R & R

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Rex: [Energy: 19 - 5 (Entry) = 14]
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An onix slithered his way around the forest, in search of something in particular—though he wasn't sure what it was yet, he knew he'd know it when he found it. The last time he had been here he was simply causing a ruckus, attacking the locals and causing some minor deforestation via the means of uprooting trees. That was, until a couple of goody-goodies teamed up with the locals and ran him off.

It wasn't that he couldn't handle himself in an asymmetric fight—of course he could, he was Rex. He simply didn't want to bother with such nuisances. This time, however, he wasn't here to simply break things. He was here to cause a whole different kind of trouble. All he needed to do was find the right spot and the right Pokemon.

Never has a day gone by that Rex hadn't felt compelled to cause trouble. Often he could sate this urge by just wrecking the nearest structure or beating up the first unfortunate soul who wandered into his view (and who he was sure he could actually beat up). But other days, such as this day, that simply wasn't enough. No, on days like this, he felt an overwhelming desire for plots and schemes and subterfuge.

Finding a nice, small clearing, the onix curled up in the centre, assuming an appearance that to the unwary eye would appear as nothing more than an oddly place pile of boulders. Now, all he needed was to wait and listen for that thing he sought.

(Robin's Energy: 1
+ 1, new page)

The low, gravelly hum rang deep to the core of Robin's being. She trudged forward in intense thought, turning his words over in her mind. It set off her fight-or-flight relax when he circled her once more, acutely aware of just how firmly she was one of the weak, how easy she would be to crush, if this mysterious stranger had deemed it so. But her mind knew that he sought no such thing. Perhaps this was a kindness, in his warped mind, to take her under his wing, spare her from this fall he ardently believed the world was due for.

She followed his gaze skyward, even now catching her brain etching shapes into the clouds. "... and even the clouds that we can find shapes in aren't intended to be birds, or castles, or whatever we might see in them." She echoed, her voice rather faint, though picking up volume. "That's just our minds projecting meaning onto them." When he spoke of nature, he did not mean rocks and trees, not even mountains - it was something larger still, unfathomably ancient and inevitable.

She felt she was beginning to understand him, now. Not agree, but understand. "So it isn't that it would be good to be reduced to our base instincts and society will someday crumble, but neither is it evil. Just inevitable. Is that what you're trying to tell me?" On a larger timescale, perhaps... she could wrap her mind around it. Nothing lasts forever. Who was to say that they were the first civilization, or the last? It was a troubling thought.

Or, perhaps, she was simply projecting more meaning onto his words to form them in a way that made sense to her. Wasn't that just what she had been criticizing herself for doing? She mused on the words for a moment longer, her eyes flickering shut, even as her posture was tense with fear and interest alike. He was either a genius or a madman. In that heartbeat, she wasn't certain which.

His face was so close to hers, brimming with meaning that she was trying, straining to comprehend, shifting through the sand to find what lived beneath. Her full potential. Just what was it? To grow from a hailstorm to a blizzard, to annihilate anything that dared to stand in her way, to thrive in chaos and off of pain? No. She knew she didn't want to be that kind of person. The thought sat so poorly with her that it might have made her sick, but she knew not to voice such sentiments. Focus on what she did agree upon, what she did understand.

Or, at least, what she thought she did.

"... I think I see." If he wasn't entirely correct, then he wasn't entirely wrong, either. "Turmoil is inevitable, and we need to be strong enough to face it, or else be crushed." That part, at least, was not so far fetched, not when you said turmoil with a lowercase T.

The confession slipped from her, low and far too genuine, in that moment, her face creased with emotion that she could not name nor place. "... when that day comes, I don't know if I'll be ready." No. That was far too generous. She knew she wouldn't be. The wheels of fortune would crush her once more; that was simply her lot in life, simply the price of being alive.

(But his voice, low as thunder, made her wish in the very back of her mind that it did not have to be.)

