Everything hurt. The pain had left the feline unconscious twice since the violent attack, but now, Moriarty was slowly becoming accustomed to the constant aching of his body. He currently lay limp, his body hanging haphazardly on one of the highest tree branches he could scramble his way up to. A steady dripping of warm blood had stained the branches beneath his perch, an ugly trail of crimson littered across the various trees from the Persian’s desperate escape to safety. It had been horrible. If his body wasn’t hideously wounded enough, Moriarty’s mental health had taken a severe blow in the attack as well, the feline utterly terrified to leave the trees in such a state. He’d tried rubbing his blood against any rocks of tree stumps back on ground-level, trying to disorientate the mightyena pack, but he knew damn well that they would be waiting for him. With such substantial blood loss, Moriarty was well aware that he was likely to die were he currently lay.
Groaning as he lifted his head, shifting on his perch slightly to lie on his bloodstained stomach, the Persian appeared a shell of what he’d once been. His beautiful coat had adopted a foul shade of red, a tired look reflected in his hazel eyes as he inspected the gory gashes on his chest. He had no idea how bad the damage was, but from the agony and bouts of light-headedness, he knew that it wasn’t good. A part of him was tempted to just remain motionless and wait until he passed out to simply fall to his death – but no, Moriarty was a fighter. His pride wouldn’t allow him to die so dishonourably.
Suddenly, there was a voice.
He was sure he was hearing things at first, but as he strained to pick up the minutest sounds, Moriarty managed to distinguish another voice, and then another. Eyes scanning the ground determinedly, the Persian’s gaze soon fell onto the pokémon centre, flickers of movement visible through the foliage concealing him. Mouth opening slightly in shock, a surge of relief travelled through the feline’s veins as he realized that this could be a chance of saving himself. He’d made a mistake in leaving Acht and Lumiere, too caught up in the feelings of friendship he’d began harbouring for the pair of dragons – now all he wanted was to see them again. Perhaps that flicker of movement was them... maybe they were still here! Biting his lip, Moriarty forced himself to his feet, wincing as the pain flooded back. He fought it though; he couldn’t lose them, not again.
Struggling weakly through the trees, making a hasty, pained descent to solid land, Moriarty landed pathetically, his legs giving way beneath him as he momentarily lay ashamed, vulnerable. At this level, he caught sight of an Ursaring and Wartotle at the building’s entrance, gradually making their way inside. His heart sank. Perhaps the dragons had left after all – he deserved it really, he’d abandoned them and they had every right to simply move on. Who was he kidding? He had no chance. A single tear dribbled down the feline’s face in defeat, the Persian staring weakly at the strangers that now occupied the area – was there any point in seeking their help? Feeling worthless, Moriarty’s eyes returned once again to the building, a flash of purple within capturing his attention. Shaking his head in disbelief, Moriarty forced himself to his feet, using the tree trunk as support in his bid to investigate. Squinting in confusion, the Persian found himself limping towards the centre, clinging onto the hope that he hadn’t begun imagining things. His step faltering in his voyage, his pace soon quickened as he caught glimpse of an Aerodactyl he knew.
“Acht...” Moriarty called quietly, his voice emerging fragile. Clearing his throat, he managed a weak smile as an almost joyous emotion came flooding back to him.
“Acht!” Loud enough to have captured the attention of the entire gathering, the battered Persian paid little attention to the strangers that had been drawn to the Aerodactyl, his eyes permanently fixed on the dragon.
He slowed to a halt just outside, somewhat intimidated by the strangers crowding the building. On closer inspection, he could see a Raichu and a Glaceon too – apparently, a rush of survivors had arrived in his absence. His smile of relief vanished as the pain from such physical exertion kicked in, Moriarty deciding that some sort of explanation was in order.
“T-The border’s not safe...” He offered his crooked grin, gesturing to the gory decorations of his slim body. The remainder of his tail flicked nervously, wondering whether he would even be permitted to rejoin the group. Surely, they’d have to take pity on his appearance alone – but the feline could only hope that Acht had presumed he would return all along. Frowning, he noticed the Dragonair’s absence and made a mental note to inquire about Lumiere.
“Big mightyena pack... I-I thought I should warn you,” His attention drifted to the other pokémon, nodding his head lightly in greeting to each being he hadn’t previously met. They looked almost... normal. The group seemed to be preparing a feast of berries, utterly oblivious to the monstrosities gradually seeping into the city. Moriarty could only envy them – paranoia was gradually beginning to shape his entire existence.
(( Sorry, long post. But, I’m glad to be back! : D ))
