- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
I will admit to not knowing how to handle that. Mismagius have Magic, and while I have ideas of where to take that, they're mostly vague and unformed at best.
In the Ranger’s Shadow (Pokémon/Pokémon Ranger)
- Location
- America
Its honestly probably fanon, but I remember a story about them being able to do something with luck.
Honestly, you seem to be going the route of Moves aren't really a thing, more along the lines of energy manipulation. Considering Flutter Mane as well as the aesthetics of the Mis-line, I can see some neat ideas for the future.
- Location
- Lordran
Honestly right at the start of the story, the description of Charlie as a misdreavus but weird had me thinking Flutter Mane as well. And honestly? Magic and explicitly supernatural elements were actually all over gen 1 and 2. Usually in the form of ghost-ghosts and immortal Ninetails and tear-based resurrection and more… They dialed it back after gen 3, but the Pokémon universe has always had more than just Pokémon manipulating a specific type of energy.
Also, of course the proud sword wielding Sammurot slaughtered what was probably a team of smugglers trying to get into Almia.
Edit: just reread my post and it's embarrassing to see "honestly" used so repeatedly after seeing it in your post used the same way.
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LunaMoth
Wings of Kynareth is my comfort song...
- Pronouns
- He/They
Just read the bulbapedia articles for it and the evolution, I don't think they have access to traditional magic. It looks like they have a fairly limited non move toolset. Like it just says that Mismagius constantly preform incantations that manipulate emotion, and also a bit of dream manipulation I guess.
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- Location
- America
I decided to look things up, and interestingly enough, the fact that Mismagius not only ups it's vocal gimmick with blessings/curses, but an entry or two mentions them being able to play with dimensions a bit. Illusions and niche moves like Trick Room and similar maybe.
LunaMoth
Wings of Kynareth is my comfort song...
- Pronouns
- He/They
I cant find any mention of dimensions beyond the 'can pull sleeping people into a dream world' bit. Most of the pokedex entries for it are just rephrasing the bit about it being able to bless/curse regarding love.
Transitions between characters should probably have it made more obvious who the new character's perspective is coming from.
This one for example had a particularly confusing opening that took me way too long to realize the change in perspective.
- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
As much as I can understand that, I personally hate when any story simply says who the perspective just swapped to. Though, while I agree I could make the swaps less jarring, I think I like them that way.
Not to say you're wrong for finding them off-putting, it is, after all, a matter of personal taste.
Bonny Fox - I – A Terrible Fate
- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
AN: Have a small sidestory that is definitely and absolutely in no way whatsoever connected to the main-plot, any implications, similar names, species, and character abilities are entirely coincidental. You can't prove anything.
Maeve was not so proud as to deny that she was… lost. Utterly lost.
She had only planned to be out for a few hours before being home for dinner, lest her mum scold her further. But now she had no idea where home even was since the old path through the field was gone.
As was the field, in fact.
She knew she had been going the right way until… right when she started walking back through the fen dividing Sean and Neil's fields. She had tripped over the uneven and uncertain ground and when she'd stood back up again the sky seemed a bit brighter and the fields had been gone. In their place had been untamed grass in one direction and more fen in the other. She had chosen the grass, not wanting to become any more wet than she already was.
Now, after having walked through the grass for nearly an hour, she had come upon unfamiliar-looking trees. That was when she had started to truly worry, not knowing where she was and becoming increasingly certain it wasn't the isle. But she had spotted a dirt path snaking its way out of the trees and into the grass some ways away, that had buoyed her spirits. The path had to lead somewhere after all.
One way led out the way she had come from, and since she hadn't seen anything while she had been walking, she decided on the other way.
This place looked almost like an orchard, the trees spaced a little too evenly to be natural, though she wasn't sure what kind of trees they were. The leaves had odd shapes, though it looked as if they were just starting to turn to Autumn as well.
Maeve shivered, it was starting to get dark and she still hadn't found anyone yet. Her clothes had dried onto her by now and they were starting to itch. She found herself wanting to cry and felt the telltale tightening of her throat before a sound caught her attention.