Rex: [Consumed Pecha Berry: Poison Cured] [Energy: 0 + 1 (Page) = 1]
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Rex could tell his protege was struggling to fully comprehend his teachings. It didn’t matter though, so long as she grasped the foundations of it for now; which it would seem she did. Her last comment—an admission of weakness—that disappointed the onix somewhat, and he said as much.

”You seem able to grasp the core of it, but you undermine your own potential with your doubt.” He pulled away from the vulpix. ”You have plenty of time to grow stronger, and you have so much more to learn. You have, however, worn your mask for too long. You are nearly blinded by it. It is fortunate, for you, that I found you now.”

Rex spiraled his way around a tree once more. ”The world we live in is in conflict; it is a hidden war between the eternal force of chaos and the taint of order. You must understand order, and why it is your enemy. You must understand that your enemy—all your enemies—have things that you can utilize and exploit to your own benefit.”

“Lesson one: Order is a toxin. A blight. It corrupts and infects. Due to the very nature of chaos, things can be created, but those things are always meant to decay in time. Order came from the Turmoil in the form of Arceus.” He paused for a brief moment, examining the fox to see if she recognized the name. ”Arceus was the start of the infection—a creation of the Turmoil that refused to cease. Arceus spread the infection further with his own creations. The Turmoil became structured—a vile, cruel thing.”

Rex, still wound around the tree, leaned his head forward, causing the trunk to bow slightly from the off-centre weight. ”Do you not agree with that idea? Do you not see how cruelly you are treated when you are behind that mask? How those enslaved by the ideals of order—aware of it or otherwise—make demands of you? Try to control you? Punish you for decisions you make that they deam wrong?” The questions were mostly rhetorical, since the stone serpent was certain he knew the answers.

”It is a poison, not unlike the one in me now. But I know a cure.” The massive snake suddenly darted his head at the top of another tree, tearing a pecha berry—and the entire branch it was attached to—from it and swallowing it whole.

He was right in that she was grasping, her puzzled mind searching from one string to another. Hopping along branches that were vaguely connected to pack his words into a form that she could understand. She wasn't certain if she could understand him, completely, much less if she agreed. He was displeased with her, she could tell that much, and so she thought very, very carefully about what to say next, not wanting to risk this stranger's wrath. With each creature she felled, she'd grow stronger, he said - but what did the strong gained when they crushed the weak? Experience in battle was one thing, but was anything gained at all when your opponent wasn't on your level?

(At least that would only ever be a hypothetical concern for her, she thought wryly.)

There was no room for her hesitation, her doubt; it was not what the Onix sought to see, and so he would not see it. She feared falling out of his favor, but perhaps, just perhaps, some tiny shred of her also wanted to keep listening. It was not the first time that she had been crowned a beacon of misfortune and destruction. But it was the first time that such a thing was not monstrous, or rather, it didn't matter if it was. The chance to be something was downright intoxicating, a siren's song she could see herself following straight to her bitter end.

She nodded along, silent and demure, to the Onix's speech. She caught his pause at the mention of Arceus, nodding once more to confirm that she recognized the name. How couldn't she? The tree before her bent, weakening under the weight. And even as he spoke on about a worldview that Robin struggled to understand, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were similar. No one had pierced through to the heart of her being like that before. And not only did he glean the Pokemon behind the mask, he respected her, saw a hint of potential in her, somehow.

To structure chaos was cruel...? She hadn't taken him for one to shy away from cruelty. It was tricky to get a bead on this one. Just when she thought she had pinned him down, he seemed to take on a new dimension, leaving her struggling to keep up. A foolish question may cause her to fall out of favor, but so would simply nodding along. "... Tell me." She said instead, cutting off her sentence awkwardly before she reflexively added please.

Her voice was very soft, and very low. "I don't know if I understand, but I want to. I don't want to be controlled anymore." It was not a path for her, she knew that, and yet. She wanted to know. She was almost envious, that he could simply live, and take up space, without fear of retribution.

