Post by Deleted on Jun 18, 2014 22:45:31 GMT
Indra Remarque
As a result, Indra never did meet humans. All he had was the master of the house, and the occasional sighting of the mailman who knew not of his existence. When Indra inquired about other humans, his guardian merely stated that humans were dangerous and not to be trusted. Fear had been indoctrinated into him, so Indra only spied from afar and turned it into a bit of a game with a few of his friends. He never let himself be seen.
37
agender (male base)
Panromantic
haunting
neutral (for now)
Other
who's behind you
Species: 
Mismagius
Nature: Machiavellian (naughty)
Ability: levitate
Egg:
MismagiusNature: Machiavellian (naughty)
Ability: levitate
Egg:
- Destiny Bond [Egg]: if the user faints, the opponent also faints.
(Information from PokemonDB.net)
diggin' deeper and deeper
It’s especially difficult summing up a collection of thoughts, perspective, and experiences under one word; however, Machiavellian seems to work nicely in regards to Indra. He is exactly what the word implies, down to grit where morality is more of a societal law than a personal belief. He is cunning and ambitious - willing to do nearly whatever it takes to achieve his goal. Dispending others – Pokémon or human – what’s wrong with that? Machinating (or pre-meditating, as some label certain situations) is a skill that not many have, so why is it wrong that Indra has a knack for scheming? Is it because of the lack of predictability?
At least some would appreciate Indra’s nature.
However, Indra isn’t overtly simplified like a word pulled from out a dictionary. He is living, he is breathing, he has thoughts and feelings that seem incomprehensible to many – especially to himself. There are so many unpredictable elements that one couldn’t possibly trust. Will Indra be loyal? Perhaps, perhaps not, it might vary from person-to-person. Is Indra vindictive? Thus far, he has proven to be. But is there more to the story? But of course! How else would he have remained unknown for all this time?
In truth, he isn’t entirely unique. Indra is capable of loving and being loved; he’s capable of relaxing and enjoying nature’s tune (his favourite pastime is actually lounging); he’s even capable of taking care of himself and others. He is just like anyone else… But once crossed, Indra is incapable of civil diplomacy. And that is how his wicked streak flickers out. He is severely territorial and protective, and isn’t above doing whatever is within his power to assure he remains in control.
And sometimes, Indra is just feeling bored and mischievous – playful. He isn’t always pulling nasty tricks out of malicious intent; sometimes he just pulls pranks for the entertainment.
At least some would appreciate Indra’s nature.
However, Indra isn’t overtly simplified like a word pulled from out a dictionary. He is living, he is breathing, he has thoughts and feelings that seem incomprehensible to many – especially to himself. There are so many unpredictable elements that one couldn’t possibly trust. Will Indra be loyal? Perhaps, perhaps not, it might vary from person-to-person. Is Indra vindictive? Thus far, he has proven to be. But is there more to the story? But of course! How else would he have remained unknown for all this time?
In truth, he isn’t entirely unique. Indra is capable of loving and being loved; he’s capable of relaxing and enjoying nature’s tune (his favourite pastime is actually lounging); he’s even capable of taking care of himself and others. He is just like anyone else… But once crossed, Indra is incapable of civil diplomacy. And that is how his wicked streak flickers out. He is severely territorial and protective, and isn’t above doing whatever is within his power to assure he remains in control.
And sometimes, Indra is just feeling bored and mischievous – playful. He isn’t always pulling nasty tricks out of malicious intent; sometimes he just pulls pranks for the entertainment.
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a little background check
3 En hiver, XXXX
What have I done? He was just a boy with so much life left to live. Has this science really driven me to manslaughter!? Just last week Jīnsīquè was up on stage, gloriously stimulating the audience in vibrant robes amongst a crowd of geisha, strumming away at a pallid pipa whilst the women dance. But now? Have mercy on me, Arceus, for now he’s entombed in a cryogenic chamber – waiting to be sampled for our next project.
