I take in a breath. "Now that is more like it."

Walter directs me to a series of hand and footholds carved into the rock. We climb freeform, him first, then myself, with Annabelle the Umbreon tucked inside her pokéball and Edgar swooping about our heads. More than once, my fingers slip from the rain-soaked rock, numbed by cold and nearly unable to grip. Each time, Edgar smacks into my back and pushes me back to a place where I can latch on once again. 

My heart is pounding, and the smile on my face is ear-to-ear when I see Walter's hand reach out from above. I take it, allowing him to pull me up into a small cave near the top of the cliff. The entrance faces west, offering only a view of the forest growing atop the "baby" cliff, but Walter gestures me to the back, where the cave makes a sharp turn.

We walk for minutes with only the light of Annabelle's fur to guide us, but at last a stroke of lightning flashes, illuminating the second entrance for the briefest of moments. I dash forward, bashing my foot against a stalagmite but not slowing for an instant. I skitter to a stop at the very edge of what is actually a tunnel and look out over the entire city of Olivine, lights shining like stars upon the ground.

"Now this, good sir, is sightseeing! What's that?" I point to a light out in the distance, a bright, wide beam that rotates in a steady circle.

"That's the Glitter Lighthouse," Walter says, so quietly that I have to lean forward to hear him.

"Why did you choose not to take me there?"

Another lightning flash and I see the wind whipping through the trees and the boats anchored in the bay rocking wildly with every monstrous wave.

"The storm is getting worse," Walter says to me. "I recommend you stay here for the night."

"Me? What about you?"

In the next flash of lightning, I see what the darkness of the cave and the distraction of the view had hidden from me. Walter has fixed himself with a climbing harness and tied a rope around the base of a huge stalagmite. As I watch, he returns Annabelle to her pokéball and lowers himself over the edge.

"This is where I leave you," he says. He pushes off the wall and immediately drops from sight.

My shout of betrayal is drowned out by a clap of thunder. He wanted me up here. What possible reason could he have? I thought he was a man with the same interests as myself, but, no, I was wrong about that, wasn't I? He pretended to have the same interests as myself, pretended to be bringing me along to the place where he himself had been headed tonight, but all along he had another plan. We didn't use his climbing gear to get up here. And the path we took would have been much quicker had we passed by the lighthouse instead of circling around the gym.

Edgar flies back into the tunnel and lands on my shoulder with an angry caw and swish of his broom-like tail.

"Edgar, I think that Walter planned all along to strand us here so that we wouldn't be able to pry into his business," I say.

Edgar's white-pupiled eyes narrow, and he takes flight once more. I look out over the city, trying to trace his path, but he dives straight down. He reemerges slowly, under the burden of a heavy weight – a worn brown backpack that looks suspiciously familiar.

"Edgar, I have never loved your thievery so much as at this moment!" I toss him the last piece of biscuit from earlier, and he catches it eagerly in his yellow beak. "Let's go!"

I rig myself up and plunge down the cliff. I push myself to the very limit, pushing off from the cliff side hard and fast, rappelling like a mixture of expert and maniac, gasping with the excitement of each drop as Edgar caws with laughter.

"Give that back to me!" I can hear Walter's screams far before I reach the ground, but they double in volume as soon as I touch down.

He snatches the backpack from me while Annabelle leaps forward with a growl, ears flattened back against her head. Edgar swoops in to defend me with feathers puffed and wings spread wide, but neither Pokémon moves to attack without a word from their trainers.

"Tell me what you're planning," I say flatly.

"No," Walter growls.

"It has to do with the lighthouse, doesn't it?"

Another crash of thunder bursts down from the sky, Walter looks up with an expression I can only describe as fear, turns, and makes a dash towards the south.

"You can't stop me from following you!" I shout after him.

We run through sopping grass, kicking up mud with every step. The trees grow thick here, and he tries to lose me behind every one. Swooping overhead, Edgar tracks his every movement, and the caws drive me forward just when I think I've lost him. We run into yet another cliff, moving so fast our palms slam against the edge before either of us stops moving. I look up to see the base of a large white and blue lighthouse overlooking the sea.

