Event: The Reveal Glass

[indigo_league]

Across the Pokémon world, characters may have spotted a falling star last night. Or at least, one would think that's what it was: a naturally occurring phenomenon, rather than a legendary artifact. Specifically, the Reveal Glass fell to earth during a fight among a group of legendaries started by the return of a long-lost family member. But it's probably best to leave them to handle all that themselves, while your characters deal with other consequences.

The Reveal Glass shattered upon impact, and the shards scattered throughout Kanto, Johto, and the Sevii Islands… And made their way into the hearts of your characters. But bleeding isn't the concern here. Instead, the impact will hit when a character first looks into any reflective service. An eerie feeling hits them as they're transported to the Mirror Dimension.

While this realm can be many different things for different characters, one thing is always true: It is a place of honesty, where true selves are revealed. Those struck by a shard will find themselves facing truths they are no longer able to hide, and now must accept. Fortunately enough, even those who haven't been struck will be able to enter the Mirror Dimension during this event via a reflective surface to offer help. By the end of the 29th, things will return to normal. Characters will be back in the usual Pokémon world and their hearts will be rid of the shards, but time is strange in the Mirror Dimension, and the experience may feel like it goes on far longer than a day. Or, maybe that's just the emotional exhaustion.

The Reveal Glass plot is here. You can swing by the event info post for additional details and FAQ, and play out your characters’ enforced therapy on this post. As with most VR events, this plot is entirely optional and your characters don't need to take part at all.

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Pieck Finger | OTA

[warriorworkhorse]

Of all things, it's the shine in the darkened screen of her pokégear. It makes her catch sight of herself in her wide-brimmed white hat, in her dress that she never could've worn anywhere else --

Except.

Except here, in her house. It was as pleasant a kitchen as she ever could've expected; the walls had been whitewashed at her insistence and she had a few framed needleworks hung up - her own work. Her dishes were enameled with pink flowers and her silverware had very simple paisley stamped on the handles. As she set out the places at the table, she could feel the armband sliding down her arm, and she reached to snug it back into place multiple times as she put silverware next to plates, cups above them all, and then headed to her front door, opening it to call into the street of the Liberio internment zone, "Dinner's almost ready, kids! Come get your hands washed! Your papa will be back from work soon!"

When she went back in, it was with a sturdy towel in her hands, using them to protect her palms as she pulled a roast chicken out of the oven.

Re: Pieck Finger | OTA

[crystalmaster]

Radley can't help but admire the delicious smell.

"Hi," he greets as he leans on the kitchen door. "I'm sorry, I promise I don't make a habit of barging into strangers' homes unannounced. I just kind of ... found myself here."

[warriorworkhorse]

"Oh, hi!" she greeted, the roasting pan placed on the top of the stove. She turned to face him and simply accepted the new presence with a ready-made excuse of, "You must be one of--"

A series of faces flashed in her mind. Curled blonde, straight black, groomed blonde, combed brown. It felt like watching a wheel spin too fast to see the spokes until her mind just landed on, "--my husband's friends from work. He told me we might have company."

Around her, the house was, at best, vague. There were a few concrete details, of course. The stove, the food, the whitewashed walls, the dishes. But the table didn't seem to have any concrete detail beyond 'table, wood'. The framed needlework on the walls looked as if it hadn't quite focused right. Flowers, in a blur. The concept of a bird. There was the sound of children laughing outside, the sound of a front door opening and closing so small feet could run in and deeper into an even more blurry house.

But there she was, all smiles and politeness, carefully tugging her red armband back into place. The fact that she didn't see one on him--

"Zeke didn't tell me you were Marleyan. Oh, goodness, have a seat, let me get you a drink."

There came the nervousness.

[crystalmaster]

Radley isn't quite sure what to say to being mistaken for one of her husband's friends. He's about to say something when he's distracted by the rather eerie details of the house. It almost feels like a ghost house, especially with the sounds but no one else appearing.

"... Marleyan?" he repeats in confusion.

[warriorworkhorse]

"Oh--" Details were coming in to focus as she came into contact with them and then fading just as quickly. Suddenly, there was a pot of water on the stove as if it had been there for a while, bubbling happily and ready to be poured into a teapot that matched the dishes in a very awkward way, the paisley painted on as if an afterthought. But after the water was poured, the pot started to smell pleasantly of tea. She brought it over to the table, letting it steep as she answered, "I shouldn't have assumed. Zeke's the sort to make friends with anyone - you're new to Marley, then?"

[crystalmaster]

Definitely strange.