There is no end to this. There are no boundaries. One day, I fear that even our families will be at risk.
So many decades ago, Indra was once a normal civilian who was a highlight in Asiatic opera. He was known as Jīnsīquè - canary. As a boy, he was often sold and resold until fished by the opera house for his looks. This is where he would then be broken and re-moulded into this disciplined art for thousands of hours. Blood had been spilt, burns singed, whips cracked until every line and pitch had been perfected – that wasn’t even considering elegant gestures and mannerisms that would eventually become a part of his nature. Regardless of roles, these girls and boys were rung through painful tasks that could even compare to the training of a geisha – whom they often worked with. Mostly for the art of training Pokémon in both battle and in performance.
And not by coincidence was Jīnsīquè’s Pokémon a Misdreavus.
And not by coincidence was Jīnsīquè’s Pokémon a Misdreavus.
7 En hiver, XXXX
We’ve finally detained Jīnsīquè‘s Pokémon – a female Misdreavus. We have a theory that Pokémon who share a strong bond with a particular person will decrease the chances of genetic or tissue rejection. Fortunately, it would seem that the two are similar in nature: mischievous, playful, inquisitive, which also might increase the percentile of success.
We have another subject – Anui and her female shuppet – who do not share similar natures, but do share the same sex, so natures will also be considered during the next operation.
Still, I wonder… No-no, I cannot hide under the guise of morality. Science is logic, science is without moral. I need to stay strong – or these people, these Pokémon, it all be for naught.
He was burned alive, although not to a crisp. The opera house had been raided, first by quaking earth and then by a hurdling twister of fire. Beams fell, the curtains turned to ash, so many feet prattled away whilst men and women alike screamed in Gaussian! But he was stuck! Caught in a cradle of flames and debris. And Misdreavus – she tried to free him and herself, she tried to control those voracious flames but when that failed, she tried to put them out – only to enrage `em.
No one was coming to save them, so Jīnsīquè gave Missy one last command: sing him the Perish Song. At first, the little dove adamantly refused. She chirped and mirred, snuggled and urged, but to no avail. Her partner, the love of her life, was suffocating to death before the flames could cook him first. And so, to ease his agony, she sang him a lullaby from which he never woke up from.
Only ten minutes later – when half his carcass had suffered from third degree burns – a ranger and his aquatic team came to save them. Obviously, they were too late. But in the eyes of a certain crew, their timing couldn’t have been better: he was dead, he was salvageable. Like a piece of scrap metal found on the battlefront, he was salvageable.
since Jīnsīquè apparently worked for our order (as a sleeper agent of sorts), it wasn’t difficult claiming his body and preserving it. Bits and pieces of him – from grafts to nanoscopic biopsies – were used as a foundation for the next project. Had it not been for integrating Pokémon DNA with his, it would’ve been like a typical cloning experiment – but no, this was much more – much more delicate, much more complex, much more invigorating. It took months, close to year to just for a few stabilized zygotes to take. One was conceived in the tubing process, another had been placed inside a woman, and the final one was locked up for safe measure. Being born by woman lacked control, before her first trimester ended, she miscarried. That left the test tube, which had also failed but only because one element had been missing from the equation: stem cells extracted from foetuses. When the zygote was used, it took and it flourished. Within seven months’ time, the doctors had a stable and robust baby.
He was called Indra.
No one was coming to save them, so Jīnsīquè gave Missy one last command: sing him the Perish Song. At first, the little dove adamantly refused. She chirped and mirred, snuggled and urged, but to no avail. Her partner, the love of her life, was suffocating to death before the flames could cook him first. And so, to ease his agony, she sang him a lullaby from which he never woke up from.