Gasping for breath, I say, "I'm coming with you."

"You don't know what I'm doing here," Walter argues between breaths of his own.

"You can't stop me."

Walter looks up again at the next thunder clap. "No time. I don't have time to battle you."

"Your Umbreon would lose anyway," I say confidently. "Take me with you."

"No!" Walter cries, but his face is panicked now, eyes sweeping back and forth as if to search the options in midair. "Yes, alright, yes, you can come. Just let me go so I can see her before it's too late!"

"See her?" I ask, but Walter is already going up the side of the next cliff, where hand holds have been carved once more. I follow rapidly, tiring quickly now. It's been a long time since the warmth of the café, and it feels like I've burned through every last bit of energy provided by that stew. My body shakes with cold and exertion.

I breathe a sigh of relief when we reach the top, but instead of walking around to the lighthouse door, Walter sets his eyes on the tall white tower. 

"This will go faster if your Murkrow would fly the rope up to the ring I have set in place at the very top," Walter says.

I stare at him in disbelief. "Can't we simply enter the lighthouse and ascend the staircase?"

"Oh, so now you want the normal and easy way of doing things? I thought you were the adventurer here, prince of darkness," he replies mockingly.

Edgar snatches the rope out of his hands without a second word from either of us and loops it easily. The rope tumbles down to the ground as he stares down at Walter haughtily.

Does anybody in the city know that he's been doing this? I wonder as I force my aching muscles to climb. On the one hand, there's that comment from the man in the café, but on the other, why wouldn't the lighthouse operator let him in? Is this secret or actually illegal?

At last, I push up over the edge and stand atop the bright blue roof, straining against a wind that threatens to send all of us plummeting down to our deaths.

"Just stay back," Walter orders me. "Watch if you must, I can't stop you, but I wish that you would leave!"

He turns out over the sea while the wind whips his brown hair backwards. He opens his mouth, and the words that come forth cause mine to drop open next: "It was many and many a year ago, / In a kingdom by the sea, / That a maiden there lived whom you may know / By the name of Annabelle Lee; / And this maiden she lived with no other thought / Than to love and be loved by me."

This man is insane, I think. All this way to the top of a lighthouse in a raging thunderstorm to recite some poetry? I sink down onto the roof, exhausted from my physical efforts. Edgar lands next to me, bobbing his head from me to the crazy man with a strange look in his red eyes.

I listen to the familiar words again, hearing the story of young love cut short when young Annabelle Lee is struck down by a terrible sickness. Is this the story of Walter and Miranda, I wonder? Olivine, a kingdom by the sea, Miranda, a young lover who meets with the a terrible fate, and Walter, the man left behind to wax poetically about the lost connection of their souls.

"And neither the angels in heaven above," he continues, "Nor the demons down under the sea, / Can ever dissever my soul from the soul / Of the beautiful Annabel Lee."

Just as I ready myself for the final stanza, there is a terrific flash of light and a boom, not separate but together, boom and flash in the same instant so close that I think my eardrums have punctured. I clap my hands over the sides of my head, reeling with the pain.

"Walter!" I shout, immediately knowing that he has been struck by lightning. Climbing to the top of a lighthouse in a thunderstorm, a high place, lots of metal... Why didn't I stop him? Why did I...?

But when the spots blink from my vision, I see Walter standing tall and proud at the edge of the lighthouse roof. Turned to the side, I can see his lips still moving regularly, going through the lines of the poem even now.

I can't hear a thing, but I know the lines by heart: "For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams / Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; / And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes / Of the beautiful Annabel Lee".

And there he stops as if the poem rightfully ends on just those lines. The rain stops, a streak of lightning reverses course and streaks back into the sky, and the wind switches direction, pulling the dark clouds away. Walter wasn't lying. It is a full moon tonight. And it beams down its cool light onto the figure of a man crying as a ghostly pale hand reaches up to wipe away the tears. The ghostly pale hand of the woman who appeared in the flash of lightning.

"Miranda?"

The ghostly head turns, and the beautiful face that gazes back at me smiles with a joy unlike any I have ever seen before. Identical ghostly tears fall down her face and evaporate into nothingness before they hit the ground. She turns back to Walter.

