Wapun Meadow i saw a bulbasuar but it might have been lettuce

poor bulbasaur, being called out like that smh

The coast had offered him little more than hurt pride, the eagerness that once controlled him beaten down by fear.

Fear.

It wasn’t something he was familiar with experiencing. Alexander had, long ago, sworn off the emotion and any display of it; to show fear was to show weakness, and to show weakness left him vulnerable. Driven to separate himself by that fear alone, to preserve what image he’d made for himself (not knowing that the image was far different from what he imagined it to be), he ventured off on his own. And the farther he travelled, the more familiar things started to appear; he was returned to the region that housed his origin story, the place where things have continuously, throughout the years, began and ended in the same breath.

With the passing of the seasons that meadow came to life with colour. Had he not traversed the area throughout various points in his life, the numerous hues likely would have made the territory unrecognisable, but such was not the case. The moment he stepped foot into the territory, he was overwhelmed by the familiarity of it all—of knowing that he was nearly home. And so it was not a mere fox that crossed the female’s path that day, but the albino.

And he greeted her with a glare, so typically placed there in his eyes, directed her way. For how dare she, a stranger to the land (as far as he was concerned), cross into an area that he considered part of his own—part of him, even, perhaps.