solas_ion: (for little there is of my life remaining)
[Somewhere between Cherrygrove and Violet, there is a tree.]

[In this tree is a flock of Murkrow--which the Venomoth holding the Pokegear seems to be focusing on before moving back to her trainer. And standing nearby? Lancer, with an unusually serious expression on his face as he stared at the birds in silence.]

['I guard your death.' That was what she had said to him. And it had been true, of course--the Morrígan was more often than not a herald of the end for many warriors of Ireland. Even the greatest one of his era had been no exception.]

[And now, staring at this flock of what must have passed for crows--messengers of the goddess herself--Ulster's hound felt strangely uneasy. When he finally did speak, it was in a serious tone. His words may have sounded like mere superstition, but there was a strange weight to them that made it sound like something much more than that.]


...I've always known ravens as an ill omen. I wonder if the same holds true in Johto.

[Lancer couldn't quite help but wonder: was this a warning that he going to die again? Not that he feared the idea, but he had more important things to do than add a third death to his list.]

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Lancer || Cu Chulainn

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