Exile

[Frost Nova]

Okay I had this idea brewing in my mind for a couple of years now, and last week I decided to put it down, with ink and paper. What started as a one shot snowballed into a three chapter fic, which is really not what I expected at first. It's a fic dedicated to a character in Neopets, and whether you played it or not, enjoy the fic.


Exile



Chapter I – Tracks on the Ice

Dawn brings no comfort for those without hope.

The first faint rays of dawn light up the horizon in the east, bringing with it warmth and new hope to everything it touches. That is, except for one place on the planet of Neopia. The icy mantle of winter that shrouds the windswept peaks of Terror Mountain for eternity refuses to relinquish her tenacious grip over her realm, especially during winter when her powers are at her zenith. Even during the brief summers, her presence is still noticeable over this domain of seemingly endless snow and ice. The occasional freak snowstorm serves as a harsh reminder over the scant population eking a living on the slopes that she, alone, is the true mistress of Terror Mountain. Like a brooding queen over her royal subjects she watches over the mountain, and all its residents within.

In her kingdom of never ending ice, she gives life, and she takes it away.

She rules her land with unsaving grace.

She commands all those under her sovereignty.

She is the Snow Faerie.


‘Cold as the northern winds,
In December mornings.
Cold is the cry that rings,
From this far distant shore.’


Under the iron clad winter sky, a lone figure stood outside a massive igloo, a silent sentinel amongst the furious tempest of endless white swirling around her. Her icy blue eyes scanned the horizon, while muttering endlessly to herself under her breath.

‘This is getting nowhere: where is SHE when you need her the most? Damn fools……’

She drew the thick, blue parka she wore as a coat tighter around her, in an unsuccessful attempt to ward off the cold that was gradually numbing her entire self as the minutes passed slowly by. As much as she liked to head back into the embracing warmth of her igloo and make herself a cup of hot tea, she had no choice but to wait for her visitor: potion ingredients were infuriatingly rare and hard to find these days, and few are brave enough (or foolhardy enough) to climb the slopes of Terror Mountain in this weather. The trip was no walk in the park: you don’t get fined or punished for trespassing. Death, in the form of an icy, eternal sleep, lurks in many corners, and ever it hungers for more souls.

‘Damn this weather: things always get delayed when this happens.’ She thought aloud to herself.

Just as she felt her senses trailing away into the snowstorm that raged around her, she spotted a lone, hooded figure appeared out of the drifting gale of snow, a wraithlike apparition in the chilling presence of death itself.

‘You’re late, Rahne.’ The voice of the figure that addressed the hooded figure was raspy, one that chilled the very essence of life itself. ‘Like a steel blade on ice,’ as someone long ago unflatteringly placed.

‘Weather, Taelia, the weather. Can you imagine how hard it is to get up here in this blasted weather?’ the other figure answered. This voice was warmer, lighter in tone, and reminded one of the west winds gently sighing among the groves of great trees far south of Terror Mountain.

‘So I know. I’ve been waiting for you out here for hours.’ Taelia sniffed.

‘Oh, I am SO sorry to keep you waiting while I’ve been enjoying the sights of this frozen slick of a mountain.’ Rahne retorted with just a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

She then let down the hood of her voluminous cloak, revealing the face of a beautiful young woman. Young as she seems, the aura of serenity that radiates from her eyes betray the wisdom of ages. Her luscious mantle of silvery blonde hair caught in the snowy gust, billowing like white sails in the ocean breeze. The translucent, azure & silver tinted butterfly like wings on her shoulders indicated that she was an Air Faerie; one of the six groups of elemental Faeries that lived in Neopia.

‘Okay: point taken, Rahne. Where’s the potion I wanted?’ Taelia demanded.

With a slight nod, Rahne reached inside the folds of her cloak, & retrieved a flask which was filled with a translucent crimson liquid, stoppered with a wooden cork decorated with the stem and leaves of an apple tree.

‘Essence of Everlasting Apple. Took me long enough to get it for you: I wouldn’t live it down having people call me delivery girl if it wasn’t for you.’

A single smile crept into Taelia’s normally chiseled features. ‘Thank you, old friend.’ Looking up at the Air Faerie, her impassive blue orbs boring deep into Rahne’s calm grey ones. ‘I don’t suppose you want something to drink after this? Just for old time’s sake?’

