yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2012-04-22 04:50 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2012-04-22 04:50 pm
Entry tags:
365;
Title: in ruins
Characters: Luca Milda
Rating: G
100/365. R29.
Missing his friends is hard to do; he’s surrounded by his Pokémon day in and day out, but every so often he catches himself thinking of Iria and the others and his heart pangs painfully. His Pokémon are his dear friends (they trust him more than he trusts himself, to be honest) but they don’t quite fill the hole left by being torn from his home, although they certainly do a good job of distracting him from it. But for now - at night, surrounded by the sounds of Natu in the trees and the gaping mouth of the ruins just a little westward of where they’ve taken up camping - he draws his legs to his chest and closes his eyes, concentrating on their faces and voices; he thinks of everything he knows about them and repeats it to himself quietly, not wanting to forget them (although he’s sure he never could, not in a million years, with such a colorful assortment — the thought of them forgetting someone as boring as him crosses his mind and he frets, watches the embers die down, and resents himself for ever thinking such a thing).
Characters: Luca Milda
Rating: G
100/365. R29.
Missing his friends is hard to do; he’s surrounded by his Pokémon day in and day out, but every so often he catches himself thinking of Iria and the others and his heart pangs painfully. His Pokémon are his dear friends (they trust him more than he trusts himself, to be honest) but they don’t quite fill the hole left by being torn from his home, although they certainly do a good job of distracting him from it. But for now - at night, surrounded by the sounds of Natu in the trees and the gaping mouth of the ruins just a little westward of where they’ve taken up camping - he draws his legs to his chest and closes his eyes, concentrating on their faces and voices; he thinks of everything he knows about them and repeats it to himself quietly, not wanting to forget them (although he’s sure he never could, not in a million years, with such a colorful assortment — the thought of them forgetting someone as boring as him crosses his mind and he frets, watches the embers die down, and resents himself for ever thinking such a thing).