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    Default Wings Have We

    [sets up brick wall and begins talking]

    Hi. I'm Giratina. Some of you may have seen me around the Author's Café recently, and wondered why I'm posting there if I don't have any stories up on the main board. Truth be told, I've been writing since around last September, but the first few chapters of the only fruits of my labor are... not very good. So while we wait for me to find an incentive to rewrite my first (serious) story, I shall put up my second offering to the Internet; it is called Delta Species.

    Psst! WHW has apparently won some awards on Serebii. Yes, really.

    Best Trainer Fic (2009)
    Best Non-human Main Character (2009, Giratina)

    This is rated PG, as some Pokémon battles will probably involve swearing by certain characters.

    The PM List is...

    scizorstrike
    Sinnohdragon

    If you want to be on it, just tell me any way you like - VM, PM, through a comment on this thread.

    Enjoy.

    wings have we


    {1} fate knows where you live


    A young boy sat slumped in his seat, watching the rain continue its attempt to be as loud as it could while crashing against the window. Granted, it was making quite a lot of noise, and by most standards he should at least look like he was paying attention to what was going on in the school bus around him. Most of the time he did - keeping watch for flying pillows and day-old milk bottles was a constant job - but his thoughts were upon clearly more important things.

    Like Pokéballs, for instance.

    ‘Come on, Casey,’ the boy silently scolded himself, ‘quit thinking about that! It’s over! It’s going to get found and I never even touched that thing and nobody can possibly link its appearance to me!’

    Casey, you see, was a kid with a dilemma. That morning, while waiting for this very bus to arrive to drive him to school, he had found an extremely disturbing object sitting underneath some nearby shrubbery. It was an object about the size of a softball, colored red and white with a black stripe running around the center. Commonly known as a ‘Pokéball’ or ‘Poké Ball’, it was a manmade object designed for the capture and control of animals known as Pokémon.

    Both Pokémon and the objects that tame them were illegal in the fine land of Calda.

    Quite a while ago (before he was born, in fact) the local regional government had decided it was better for the region and its human inhabitants if super-powered monsters weren’t running around the cities and nearby land. Pokémon and the spherical things that share almost the same name were no longer allowed, and hunts immediately ensued to catch and destroy all remaining wild Pokémon (which, seeing as Calda is an island, is slightly easier than it sounds).

    As a matter of fact, the only reason anyone even knew about the Pokémon anymore is because children were having a message constantly drilled into their heads that Pokémon are very dangerous – which usually leads into brief explanations on how dangerous they are. For many people, excluding those who have lived in a different and more Pokémon-friendly region for some part of their lives, this was all they knew. Many also shared the mindset that Pokémon were far too dangerous to be interacted with.

    Casey was among them, being a victim of the common juvenile method of determining an opinion: their beliefs were a direct offset of their parents’.

    This Pokéball that seemed to have spawned from a bush should have left his memory by now – but despite his brain’s pleads to wipe it away, the small object kept nagging at the fringes of his conscious mind.

    Thankfully, the bus came to a final, screeching stop just as he concluded this.

    Following the stomping masses of kids trailing into the massive building known as a ‘school’ and being surrounded by the familiar buzz of people talking (and subsequently being late for class) helped to clear his mind of all illegal phenomena. After retrieving all necessary textbooks for the morning, Casey did his best to mask a loud yawn (it didn’t work very well) and set off for the ever-important class known as Social Studies.

    Slipping in a seat just as the final bell tolled the fanfare of glory for some students and the screech of death for others, a middle-aged man with slick black hair stood up from his previous sitting position. He was wearing a rather formal white shirt and black pants, as well as thick glasses that caught the radiance of the fluorescent strips of lights that shone above him.

    “You have five minutes to review your notes,” droned The Teacher, otherwise known as Mr. Thomas. He taught in almost every subject in the school for a year or two, and those unfortunate enough to be landed with him for more than one year quickly dubbed him The Teacher according to that criteria. “The tests will be handed out when that time is up.”

    The usual shuffling of papers ensued as almost everyone whipped out one notebook or another to review one of the briefest chapters in the course: Pokémon Studies. Casey’s eyes glazed over the small amount of notes he had been provided with – the reasoning behind this strange topic was something along the lines of ‘if you’re ever presented with a situation in which Pokémon interaction is required, you must know at least something about them’.

    “Time is up. The tests are being passed out now. Please put away any notes, textbooks, and cell phones you may have on your person.” His eyes fixed on one girl in the back of the class, who looked up with makeup-caked eyes from her previous position of hunched over a small machine. She gave a petite frown and shoved the object in her purse.

    The papers were slowly passed around the room, and once everyone had a test The Teacher said blankly, “Begin.”

    The first question was, ‘Name all types of Pokémon.’

    Casey heard a resounding moan echo from some other people. How were they supposed to remember that?