Rahne chuckled, a clear, crystalline voice that rang like water in a sparkling fountain. ‘As much as I’d like to, I can’t. Fyora’s been keeping the Council real busy these days, so I have to get back now. By the way, seeing the Snow Faerie smile is a treat in itself.’

Taelia snorted in an attempt to stifle the outburst of laughter, and dismissed the last statement with a wave of her hand. ‘Yeah, whatever. See you around anyway.’

‘Same here.’ Rahne smiled as she redid her hood. With a flick of her cloak, she turned away from the igloo as Rahne began her descent back into the warmth of civilization. As mysteriously as she appeared out of the snow, she disappeared: all tracks of her were soon lost to view as the gathering snowstorm obliterated every piece of evidence that she had been there.

Taelia continued to stare out into the distance, completely oblivious to the growing intensity of the gust swirling around her. By the time she woke to reality, the weather had worsened considerably: what started as frosty wisps of snow spiraling down from the leaden sky had transformed into a furious blizzard that roared down the mountain slopes like a rampaging monster.

The Snow Faerie knew better than to stay out here in the cold: with the potion clutched tightly in her hand she had no reason to stay outside. Not anymore. She folded her delicate feathered wings of icicles behind her, and descended the flight of icy steps that lead to the subterranean door of her dwelling. With a single breath, Taelia whispered the incantation that opened the threshold between her sanctuary of warmth and the frigid hands of death that scraped at her cheeks, threatening to take her deep into its embrace. Forever.

Compared with the lavish, luxurious furnishings of the faerie dwellings in Faerieland, the home city of the Faeries high up in the skies of Neopia, Taelia’s home was meager; even to the point where it was described by the more aloof faeries as being ‘primitive’. The whole place was a cross between an antique tearoom and a cottage, the type one would expect to see in fairy tales: a fireplace took up a corner of the dwelling, with a carved mantelpiece far above the burning heat of the fires below.

The entire floor of the igloo was occupied by a single, expansive hand woven carpet, concealing the icy floor that caused a fair amount of problems when it came to arranging furniture. A simple birch desk acted as both dining table and writing desk, while chairs carved out of pine leaned forlornly against the walls. A large oak bed and closet, quilt and cushions included, stood on the right side of the door, while a bookshelf filled to the brim with books of all caliber occupied a corner opposite its brethren that towered over its diminutive stature. That, was were the similarity ends.

Within the depths of the fireplace, an icy blue fire burned, tongues of flames licking across the surface of wooden logs like a cat’s incessant grooming, its glow casting the entire room in a chilling, unearthly aura. A single kettle, tarnished and blackened from years of faithful service, hung above the flickering flames, its contents within dancing steadily to the rhythm of the flames crackling below.

Taelia removed the snow covered parka from her shoulders, shaking her raven tresses loose as she drew up her favourite chair, slowly taking in the enticing warmth of the fireplace. With a swift motion of her hand, she removed the kettle from its lofty seat, and poured herself a mug of the invigorating brew known as tea. As she savored the aromatic, amber liquid, Taelia’s gaze wandered back into the flames; burning ever higher, never ceasing in their hunger for more fuel to sustain their brief lifespan.

Flames that brought back memories.

Memories of the past, and of the present.

Memories that still continued to haunt her to this day.

Memories of the life she once had; of fire, of glory, of happiness……

Like a drifting shade of the past, Taelia's mind wandered away, to a time back when fire was not merely a ghost of the past, but one of the living, one that truly belonged to her.

Her pride.

Her joy.

Her passion.

And ultimately, her undoing.



~Criticism is welcome and greatly appreciated. I want to know how I can improve on the story before I manage the other parts. Tear the whole thing apart if you really need to.

Cookies for anyone who can guess the song and artist in the first chapter.

 

[Frost Nova]

One and a half months and no comments? That's sad.

Well, here's the second chapter. The third one needs a lot of work, so it'll take a while before it's actually done. In the meantime, enjoy.






Chapter II – Of Fire, Of Glory



‘Lady Taelia?’

These words hit Taelia like raindrops on glass, calling her from the depths of her silent, deep reverie. That voice that seemed so distant, so far away, yet at the same time was so familiar to her. Taelia kept her eyes shut; half wishing that she would descend back into the ethereal bliss of dreams, where things were at least, predictable.

