[Post 033] Video/Action for Olivine City
[Prose]
Marianne knows she's not a nice girl. No, not at all.
She's a cruel person with little capacity for love to be had and given. That doesn't mean that she is incapable of love. She gave it all to him, of course, to her France.
It had been an easy decision. After all, there wasn't much in this world for a pokémon without a trainer. Those without could never reach their greatest potentials, not unless they were destined to be legendary. She had known from the very start, from the egg itself that she wasn't legendary material. She didn't care to be. No, what Marianne wanted, what she truly wished for was much more simple than that:
Him. Just him.
She watches him with the others. Other people, other pokémon, others. They don't deserve him, her France. She knows that her stance--her jealousy, really--is not normal, but it doesn't stop her for feeling as she does, from watching the others with suspicious eyes and clenched teeth. Louis laughs at her from his perch, shaking with mirth, his great, massive form casting her in shadow.
"You love too much, Mari," he snickers: long, unkind, mocking.
And, of course, he's right. Louis never lies. He's power-hungry and cold, yes, but never a liar: a true monster next to her monstrous love. That's what it is, when it comes down to the truth, the facts all pointing to this conclusion: that Marianne will live a thousand years with France always as her one and only, and she can never, ever have him, not really, not truly for all and because of her love.
She loves too much, just as Louis says, and yet it brings her only strange comfort and no regrets. Because, after all, that is something her France does, too:
He loves.
So, she asks herself, when she sees him with others:
Is he happy?
Do they make him smile?
Would they protect him, should I fall?
Thérèse just rolls her eyes at Marianne's questions, those yellow eyes amused and contemptuous.
"He doesn't need you," she leers, horrid creature that she is. "He has the others of his own kind, doesn't he."
Marianne hates her, hates her in a fundamental way she can't quite explain. Thérèse understands nothing of love, only fleeting and banal pleasure, but more could Marianne expect of a creature of the night? Against Thérèse's inherent blasphemy, she much prefers Louis's cold, meticulous thoughts. Louis has no love for anyone but himself, but the narcissism is strangely comforting in a way. Louis cannot love, cannot and would not compete for Marianne's place in France's heart because he does not care. All he cares for is battle, for the fight to take him to new heights--literally, now that Louis has his wings. To him, France is a means to an end, to bring him as close as possible to legendary.
Marianne doesn't want legendary. She never did. All she's ever wanted was him, her France.
"You love too much, Mari."
She never denies it.
She loves.
[Action]
[The 'Gear comes on to find a very self-satisfied France grinning at the audience of the network. Have you missed this arrogant fail, Johto?]
Today, a milestone has been reached in Johto history!
[The camera shifts around to show one massive Charizard and a glaring Ninetales. If you look closely in the background, you can spot one sunbathing Umbreon as well as a rippling Ditto at her side.]
Louis has evolved into a Charizard, and Marianne has reached her hundredth level nearly a year since my glorious and eventual arrival in this place!
[France shifts the 'Gear back upon himself, wearing his most sparkletastic winning grin.]
I propose this be declared a national holiday, in honor the greatness of France!
Marianne knows she's not a nice girl. No, not at all.
She's a cruel person with little capacity for love to be had and given. That doesn't mean that she is incapable of love. She gave it all to him, of course, to her France.
It had been an easy decision. After all, there wasn't much in this world for a pokémon without a trainer. Those without could never reach their greatest potentials, not unless they were destined to be legendary. She had known from the very start, from the egg itself that she wasn't legendary material. She didn't care to be. No, what Marianne wanted, what she truly wished for was much more simple than that:
Him. Just him.
She watches him with the others. Other people, other pokémon, others. They don't deserve him, her France. She knows that her stance--her jealousy, really--is not normal, but it doesn't stop her for feeling as she does, from watching the others with suspicious eyes and clenched teeth. Louis laughs at her from his perch, shaking with mirth, his great, massive form casting her in shadow.
"You love too much, Mari," he snickers: long, unkind, mocking.
And, of course, he's right. Louis never lies. He's power-hungry and cold, yes, but never a liar: a true monster next to her monstrous love. That's what it is, when it comes down to the truth, the facts all pointing to this conclusion: that Marianne will live a thousand years with France always as her one and only, and she can never, ever have him, not really, not truly for all and because of her love.
She loves too much, just as Louis says, and yet it brings her only strange comfort and no regrets. Because, after all, that is something her France does, too:
He loves.
So, she asks herself, when she sees him with others:
Is he happy?
Do they make him smile?
Would they protect him, should I fall?
Thérèse just rolls her eyes at Marianne's questions, those yellow eyes amused and contemptuous.
"He doesn't need you," she leers, horrid creature that she is. "He has the others of his own kind, doesn't he."
Marianne hates her, hates her in a fundamental way she can't quite explain. Thérèse understands nothing of love, only fleeting and banal pleasure, but more could Marianne expect of a creature of the night? Against Thérèse's inherent blasphemy, she much prefers Louis's cold, meticulous thoughts. Louis has no love for anyone but himself, but the narcissism is strangely comforting in a way. Louis cannot love, cannot and would not compete for Marianne's place in France's heart because he does not care. All he cares for is battle, for the fight to take him to new heights--literally, now that Louis has his wings. To him, France is a means to an end, to bring him as close as possible to legendary.
Marianne doesn't want legendary. She never did. All she's ever wanted was him, her France.
"You love too much, Mari."
She never denies it.
She loves.
[Action]
[The 'Gear comes on to find a very self-satisfied France grinning at the audience of the network. Have you missed this arrogant fail, Johto?]
Today, a milestone has been reached in Johto history!
[The camera shifts around to show one massive Charizard and a glaring Ninetales. If you look closely in the background, you can spot one sunbathing Umbreon as well as a rippling Ditto at her side.]
Louis has evolved into a Charizard, and Marianne has reached her hundredth level nearly a year since my glorious and eventual arrival in this place!
[France shifts the 'Gear back upon himself, wearing his most sparkletastic winning grin.]
I propose this be declared a national holiday, in honor the greatness of France!