It sounded like metal rattling, a 'clink click clink' of something man-made, and Maeve almost burst into tears for a different reason now. Quickly, she started moving to where she thought the sounds were coming from, even after they stopped as she drew closer.
She gasped as she saw what had been making the noise. It wasn't a person but a large, dare she say giant, fox in some kind of trap she'd never seen before. It looked like a band of metal had been made to close around the thing's front paw and drive barbs into it as two chains on either side pulled it off the ground enough so the fox couldn't move.
Oh and what a pretty fox it was too. A shiny, dark-grey coat, little red paws, a red streak going down the back of its head, a fluffy tail that shaded from grey to black, an adorable tuft of black fur on its chest, and such beautiful sky-blue eyes with three red circles in the fur around each of them. She could easily see why someone would want its pelt, but she couldn't stand seeing it hanging there in pain.
She could see its eyes on her, could feel them, so she took a better look at the trap to see if she could at least loosen the chains first. One was driven into a tree with no-less-than three anchors, and she could see that the spikes went out the other side of the tree too. The other chain was connected to some kind of solid spring mechanism that she had no hope of moving.
Taking it together, she was shocked the poor fox's leg hadn't been torn off when the trap sprung.
She decided to see if she could undo the band around its leg instead. Moving closer to the fox, she was surprised it didn't try to bolt as she approached, even chained as it was. Bending down, Maeve hesitated to reach for the fox when she locked eyes with it. Its eyes were expressive in a way that mere foxes weren't, they were pleading with her, holding back tears a real fox wouldn't shed.
Some facts about her day and old stories ran through her mind quickly. Getting lost in such a strange way, how the day had seemed to grow longer once she did, such a beautiful creature that she was sure was more than it seemed, and how it was stuck in a solid metal trap.
"You're not just a bonny fox, are you?" She felt compelled to ask.
Confusion crossed its vulpine face, briefly displacing the pain before it replied, "No?"
Maeve felt her world shake. It- He had answered. And frighteningly, she had understood words that were not English or French.
She glanced at his stuck paw, "Right, I'm… I'm going to get you out, and then you're going to help me out afterward. Is that right?" She asked the strange fox.
"Yes, yes please!" He replied immediately, nodding his head.
"Okay, but this will probably hurt." She told him as she tried to figure out just how to remove the band.
In the end, it proved both rather simple and as painful as she expected for the poor fox. The band needed to be pulled slightly tighter before she shoved a thin stone she found between the strange mechanism to loosen it, and thus, release the fae creature.
As the fox-thing fell to the ground he yelped, lifting the paw that had been trapped before Maeve heard a pitiful whine coming from him. As she watched, transfixed by the fairy's movements she had a realization as to why he couldn't stop moving his leg.
"Oh," She said, even as she was looking for a bandage-cloth. Between her summer skirts, her shirt, and her headscarf, the scarf was the best cloth she could afford to lose and still maintain her dignity. "Here, let me help."
Removing the scarf, she sidled over to the fox and lifted the cloth gently around his leg before tying it tight the way her pa had taught her to when someone was bleeding.
"Thank you!" The fox cried, before breaking into tears and repeating his words, "Thank you! Thank you!" He then leaned into her, still crying though now quiet.
They remained that way long enough for the world to go dark, the sun had finished setting before the fox clumsily stepped back from the girl. Eyes now red-rimmed, he sniffled a bit before he started speaking, "I was so lost and I just wanted some food or clean water and then I stepped into that human trap and-I-didn't-think-anyone-would-save-me-and-then-you-showed-up-andIthoughtyoumightbeabouttokillmebutyoudidn'tlooklikeahumanthatwouldsetatrapand-" He rambled before stopping to take a breath.
Before he could continue, Maeve decided to stop him with a hug. "I'm lost too." She told him. "I tripped and when I got back up I was somewhere else." She choked, feeling her own tears coming, "And all I could think to do was keep walking. I was hoping to find someone to help point me home, but I don't even know if this is Ireland." Her tears were falling freely now, she pushed on, "You'll still help me right? Even though I don't know where we are either?"
"Of, course!" He said, nodding, the fur on his face still wet, "I said I would didn't I?" The fox stood to three lags before pausing, then staring at Maeve, "Why did you say 'either?'" He asked the girl.