He snaps back to attention as she speaks. "Yeah, I just got in," he says honestly.

[warriorworkhorse]

There was a question - one that had to be asked, one that she was nervous about asking, but if he was here in Liberio without an armband, he needed to be asked: "Are you... Are you Eldian?"

She doubted it, but she had to hope - because he'd need an armband if he said yes. If he was caught without it--

[crystalmaster]

"Uh, no," Radley says slowly. "I'm ... Spanish-American?"

He rather doubts these countries will even be recognized here.

[warriorworkhorse]

His doubts were right. If anything, Pieck looked confused, but at the same time, a bit of relief came to her, too - thank heavens he wasn't going around Marley without an armband if he needed one. "Oh," she said. "We must've just made--"

A trade agreement? An anti-war pact? An alliance?

"--contact with your nations."

That was safe. But at the same time, it was like some cracks started to form in the world around them. Spanish-American? Where was ... Span? America? She'd never heard of them before. And this truth-telling world of hers wasn't able to build reality around something she couldn't categorise.

[crystalmaster]

"... Yeah, maybe so," Radley says. He's not sure whether to play along or not. The cracks forming make him uneasy.

"So, what is this place like?"

[warriorworkhorse]

The sounds outside... changed.

Instead of generally normal sounds - horses pulling carts or wagons, people shouting hello to one another, kids running and laughing - there was instead the sound of voices steeped in authority shouting for groups to be broken up. Can't be more than five of you, you know that, or Get back from the gate! Where's your day pass?! You expect to get through without a goddamned day pass?? Or, from the distance, a gunshot that doesn't even make her flinch.

Pieck does, however, look... blank. There's the truth of the world outside this falsely-cheerful little house, or there's this sunlit kitchen with its tasty meal, the steadiness of family and the warmth that would come with it--

While people are under military law outside.

"It's..." Her expression falters before a smile that is much more practiced than genuine is put in place. "It's home."

[crystalmaster]

Radley is horrified by what he hears.

"... How long have you lived here?" he asks. With things like this?

[warriorworkhorse]

An easy question to answer. "I was born here."

And just a few moments later, with the sound of weeping in the distance over whoever was shot all that way away, she said, "You're lucky you aren't Eldian. It's better, outside Liberio."

It was better outside Marley.

For a split second, the rooms outside the kitchen became the balmy warmth of a Hizuruan bathhouse - a place that he would likely see as Japanese. Tatami mat floors, sliding paper doors, the faint scent of natural hot springs, friendly speech and laughter a few walls away. All of those details were clear. Real. Memory held dear seen for maybe the span of a heartbeat before the vague reality of Liberio returned to the world that the mirror shard had made.

[bigporkenergy]

From outside the kitchen, across the bare yard, someone is whistling as they go past on the street. They pause at the home's gate, then let themselves in, strolling up to the door and rapping on it.

"Pieck? I've got some extra fish for you today!" Galliard is wearing a sweater today, deep blue to hide stains, and baggy cargo pants. His hair has been bleached almost blond by the sun, and he has faint scars running across his cheeks and forehead. He's shorter than usual, and lighter, his bulkier muscles turned lean and wiry.

[warriorworkhorse]

The sound of that voice in particular made her heartbeat pick up and that sparse, empty yard started to sprout with flowers. She set the pan of chicken aside and, hurriedly, she wiped her hands off on the towel, took a glance at the bottom of one of her metal pans, checking her own reflection, before she hurried to the door and opened it with a real, bright, happy smile on her face. "Oh, Mister Galliard, thank you so much!" she said, glancing to each side, checking just where the neighbors were before stepping back, making way so she could invite him in with a, "Come on inside - I'll get the icebox ready for them."

That shade of blue on him. It was heart-stopping, how it made his hair shine like copper and how his wind-burnished skin told of hard work and resilience and--

And he was thoughtful. And kind. And he felt like home. Just the idea made the world change in small, subtle ways, a flicker of a moment - how some of the blurry faces in a family photo shifted, for a split second, to be his and hers instead of hers alongside a much more nebulous someone that couldn't really be named.

[bigporkenergy]

As he enters the house, Galliard doesn't notice all the flowers sprouting into bloom behind him, or how they match the pattern on Pieck's china. He doesn't take the time to check for the neighbors or wonder what they might be doing. He only has eyes for her, and when he steps over the threshold, the entire room seems to brighten.

