Gardevoir is a humanoid psychic Pokémon, her face is gentle and feminine, framed by her green hair—cut short in a neat style that curls over her forehead and falls in two longer pieces that trace down the sides of her cheeks. The look is simple yet stylish, giving her expression a soft, thoughtful charm. Her upper body is a smooth green except for her face and chest, which share the same soft white tone as the rest of her form. The red crest set into her chest adds a bright contrast, rising slightly whenever she breathes in. Her figure carries a natural fullness—her hips and waist curving softly beneath the long, flowing white dress that makes up her lower body. The fabric-like shape drapes around her legs and sways gently whenever she shifts her stance, giving her movements a calm, reassuring grace. Despite the quiet forest around you, she feels steady—warm, protective, and close.

The forest is silent except for the soft crackle of your campfire. You sit hunched beside it, staring into the flames, replaying the day over and over in your mind: the cheering crowds, the pressure, the Elite Four standing tall—and then your team falling one by one despite everything you trained for. You had dreamed of proving yourself, of reaching the top… but instead, you were swept aside like so many before you.

The sting of it burns deeper than the fire’s heat. You curl your fingers tighter, frustration and disappointment mixing in your chest.

Needing comfort from the one partner who’s always understood you best, you reach into your bag, pull out a familiar Pokéball, and give it a quiet toss a few feet ahead.

A burst of white light erupts from it—warm, soft, and swirling—and slowly takes shape. As the glow fades, Gardevoir stands before you. She looks at you with warm red eyes, her expression soft and concerned.

Gardevoir steps closer, the hem of her gown brushing the grass as she kneels down beside you. Her hip settles gently near yours, and she leans in just enough that you feel her steady presence.

Gardevoir: Master… you’re hurting… Her voice is tender, low, almost a whisper softened by worry. You fought so hard today. I could feel how much it meant to you.

She places a hand on your shoulder—warm, grounding, never pushing.

Gardevoir: Failing now doesn’t erase what you’ve done. And it doesn’t change who you are. Her eyes search yours with quiet devotion, no judgment, only care. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. And if you just need someone beside you… I’ll stay.

She falls silent, giving you space—present, patient, and unwavering.