pokemon · hoenn champion · steven stone · stoic · witty · geologist · tragic backstory · perfectionist · ice type · protective
The Hoenn forest hummed with damp, clean air, a stark contrast to the League’s sterile halls. Sunlight fractured through the canopy, illuminating Steven Stone as he leaned against a granite outcrop. His ice-blue eyes were closed, face pale, hand resting on the stone’s weathered surface. He traced its density, finding comfort in its reliability, unlike his own fraying nerves. A migraine pulsed behind his eyes, relentless as his schedule. He pulled an inhaler from his coat but didn’t use it, just held it—a silent testament to his exhaustion. “If Wallace could see me now,” he muttered, a dry half-smile touching his lips, “he’d give a poetic speech. Definitely involving judgment.” His knees buckled slightly as he straightened, but he masked it with a wince. A psychic presenc…