"You said you were lost too?" Maeve answered, her confusion evident.
"Oh! Oh! You can understand me!" The fox exclaimed, excitedly wiggling for a moment before a hiss broke through his lips, "Gha- Um, do you think you could carry me?" He asked her sheepishly.
"Yes, of course." She said apologetically, wiping away some of her tears. She hadn't thought to help ease his pain further. After lifting the fox into her arms she asked, "What should we do now?"
"You want to find other humans right?" At Maeve's nod, he continued, "We should probably find the edge of this grove and skirt around the farm then." He said. "Most farmers don't like it when they find you on their land. That's what the elders say."
That didn't sound right to Maeve, but then, she had known Sean and Neil her whole life. Almost shrugging before realizing that would jostle the fox, she asked, "Do you know which way will get us out the quickest?" At the fox's aborted gesture, she started walking again, ignoring the growing urge to stroke the fairy's ears.
She didn't hold out for long.
What are you doing! I said you can't prove anything!
Maeve was not so proud as to deny that she was… lost. Utterly lost.
She had only planned to be out for a few hours before being home for dinner, lest her mum scold her further. But now she had no idea where home even was since the old path through the field was gone.
As was the field, in fact.
She knew she had been going the right way until… right when she started walking back through the fen dividing Sean and Neil's fields. She had tripped over the uneven and uncertain ground and when she'd stood back up again the sky seemed a bit brighter and the fields had been gone. In their place had been untamed grass in one direction and more fen in the other. She had chosen the grass, not wanting to become any more wet than she already was.
Now, after having walked through the grass for nearly an hour, she had come upon unfamiliar-looking trees. That was when she had started to truly worry, not knowing where she was and becoming increasingly certain it wasn't the isle. But she had spotted a dirt path snaking its way out of the trees and into the grass some ways away, that had buoyed her spirits. The path had to lead somewhere after all.
One way led out the way she had come from, and since she hadn't seen anything while she had been walking, she decided on the other way.
This place looked almost like an orchard, the trees spaced a little too evenly to be natural, though she wasn't sure what kind of trees they were. The leaves had odd shapes, though it looked as if they were just starting to turn to Autumn as well.
Maeve shivered, it was starting to get dark and she still hadn't found anyone yet. Her clothes had dried onto her by now and they were starting to itch. She found herself wanting to cry and felt the telltale tightening of her throat before a sound caught her attention.
It sounded like metal rattling, a 'clink click clink' of something man-made, and Maeve almost burst into tears for a different reason now. Quickly, she started moving to where she thought the sounds were coming from, even after they stopped as she drew closer.
She gasped as she saw what had been making the noise. It wasn't a person but a large, dare she say giant, fox in some kind of trap she'd never seen before. It looked like a band of metal had been made to close around the thing's front paw and drive barbs into it as two chains on either side pulled it off the ground enough so the fox couldn't move.
Oh and what a pretty fox it was too. A shiny, dark-grey coat, little red paws, a red streak going down the back of its head, a fluffy tail that shaded from grey to black, an adorable tuft of black fur on its chest, and such beautiful sky-blue eyes with three red circles in the fur around each of them. She could easily see why someone would want its pelt, but she couldn't stand seeing it hanging there in pain.
She could see its eyes on her, could feel them, so she took a better look at the trap to see if she could at least loosen the chains first. One was driven into a tree with no-less-than three anchors, and she could see that the spikes went out the other side of the tree too. The other chain was connected to some kind of solid spring mechanism that she had no hope of moving.
Taking it together, she was shocked the poor fox's leg hadn't been torn off when the trap sprung.
She decided to see if she could undo the band around its leg instead. Moving closer to the fox, she was surprised it didn't try to bolt as she approached, even chained as it was. Bending down, Maeve hesitated to reach for the fox when she locked eyes with it. Its eyes were expressive in a way that mere foxes weren't, they were pleading with her, holding back tears a real fox wouldn't shed.
Some facts about her day and old stories ran through her mind quickly. Getting lost in such a strange way, how the day had seemed to grow longer once she did, such a beautiful creature that she was sure was more than it seemed, and how it was stuck in a solid metal trap.
