Mewtwo is nothing if not a Pokemon of its instincts. (..."Gem" of its instincts.) Of course it touched the Heart.
It's hard to reconcile this feeling of comfort with the rational knowledge that nothing is right, and Sird was not in that hole, and that whatever's just happened to Mewtwo means it can't get back out there and wring her neck. Harder still to get over the realization that its power is gone - it'd taken three steps out of the room and wobbled, taken aback at the resounding emptiness where its psychokinesis usually sat, omnipresent.
So it did what its instincts told him to, and retreated to the Heart. Out there there were sure to be others, other Gems(?!) and Pokemon and humans, and there was that nagging mistrust in its heart that didn't want to see another soul unless it had all the power at its disposal it was used to having. In here, there was this strangely comforting rock, which smoothed out the anger and the fear agitation and welcomed Mewtwo warmly into its sanctuary.
It perches on top of the Heart, with its feet folded under it, closes its eyes, and focuses. On the Heart - why on earth does it cause these feelings? - and on the kunzite stone now set on Mewtwo's stomach, where its navel would be if it had one.
If anyone intrudes on its meditation...it'll figure out what to do about that when it happens.
Combat
Some Gems have swords, some have gauntlets, some have...giant spoons?
At least this is familiar. The weight of the spoon, blessedly, is the same as the one he'd normally create with his psychic powers. It spares Mewtwo about half the stumbles he could be making. The other half are inescapable, as it turns and jumps and expects to lift into the air on reflex and...doesn't.
The Chameleoid should be easy to take down. Mewtwo can imagine exactly how it would go. Not being able to just do it drags out the process - not to mention it frustrates Mewtwo, and the more frustrated it gets, the more it can feel its technique slipping. It leaps over the tongue, tries to lunge in close and jab its spoon into her hide, and - the Chameleoid just vanishes. Dammit.
Mewtwo wobbles backwards, glancing around itself to assess the battlefield by sight. What it wouldn't give for a trainer right now - at its current level of ability, it wouldn't even have to be Red. But nobody here is a proper trainer (and it's not a proper Pokemon), just fellow fighters -
- and the Chameleoid is back, flicking its tongue at one of them. Mewtwo sends a single telepathic "!" at her target, a wordless plea to get the hell out of the way.
Mewtwo | Pokemon Special
Mewtwo is nothing if not a Pokemon of its instincts. (..."Gem" of its instincts.) Of course it touched the Heart.
It's hard to reconcile this feeling of comfort with the rational knowledge that nothing is right, and Sird was not in that hole, and that whatever's just happened to Mewtwo means it can't get back out there and wring her neck. Harder still to get over the realization that its power is gone - it'd taken three steps out of the room and wobbled, taken aback at the resounding emptiness where its psychokinesis usually sat, omnipresent.
So it did what its instincts told him to, and retreated to the Heart. Out there there were sure to be others, other Gems(?!) and Pokemon and humans, and there was that nagging mistrust in its heart that didn't want to see another soul unless it had all the power at its disposal it was used to having. In here, there was this strangely comforting rock, which smoothed out the anger and the
fearagitation and welcomed Mewtwo warmly into its sanctuary.It perches on top of the Heart, with its feet folded under it, closes its eyes, and focuses. On the Heart - why on earth does it cause these feelings? - and on the kunzite stone now set on Mewtwo's stomach, where its navel would be if it had one.
If anyone intrudes on its meditation...it'll figure out what to do about that when it happens.
Combat
Some Gems have swords, some have gauntlets, some have...giant spoons?
At least this is familiar. The weight of the spoon, blessedly, is the same as the one he'd normally create with his psychic powers. It spares Mewtwo about half the stumbles he could be making. The other half are inescapable, as it turns and jumps and expects to lift into the air on reflex and...doesn't.
The Chameleoid should be easy to take down. Mewtwo can imagine exactly how it would go. Not being able to just do it drags out the process - not to mention it frustrates Mewtwo, and the more frustrated it gets, the more it can feel its technique slipping. It leaps over the tongue, tries to lunge in close and jab its spoon into her hide, and - the Chameleoid just vanishes. Dammit.
Mewtwo wobbles backwards, glancing around itself to assess the battlefield by sight. What it wouldn't give for a trainer right now - at its current level of ability, it wouldn't even have to be Red. But nobody here is a proper trainer (and it's not a proper Pokemon), just fellow fighters -
- and the Chameleoid is back, flicking its tongue at one of them. Mewtwo sends a single telepathic "!" at her target, a wordless plea to get the hell out of the way.