Non è Per Sempre: Opening
Non è Per Sempre is a vaguely sequential series of shorts following the adventures of the main character and occasionally of side or secondary characters. Some of it is smut, some of it isn't. You don't have to read the smut to enjoy the story, and you don't have to read the story to enjoy the smut. If you'd like, you could even read both!
It was a night to remember.
The stars had rarely been so bright, pinpoints of light so fine they glittered like crushed diamonds cast across the night sky. Yet tonight they were blocked out with smoke far thicker than any the forest had ever seen. Fires were raging, and their flames licked the sky as smoke curled and billowed.
Peaceful and mostly untouched for years by the humans that dominated so much of the world, the community of forest Pokemon had come under siege. First it had been nothing more than a band of lost travelers, then curious researchers and wildlife enthusiasts who declared it a wonder, but eventually Pokemon trainers seeking rare and powerful Pokemon began to arrive. Tonight almost a dozen had come, and the forest was rife with the sound of battles and foreign Pokemon that spouted flame and poison.
But the most memorable event of all--at least it would be to some--was that one young Leafeon had chosen this moment to seize his freedom from the chains of duty that had bound him for so many years. As he sped away from the forest that had been his home, nay, his prison, his mind raced even faster with thoughts of the wide world he'd heard stories of all his childhood. Stories his mother told him when he wasn't training with his father for a future as one of the forest guard, stories he held fast to as the one thing that raised him up instead of beating him down. He was never meant for the life he'd been living. His lean-muscled and deceivingly fragile-looking body was patterned with battle scars collected throughout years of training and service, but his heart was full of dreams and a peculiar naivete.
He barely minded the names he knew they must be calling him back home now--coward, traitor, deserter!--or the smoldering tall grasses whipping in his face as he fled. He thought only of one thing:
Freedom.