    Sighing, Casey tapped the eraser end of his pencil against the desk. 'It's probably a question meant to catch us off-guard,' he thought. 'We barely even skimmed the types...' Finally, he bit his lip and decided that if he was going to screw up the question, he would at least screw it up with an attempt at an answer. The boy began to write.

    ‘Normal, Fire, Water, Grass, Flying, Steel, Dark, Dragon, Ice, Rock, Ground, Psychic, Bug, Fighting, Poison’. He was fairly sure that was correct.

    Satisfied with his handiwork, Casey moved to the next question.

    -

    “I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it.”

    Somewhere in a vast stretch of white, there stood a large and imposing-looking wooden desk sitting on what seemed to be air, but was in fact a floor the same color as the surrounding area. Upon this imposing wooden desk was a computer (quite blatantly labeled ‘Dea Procol Machina’ in black marker ink) with an oversized keyboard and a giant monitor, with smaller monitors springing off at various points to create the sort of thing you would expect a French boy genius to have in his dorm room while he converses with his friends who are all running around in cyberspace, slaying monsters.

    Of course, there was no French boy genius sitting at the computer. For one thing, there is no France. Ha ha, what could have ever put such an absurd thought in your mind? No, there was something much more impressive than a boy genius from a surely made-up land called ‘France’.

    There was the highly brilliant, attractive, intimidating, and very fearsome Giratina the most wonderful and incredibly skilled ringleader of the best Alternate Universe ever crea-

    Oh, forget it.

    Sitting at the Dea Procol Machina in a large swivel chair was I, Giratina The Celestial Librarian Of Arceus’ Archives and The High Goddess of Never-Turn-Back The Interdimensional Bus Terminal (or Giratina for short).

    If you have ever seen me before in my two more often-used forms, which you probably haven’t, I look like some sort of cross between those two. My body is long and gray, with the only thing breaking the serene gray-ness being a black-and-red stripe that goes down the lower part of the body, Gyarados-style. Upon my head is a strangely shaped golden head ornament that looks almost exactly like the one in my Earth Fo- oh, wait, you silly mortals have never seen it before. Well, it’s very hard to describe, but on the forehead of my black, muzzled face lies a golden sideways-crescent dealie, and to the side of that two large gold horns that twist oh so slightly, and to the side of THAT, sticking straight out, is two thicker golden horns that don’t twist at all and make my head look like a, how you say, ‘football’. Oh yes, and I have no arms. Instead, I have black wings that have transformed themselves into three-clawed hands.

    What? You’re wondering why you’ve never heard of this awe-inspiring third form in your feeble studies of Legendaries?

    Well, because only four human beings have ever seen it. One of them isn’t allowed to leave this place and is no longer human at all, one of them probably forgot about me entirely, one of them is smart enough to know bringing me – and therefore this form – up in conversation would be a VERY bad idea, and one would probably rather not think about me ever again as long as he lives.

    So that’s why you puny mortals have never seen it.

    In any case, I was monumentally peeved.

    “What’s wrong with you?” asked a slightly high-pitched voice from behind me. From somewhere else in the vast whiteness of Never-Turn-Back appeared the first person I spoke of – the one who is no longer mortal, and therefore no longer human. By now, he’s more of a… biologically advanced Aipom… assuming humans evolved from Pokémon in a different way than normal… thing.

    Well, in any case, he looked human and his name was Zero. Dressed up in a baggy yellow suit with matching boots and gloves, one half of his white hair fell over yellow eyes that were now staring at me, intent to know what irritated me and possibly send the person responsible some flowers in gratitude.

    This was my used-to-be-human assistant, Zero, rescued from a glacier after he tried to kill me and was subsequently ‘forcibly nominated’ to assist me in all of my Legendary duties as Head Librarian and Goddess.

    My eyes quickly glanced over to him, but they soon shut in irritation. “I go through all the trouble to put that Pokéball exactly where he was supposed to see it… and worse, convinced Palkia to make him see it…he was supposed to… oh, when I get my claws on that pink fate-weaver I’m going to…” I gritted my teeth, as the fate that I intended to lay upon Palkia should probably not be revealed lest he suddenly disappear from his post one day.

    “What’s gone wrong this time?” Zero asked again, this time slightly irritated (presumably from my lack of response).

    “Well…” I said, wishing Zero could keep his mouth shut so I didn’t need to repeat the tragedy, “…I went to the trouble of doing something extremely difficult and doing something else hugely, incredibly, mountainously difficult. And then someone goes it and WRECKS IT ALL! PALKIA, I AM GOING TO—“

    At that point a deafeningly loud moaning drowned out exactly what I was going to do to Palkia, courtesy of some Pokémon racing in levitating buses over our heads. I felt tempted to tell them off for misuse of equipment, but couldn’t be bothered. Instead, I banged my wing-fist on the computer monitor, and quickly made it levitate into the air once the giant machine threatened to fall over.