Galliard follows Pieck into the kitchen, the fish he brought dangling from one hand. When she opens the icebox, he steps up behind her, reaching around her with one arm to put the fish in the box, reaching around her waist with the other arm to pull her close to him. He buries his face in her hair and breathes deep, filling his head with the warm, sweet scent of her.

The faces in the photos flicker again. Not just the adult faces this time, but the children's faces too, subtle features from another man disappearing and being replaced with his own. The flickering stops after a moment, but one change stays the same: the youngest child's hair has a distinct reddish tinge to it now.

"I missed you," he breathes into her hair, both arms tightening around her waist. "You're all I could think about."

[warriorworkhorse]

With his arms around her, his warmth behind her, Pieck closes her eyes and sinks into it. His arms feel so right. They have for so long. Her hands start over his, small in comparison, to trail her fingers along his arms and, in those moments, so much around the both of them fades, one into another - kitchen to bunkhouse to tent - but comes back to the kitchen as she lifts her arms. Her hands settle so lightly at the back of his neck, as if she knows just how sensitive that spot can be. "I've missed you every single day," she whispers past the lump in her throat.

She'd never expected this. That the presence or absence of one person could be felt, but it's like a knife. Him not being there hurt. It felt like missing a limb. But now...

Now, Pieck turns her head, her nose brushing against his jaw. "I never want to let you go again. I want to keep you where I can reach you. Forever."

[bigporkenergy]

Galliard has his eyes closed, so he doesn't see the kitchen change around them. What does change is the smell, moving from roasted chicken to muddy forest to arid wasteland back to kitchen again, but he doesn't care. All he can pay attention to is the feel of Pieck in his arms; her warmth, the gentle slopes and curves of her body against him, the softness of her hands on his arms and then on the back of his neck. When she touches him there, Galliard bites back a soft groan as he drops his head further forward, giving her full access to the back of his neck. He's not sure why that feels like such an admission of trust and love, but it does, and he's somehow sure she understands.

"Every hour," he says softly, and lifts one hand to move her hair off the back of her neck, so he can press his lips against the small knobs of her spine.

"So don't." His arm tightens around her, and Galliard turns his head so he can look down and meet her eyes. "Take the kids, smuggle them onto the boat, and let's just go. We'll sail away, and once we're past Marley's borders, we'll be..."

He stops then, the word too fraught and perilous to make real. But he knows she understands.

We'll be free.

[warriorworkhorse]

The kiss to that sensitive spot makes her stomach leap, suddenly filled with butterflies. Had it felt like that for him, too? Her fingers brushing that spot? The moan she gave was as soft as a breath, but in the quiet of this kitchen that suddenly felt as false as it was, it practically echoed.

She finally opened her eyes when he moved, willing to look at the world if it meant looking at him - and she met his eyes, seeking into their depths. Even if he didn't finish that phrase, she knew exactly what he meant. She wanted it with all she was. So Pieck nodded, whispering, "Yes," and, when her hand slid to his cheek and she went up on her tiptoes, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to meet his lips with hers. Like something they'd done a hundred times and yet had never done before. But it was so right.

[bigporkenergy]

"Yes."

It's all a dream, and they both know it. There's no escape for Eldians, not anywhere in the world. But they can pretend, and snatch a few moments here and there, imagining themselves in a better, brighter world, a gentler world, where they could be free.

Galliard loosens his arms enough for her to turn around in them, and stoops forward so she doesn't have to stay on her tiptoes. When their lips meet, it's both shockingly new and exciting, and as familiar as slipping into a known, comfortable bed at night. It felt like seeing a light on when coming home, and knowing a loved one is still awake and waiting. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

[warriorworkhorse]

Facing him, she slid her fingers up into his hair, stealing little sips of air now and then through the kiss. He felt so good, so warm - like forever. Like she was standing where she could just... stay. Why had they waited so long--

Why would she ever let go?

Her chest ached for air, though, those little moments not quite enough. So she pulled back, taking a deep breath as her hand trailed down to his cheek. Her thumb stroked the beginnings of his daily scruff and she smiled. He was so handsome. It made her heart skip a beat to look at him. So she brushed another little kiss to his lips and whispered, "I love you," putting truth to voice.

clearly I need to update my kissy icons

[bigporkenergy]

She feels like she belongs in his arms. It's only when they're together, when she's pressed up against him like this, that Galliard realises how very empty he feels otherwise. Without her, it's like the entire world is hidden behind a layer of fog. Then, with one look, she's able to clear it all away, and Galliard can breathe for the first time.