‘Lady Taelia!’ The voice repeated itself, with a greater tone in urgency.

Sensing that she didn’t have any choice in the matter but to awaken to the harsh, sometimes inexplicable world of reality, Taelia opened her eyes hesitantly, fervently focusing on the improbability of the entire situation that she found herself entangled in. Incoherent thoughts weaved themselves in and out of Taelia’s mind, threatening to tear her psyche loose from the constraints of reality.

The first thing as Taelia opened her auburn eyes to the world, was the spaciousness of the room that she was currently in, its size accentuated by the fiery glow of the setting sun that poured through the great glass windows at this moment. Vermillion rays of sunlight splashed down on the rich shades of brown of the wooden floor, casting the various pieces of furniture scattered across the room in a warm, glowing aura of saffron and cinnabar. The remnants of a half finished tea tray, just enough for one, rested forlornly on the polished mahogany desk that she now lay slumped against, while a heavy leather bound tome was propped half open in front of her. She raised herself slowly from slumber, brushing aside the last cobwebs of sleep that still clung stubbornly on her now fully aware psyche. Taelia then looked up, looking directly at the face that was staring into her.

The visage beaming down at her was young by Faerie standards, glowing with vibrant energy that illuminated her entire being. Her chocolate brown hair flowed down her shoulders, like the gentle rustling of ripe golden corn in the autumn winds, complementing her hazel green eyes which were currently filled with concern. She wore a simple, spring green dress, unadorned except with a leather belt decorated with leaf motifs bound at the waist. A pair of glittering, emerald butterfly wings, laced with delicate veins intertwined into the pattern of a leaf, flapped rhythmically behind her back.

‘Sineara……’ Taelia uttered in silent uncertainty.

Sineara stared at her, her eyebrows furrowing furiously as a quizzical look slowly formed on her face.

‘What is it, my lady? You look……lost.’

Taelia shook her head slowly, as if she was still embroiled in the haze that was illusion: sliding the comfortable leather armchair that she was sitting on behind her, she rose up, her smoky brown orbs unfocused as she attempted to take in her surroundings.

‘Maybe I should call one of the healers……’ Sineara's voice trailed away into the tense atmosphere of the room, wondering for a split second if she had committed the very act that Faerie assistants were never supposed to do: to doubt her superior’s sanity. Cautiously backing away towards the door behind her, Sineara was about to turn the handle when Taelia spoke again, the single word breaking the anxiety in the room like shattering glass.

‘No.’

Caelea frowned, her expression that of genuine concern. To her uttermost surprise, Taelia smiled; an undisputable look of amusement written across her face. Ruffling the young Earth Faerie’s hair with her hand, she smirked.

‘I’m fine, honestly. What is it?’

Abruptly realizing that her superior was none for the worse, Sineara passed on the message entrusted to her without delay.

‘Queen Fyora was looking for you, my lady.’

Wondering intensely on the peculiarity of the message, a puzzled expression slowly arranged herself on Taelia’s face.

‘Now that’s odd: Fyora normally doesn’t summon council members to meet her on their own.’

‘Did she say what it was about?’She calmly asked.

‘No, my lady: I’m afraid not.’ Sineara replied with an apologetic grin as she began tidying up the tea tray. ‘But she did say it was important.’

‘Very well: tell Fyora I’m coming. After you’ve taken away the tea things you can have the rest of the day off.’

‘Yes my lady.’ Sineara chirped merrily at Taelia’s instruction, or more specifically, the last few words. It is hard work being a Faerie assistant, especially one serving a Council Faerie. Besides the usual jobs of dusting the office, bringing in the mail and attending to her whims and fancies, a Faerie assistant to a Council member usually has to trail after her for meetings, recording every minute detail during each and every Council meeting and at the end, filing it neatly away amongst the other records for future reference. Breaks like these were few and far between, not to mention holidays.

Balancing the tea tray with one hand, the Earth Faerie pranced across the room, turning the brass handle of the dark oak doors. The double doors slowly creaked open, and Sineara slowly sidestepped out of the room, bringing a warm smile from Taelia as she did: even after all these years of being her assistant, the Earth Faerie still showed that same sweet innocence and fervent devotion to her work, which usually rubs off in other Faerie assistants in only a few years of service. Yet at the same time, that same trait that Taelia came to appreciate gradually became a constant worry, a disquieting trait that continues to linger around, weighing down on her like a dark cloud on her mind. The smile on her face quickly mutated into a grim expression on this thought.

