#love making volo just deranged and monologue love it lo [knowing what happens in this thread]

[volot]

@arucrea​ ┊it’s the beginning of the end.

wintry, austere... surely, this land bears some resemblance to the hisui of old.

fresh snowfall crunches beneath the press of his boots -- so new and yet still so worn with age -- as he proceeds down the powdered path. the freezing chill threatens to nip at his skin, slip beneath the layers he’d adorned and bathe him blue with winter’s kiss: but the fire burning within the deepest parts of him, untamed at his core, presses him on to endure, endure, endure.

( his desire, even now, cannot be contained: even when rejected by the god he seeks so desperately, he has persevered. knocked from the highest point towards heaven, his crawl back skyward has resumed for a hundred years. fingers rent and raw, teeth grit, refusing to give in: bitterness denies it, ambition destroys it, the divine mission and curiosity pumping the arrhythmic beat of his heart; the blood of the ancient sinnohans burns within his veins, demanding no rest until he has finished what he started. until he, chosen, will witness his ideals fully realized. until a world this cruel is born anew. until god answers for all it has denied him in silence, and bends to his whims. )

a lift, a vault, a leap; he lands, with some minor stumbling, over the fallen tree in front of the split-mouth road he’s hounded. the trail through the undiscovered territory between johto and sinnoh had been a tricky one, maps unreliable and the people scarce; a spit of land that preserves the past so clearly, that if it hadn’t been for the sparse pickings of homes and small settlements on the blurring horizon, perhaps he would have wagered it was a photograph of hisui. untouched by time. not so unlike himself.

but it hadn’t been an impossible task. word with kind strangers had given him a lead and an inch to work with, and when paid in the information he sought, he charged forward with reckless abandon. he was so close, so close -- the sinjoh ruins, the last remaining structure of his people, a holy site long forgotten, a place of calling for arceus, was only a finger’s brush away--

now, it was right over his palm, the lines of it -- his destiny -- matching over where the temple resided. when he rises from his full height and takes in the sight before him, he’s not sure what leaves his chest tighter: the sudden influx of air, or the unforgiving temperature.

had it been the latter, it hadn’t mattered. his heart skips a beat, then begins again: faster now, hammering away in his chest. excitement thunders in his neck, his wrist, in-between his ribs: his mouth trembles, a shuddering breath lost on the cloud of cold that expels from his chapped lips. teeth shine in his smile, wolfish and with unwarranted glee, awe and accomplishment burning in his wide-eyed gaze.

finally. finally.

“the sinjoh ruins... at last, at long last...!”  the words fall from his lips in disbelief, to a party of no one other than himself, voice riding on a tremor as a laugh creeps out. his eyes crinkle, head tipping towards the dreary sky above. snowflakes stick to his reddening skin and cling to his eyelashes as he turns a sneer towards the heaven again, as if god will finally peer from its haven and witness its chosen one, scorned, after all this time.

“almighty arceus...” he breathes, ravenous and rancorous, a prayer and a curse, his sneer gone into a sardonic. with only the wilderness to hear his plea, he demands from the heavens again: “so, this is your altar, is it...? hidden away from humanity, where the birth of a new world begins... the final riddle i’ve been looking for! surely, you must have brought me here, haven’t you?”

silence. nothing. the world yawns and stretches on, suffocatingly quiet. the eye behind his curtain of his hair twitches, its gift long since taken from him. ( why, if god had any heart within it, would it rob him so?! why would it steal its blessing from him, and leave him to be cursed?! ) bitterness coats the back of his tongue, turning his smile sour, as he whispers a promise: “no... of course you have, of course. for a century, i’ve searched, solving every mystery... and now, you will heed my call.”

forward, volo charges -- towards history, to unravel the final mystery of the universe, and turn the cosmos on an axis.