"You're not just a bonny fox, are you?" She felt compelled to ask.
Confusion crossed its vulpine face, briefly displacing the pain before it replied, "No?"
Maeve felt her world shake. It- He had answered. And frighteningly, she had understood words that were not English or French.
She glanced at his stuck paw, "Right, I'm… I'm going to get you out, and then you're going to help me out afterward. Is that right?" She asked the strange fox.
"Yes, yes please!" He replied immediately, nodding his head.
"Okay, but this will probably hurt." She told him as she tried to figure out just how to remove the band.
In the end, it proved both rather simple and as painful as she expected for the poor fox. The band needed to be pulled slightly tighter before she shoved a thin stone she found between the strange mechanism to loosen it, and thus, release the fae creature.
As the fox-thing fell to the ground he yelped, lifting the paw that had been trapped before Maeve heard a pitiful whine coming from him. As she watched, transfixed by the fairy's movements she had a realization as to why he couldn't stop moving his leg.
"Oh," She said, even as she was looking for a bandage-cloth. Between her summer skirts, her shirt, and her headscarf, the scarf was the best cloth she could afford to lose and still maintain her dignity. "Here, let me help."
Removing the scarf, she sidled over to the fox and lifted the cloth gently around his leg before tying it tight the way her pa had taught her to when someone was bleeding.
"Thank you!" The fox cried, before breaking into tears and repeating his words, "Thank you! Thank you!" He then leaned into her, still crying though now quiet.
They remained that way long enough for the world to go dark, the sun had finished setting before the fox clumsily stepped back from the girl. Eyes now red-rimmed, he sniffled a bit before he started speaking, "I was so lost and I just wanted some food or clean water and then I stepped into that human trap and-I-didn't-think-anyone-would-save-me-and-then-you-showed-up-andIthoughtyoumightbeabouttokillmebutyoudidn'tlooklikeahumanthatwouldsetatrapand-" He rambled before stopping to take a breath.
Before he could continue, Maeve decided to stop him with a hug. "I'm lost too." She told him. "I tripped and when I got back up I was somewhere else." She choked, feeling her own tears coming, "And all I could think to do was keep walking. I was hoping to find someone to help point me home, but I don't even know if this is Ireland." Her tears were falling freely now, she pushed on, "You'll still help me right? Even though I don't know where we are either?"
"Of, course!" He said, nodding, the fur on his face still wet, "I said I would didn't I?" The fox stood to three lags before pausing, then staring at Maeve, "Why did you say 'either?'" He asked the girl.
"You said you were lost too?" Maeve answered, her confusion evident.
"Oh! Oh! You can understand me!" The fox exclaimed, excitedly wiggling for a moment before a hiss broke through his lips, "Gha- Um, do you think you could carry me?" He asked her sheepishly.
"Yes, of course." She said apologetically, wiping away some of her tears. She hadn't thought to help ease his pain further. After lifting the fox into her arms she asked, "What should we do now?"
"You want to find other humans right?" At Maeve's nod, he continued, "We should probably find the edge of this grove and skirt around the farm then." He said. "Most farmers don't like it when they find you on their land. That's what the elders say."
That didn't sound right to Maeve, but then, she had known Sean and Neil her whole life. Almost shrugging before realizing that would jostle the fox, she asked, "Do you know which way will get us out the quickest?" At the fox's aborted gesture, she started walking again, ignoring the growing urge to stroke the fairy's ears.
She didn't hold out for long.
What are you doing! I said you can't prove anything!
Chapter 16
- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
AN: This is it, the last chapter I'm ready to post right now. I had thought 17 was ready too, and then I realized I hated two sections of it. So maybe in a few days.
Also there are wasps in my kitchen. Yes, I'm being serious. No, I won't elaborate.
Enjoy.
The Ranger Academy drills many things into the heads of prospective rangers. And much, much more once you're selected to continue on the ranger track. One of those many things sounds simple enough in theory: Pokemon aren't merely animals.
Simple, many might even say obvious. The way most people act says otherwise.