‘These times are dangerous,’ Taelia thought to herself. ‘Especially when SHE’s around.’

Striding through the still ajar double doors, Taelia sighed heavily before committing herself to closing behind her, the late afternoon light in the hallway bathing her shoulder length russet hair in a fiery glow.

As the autumn leaves burned in the wake of destruction.


Taelia


This afternoon is really like any afternoon.

The same marble hallways, the same high windows, the same statues of famous Faeries in history, flanking the corridors like silent sentinels from a bygone age: it seems like nothing changes here.

Even how the setting sun falls blazing on the marble floor, remains unchanged.


Day after day.

Month after month.

Year after year.

Unto Eternity's end.

Only the sunlight itself hints at any difference the outside world has to offer.

The light is tainted. Corrupted, from the growing darkness that spreads through the lands under our very feet at this moment. From the lofty clouds upon which Faerieland is built on, to the deepest dwellings of Maraqua the mythical underwater kingdom, darkness is flexing its tentacles, threatening to engulf anything it encounters, everything that we know of.

I’ve seen first hand the full extent of the horrors of the Dark, and I don’t think I will ever forget it for the rest of my life. Ordinary civilians driven mad by its slightest touch, their bodies slowly withering into shriveled husks of their former selves while their tormented souls burned within, consuming their sanity and sentience akin to how fire consumes wood. Those hollow, tormented gazes are something I hope to never, ever see. Again.

Staring outside the window, I cannot help but admire the sunset outside, when the joyful, dancing light, tainted as it was, reminded all of us of happier, peaceful times; when there was no need to fear the Dark, when man, beast and Faerie could walk alone at night without fear. Yet at the same time, I am gratified that such a sanctuary like Faerie Castle exists. It sure lives up to its name, thank Elesse for that; protected from the outside and within by subtle, powerful enchantments casted by Faeries through the long ages, the great bastion acts as invaluable protection to all who seek shelter within its walls. Such forts of safety are few and far between nowadays: very soon they will become islands, lost in the sea of overwhelming darkness. We’ll be lost, lost like a sailor without the guidance of his faithful ship, and at the perpetual mercy of the elements. We’ll flounder around for a while, desperately trying to hang on to the last shreds of life; while the Darkness pounds away at us, desperate to consume us all, as it does all things.


Very soon, we will be lost too.

The Light will be lost.

All the elements will be lost.

And Darkness will reign supreme.


I felt a faint prickling in the corners of my eyes, and I realized that I was crying. Grief, in the form of a gnawing monster in the depths of my soul, threatened to rip through my chest, to tear through the confines of my immortal frame to make itself manifest.

I want it to stop……yet the tears say otherwise.

They still keep coming. Cascading, falling down, ever and ever.


My heart mourns.


My soul weeps.


My spirit cries in lamentation.


My whole being dreads the inevitable, for everything that would be lost under this growing horror that we found ourselves in.


Who could believe, that it all stemmed from a single being?

Who could ever believe, that a single being is capable of causing so much hurt and pain?

I can’t let this happen: not while I can help it.

I will do everything, anything to stop it……

Even if that involves paying the ultimate price.



Eventually Taelia did get to Fyora’s office: despite having lived in Faerie Castle for so long, having been in her office for occasions large and small, Taelia still felt that familiar sense of foreboding and dread normally associated with a Faerie assistant’s meeting with her superior for the very first time. Taelia’s nervous fits was the constant subject of talk among her fellow council members; inwardly Taelia sneered at the constant obsession over her quirks. For, she asked herself, who hasn’t been under an attack of nerves before? On the other hand, it always gave her immense pleasure when one of the gossiping council members gets tongue tied in the midst of an important meeting. ‘Serves them right,’ she thought.

Nothing really goes away completely……and evil is one of them.

Knocking on the majestic mahogany doors twice, Taelia heard each knock ringing off the high ceiling, their echoes rippling through the still late afternoon air like stones in a pond. After what seemed like an eternity, Fyora’s voice, unbarred by the thickness of the double doors, issued forth clear as day.

‘Enter.’

Upon the command, the doors themselves opened inwards to reveal a slight crack, affording someone outside a glimpse into what was inside. Taelia pushed open the double doors with little effort: gathering her breath, the Fire Faerie proceeded inside the room beyond.