Venusian carried out 1 launched of one Pecha Forest :

Rex: [Energy: 1]
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Rex brought his front back to the ground, tugging on the tree he had wrapped himself around until it, like those before it, splintered and broke. He could already feel the poison in him weakening and his strength returning. The hail continued to plague him, however he would never tell the vulpix to halt the storm she caused.

”Every victory—no matter the size—is further progress toward strength. You must be strong to withstand the coming Turmoil. You must become strong enough to leave your mark on every being and in every place. You must make yourself known—your true self, without the mask. Every mark of you leave strengthens the very idea of you. Every mark increases your potential.”

He curled over himself and met the vulpix’s eyes; his expression was serious—it was always serious. ”It is vital that you understand this. Lesson two: You, as you are now—this form of yours,” the tip of his tail pointed at her. ”It will not survive the Turmoil. Neither will my own. Not even Arceus will. But if your potential is high you will reemerge, in different forms, endlessly in the chaos. All that will ever be will know you; you will be as eternal as the Turmoil itself.”

He gave a long pause for the fox to take in what he had said, but he did not allow her to speak. ”Lesson three: There are tools you can utilize—to deceive those enslaved to order and further your own potential. You have already been using one, your mask—the Mask of Civility, it is named. It is a tool to grant you privileges among the orderly. With the Mask, you feign niceties and politeness, and other senseless formalities, and by doing so the others will see you differently. You can use this to learn of them—learn their weaknesses, and plot how best how to mark them. Perhaps, if you master the Mask, you may even be able to assert control over them.” He paused again, this time allowing the vulpix to express any thoughts she may have.

(Robin's Energy: 0)

So that was what he meant by outliving mountains. All that will ever be will know you; you will be as eternal as the Turmoil itself. As mad as all of this sounded, it did follow a certain string of logic. Wasn't that a tempting narrative, to exist forever? As shattered as the reverie was, she could understand the appeal. Death had never been one of her particular fears. She merely watched in quiet contemplation. "... and that's what you seek, isn't it? To mark everywhere and everyone?" And why? To live on?

To live forever?

She felt she was beginning to understand. Or, at least, she hoped she was. He was clearly waiting for her questions and thoughts, and it would clearly be fake if she pretended not to have any. Surely he must understand that, even if she had intended to believe it - which she didn't, in truth - it was a difficult pill to swallow.

She was dead silent for a long moment, those uncanny words sinking deep into her form. "... I... think I might be starting to understand." She mused, taking a slight step forward. "It's hard to picture this chaos, but I think that's because it's alien to the only world I've ever known." She admitted, her expression twisted in thought. She focused on the thing she was sure that she did comprehend, following along as best as she was able.

"By growing strong, by growing our potential... we'll keep existing, forever, once the order that holds this world together crumbles. Which it will, inevitably, because chaos is the nature state of the world, and what it will someday return to. Am I understanding correctly?" She wasn't certain if she understood the word 'potential', not in the way he was using it, like a concrete thing, a proper noun. Perhaps that was another question to ask. But for now, a more pressing one nagged at the back of her mind.

"... well, there is something I don't understand." She added, forcing her voice not to sound quite so soft, trying to appear as anything but the frail, helpless thing she swore she was. "You seek to mark all the world. I understand that part, except for one thing. What mark are you trying to leave on me?"

It was a bold question, and one she hoped would pay off. Truth be told, she was endlessly curious.

Rex: [Energy: 1]
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Rex made sounds indicating confirmation to the vulpix’s first two questions, although in truth, he had far more ambitious goal than simply leaving his marks on the world. The second question too may have been a bit of an oversimplification, but the difference between her interpretation and his understanding were not significant enough for him to justify elaborating further.

Her final question was the most important to him. It was personal, and his answer, he knew, would affect the vulpix’s view of him. While Rex had no issue with lying to gain some boon, he rarely saw reason to, and he certainly wasn’t going to lie to this Pokemon in particular. ”To receive a satisfactory answer to that question, you must fully understand the idea of marks.” The onix believed that comprehension of the concept of marks was vital.