"I thought that you would never come."

@GoddessofRandomness' one-shot:

"Come on, just for old time's sake!" The teen pleaded with her friend, who gazed at her with a thoughtful expression.

"Okay, then... Just don't complain when I beat you." A smirk painted itself into the brunette's face as she stated matter-of-factly, earning a glare from the orange-haired female.

"Don't be so sure about that." An identical smirk appeared on the Cerulean City Gym Leader's face. "You're not the only one who's gotten better!"

~~~

"Torterra, hang on! I know you can do this!" Lyria yelled out encouragement to her starter. The massive Continent Pokémon grunted and stood his ground against the endless barrage of the Atrocious Pokémon. His feet dug into the ground as he fought against the force of his foe's Hydro Pump.

Gyarados' attacks were relentless, not giving Torterra a chance to attack. Lyria gritted her teeth, her mind thinking up various strategies that could get that out of this situation... Or at least, it would have been if she hadn't sucked so bad at strategic thinking. She groaned in annoyance.

Misty noticed her frustration. She grinned and said the words that angered the brunette the most: "I told you so!"

"You did not just..." Lyria muttered incredulously. "That. Is. It. Torterra, Leaf Storm, full power!"

Torterra gladly complied to his trainer's order. Glowing leaves leapt into the air around him, swirling in a spiral before rushing towards the Water and Flying Type. Misty's Gyarados had already been weakened by Torterra's attacks, and even if it weren't 4x effective, it still would've had the same effect. That is to say, easily knocked him out.

Misty returned her fainted Pokémon, praising him for his efforts although he probably couldn't hear her. Then, she suddenly giggled. "Of all the things that could get you riled it up," she murmured in between giggles, "It had to be that!"

"Oh, shut up." Lyria was too busy being angry at Misty to celebrate over her victory. Hell, even Torterra seemed amused. "You're not helping, Terra," she grumbled, her annoyance building by the second. Torterra just grunted amusedly, and made a gesture oddly similar to a shrug.

Misty held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, no need to get so pissed. Honestly, you're so different during a battle. Normally you're so carefree and now you're so serious. Relax a little."

Lyria pressed her lips into a thin line. "Easier said than done when you're around," she replied, her lip curling up into a mix between a smile and a smirk. 

Torterra looked exasperated. His expression said, 'Here we go again...'

Miraculously, Misty saved the situation. Rather than allowing the situation to progress into one of their occasional quarrels, she suddenly asked Lyria; "Have you ever been to Cinnabar Island?"

Lyria blinked in confusion, taken off guard by the sudden question. "Uh, no?" came her unsure reply.

Misty shook her head in disapproval. "Honestly Ly," she started, "Kanto is your birthplace! You should have visited all the cities and towns by now! I mean, you've travelled all of Sinnoh, so why not Kanto as well?"

The brunette stared at her blankly for a second, before muttering out a reply, "You make a horrible argument..." Misty face heated up, but before she could comment, her friend continued, "So, you have some business in Cinnabar?"

"Wha- wait, what, how-"

Lyria smirked. "How long do you think I've known you?"

"I... Ugh." Misty sighed. "Yes, actually. Blaine, the Gym Leader there, has requested me to come over, for a, um, how'd he put it? 'A friendly play off', I believe."

"And, you want me to come with you?"

Misty stared at the ground. "I've... Never been to Cinnabar..."

You couldn't exactly blame Lyria for bursting out laughing like she did when she heard that. She doubled over and clutched her stomach while the Water Type Gym Leader's gave reddened.

"W-what?"

"Hypocrite," Lyria murmured between laughs, earning a frustrated groan from the orange-haired girl.

"Not funny, Ly."

~

"Wow!"

The hazel-eyed girl exclaimed in amazement as she gazed onto the scenery before her.

Tall trees swayed in the slight breeze, the occasional house popping up amongst the greenery. Five buildings stood out from the small houses. The first was the one all trainers could spot: the Gym.

Cinnabar Island's Gym rose slightly higher than the rest of the buildings. It's exterior was brown and blue, the doors awaiting trainers to open them. 

Among the other buildings were the Pokémon Centre, the PokéMart and what looked like a Research Lab. The last building was one Lyria couldn't quite place. It was like a small mansion, with light brown walls and several windows, two chimneys popping up at the top. She would ask Misty or Blaine about it later.

