(ascension? Inheritance?)
Sep. 8th, 2012 02:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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likealarkhttp://pokanon.livejournal.com/517.html?thread=1431557#t1431557
These are Falkner's scenes. I've added a bit more context because I felt like it was important. I would...actually love to work with you on a few other scenes to make it more mixed-media, big-bang-like, but crying, idk. You're busy and I am too.
To become the next Violet City gym leader, Falkner has to fast and pray for three days at the top of Bellsprout Tower. If he's to be the next gym leader, the gods will choose him, the legend goes. It's a throwback to ancient times, when the gym leader was more priest than competitor, teaching a life of harmony with pokémon and nature.
Half the city is in attendance when Falkner stands before the council of elders. Morty is in the crowd, watching the sharp lines of Falkner's narrow shoulderblades through his gi. His voice is strong and clear as he announces his intention to undergo the ritual.
"You may not," says the council leader.
Falkner's back stiffens. A ripple of protest goes through the crowd.
"Why not?" his father demands.
The elder's eyes move over Falkner's body, then meet his father's gaze. "You know why."
Falkner's hands are balled into fists, but his voice is level and carefully controlled. "I've been training for this since I was born." He tries to draw himself up to his full height, but it's not very impressive; he's nearly half a foot shorter than Morty, who hit his growth spurt when he turned thirteen a year ago. "Please, allow me one chance."
"Let the boy try," Falkner's father says. Falkner turns towards him, and something passes between them in the look they share. The council elder sees it, and sighs.
"We will discuss this in private," he says.
Most of the crowd dissapates over the next several hours. At the end, the only ones who remain are Falkner's stone-faced family and Morty. Together, they stare at the carved wooden doors.
Don't worry, comes the whisper in his ear. Falkner will be the next gym leader for this city.
It shouldn't be in question, Morty replies. Doesn't everyone know that?
The voice chuckles. Your friend has secrets, it says.
Secrets? What secrets?
They're not mine to tell, and the voice laughs.
When the doors open, the council elders look weary. Inversely, Falkner trembles with excitement.
"You'd risk your life for this?" the leader asks, for what seems to be the last time.
"My life means nothing without this," Falkner says.
--
The night before Falkner is ready to ascend the tower, he can't sleep. He slips into Morty's window with the ease of long practice, unsurprised when Morty gives him a paper crane folded out of chiyogami paper.
"You'll succeed," he tells Falkner with certainty.
Falkner's fingers are thin as they close around the heavy paper, slipping over the half-creased folds. He tucks it into his pocket and then leans up on tiptoe, balancing himself with his hands on Morty's shoulders. The kiss he presses to his cheek is dry and light.
"Goodbye," he whispers into Morty's ear.
For three days, all Morty can think about is the heat that radiated off of Falkner's thin frame, of what those lips would feel like against his own.
"He's late," Morty's mother says. There's no question who she's talking about. Morty can feel his family's eyes on him, and he feels like stabbing the next piece of fish he takes from the plate, but instead he lifts it gently to his mouth and chews thoroughly.
There's something of Falkner's elegance in the restrained movement, or at least, Morty hopes there is.
"Falkner is going to be the next gym leader," Morty says. His grandmother gives a rusty laugh from across the table.
"Is that a prophecy?" she asks.
Morty meets her gaze across the table. "Yes," he says.
His grandmother's second laugh is too loud for the brittle silence that has enveloped the table. "Thank goodness," she says. "I was beginning to wonder about you. " She gets up from the table slowly, giving him a wink. "We'll just see how your fortune-telling works out, hmm?"
I believe in Falkner, he thinks.
Don't believe in Falkner, the voice says. Believe in yourself.
--
At the end of the fourth day, the sky goes dark.
The people of Violet City crane their heads out of windows or go running outside, all of them looking up. Hundreds of birds from every direction are flying towards the Bellsprout Tower, carpeting the sky in feathers. All Morty can hear is the muted thunder of wings, even louder than the chirps and songs of the birds above them.
At the top of the tower, Morty can just barely make out a small figure rising to his feet and staggering under the weight of the birds that alight on every part of him. Birds of every color and size carpet the roof of the Tower and spill out over the edges, lighting on every window ledge and outcropping, a chaotic tapestry of wings and song.