”There are several marks, each with their own names. A Pokemon may leave their mark upon another, or upon places in the world. For every mark one leaves, their potential grows. Those who carry marks rarely have a say in whether or not they carry them—the marks simply are. Visible marks hold greater value than intangible ones.”

”By learning the truth that I share, I have already left a mark on you. You bear the Mark of Freedom. To be awakened to the truth that Order tries desperately in vain to hide, one is left bearing this mark in the name of the one who showed them the truth.” The serpent uncoiled and stretched out—his movements were growing notably stiff now. His stone flesh was rendered darkened by the melt of the hailstones.

”But this is not the mark I anticipate you will make use of. I can still sense your fondness of the Mask. I must warn you of the dangers of that implement. The Mask of Civility—you have been using it as a defensive tool, and for a long time, I am certain. This is a waste." He practically spit the words. "You must learn to use the Mask offensively—you must use it to gain influence over others. By doing so, you leave them with the Mark of Influence. To do this you must be cunning; embrace your deceitful nature, make the others hear you, and obey.”

His noises of confirmation let her know that she was getting somewhere. Even though each new statement only plunged her deeper down the rabbit hole, to this bizarre philosophy of potential and turmoil and order and marks. It was the first and last ones that caught her attention the most. She was relieved that her question didn't offend him, and that she even received an answer. It was... tricky to tell if that was the truth, or at least the full truth. But it was something.

She was feeling less safe by the moment, and she was starting to wonder how a simple vent had led her here. This felt like utter nonsense. She didn't feel like she had been marked, and she had no desire to mark others. "The Mark of Freedom." She echoed, staring down at her paws. She couldn't imagine that was a particular mark that was handed out often.

"... you're right. I have been." She confirmed quietly. There was... a strand of wisdom there, in a way. "If that's what the Mark of Influence is, I think I might have been giving it already, without knowing I was. If that's possible?" To her, it very much was. Intent didn't change the end reaction, after all. Her deceitful nature - it almost felt like she was being mocked, though she couldn't place why.

She shook off the odd feeling, squaring her shoulders. Even if she had no desire to mark others (which was the truth, she insisted, however good it may have felt in the moment), if the Onix felt she was shunning this 'mark of freedom', she feared she may be marked in another, more tangible way. "... I'm ready." She decided, her voice clear and bold.

"Tell me how to mark people." Was she saying it right? Like a proper noun?

Rex: [Energy: 1]
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Rex began to weave around the nearby trees, ultimately encircling the vulpix once more. ”Marks are left on others regardless of whether you intend to or not. You’ve already left your mark on several of this forests locals—and the forest itself,” he curled around a particular tree for an extended moment, gesturing with his head and tail at the damage the hail had does to it. ”The Mark of Defeat is left on those defeated in battle. The Mark of Destruction is left in the places you ravage. The greater the defeat or damage, the deeper the mark. Even if the one you defeated were to later defeat you—which you should never allow to happen—or the damage you have done were to be repaired, the marks would remain.”

He continued his serpentine weaving through the trees, watching the vulpix intently. ”The Mark of Influence is left on those who’s course you have shifted. By causing someone to do something they otherwise wouldn’t, you leave them with this mark. I have already explained in well enough detail the Mark of Freedom—though it is important to know that those two do not go hand in hand. If you were to awaken someone to the truth, but they cowardly allowed themselves to fall back into Order’s grasp, then you have not changed their course, nor earned the Mark of Influence.”

The onix stopped suddenly. He wrapped himself around a tree. He made sure he had the tiny fox’s full attention, meeting her gaze, before continuing. ”Then there is the Mark of Death. This mark is permanent. It can not ever be removed. I imagine you already understand how to leave that mark.”

Defeat, Destruction, Influence, Freedom. Death.

She wondered what the Onix would think of her, had he known everything. Would he still be proud, or would he see her as coward? If causing more destruction left a deeper mark, then she had marked everything she had ever touched, in quiet, subtle ways. The lash of a hailstone, the lower of her eyes to keep from being struck- was that not Influence? Not in the way he intended, certainly, but it was in her eyes nevertheless. That last one gave her pause, a pause she could only hope was hidden well by her understanding nod.