Unlike the deep, somber shades that formed the main colour themes of the different rooms within Faerie Castle, Fyora’s office was a spectacular treat on the colour palate. Nuances of every type of pastel pink and purple imaginable occupied every niche and corner of the room, an explosion of colour that is at once overwhelming to the sensory organs, yet at the same time, has the ability to soothe the emotions of all those who enter. However, the bold colour scheme of the room fails to calm Taelia’s frayed nerves, her being too intent on looking for the one who summoned her, the Queen of Faeries whose name is known to all, and one of the most powerful beings on the planet of Neopia.

A tall figure, dressed in a form fitting dress of lavender and holding a silver staff supporting a spherical, semi-transparent purple gem, appeared in the corner of Taelia’s eye. Her luscious, silky crop of deep purple hair was crowned with a magnificent, sparkling tiara made of silver and amethyst. A necklace graced with radiant diamonds, their divine splendour coruscating in the afternoon light, rested on her neck lightly. Transparent, pale violet butterfly wings grew out of her back, the rays of the sun glittering off the transparent scales, creating a faint halo of iridescent light around the figure. The tall, majestic being known as Queen Fyora strolled towards Taelia in confident, self assuring steps, her pale lilac hued eyes sparkling with the serenity of all encompassing wisdom.

‘Ah, Taelia. I’m glad you came: there’s something I wish to discuss with you.’

Gesturing towards the fireplace, she continued.

‘Would you mind lighting the fireplace for me before that? It’s just gone out, I’m afraid.’

Taelia was flabbergasted with indignant surprise: lighting fires was a trivial matter even to an ordinary, lowly Fire Faerie, not to mention a Council Faerie. Fluttering her fiery orange butterfly wings in mock protest, Taelia shook her head at the meniality of the whole situation; while at the same time, strode over to the fireplace, dark and devoid of any form of warmth. Crouching down, the Fire Faerie muttered a simple incantation used for summoning fire, while snapping her fingers once. Twice.

Like a ghostly apparition from the grave, a tiny ball of fire appeared out of nowhere, partially hidden by a wreath of smoke that wrapped itself around the sphere. The miniscule wisp of intense heat hovered tentatively just above the dried wood in the fireplace, like a dragonfly hovering above the still waters of a pond in the heat of summer. Suddenly it detonated, imploding upon itself into a thousand burning tongues of minute flames that scattered themselves upon the volatile fuel, igniting it in the process. Very soon the fire had transformed into a roaring furnace, hungrily devouring all that it consumed.

Taelia stood back up, dusting the ash off the delicate fabric of her russet and copper dress. Looking at the Faerie Queen with a wry smile, she opened her mouth to speak.

‘I don't suppose you summoned me from my office just to have me light your fire, did you?’

Fyora smirked, her lips cracking into a smile.

‘No, I suppose not. You’d find that your presence here at this current moment amounts to much more than lighting my fireplace for me. Have a seat.’

Obeying, Taelia drew up a chintz armchair opposite Fyora’s marble working desk, while the Faerie Queen herself propped her staff on a nearby wall, and sank into her throne like high chair with a sigh of relief. Taelia made a mental note on how comfortable the armchair she was currently sitting on was compared with the wooden chairs she set apart for guests in her own office.

‘Been working a lot lately?’

‘What do you think, Taelia?’ The Faerie Queen exclaimed with a sigh.

‘This whole matter about the Darkest Faerie is just terrible, absolutely terrible: it’s not just the council members that are getting overworked, the rest of the faeries here in the Castle are feeling the strain as well. For example, take the Uber Faeries: they've got enough on their hands just trying to keep the elemental faeries under their governance from panicking altogether. A mass riot in Faerie City is the last thing we need on our hands right now. If we allowed the Faeries to leave the city then they’d be under the mercy of Her right now, but without the guidance and protection of the Faeries, the other citizens of Neopia will be sitting ducks: the perfect prey for the Darkest Faerie.’

Burying her face in her hands, Fyora continued.

‘I honestly don’t know what to do.’

Taelia rose from her chair, and placed her two hands on Fyora’s shoulders, reassuring her.

‘It will be fine, Fyora. With you leading us, I’m sure that everything will turn out for the better. We need you: please don’t give up on us.’