A week into selection, Principal Lamont brought several different animals from the Pueltown Conservatory, along with some local pokemon, into the study hall. A serpent, a fox, a raptor, a very fluffy canine, a charmander, a tailow, and a pikachu. He then asked us to tell him what differences we could see.
Only a few of us noted the leashes, or the glove Principal Lamont was wearing. And That was just the start of them drilling one simple, obvious fact into our heads until we understood not just the difference, but why we'd thought that way.
Some might learn at different speeds, some might seem dim-witted or dull, and some might never have the chance to understand certain things, but pokemon are smart. Yet, to put it simply, we can't understand them well enough to easily notice, and we're not all that prone to questioning that, as a species.
The myth that pokemon can't understand us is also unfortunately still common around the world. Not to say there aren't some clear exceptions, but those are always the people who spend more time with pokemon than they do other humans. Such as rangers or trainers.
And then some pokemon make it obvious by being terrifyingly capable and intelligent. Such as, to give a completely random example, most samurott.
The former occupants of this boat clearly didn't understand any of that. Sure, many acclimated pokemon will be happy enough to follow you around if you simply offer them food and shelter, others might even do so just because of a good friendship or out of loyalty. But…
They tried to make a samurott, one they undoubtedly didn't care for, follow orders.
My oma's lectures about her team are coming back a bit clearer now. Samurott are proud, and not the arrogant pride of dragons, but a quiet sort of pride. They know what they are and what they can do, what they want, and what they're worth.
You don't make a samurott do anything. If they like or respect you, you can ask—or even order them to do something and they'll likely do it. If they don't respect you and you still try, they'll ignore you, and if they don't like you they'll likely make a point of dismissing you. But if they hate you, or if you treat them like animals?
You end up feeding the residents of a tidal zone.
I can see the ball they kept Samurott in, too, a customized one that I can't see criminals investing the kind of money it would take to buy. It's sea-blue with an ocean pattern, dotted with tactile shell engravings, and sporting a magnetic belt holder. It's also been bisected, likely at the exact moment Samurott escaped, which was almost certainly as soon as whoever was on the boat unlocked it.
That's another thing about samurott, they're deceptively fast, moving in waves of explosive violence and dead calm. Fergal was like that, the few times I saw him battle. I wonder where the members of Oma's team went?
I shake my head. I can ask her later, I need to figure this mess out first. Looking back to the beach, Samurott is watching me, seemingly having had her fill of the wailmer. "How long have you been here?" I ask as I fully turn to face her.
She continues staring, cocking her head in consideration. "Saa." She says, drawing three lines in the sand. There's no possible way that's anything but days.
I should have known from the moment I saw those crates of pokeballs that things were going to get complicated. "How many were there?" I ask, turning back to keep investigating the boat.
It's not large, big enough for six if they all squeezed together, the type you'd use to ferry between a larger vessel and the shore. The outboard motor is pulled up, with a rope tying the boat to a rock. So whoever had been on it was ready to or already disembarking.
"Rott." Comes a bark from behind me. I turn back to see the pokemon gesturing to two more lines in the sand.
Two teams of two. I wonder, "And you were the only pokemon they had with them?" A slow blink, then an incline of the head. Hmm, was this the pick-up or the drop-off team, then? Probably pick-up, given that Samurott said there were only two.
Time to report everything. "Katie," I glance at the sky, "Or Barry, whoever's listening right now, I found what's left of more smugglers."
I hear the line engage before, "What?!" Hey, it's still Katie.
"I told you there was a samurott, I'll give you one guess how it got here."
"Right, give me a sec," Katie says, before I hear static.
Then, "Ranger Holt, responding to a routing request for Ranger Onaga. Confirm?"
"Confirmed," I say. "I have a situation at Nabiki Beach, it seems to be related to the smugglers found yesterday in Vientown. Culprits likely deceased with a samurott present and calm."
There's a few seconds of silence, "Acknowledged. ETA seven minutes, standby."
"Acknowledged. Confirm?"
"Confirmed."
I sigh. Might as well plan my new route for surveying while I wait. Finding a spot against the low cliffs along the beach, I sit, watching Samurott dig an indent in the sand to lie down for a post-meal nap.