An idea struck her, then. She brought damage to everything she touched, and that meant this Onix was no exception. He was on a timer. Already she could see dark splotches on stone where the water had begun to sink in. If she could simply endure, then his strength would give out eventually. She doubted she could knock him out, truly, even if he had claimed she could earlier. He was much more powerful than she could dream of being. But if she could simply endure... then, her chance to slip away would arrive. She only had to wait, play the part of his protege.

It was odd. She knew she needed to escape from this, and yet. Somehow, she couldn't work up a shred of ill will, even as she was beginning to grasp just what kind of being that the person before her was. This wasn't the time of person she wanted to be. (This was the person that she was, she remembered, and that thought quieted her mind.)

She had hunted before. Would killing a sentient pokemon be similar? No, she shouldn't think of such things. It would not come to that. She didn't think she had it in her. To kill for food was one thing, but for fun, for this alien philosophy... it was different, in a way that she could not name. "Of course." She answered. There was only one conclusion to come to, of what delivering something called the Mark of Death entailed. Death marked more than just the deceased, she mused. Though, she supposed it depending on what sense of the word 'mark' was being used.

She stepped forward, offering a polite dip of her head. "I'm thankful. That was enlightening." She finally said, quieting the rest of her questions. Truth be told, she had many. She would never learn the answers, if she was lucky. "... I'm not ready to stop yet. Come with me if you wish. I know I still have much to learn."

If he stayed with her, the hail would continue to chip at him. If not, she was free to go. Either way, she would be satisfied. The Mask of Civility, her mind echoed, remembering what the Onix would call such a thing, the masquerades that kept her stable, kept her safe, kept the gnashing teeth and claws at bay.

It was almost funny, though she hadn't the faintest clue why.

Rex: [Energy: 1]
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Rex wasn’t sure the thanks was completely genuine, but he didn’t really care. He knew that his teachings could be confusing, or even potentially upsetting. The idea that the world would truly, inevitably collapse had the potential to terrify. But Rex knew it to be true, and it did not terrify him; it invigorated him. He believed that he could make himself into something far greater than what he was and truly be something in this inevitable chaos he foretold of. The others, his stories and lessons were ramblings, or some kind of twisted belief—a potential sign of madness, perhaps.

But to him, this was fact. He didn’t need to completely convince his protege. He would not suffer is she failed to achieve what he anticipated her to accomplish. At the same time, he was confident that, in time, she would start to really see—begin to truly understand his teachings and find her real purpose. For now, he would tolerate her hesitance.

”Hmm…” was all the response the onix gave the vulpix. He unwound himself from the tree, wordlessly indicating that he would continue to follow her. He was interested to see how far she would go with minimal influence from him. His movements were sluggish; a clear indication that the wear of the ice was still growing, ever worsening.

Something nagged at her, and it took her a long moment to place what it was: so quickly she had slid back into the masquerade, and that knowledge was a leaden weight around her neck. Funny, that she ended up back here, even after seeking a brief escape. It only left her feeling more drained, and she wasn't certain if that was better or worse than anger. She hailstones rattled down with a renewed intensity as she lifted her head. The gloating was gone, now, as she swept aside a Morelull easily, casting only the faintest backward glance in it's direction as the Onix slithered by.

The mark of death. What a grim concept. With that in mind, knowing his objective- some part of her couldn't shake the suspicion that he would end her battles in a much more permanent way, even after she threw her enemies out of her path. The gloating was gone, now, leaving Robin dead quiet and hollow. A Venonat similarly offered no resistance, only collapsing in a shivering heap.

She hadn't expected her second roadblock to come from a rather unsuspected plant pokemon. It shook but refused to crumble even in the face of the snow. It's eyes were... odd. It had been a while since she had seen pure, hot hatred like that, some idle part of her mind mused. But letting her mind wander came with a cost, as a pair of vines snaked around her limbs and Robin was thrown into a snapped tree with surprising strength, slumping to the ground with a dull moan.

