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4TH WALL
[[This was a morning that Major Alex Louis Armstrong was not going to forget.
It had started as a morning like any other; he awoken in his bed in Goldenrod City, his Arcanine and Luxray snoozing on his legs. It was a beautiful morning; the sun was shining in through his open curtains and it made him smile.
Not as much, however, as the sight of his gauntlets did.
He'd noticed that his arms felt heavier than normal, but it was a comforting, natural weight, the feeling of the steel wrapping around his hands. He brought his beloved weapons up to his eyes, wide and staring, the alchemy circles as clear as the day they were burned into the metal.
His poor Pokemon were far less impressed by the whole situation, awoken by the impact of the floor against their faces as their estatic trainer literally leaps right out of bed. But his happiness is their happiness, and they gladly trail after him as he makes a mad rush out the door, almost forgetting to pull on a shirt.
The route outside the city is soon subjected to every single move in his repertoire; countless statues, missiles, walls, designs of all shapes and sizes...to be able to do this again is the greatest gift he could have asked for. His shirt long discarded, he bellows up to the sky before pounding his fist down into the earth.]]
Witness the artistic alchemy passed down through the Armstrong family for generations!
[[He isn't even addressing anyone in particular, but being able to say that line again....the feeling is enough to bring a tear to his eye. As is the sight of his Golem spinning through the massive walls and spikes he's creating to respond with his own, even winking with the traditional Armstrong sparkle.
Being able to teach his very first Pokemon the Armstrong alchemy style of earth and rock manipulation....it's one of the most beautiful feelings in the world.]]
It had started as a morning like any other; he awoken in his bed in Goldenrod City, his Arcanine and Luxray snoozing on his legs. It was a beautiful morning; the sun was shining in through his open curtains and it made him smile.
Not as much, however, as the sight of his gauntlets did.
He'd noticed that his arms felt heavier than normal, but it was a comforting, natural weight, the feeling of the steel wrapping around his hands. He brought his beloved weapons up to his eyes, wide and staring, the alchemy circles as clear as the day they were burned into the metal.
His poor Pokemon were far less impressed by the whole situation, awoken by the impact of the floor against their faces as their estatic trainer literally leaps right out of bed. But his happiness is their happiness, and they gladly trail after him as he makes a mad rush out the door, almost forgetting to pull on a shirt.
The route outside the city is soon subjected to every single move in his repertoire; countless statues, missiles, walls, designs of all shapes and sizes...to be able to do this again is the greatest gift he could have asked for. His shirt long discarded, he bellows up to the sky before pounding his fist down into the earth.]]
Witness the artistic alchemy passed down through the Armstrong family for generations!
[[He isn't even addressing anyone in particular, but being able to say that line again....the feeling is enough to bring a tear to his eye. As is the sight of his Golem spinning through the massive walls and spikes he's creating to respond with his own, even winking with the traditional Armstrong sparkle.
Being able to teach his very first Pokemon the Armstrong alchemy style of earth and rock manipulation....it's one of the most beautiful feelings in the world.]]
no subject
I never thought I would agree with you on something.
[[Looking down at his hands, at the metal devices wrapped around them, Armstrong sighs, closing his eyes.]]
....leave me.
[[It's not a question. Not in the least. He opens his eyes, still not facing Kimblee, but he does look at him.]]
Please just....leave me here.
[[And his places his hands against the wall, nails dragging softly down the stone.]]
no subject
{Despite his words, he's already rising to his feet again; he sets himself immediately to brushing off the lower half of his coat once he's up, the motion finicky.]
no subject
[[His voice is practically a whisper, and his eyes close again.]]
You've got work to do, after all.