Only ten minutes later – when half his carcass had suffered from third degree burns – a ranger and his aquatic team came to save them. Obviously, they were too late. But in the eyes of a certain crew, their timing couldn’t have been better: he was dead, he was salvageable. Like a piece of scrap metal found on the battlefront, he was salvageable.
since Jīnsīquè apparently worked for our order (as a sleeper agent of sorts), it wasn’t difficult claiming his body and preserving it. Bits and pieces of him – from grafts to nanoscopic biopsies – were used as a foundation for the next project. Had it not been for integrating Pokémon DNA with his, it would’ve been like a typical cloning experiment – but no, this was much more – much more delicate, much more complex, much more invigorating. It took months, close to year to just for a few stabilized zygotes to take. One was conceived in the tubing process, another had been placed inside a woman, and the final one was locked up for safe measure. Being born by woman lacked control, before her first trimester ended, she miscarried. That left the test tube, which had also failed but only because one element had been missing from the equation: stem cells extracted from foetuses. When the zygote was used, it took and it flourished. Within seven months’ time, the doctors had a stable and robust baby.
He was called Indra.
L’été
Indra is doing remarkably well. As of right now, his pigmentation has discoloured – much akin to a Misdreavus’ own- and, in terms of growth and behaviour, he is very much like a typical Pokémon. His eyes were wide open and responsive even before we took him out of chamber, and his first words were the gurgled squeals of a Pokémon. I wonder if he’ll be able to speak like a human and understand humans, or if he’s dominantly a creature. Dr. Schulze proposes that Indra’s cries are no different than a normal baby’s – jargon, she calls it – and hypothesises that, when taught, he will have the capability to speak. What else will he be capable of?
Right now, I’d say he is a pro-champ at eating semi-solids and drooling all over people. That, too, is apparently normal for infants. I wouldn’t know, never had kids.
* * *
The more time I spend with Indra, the more I’ve come to enjoy him. Mercy, he’s such a loveable little thing! And I’d to think he fancies me the most with the way he looks at me with those ruby-red eyes surrounded by a pool of jaundice. He giggles a lot, and he’s already waddling about in the lab. When he falls over, he doesn’t even cry, he just gets back up and waddles around again. However, his massive tears will pour when I say good bye for the day.
Yes. He certainly likes me the most.
* * *
L’automne
Indra is two years old, now. His legs have gradually turned translucent from the feet up. As concerned as I was, I knew this was a good feat: this means that Indra is developing the qualities of Misdreavus. Rather than walking on the ground, his airy footsteps levitate just ever-so-slightly. Sometimes, his legs completely disappear and look more like the ends of a ruffled skirt. He also seems to completely understand us now, but he can’t say anything more that the syllables of “Misdreavus.” Considering his advances, one of us (and I mean me) will soon be able to take Indra home and raise outside of the lab in an environment friendly to his subspecies: ghosts.
I’ve already bought a house that has long since been abandoned and overcome by the gastly evolutions (and others). So while being surrounded by humans, he’ll also be surrounded by Pokémon.
Things didn’t go according to plan. In fact, there never truly was a plan. Indra was meant to stay at the lab and be monitored; however, one of the scientists took matters into his own hands.
Risking both his life and the creature’s, Remarque – as he was called – fled from the region and settled down in another. It was the Phoenix region whose name was formerly Cenery. Here, Meadow Town humbly admitted these two in a broken-down abode that Remarque rebuilt over a matter of years. It was a large estate cast away in the embrace of vivacious flora that was not only a home to them, but a home to many other Pokémon. Poison-types, grass-types, and of course: ghosts, the main reason for moving here. As far as Remarque was concerned, Indra had everything anyone could want. He had a beautiful home, the finest robes, a compassionate guardian, many Pokémon friends who didn’t judge him as humans would have, and absolutely no worries in the world. Total ignorance, total bliss.
It was like a dream, one that Remarque could live through and be a part of.
