Split Tracks Au - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

yippee, time’s passing again

wip wednesday .. finally working on chapter six ( i’ve been hyping myself up for this chapter for weeks yet actually writing it is. hough )

wip wednesday time !!

shaking myself to finish this split tracks chapter i’ve hyped myself up soooo much to writing it now actually doing it is just. waugh

chapter five! point five. 5.5. an interlude, if you will.

i just needed to work on something other than chapter six so i don’t burn myself out, so i dusted together a little in between for now + a doodle to go with.

general summary :

as nimbasa city falls to a rest, a certain blond haired ponders the point of his trip.

word count :

724

time ticks, ticks, ticks along, at what feels like at a sliggoo’s pace.

comforting, yet dull.

comforting, in the sense that time was still moving; as it always has, and would likely continue to do.

dull, in the sense he had seen so many sunsets in his ever expanding lifetime that they had begun to lose their sentiment.

sitting on the hotel balcony railing, the blonde haired figure seemed to be mulling his thoughts along; centuries of memories, conversations, places, people-

all condensed in a neat little bow inside his skull.

immortality was quite the cruel thing.

a small sliver of him was envious there was no one to share his agony with.

though, it would be selfish to wish the same pain on someone else, no?

that didn’t matter, really. he was already somewhat of a selfish person.

that, and they were just hopes. trees without fruit. never coming to bear anything as a product of devotion.

not as if it would be magically granted of him. wishmaking was not within the qualms of unova’s legendaries, anyways.

.. speaking of unova, he had not intended to stay this long. perhaps a few days- the cities were the faintest bit overwhelming, with all the modern hustle and bustle.

that, and the new hurdle he had created for himself.

emmet treyne. brother of ingo treyne.

or, as he had known him as, warden ingo.

volo faintly remembered the other’s talk of a man who looked just like him- most often passed it off as a particularly bad incident with a zoroark, or something else.

never had he gotten to the point he was able to remember a twin brother of all things.

in the calculated equation he had perfected over the past three centuries, it was like having a wrench thrown at the head. a completely unpredictable variable, something not accounted for in any manner.

giratina’s power was vast, but it could not prevent everything.

in.. whatever he had done, rather than eliminating the distortions entirely, it only redirected their focus on the other brother.

which meant his visit would have to last a bit longer, if he were to come even a fraction closer to what was planned to be in his grasp.

eliminate the chance of fallers, which would eliminate his past self’s chance of failure.

akari would not fall for another two years. he had a set time to ensure the two brothers would stay together in the present, before making off back to hisui.

or sinnoh. whatever they called it these days.

humming quietly, he untucked a pendant from his jacket, holding a delicate feather, one that's colors cascaded from a brilliant green to the palest of yellows.

a token from cresselia.

one did not simply ‘catch’ a legendary; you either befriended them enough they willingly stuck by your side,

or you would be granted a sliver of power, in the form of such a token.

cresselia dealt in the realm of dreams.

to prevent the, as he would say it, “unexpected diversion of one’s train of thought,” from the universe quite literally tearing itself and putting it back together for his sake, that was where volo needed to go.

memories and dreams were often intertwined. violently ripping them down the center would only cause an issue if not dealt with accordingly.

ones the two halves diverged, they were not to meet. ever again.

same stem of existence or not, the ingo then and ingo now were to, under any circumstances, never learn of each other's existence.

less strain on the timeline, that way.

.. then and now, he was still a peculiar man. both iterations he never truly understood.

the first time, they were strangers, outsiders in a sense of solitude. scarcely spoke, but the words he shared were always worth a listen, despite the metaphors he never got.

centuries later, they were strangers once again.

volo met ingo at what one could call a low- only a fraction of what had once been whole.

ingo would never learn to know volo in full, past or present. he simply would not let him.

perhaps, when this world is recreated in his image, he would, like the stubborn man he was, return once again, and they would be able to truly speak like peers.

but that was another fruitless hope.

no point in dawdling.

yea i dont have much to say to this