Weaver trots up next to me, leaning her shoulder against me in a sign of closeness that's always meant something to me. "This is going to become a huge mess soon, isn't it?" I ask her.
"Vile," She nods, slumping down next to me.
Samurott chuffs, opening one eye to look at me again before going back to her nap.
The orbs don't fucking do anything, that's the only thing I can take away from all this. Against the ground? Nothing. Against a log? Nothing. Against Leaf when he came to see what all the flashing lights were about? Nothing.
Well, Leaf said it tingled, so it didn't do much.
"I stand by my previous statements. You're weird," Leaf says, as I charge the implosion-explosion thing again.
No matter how much I pour into it or try to maintain it until it bursts, it never increases in size or power, only volume. I've managed to take it from a 'thup' to a 'crack.'
Also, it doesn't hurt me if I'm already in the middle of it, but it stings if I'm not?
I'm starting to think I have no idea what I'm doing, Ha! Ah… I have no idea what I'm doing.
This is literally the most basic use of power I can think of, and it's all I can manage. Everything I can do feels like that. I mean, yeah I can control psychic-stuff with a thought, but that doesn't mean I know how I need to think to use it properly. And ghost-stuff is just… It's like painting or drawing? But without brushes. And if I stop applying the 'paint' it vanishes, so the only two things I've been able to do so far are to keep pouring or to pour just enough.
But then, my voice is extremely simple in comparison, literally only taking focus to, well, focus it, or even slightly direct it. It's frustrating-
Ah, today's going to be like that is it? Well, fuck you world! I'm just going to deal with it, how do you like that?
What was I- right, psychic-stuff, ghost-stuff, voice-stuff, and not knowing how to actually use them.
The whole thing with pokemon trainers is starting to make more sense now, especially after what Weaver said about Moves just being names for common powers. And if that's the case, what's the deal with things sticking themselves into my memory?
The first one that did was how to call up psychic power, so I thought that was a Move. And the second was how to put power into my voice, which just supported the assumption. But then, the third was just how I changed the focus of my voice, and it's a bit different than the other two.
Wait, the other two? My- My ghost stuff didn't do the same thing. Although I did start getting a feel for it after I discovered how to 'stick' things myself. So, Maybe I should do that?
Well, it's there now, but I need to figure out why I can do that. Part of me wants to put it down to an adaption for some reason, but then again, ghost. So anything goes, I guess.
"…And you're not listening again." Leaf grumbles, smacking me with his tail.
There's a 'pop' as I lose focus on maintaining the power. I sigh, pushing some of my anger down. "Sorry. I'm trying, but I'm also trying to focus on a few other things, too."
"Why? No one's going to even try attacking you. You're a bit creepy sometimes, yeah, but you mostly just stay here and keep to yourself. And you've made it pretty clear you won't start anything." Leaf says, looking confused. He's not, he's happy. And slightly anxious, but I think he's just that kind of person.
I almost tell him it's because I'm bored out of my goddamned mind. Almost. It's true, but it also misses the point. "I need something to do. Not talking or eating or- whatever. Something to work towards," I admit.
I think today marks two weeks of me being maybe-dead, now? I'm really starting to miss my phone.
"Okay? I guess I can understand that." Leaf nods, looking at the chewed earth. "So you're trying to get stronger?"
"I don't know," I tell him. "But It's something to do, at least. I want to fix my home up, except I don't know where to even start on getting what I need."
"The city?" Leaf hedges. "From what everybody who's been there has told me, you can find all kinds of-" He stops talking as both his ears go all the way up. It looks adorable and ridiculous at the same time.
I'm about to ask what's up before I start hearing something too, like rumbling wind and whipping cloth. Leaf and I both look up as something whips by a bit to the south, skimming just above the trees. A black blur with something red on top, trailing a bright, hazard-yellow line.
"What do you think that was?" Leaf asks after a moment.
I nearly tell him I don't know, but I have an idea. While my memory isn't what I'd call 'photographic' now, it might as well be for anything I genuinely pay attention to. So it only takes a few seconds and a little effort to review it.
"A ranger on a staraptor," I inform him. "I wonder where they're going?"