As a result, Indra never did meet humans. All he had was the master of the house, and the occasional sighting of the mailman who knew not of his existence. When Indra inquired about other humans, his guardian merely stated that humans were dangerous and not to be trusted. Fear had been indoctrinated into him, so Indra only spied from afar and turned it into a bit of a game with a few of his friends. He never let himself be seen.
Like many humans and many Pokémon alike, Indra was schooled. How to speak, how to write, and the basics of battle. It started with identifying himself as “Indravus” or “Indramarque,” then soon it was “Indra,” and eventually understanding the mechanics of language well enough to use proper pronouns. By the time Indra could speak in choppy sentences, his other lessons commenced. Such success!
But it soon began to crumble the ideals of this dream.
Spring
Indra is doing remarkably well and grows more beautiful by the day. He really resembles his DNA donator more and more, but his colouring remains to be teal with accents of pink. He can speak now, almost fluently. However, in frequent bursts, he suddenly reverts back to old habits. When I confronted Indra as to why he does this, he told me that a gastly now saw him “in a different light,” and that this view was infecting the rest of his friends, too. I didn’t understand this at first, but after thinking awhile, I realised that Indra is being ostracised. So I keep reminding him that I’m all that he needs, and if necessary, he can just make new friends. There are plenty of Pokémon in the forest, and plenty more in the house. Nevertheless, he didn’t seem happy about this. Perhaps it’s time that I give him a new gift. A dusk stone. If it works, he’ll evolve. If he can’t evolve, he can just admire its beauty.
Enamoured by the jewel, Indra readily accepted. A growing warmth kindling within sent his nerves awry until that gorgeous stone rested within the bow of both palms. It glowed, it was nearly blinding. And then all of sudden, that elated high – that comforting warmth – became a blaze that not even the insane could expect to survive! It hurts, it hurts! Make it stop! His cries couldn’t be heard. As bones cackled, his pleas were internalised. Yet pleasure existed, such ambivalence, a paradox!
By the time Indra’s body ceased to implode upon itself, a cool wave washed over his senses, extinguishing the phantom burns he felt. And in the place of a discoloured little boy was a young man whose hair was teal and skin was white. He had Mismagius’ trademark eyes with red painted around the rims and down his snout. Jems were arrayed along his cheek bones, and in places hidden by clothes were Mismagius' trio jewels just above his pelvis; but most noticeably from under breast and down, his body was a translucent gradient. His feet almost couldn’t be seen and often disappeared completely the higher Indra elevated himself. Nevertheless, there were times where he lookes whole, but only when he wasn't levitating
indra had officially become a Mismagius gijinka.
Not long afterward, Remarque left for his usual business trip. Where he went, Indra didn’t know. But he waited and waited. The usual week was up and that week stretched on to a month and finally several months. Within a year, there were so many people wandering around their property, speculating, invading. At first, all Indra did was hide in the often disregarded attic until people left the premises. But as curiosity and distress burgeoned, the Mismagius wandered and stalked them. One day he overheard the realtor speaking: “the owner of the house died in an accident revolving around team-you-know-who in a distant city. But you need not worry, there are no records of any deaths or disturbances in this house.” The rest of what the woman had to say were deafened by distraught tears. Just as he was about to be spied, Indra fled into the attic to wallow and rage.
The estate was sold, but Indra stayed. Out of malicious intent, he haunted the family that moved in. The father was left in a daze, fantasising without even realising; the child constantly whimpered from severe headaches; and the wife would always sleep – some suggested comatose. Rather hastily did they go mad. The father chased after something he saw within the attic and charged right through ocular window. He fell to his death.
When that family officially left, a new family replaced them. The same symptoms occurred. Eventually, with so much repetition from incidents, the house wouldn’t sell. People wouldn’t even bother to visit – the sign out front decayed as did the house; overgrown by weeds and destroyed by elemental debris. Truth be told, this is how it ought to be, this is how Indra wanted it to be.