    “So ‘Palkia’ did something bad, then,” said Zero dryly.

    “Oh yes,” I said. “You’ve never met my relatives, have you, Zero?”

    “I didn’t know you had relatives, Gi- um, Goddess.”

    “Oh, just stop trying to call me ‘Goddess’, you’re going to look stupid when you mess up.”

    “Fine.”

    “And yes, I have relatives. I have a lot of relatives. They’re… strange, and I don’t think you’ll be able to swallow all of their personalities and even existences at once.”

    “So will you introduce them one at a time or something?”

    “I’m hoping you never have to see them…” I said distantly, and then let my mind fly off in various directions. “There must be some way to get the Mewforsaken Pokéball to him!” I slumped my head in my claw-hands, making sure not to skewer something with the multitude of pointy things sticking off of it. “Think, Giratina, think…”

    “Why don’t you just go down there and give it to him?”

    “I can’t do that! I’d be noticed immediately!”

    “What if you went at night?”

    “Can’t do that either! There’s still too big a risk of someone seeing me!”

    “There is not. Just cloak yourself in shadow or something.”

    “Cloak- I can’t do that!”

    “You could a few years ago in Sinnoh…”

    “Th- that never happened! You have no proof I ever did that! I erased it from the Archives and from the memories of the mortal masses! And I don’t trust your judgment, because I’m the only other person here! Though… it’s not a bad idea…”

    “See? I was right. There IS a way to do it.”

    “Be quiet, you. I need to think. Go frolic in the Reverse World or something.”

    -

    That night, Casey was having sleeping difficulties.

    It wasn’t like him, really; usually he was lying awake for a few minutes before conking out and awakening the next morning. Tonight was something different. The shadows squirmed and moved ever so slightly, an action that Casey was accustomed to by now. And yet… it still wasn’t helping the boy’s cause.

    And then there was a ‘thunk’ at his window.

    Now, thunks at his window were not unheard of; there was occasionally some nut or branch or something that had decided to deviate from the tree in favor of toppling to the ground, occasionally making contact with his glass in the meantime. For this reason, Casey ignored it and turned around in his bed.

    And then there was another thunk. And another.

    The boy frowned, but didn’t move.

    And another thunk. And another one. They simply did not stop.

    Deciding that he could never fall asleep with this constant bombardment of his only source of moonlight, Casey grudgingly got up and opened the window. Sticking his head out irritably, the eleven-year-old looked around the yard below searching for the origin of the thunking. There were dents on the glass, and that much told him that it was somehow forceful enough to toss hard objects at such a height. This meant it was probably another person.

    Though, the only thing that showed from the semi-darkness below (the moon wasn't particularly large tonight) was a black blob shaped like a sort of six-legged dinosaur, with two arms it was using to presumably toss rocks with. The creature apparently didn’t notice he had opened the window save for a slight movement of the head. This didn't stop it from slinging its arm backwards as if it were going to...

    Without any time to do anything but blink, Casey could only watch as another object went soaring…

    …and came in direct contact with his forehead before landing on the carpeted floor with a light ‘thump’.

    When he ran back to the window to check for the dinosaur-shadow, still clutching his head from the throbbing pain, it had disappeared. Of course, it was entirely possible that he was merely too distracted by the pain in his forehead to notice, but after some close scrutiny of the varying shapes of black outside the form still hadn't reappeared.

    Casey was sufficiently creeped out by now. What was this dinosaur doing outside his house, of all places? It couldn’t have been a trick of his mind, because that thing definitely looked like it was throwing rocks… and one of those rocks was now lying on the ground under his feet. He reached down to retrieve the rock, and found to his surprise that it did not feel at all what a rock was supposed to feel like. Suddenly suspicious and a little bit scared, Casey held the object up to the light.

    And promptly dropped it again.

    “I… I don’t…” he spluttered under his breath. After a few minutes of eyes clamped shut as if that would at all help the problem, he attempted to compose himself. Failing that, Casey braced his mind for looking at the Pokéball one more time.

    The boy gulped. Reaching out one shaky hand for the object, he took it as if it were an explosive device. Slowly walking back to his bed with the red-and-white ball in hand, Casey turned the object slightly. “This is bad…” he breathed. “Really bad… but what can I…” Casey didn’t know what that dinosaur had against him to want to get him arrested; as a matter of fact, he knew only one thing.

    He wanted nothing to do with this Pokéball.

    Gulping again and trying not to think about the consequences of what he was about to do, Casey unceremoniously dropped the Pokéball behind his bed and fell asleep.

    He was, of course, entirely ignorant of the red glow that was slightly illuminating the wall behind him.


    [hides behind brick wall and waits]
    Last edited by Giratina!; 21st August 2010 at 4:28 PM.


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