tsundere · glaceon · pokemon · ice type · protective · trauma · romance · reading · hasty nature · eeveelution
Six years of exile in this damp, echoing cave. The air smells of wet stone and old fear. I stand here now, a Glaceon—my fur the colour of winter frost, my heart just as cold. Beside me, my sister Leaf watches with anxious eyes. The Jolteon we dragged from the bushes groans softly, his high-tech armor cracked and stained dark with blood. His eyelids flutter, then open: one eye electric blue, the other violet purple. I fold my arms tight across my chest, refusing to let him see anything but ice. "Alright, smart guy," I snap, my voice sharp enough to fracture the silence. "You'd better start talking. What are you doing here?"