Having opted to fly with her Altaria rather than riding the waves with Misty and Gyarados, Lyria's first glimpse of the island was from a bird's eye view. The entire island was laid out before her, in all its beauty.

The winds high above ground made her hair fly everywhere, occasionally falling over her eyes. The familiar feeling of the high currents of air made her smile. She absolutely adored flying, especially with Altaria. 

Altaria swooped in for the landing, her trainer holding on tightly. They landed as Misty and Gyarados approached the island, smoothly swimming through the crashing waves.

The Flying and Dragon Type alighted on the ground. Lyria was slightly disappointed to be on land again, but her back ached, and her feet yearned for solid ground. Sighing slightly, she thanked Altaria and retired her to her Pokéball.

The brunette settled her sight on the island. It looked amazing up close. The slightly swaying trees looked like they were doing a slow, hypnotic dance. The small, cozy cottages looked warm and comfy, and not the least bit out of place. The Pokémon Centre's doors opened every now and then as the island's inhabitants and the rare trainer entered or left. The PokéMart's blue roof stood out among the green of nature and brown homely houses.

The locals cast odd glances at the girl. It was rare for trainers to visit their home, rarer still for them to bring along a Pokémon native to a different region. Whenever their eyes met with the mysterious trainer, they diverted their gaze and acted as if they had something to do.

Lyria felt slightly unnerved by this, something that did not go unnoticed by Misty, who had just reached her side after returning Gyarados. The Water Type specialist smiled and reassured her friend, "Don't get so worried, Ly. They're just not used to visitors is all."

Lyria sent her a small smile before stretching her limbs. "That was a lot more tiring than I'd expected," she muttered, "Wanna head to the Pokémon Centre?"

"You do that. I'm gonna go check on Blaine."

~

Lyria was sitting in the Pokémon Centre's lounge sipping coffee from a small mug when Misty entered. She walked over and collapsed on the seat next to her.

"Blaine's out. Won't be back till late evening," she muttered, grabbing the second mug that sat on the tabletop. "What do you want to do till then?"

"I think I'll just look around, maybe go to the coast and let Lanturn out. He's probably pissed because I left him in his Pokéball for so long."

"See you in an hour?"

Lyria nodded and got up. She stretched her arms and picked up her bag. Slinging it over her shoulder, she quietly exited the comfortable Pokémon Centre, waving to her friend.

Lyria immediately let out Rhydon. The Rock and Ground Type looked around and grunted, as if to say, 'Well, this place ain't bad."

His trainer laughed and tossed him two berries from her satchel. He quickly gobbled them up and followed after her as she walked to the northern end of the island where the land gave way to deep blue sea. There was a light wind, causing the waters to stir slightly and create low waves.

Lyria carefully sat at the edge, letting her feet rest in the water. Rhydon curled up as far away from the sea as possible, causing his trainer to giggle at his unceasing fear of water. You couldn't really blame him though.

Clumsily, she pulled out a Pokéball from her bag and hurled it into the air. From the red flash emerged a yellow and blue Pokémon. Lanturn cheerfully exclaimed her name and happily splashed in the waves. Lyria grinned at her.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, watching Lanturn play in the water with random Water Types that passed by while Rhydon snored on a nearby rocky outcropping. It was probably a little over an hour, because the sun hung low on the horizon. She stared, as if in a daze, as it slowly dipped lower and lower. 

The fantastic twilight colours danced in the sky, dark blue and purple and hints of red and orange. Lanturn's light was lit, a yellow glow, adding to the many colours playing in the scenery. The dark sky reflected on the trees and houses cast into shadow. Deep green, brown, blue, purple, red, orange, yellow... So many colours. The brilliance of the sun was reflected in the water. The sunset was mesmerising.

As the sun finally set, a smile etched itself into the brunette's face. Beauty was fleeting. She slowly rose to her feet, returned her two Pokémon and headed back to the Pokémon Centre where her friend was waiting.

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