"I love you too." He's always loved her, he thinks; all the way back to when they were scabby-kneed little kids, playing in the schoolyard and chasing each other around. Somehow, they'd gotten separated as they grew older, and she ended up married to someone else. There'd been a few years there where they hadn't seen each other, where Galliard and Marcel had been out on the long-range shipping boats, working sixteen hour shifts and saving up for a boat of their own. He can't blame her for moving on. More than anything, he wants her to be happy.

But he's also selfish enough to want her to be happy with him.

"I bet there's an island out there." He lifts one hand to comb through her hair. "A little island, with no one on it. A place Marley doesn't know about, and wouldn't care about if they did. I bet if we set out, we could find it."

I need to buy some more icon space >.>

[warriorworkhorse]

When he says it, Pieck surprises herself by feeling like she already knew. The warmth of his arms and the comfort she felt there, the fact that he was her safe haven in the midst of everything (even if it was an everything that felt strange and distant when they were surrounded by a kitchen lit by warm sunlight which she'd never--) and she could always turn to him. The feeling that, out of everyone who had given her a look or an unspoken promise, she chose him - but he'd chosen her the same way. They were always together, and that was how it was meant to be.

Her hand lifted to stroke through his hair, her smile growing by the moment. An island just for them, where they could live the life they'd always wanted without looking over their shoulders...

"I'd live on the boat with you for the rest of our lives as long as I had you," she said, and she meant every word. Suddenly, with the option, the rest didn't matter. As long as she had him, she'd live wherever they could be together. Smiling, Pieck watched his hair fall between her fingers, looked into his eyes, and she kissed his lips, his jaw, then just in front of his ear to whisper, "It's always been you."

Those words felt like they rang inside her like a gong. As if she'd meant them for ages but it hadn't ever really occurred to her. As if, by not speaking them, she'd let something almost escape her. But now, there it was - spoken. True.

[bigporkenergy]

It's always been you.

For a moment, the world flickers around them again. The kitchen dissolves, turning and shifting into a battlefield, an encampment, a training field with torn, muddy grass. Then it's a military headquarters room with a phonograph gleaming menacingly in the corner, then the square in Liberio, torn to pieces and strewn with rubble, then a glaring white hospital room with rows and rows of cots. Galliard blinks and shakes his head, trying to make the kitchen come back, but all it does is make the room around them turn misty, the floor under their feet turn into silver sand.

He leans back, reaching up to cup Pieck's face in one calloused hand.

"Why me, though?" He doesn't know why he's asking this, only that he must, that he has to give voice to what he doesn't understand. "I've never been the strongest, or the best, or the bravest. I've never been as good as you. I am... second rate."

The room shivers again, caught between different places that tug at Galliard's memory but refuse to fully form.

"I failed you, Pieck. I left you behind."

[warriorworkhorse]

She laid her hand over his, turned her head to kiss his palm. "Oh, Pock. You didn't leave me behind."

In front of them both, her clothes had changed to something much, much more familiar: brown skirt, white uniform shirt, the khaki jacket she'd worn for years. And she recognised the sand beneath their feet. She'd been here. Not as often as some, certainly, but when Eren had pulled in all Eldians to speak to them, that had included her. And while it still broke her heart that he'd...

That Falco had...

She swallowed, tears standing in her eyes, but now, around them, the world changed, and it changed with her memories. Red-hazed air, clouds of steam, blistering heat, all on a moving set of bones with the wall titans underneath. It was over her shoulder, but she was there, too, her arm steaming where her hand was trying to regrow, one of the soldiers from Paradis armed and standing by her protectively - but coming at them full-strength were ancient titan shifters, their bodies pure white, with half of Bertholdt's Colossal hanging overhead. It looked like she was going to die. And then, out of seemingly nowhere, two similar-looking Jaw Titans appeared, clamping on to the napes of the two that had been moving to attack her. One, in the memory, was slightly blurred. The other, however, was crisp, clear, unmistakable with its double-rows of teeth, the mane around its skull-like face.

And she said quietly, tears starting to make their trails down her cheeks, "You always come to save me. You always have. You say you're not the strongest or best or bravest, but you always dove in to battles without fear. You're always so fast, so smart - even I can't keep up with you and how fast you'd cut through the embankments. I always knew when we were dispatched together, nothing could stop us. And then..."

One little half-step toward him and she practically buried herself in his chest, her arms winding tight around his waist. "And then, when we were off the battlefields, you kept me safe. I didn't trust anyone else the way I've always trusted you. You'd hide me. Or keep me warm. When I was afraid to sleep alone, you made room for me. You... you gave me a place where my smiles could be real. Nobody else ever did that for me."