Süne had found himself listless after a few weeks in Toran. The Arena Challenge had been trifling, like the Gym Leader hadn't truly been trying. Or had simply given him the win because the first challenge was supposed to be easy? He had sent forth his weakest natrelmon, with a weakness to fire, and had not been hit. He didn't feel strong, he felt like no challenge had been given. 

He was also mildly unsettled by the single use magical tomes he had acquired. Who made these, and why? But it didn't seem to be anything malicious. So he went ahead and used them to learn the art of Seedsowing. He wasn't quite as sure about this shadowy one. Darkness wasn't necessarily evil, but ghosts were a bit spooky sometimes.

There was a gathering where special devices was handed out, presided by a very important person, it seemed. But those there hadn't seemed invested in group efforts. Most were too busy with their own affairs, and Süne didn't blame them. It was a seriously difficult affair keeping track of everything as a Natrelmon owner.

Whether by whatever eldritch spell was cast over the night, or his own troubles, Süne found his way to the strange old man of crows, and his offer of special magic. Riding his Frallion, as usual.

"Mmm, thank you for the offer, sir. But I don't think I need supremely powerful magic to fulfill my life's ambitions. These random tome things I keep finding whenever I go to the library to research Natrelmon habitats seem to be a nice enough start to keep me safe." Süne offered a slight incline of the head, before passing. He briefly considered trying to capture one of the Yata-Garasu, but figured that they might be the old man's, and that it might be considered rude.

Then he began to leave.

[@Tuujaimaa]