- Pronoun
- she/her
Dave blinked - was Laura ordering moves, like he was her fucking Pokémon? - but just as he peered back at her she snapped her hands (paws?) and a crackle of sharp energy went through him, shuddering down his spine, and Betel's telepathy network helpfully supplied an inexplicable understanding blooming somewhere in the back of his brain: no, this was just some Pokémon move bullshit, somehow. Coaching. Helping Hand.
He nodded, did the Escarpa's claw-sharpening trick for good measure. The gigantic machine loomed, the inky black substance inside the tanks reminiscent of Powehi's Shadow ocean. People had been experimented on in here. If those tanks burst, would they all end up like Ridley, passively generating Shadow?
Cold was seeping through his chest. Fine. Good. Use the power, if they had to have it.
With a deep breath, he charged towards the Tinkaton.
He nodded, did the Escarpa's claw-sharpening trick for good measure. The gigantic machine loomed, the inky black substance inside the tanks reminiscent of Powehi's Shadow ocean. People had been experimented on in here. If those tanks burst, would they all end up like Ridley, passively generating Shadow?
Cold was seeping through his chest. Fine. Good. Use the power, if they had to have it.
With a deep breath, he charged towards the Tinkaton.