by Whatevr89532 » Thu Aug 15, 2013 6:21 pm
The soul takes a second, seeming to gather its thoughts. I was..a pokemon trainer, a long time ago. But that..means something specific where I was originally from. In many worlds I've seen since then, pokemon are treated as the companions of people, with respect, and it is socially unacceptable if not criminal to mistreat them. Where I was from, they were seen as tools--nothing more. A trainer's job was to capture them in the wild and then force them into complete obedience using..cruelty and pain, mostly..and money was made by selling them to people who wanted that particular tool for something. There were activists, and some people were not so terrible to them, but I was among the people who did the worst. I don't think the way that society worked excuses my actions, but I do want you to understand why I did them.
The form I was cursed with was specifically designed to put me through the worst of what I had done, at the hands of my old friends and colleagues, even. In addition to simply being something so rare, I couldn't communicate with humans, any kind of pokeball would torture me instead of providing comfort--which was what they are supposed to do--and, maybe worst of all, I could not truly be owned by anyone. I would always disappear, or be able to escape, and go back out into the wild to start all over again. Eventually I found a way to slip out of that universe, and came to another one.
...It's been so long since I was that man that I don't even remember my name from back then. I've fought more battles than I can count and even managed to help save a few worlds. I've had trainers like I used to be, and trainers who were just the opposite. The scar you may have noticed came from protecting the first to ever be kind to me. Like I said, I think I made up for who I used to be. But since you were merciful enough to release me from my curse, I trust your judgement rather than insisting on mine...