At the top of the tower, Falkner slowly raises his arms in victory despite the living weight that covers him, and the entire city cheers.
These are Falkner's scenes. I've added a bit more context because I felt like it was important. I would...actually love to work with you on a few other scenes to make it more mixed-media, big-bang-like, but crying, idk. You're busy and I am too.
To become the next Violet City gym leader, Falkner has to fast and pray for three days at the top of Bellsprout Tower. If he's to be the next gym leader, the gods will choose him, the legend goes. It's a throwback to ancient times, when the gym leader was more priest than competitor, teaching a life of harmony with pokémon and nature.
Half the city is in attendance when Falkner stands before the council of elders. Morty is in the crowd, watching the sharp lines of Falkner's narrow shoulderblades through his gi. His voice is strong and clear as he announces his intention to undergo the ritual.
"You may not," says the council leader.
Falkner's back stiffens. A ripple of protest goes through the crowd.
"Why not?" his father demands.
The elder's eyes move over Falkner's body, then meet his father's gaze. "You know why."
Falkner's hands are balled into fists, but his voice is level and carefully controlled. "I've been training for this since I was born." He tries to draw himself up to his full height, but it's not very impressive; he's nearly half a foot shorter than Morty, who hit his growth spurt when he turned thirteen a year ago. "Please, allow me one chance."
"Let the boy try," Falkner's father says. Falkner turns towards him, and something passes between them in the look they share. The council elder sees it, and sighs.
"We will discuss this in private," he says.
Most of the crowd dissapates over the next several hours. At the end, the only ones who remain are Falkner's stone-faced family and Morty. Together, they stare at the carved wooden doors.
Don't worry, comes the whisper in his ear. Falkner will be the next gym leader for this city.
It shouldn't be in question, Morty replies. Doesn't everyone know that?
The voice chuckles. Your friend has secrets, it says.
Secrets? What secrets?
They're not mine to tell, and the voice laughs.
When the doors open, the council elders look weary. Inversely, Falkner trembles with excitement.
"You'd risk your life for this?" the leader asks, for what seems to be the last time.
"My life means nothing without this," Falkner says.
--
The night before Falkner is ready to ascend the tower, he can't sleep. He slips into Morty's window with the ease of long practice, unsurprised when Morty gives him a paper crane folded out of chiyogami paper.
"You'll succeed," he tells Falkner with certainty.
Falkner's fingers are thin as they close around the heavy paper, slipping over the half-creased folds. He tucks it into his pocket and then leans up on tiptoe, balancing himself with his hands on Morty's shoulders. The kiss he presses to his cheek is dry and light.
"Goodbye," he whispers into Morty's ear.
For three days, all Morty can think about is the heat that radiated off of Falkner's thin frame, of what those lips would feel like against his own.
"He's late," Morty's mother says. There's no question who she's talking about. Morty can feel his family's eyes on him, and he feels like stabbing the next piece of fish he takes from the plate, but instead he lifts it gently to his mouth and chews thoroughly.
There's something of Falkner's elegance in the restrained movement, or at least, Morty hopes there is.
"Falkner is going to be the next gym leader," Morty says. His grandmother gives a rusty laugh from across the table.
"Is that a prophecy?" she asks.
Morty meets her gaze across the table. "Yes," he says.
His grandmother's second laugh is too loud for the brittle silence that has enveloped the table. "Thank goodness," she says. "I was beginning to wonder about you. " She gets up from the table slowly, giving him a wink. "We'll just see how your fortune-telling works out, hmm?"
I believe in Falkner, he thinks.
Don't believe in Falkner, the voice says. Believe in yourself.
--
At the end of the fourth day, the sky goes dark.
The people of Violet City crane their heads out of windows or go running outside, all of them looking up. Hundreds of birds from every direction are flying towards the Bellsprout Tower, carpeting the sky in feathers. All Morty can hear is the muted thunder of wings, even louder than the chirps and songs of the birds above them.
At the top of the tower, Morty can just barely make out a small figure rising to his feet and staggering under the weight of the birds that alight on every part of him. Birds of every color and size carpet the roof of the Tower and spill out over the edges, lighting on every window ledge and outcropping, a chaotic tapestry of wings and song.
At the top of the tower, Falkner slowly raises his arms in victory despite the living weight that covers him, and the entire city cheers.
