The New Transmission
Somewhere deep in the clouds hovered a lost spirit. Asking him where he was going would have been met with a glare like fire, as he did not know, and he refused to accept the fact that he was aimless. He had been ripped apart years ago. Half of him was constantly enraged, anxious, merciless; the other half, a much softer fraction, prayed for a moment to shine, but the deadly grip his darkness had around its throat barely allowed for even a breath to escape. Despite this, he would never cry... at least, while anyone was around to watch him implode.
The cat-like Pokémon's scarred, weary eyes caught a small island floating in the ocean below him. At first, he acknowledged it and turned away, but somehow, his gaze fell upon it again and again. He squeezed his eyes shut, and as a thin crease formed across his brow, thoughts flashed through him mind like his black memories.
Finally, he opened them and, with the agility of the wind, began his rapid descent. He did not know why, but he felt he needed to visit the small isle. Something, a small voice, was beckoning him to. Perhaps time spent there would relieve him from his pain? Would he find answers to his questions? By the time he was halfway there, a trail of light was following after him, hoping to catch him, and a shrill whistle sounded in his ears, but he refused to flinch at the pain. He was determined, possibly to foolishness, to reach the land that grew bigger and bigger as he plummeted toward it.
Suddenly, he was submersed in saltwater, but he did not struggle for breath. Instead he shot out of the ocean like a skilled swimmer and landed mere inches above the beach, droplets sliding off his body. There he hovered for a moment before resting his feet upon the sand and opening his eyes, eyes that refused to see the light. He was tense, already slipping into his fighter's stance just in case. After all, on a mysterious island, what was he to expect?
The cat-like Pokémon's scarred, weary eyes caught a small island floating in the ocean below him. At first, he acknowledged it and turned away, but somehow, his gaze fell upon it again and again. He squeezed his eyes shut, and as a thin crease formed across his brow, thoughts flashed through him mind like his black memories.
Finally, he opened them and, with the agility of the wind, began his rapid descent. He did not know why, but he felt he needed to visit the small isle. Something, a small voice, was beckoning him to. Perhaps time spent there would relieve him from his pain? Would he find answers to his questions? By the time he was halfway there, a trail of light was following after him, hoping to catch him, and a shrill whistle sounded in his ears, but he refused to flinch at the pain. He was determined, possibly to foolishness, to reach the land that grew bigger and bigger as he plummeted toward it.
Suddenly, he was submersed in saltwater, but he did not struggle for breath. Instead he shot out of the ocean like a skilled swimmer and landed mere inches above the beach, droplets sliding off his body. There he hovered for a moment before resting his feet upon the sand and opening his eyes, eyes that refused to see the light. He was tense, already slipping into his fighter's stance just in case. After all, on a mysterious island, what was he to expect?