Leaning closer to whisper in Fyora’s ear, Taelia pleaded.

‘Please, Fyora. Let me do this: in these dark times they will have need of it.’

The Faerie Queen’s face turned as pale as a sheet upon hearing Taelia’s words, as the blood slowly drained from her face in shock. Fear clutched her heart as the ancient horror, old as time itself, resurfaced from the bottomless depths of the mind to sear itself into Fyora’s memories. Standing up, she turned to face Taelia, a determined expression on her face.

‘No.’

Taelia made no expression, her brain still processing this abrupt denial to her suggestion.

‘I won’t permit it. It’s too dangerous, especially in these conditions. I cannot guarantee your safety, nor of theirs.’

A deathly silence pervaded the room, settling between the two faeries like heavy clouds of smoke. Taelia’s smoldering gaze burned into the fortified, proud eyes of her Queen, when she finally spoke.

‘But why, Fyora? Even if we can’t protect them ourselves, they could do it themselves. What’s wrong with teaching them on how to defend themselves?’

‘Because of the nature of magic itself.’

Fyora strode over to the window, her eyes gazing intensely towards the far horizon, before turning to Taelia.

‘You are not just teaching them how to cook, how to build shelters, how to help them lead better lives. You’re giving them knowledge that they won’t understand, something that is beyond what their mortal minds are capable of comprehending. You are basically giving them fire without instructions on how to use it. And any misuse of magic on their behalf WILL be known to Her, and she will do what it takes to manipulate them on her side. Magic is extremely corrupting, Taelia. You and I both know that. Without proper guidance even in times of peace, it is still easy to fall prey to magic’s corrupting nature. You won’t be helping them, Taelia: in the end it’s only them who would suffer, and we would eventually too.’

‘But what are we to do then, if we’re not to teach them anything? WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST WE DO THEN!?’ Taelia screamed, her voice gradually arising to a shrill crescendo.

‘AS LONG AS IT’S NOTHING YOU JUST SUGGESTED TO ME: HOW DARE YOU EVEN SUGGEST IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!?’ Queen Fyora roared in reply, her normally peaceful looking lilac orbs burning with intense fury.

‘IT’S THE ONLY WAY!! HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE IT? Are you too absorbed in your own petty bureaucracies to see that magic is the only way out for these people!?’ Taelia retorted in anger.

'ENOUGH!!'

Fyora, her entire body trembling in rage, stormed over to where the Fire Faerie was. Grabbing her by the shoulders standing, the Queen shook her furiously, as if attempting to wrest some sanity into Taelia, growling into her ears:

‘How dare you: how DARE you say things like THAT when YOU know what I’ve been going through! Do I undergo these formalities on my own accord!? Do I undergo them just because I LIKE IT!? No. By Elesse, I worry about the peoples of Neopia just about as much as you do, and you are in no position to deny what I've done. Don't you dare mention anything about teaching them magic again, anytime, anywhere: DO YOU HEAR ME, TAELIA?’

Taelia slumped into the chair, her eyes casting a withering look of anger at Fyora, while Fyora returned the same cold glare at the Fire Faerie. Finally, Fyora spoke.

‘Get out.’

Taelia exclaimed with outrage, ‘what did you just say?’

‘I don’t want to see you in here today. GET OUT.’ Fyora snarled with a note of finality.

As much as she’d like to retort Fyora with a thousand arguments of her own, Taelia knew that a direct order from the Queen herself was not to be disobeyed, and stormed out of the room as fast as her legs can carry her. Thoughts rapidly formed within the depths of her mind as her mind burned with anger and pain.

‘Who is she to stop me? They need it: they need me. Why wouldn’t they need it?’

A plan was quickly growing in her mind: she was going to do it, and she was doing it fast.

No failures this time: this time, she’ll see.

The whole world will see what I’ve done. And they’ll be grateful for it.

Just wait and see, Fyora. You’re not stopping me.

Just wait and see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End of Chapter II~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

[Belgian Pokemaster]

maybe you have no comments becaise nobody want's to read something this long.........

 

[Suica]

That's a silly thing. To say. I've seen longer.

I liked the opening a lot. Kinda gave me a really cold feeling. About the story. One thing. Keep it up.

 

[Rudibaker]

Hm...

This is kinda like a long poem..

Anyway nice fic