"Then you'll just end up breaking your heart eventually."
The faint scent of a sea breeze was carried through the mist, making it so much more like the fog that blew lightly across the ocean's shore at dawn. Though the two continued to climb, the wooden stairs were melting away into rock and soil, forming a mountain trail for them to follow. Vinnie closed his eyes, even as he walked. The memories were so deeply etched in his heart that it felt like he could find his way home blindfolded.
"It starts as a debt," Vinnie continued, "that turns into somethin' else. You feel like y'owe it to someone... or maybe to yourself, t'find that thing you're missing that'll make you strong."
But as ever, strong was subjective. There was a time when the then-Ivysaur only yearned for physical prowess, and then times when he ached to be emotionally invulnerable. Whatever it was he wanted to be, something had always been missing. Something he craved and strove for.
But it was always that desperate need that emptied him. For too long, Vinnie was so busy trying to fix each weakness, he couldn't see himself as a whole.
Acceptance of himself. Acceptance of the world. In the end, they were the hardest things to do.
The rhythmic chanting, it turned out, had only been the roar of the waves. A rustle of leaves, the perfume of rhododendrons against cedar. In the darkness, the Venusaur could still make shape of everything around him - he shaped it, in fact, filling in the gaps of the fog with his mind.
Once his feet felt the touch of grass, he stopped. He opened his eyes. All the pieces were back in place.
His Garden. The very heart of the place, teeming with vibrant green even in the depths of winter. A sprinkling of frost shimmered in the light like a diamond sheen, but held no real threat - there was a radiant glow here that emanated out from beneath the ground, a verdant energy that chased away the cold.
Yet somehow, the comforting warmth of his home didn't restore Vinnie at all. If anything, he sounded more weary. Drained.
Drip, drip, drip...
"It's the wrong idea. You end up chasing a dream, an' all dreams have t'end."
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The faint scent of a sea breeze was carried through the mist, making it so much more like the fog that blew lightly across the ocean's shore at dawn. Though the two continued to climb, the wooden stairs were melting away into rock and soil, forming a mountain trail for them to follow. Vinnie closed his eyes, even as he walked. The memories were so deeply etched in his heart that it felt like he could find his way home blindfolded.
"It starts as a debt," Vinnie continued, "that turns into somethin' else. You feel like y'owe it to someone... or maybe to yourself, t'find that thing you're missing that'll make you strong."
But as ever, strong was subjective. There was a time when the then-Ivysaur only yearned for physical prowess, and then times when he ached to be emotionally invulnerable. Whatever it was he wanted to be, something had always been missing. Something he craved and strove for.
But it was always that desperate need that emptied him. For too long, Vinnie was so busy trying to fix each weakness, he couldn't see himself as a whole.
Acceptance of himself. Acceptance of the world. In the end, they were the hardest things to do.
The rhythmic chanting, it turned out, had only been the roar of the waves. A rustle of leaves, the perfume of rhododendrons against cedar. In the darkness, the Venusaur could still make shape of everything around him - he shaped it, in fact, filling in the gaps of the fog with his mind.
Once his feet felt the touch of grass, he stopped. He opened his eyes. All the pieces were back in place.
His Garden. The very heart of the place, teeming with vibrant green even in the depths of winter. A sprinkling of frost shimmered in the light like a diamond sheen, but held no real threat - there was a radiant glow here that emanated out from beneath the ground, a verdant energy that chased away the cold.
Yet somehow, the comforting warmth of his home didn't restore Vinnie at all. If anything, he sounded more weary. Drained.
Drip, drip, drip...
"It's the wrong idea. You end up chasing a dream, an' all dreams have t'end."