However, twenty-some years later, the town bought the estate and the land with it. It was renovated into a temple. A team of monks and the head priests moved in. Festivals unfurled, and private séances were given. How dare they, Indra thought. Since the very beginning, there had a series of accidents. Construction accidents, impish tricks, and outlandish stunts, yet these people continued to pester! They would chant, they would mark the places with charms, but none of that worked, not truly. When at his wits end, Indra wrote them a message: I will be rid of you! However, the head priestess continued push.
The most recent event was at a festival hosted on these ‘holy grounds.’ With the help of friends, Indra made his message clearer than ever. The participants were afflicted by his incantations, making the whole ordeal chaotic, uncontrollable, unpredictable. Gastlies would assist, haunters would trip. What would could have been a prank by impish Pokémon turned out to be rather violent. So finally, town officials are standing their ground and have hired an individual (trainer or mercenary) to “exorcise” this place of its demons.
So now Indra awaits for his biggest challenge yet.
By the time Indra’s body ceased to implode upon itself, a cool wave washed over his senses, extinguishing the phantom burns he felt. And in the place of a discoloured little boy was a young man whose hair was teal and skin was white. He had Mismagius’ trademark eyes with red painted around the rims and down his snout. Jems were arrayed along his cheek bones, and in places hidden by clothes were Mismagius' trio jewels just above his pelvis; but most noticeably from under breast and down, his body was a translucent gradient. His feet almost couldn’t be seen and often disappeared completely the higher Indra elevated himself. Nevertheless, there were times where he lookes whole, but only when he wasn't levitating
indra had officially become a Mismagius gijinka.
Not long afterward, Remarque left for his usual business trip. Where he went, Indra didn’t know. But he waited and waited. The usual week was up and that week stretched on to a month and finally several months. Within a year, there were so many people wandering around their property, speculating, invading. At first, all Indra did was hide in the often disregarded attic until people left the premises. But as curiosity and distress burgeoned, the Mismagius wandered and stalked them. One day he overheard the realtor speaking: “the owner of the house died in an accident revolving around team-you-know-who in a distant city. But you need not worry, there are no records of any deaths or disturbances in this house.” The rest of what the woman had to say were deafened by distraught tears. Just as he was about to be spied, Indra fled into the attic to wallow and rage.
The estate was sold, but Indra stayed. Out of malicious intent, he haunted the family that moved in. The father was left in a daze, fantasising without even realising; the child constantly whimpered from severe headaches; and the wife would always sleep – some suggested comatose. Rather hastily did they go mad. The father chased after something he saw within the attic and charged right through ocular window. He fell to his death.
When that family officially left, a new family replaced them. The same symptoms occurred. Eventually, with so much repetition from incidents, the house wouldn’t sell. People wouldn’t even bother to visit – the sign out front decayed as did the house; overgrown by weeds and destroyed by elemental debris. Truth be told, this is how it ought to be, this is how Indra wanted it to be.
However, twenty-some years later, the town bought the estate and the land with it. It was renovated into a temple. A team of monks and the head priests moved in. Festivals unfurled, and private séances were given. How dare they, Indra thought. Since the very beginning, there had a series of accidents. Construction accidents, impish tricks, and outlandish stunts, yet these people continued to pester! They would chant, they would mark the places with charms, but none of that worked, not truly. When at his wits end, Indra wrote them a message: I will be rid of you! However, the head priestess continued push.
The most recent event was at a festival hosted on these ‘holy grounds.’ With the help of friends, Indra made his message clearer than ever. The participants were afflicted by his incantations, making the whole ordeal chaotic, uncontrollable, unpredictable. Gastlies would assist, haunters would trip. What would could have been a prank by impish Pokémon turned out to be rather violent. So finally, town officials are standing their ground and have hired an individual (trainer or mercenary) to “exorcise” this place of its demons.
So now Indra awaits for his biggest challenge yet.
behind the glass mask
August
⤷Mononoke ⤷kusuriuri ⤷Indra