The little flower wasn't finished, though, seeming to pay little regard even as the hail and snow grew in intensity. Robin's attempt to fend it off was fruitless, and she knew she may be doomed when she felt her limbs lock up, an odd yellow powder coursing through her system. When had that happened-? She hadn't even caught it using that move, as she lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut. They were no scythes nor blades, but those leaves carried their own sharp gleam, a hot anger to tear apart the little fox that had rampaged through it's home, and try as she might, she couldn't move her legs, couldn't force herself to run.

Robin wondered, for a moment, if this might be the end. If it was, it wouldn't be undeserved.

Rex: [Energy: 1]
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Rex did not intervene as the vulpix attacked each Pokemon she came across, one after the other. This was a test now, whether she realised it or not, to see just how far she could go—how far she would go. The increased intensity of the storm did not go unnoticed by him.

A morelull. A venonat. They fell easily. The weepinbell, however, seemed almost to catch the little ice-type by surprise. Rex supposed that all his words were still rattling around in her mind, making her think, distracting her. This was good, from his perspective as a teacher—his lessons were having an effect. However, this was a disappointing result for his test. To lose to a Pokemon she should have had an advantage on; that would be a notable Mark of Defeat on her.

Rex waited a moment, to let the flycatcher Pokemon celebrate it’s momentarily victory of the vulpix who had been menacing the forest. With a few attacks. Once Rex was certain said vulpix was weakened into desperate—but not so much that her life was seriously under threat—the onix suddenly struck the weepinbell and wrapped it into a Bind.

In his normal speaking voice—something akin to a yell from most Pokemon, and so much louder than he had previously been speaking—Rex demanded the snow fox’s attention. ”Get up. I will not allow you to be marked with defeat by this,” he squeezed the weepinbell tightly for emphasis. It mained a strained, pained noise in response. ”You will stand and finish it.” The onix was glaring at the vulpix, stern and otherwise emotionless.

She had wondered if the Onix would step in. This was a test, that much she knew; he was observing her. He had spoken enough that she knew what he was looking for. Or, at least, she thought she did. He wanted to see her rampage and ravage, he wanted to see her make people suffer in defeat. She had frozen back over to an emotionless numb, seconds before, the broken ice frozen back over. And yet, something pierced through it. An echo, that thunderous voice booming in her mind, words drifting from her mouth without her consent.

You will stand and finish this.

Another order to follow. The perfect little toy soldier, wasn't she.

I sense a similarity between you and I. But you deceive yourself. You wear a mask. Why? For their sake? What did they ever do for you? You hide yourself—your true self—from them, don’t you?

The Weepinbell's noise was thin, strained and pitiable. Robin moved forward, her low voice brimming with something underneath, a deep set anger that boiled in her blood. "You're right, you know." She mused. It could have been mistaken for idle thought, had it not been for the predatory prowl forward, fighting the lightning that sought to hold her limbs in place. "I wondered how you knew me so well. Not only did you know I wore a mask, but you saw the thing that lived beneath it. The thing that no one is supposed to know exists."

"You asked why I hide my true self. I didn't give you an answer, even though I knew exactly why. It's because I'm a liar, and a coward. I would rather be wanted than respected. I would rather be liked than be myself, if the two are mutually exclusive." She fell silent, then, watching the anger and hope die from the Weepinbell's gaze, draining to reveal a pained fear, a thrash of panic in the Onix's coils.

She glanced back at him and smiled, ever so faintly, a cold, dark thing. "And I came here to flaunt that true self, if only for a minute. That's what I was after, you know. I wanted to break everything that stood in my way, instead of bowing to it. I wanted to be the scary one. I wanted to make people kneel and scream. That's the real self. I'm sick of doing what everyone asks... what everyone orders."

She was a weapon sheathed in silk, just waiting to be pointed at whatever crossed her path. She could not change her nature - but she could decide, perhaps, where she pointed it. Tomorrow, the sheath would return, and it would be as if nothing had ever happened. But today. She had arrived here today because she was tired of being controlled, and least of all this madman.

"Today is my turn to call the shots. Put it down."

Rex: [Energy: 1]
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It was a test. An open-ended test. A test where Rex had anticipated several potential answers the vulpix my try. She could have accepted defeat—it would have been very disappointing, but it would have at least shown where her limits currently lied. She could have mustered up the strength necessary to finish the weepinbell; knocking it out or, if he had really pushed her, maybe even kill it and earn the credit due for leaving the Mark of Death.

But the test was twofold. It was not just a test of the vulpix’s limits, it was a test of her character. She slipped so easily back into her mask—he had not failed to notice it. He had to admit, it wasn’t easy to tell when she was being truly genuine with him and when she was simply agreeing. But whether or not he could see the mask or not wasn’t important—what was important, as far as Rex was concerned, was that she didn’t live her life solely behind the mask.

And yet, here she was, admitting to him that she preferred the mask, practically declaring that she would continue to hide behind it when she left here. It was the wrong way. The mask was a tool to be used, not a costume to be worn. It was for situations where deception was necessary for success. It was not a mold to shape yourself to.

Her explanation for being here; her desire to strike fear into others, to dominate them, to break them—That was what he sought out of her. The her that does not take orders. That’s what he sought. And with her declaration, he had found it.

Put it down she had commanded. Rex rarely took orders from others. That’s what got him exiled from his home. He never regretted that event. Following orders, for any reason, was a slippery slope to falling in line—to succumbing to Order. He refused commands at nearly every opportunity.

But this time, he would abide by the tiny fox’s demand, if only because he was impressed with her resilience and tenacity; that, and he was very curious to see where this was going. After a long pause, the onix released his grip on the grass-type. It scurried its way away from him in utter panic. Unsure of whether it’d be safe to go anywhere near the vulpix or if it ought to just flee from the scene as quickly as possible, it simply dove into a nearby bush.

Rex rose to his full height upon letting the Pokemon go. He stared at the snow white fox, a mixture of satisfaction and curiosity showing in his expression. He said nothing, but it was very clear he was waiting to see what his little protege’s next move was.

What was she planning? She didn't know, she hadn't had a clue - she'd just known that seeing the poor thing squeezed in the Onix's coils made something tremble in her chest. How could she blame it for striking out at her, after all the destruction she had caused? She lifted her head high, letting it scamper into a nearby bush. That made something predatory rise in her, a dark current to chase, to catch. Her true nature reared it's head once more, demanding retribution on the creature that dared to hurt her, dared to think it could touch her.

For a moment she had half expected the stranger to strike her down in retaliation for daring to order him, but her request was heeded, to her surprise. If she was going to finish this, it would not be because she was ordered to. But seeing it tremble as she parted the bushes, her predatory smile vanished. This... it wasn't fun anymore. She didn't want to be the mouse, but in that moment, for some reason she could not place, she did not want to be the cat, either.

She leaned forward, her lip curled back in a snarl. "Boo." She hummed, though she did not wish to hurt it, not in that moment. She was fickle, hypocritical, even, but she did not want to sink her claws into it. "I'll take it that you've learned your lesson. I'm giving you ten seconds to run, and after that, pray that we never meet again. You don't want to know what will happen."

"Ten."

And whether or not it understood her words, it was gone, and Robin's shoulders slumped. Why did frightening it satisfy her, when seeing it hurt made her feel sick? She didn't understand the many-clawed thing that made it's home in her chest. She only knew that when it escaped to the surface, it demanded retribution, in whatever form it saw fit. No - it was wrong to word it like that, as though it wasn't a part of her, no less so than one of her limbs.

She was tired, in that moment, her eyes and soul and legs feeling ever so heavy that she's swear she could collapse right then and there. "... I'm done."

There wasn't anything else left in her.