Leaf makes a few lines in the dirt before frowning, "The coast? I know humans like heading out there, but the rangers usually don't go that fast if they can help it." He says, pawing at the dirt a bit more.
She was going fast, I mostly saw a red, black, and yellow smear in real-time. "Is there anything special over there?" I ask the ambulatory fern. Who is now pawing harder at the soil.
"Hmm?" He says, looking back up at me. "Uh, I don't know. I haven't been there myself." Then he looks back at the ground, "Are you doing something to the earth around here?"
I look at him, then the dirt, and then back to him, "No? Aside from all the 'mixing' I've done while practicing. Why?"
"Well, it's perfectly fertile," He says, like it explains everything. He also must see the look of confusion I'm giving him, because he continues, "Nothing's growing in it."
That- Wait, he's right, it was all dirt even before I tore it up. "Yeah, that's… odd. But it's not something I've done, since it was like that when I woke up here." Granted, the place has that 'definitely haunted' feeling about it-
Oh my fucking god.
"Leaf?" I ask, getting the attention of the plant in question, "Marshal said she's seen several ghosts before, do you know if they were all around here?"
"No…" He answers, now looking around more anxiously. "You'd have to ask her." Then he blinks, "I can't believe I just said that. I mean, she really does just let you ask her-" He stops, ears twitching and eyes turning to face east.
Well, that can't be good. Following his gaze, I can't see anything through the trees, but those stopped mattering a while ago. I shift places and everything becomes much more colorful and a lot clearer in at least two ways.
Great, it just had to be when I know my temper is going to be short. Fucking perfect. Let's hope they don't try anything.
I'm glad I didn't need to be so worried about Samurott, but it's always better to be careful when anyone, human or pokemon, looks like she does. And I think we're both hoping her next shedding heals most of the surface-level damage.
The sound of beating wings draws my, Weaver's, and Samurott's eyes from where I'm inspecting the large pokemon's wounds on the beach. That's Holt and Blake alright. It took them nine minutes to get here, which is still a great time, overall.
They don't land close, opting to do so as far as possible from where the three of us are either standing or lying near the water. As Holt dismounts and takes her goggles off, she inspects Samurott herself.
"Do you mind if I get closer?" She asks the frayed-looking pokemon. Who glances at me, then shrugs her shoulders as she stands.
"Rotter." She barks, moving to square herself up with Holt, before stumbling and huffing. She then nods, downcast.
"Mind filling me in?" Holt asks me as she approaches, still eyeing off the wounded warrior.
"She's a trained battler," I explain. "It took a bit to go through the standard yes-or-nos, but what I managed to get was, in short, her pokeball was stolen from her trainer while he was in Kanto, she evolved as soon as she was let out by the smugglers here, and she wants to get back as soon as possible." I then glance at Samurott before continuing, "She's fought off a lot of challengers in the last three days and has so many wounds that I'm- well, not surprised, I've seen samurott before, but she's definitely a good example of the species."
"Did you find the pokeball?" Holt asks. "As wrong as it feels to say, using it to let us get her back to town so we can get her to a clinic and start looking for her trainer would be very helpful."
Holt notices the pseudo-dragon slump her shoulders a bit before I answer, "I did, but it won't help us. She destroyed it the first chance she got, from what I can tell. Which," I say, turning to reassure Samurott, "Was probably the best move you could have made at the time."
"And the criminals? Have you seen any sign of them?" Holt asks, turning her attention from where we're standing to sweep the beach.
"Dead, Samurott confirmed that she killed them before tossing them into the high tide."
Holt nods at that, unfazed, as she starts moving to where the dinghy is still tied up. "A shame, would have been nice to throw them in with the other two, maybe get them to start talking. At least we have confirmation that whoever this group is, they are operating in Kanto as well."
Holt pauses as she reaches the boat, inspecting the scene before whistling, "Her trainer must be doing pretty well to afford something like that. I think that's a typed matrix. And the resonator is still intact too, so they should just be able to do a swap instead of waiting months for it to wear off."
I blink, as do Weaver and Samurott. "I take it you've studied pokeballs?" I half ask.
"I'm from Sinnoh, my parents still make their living making extremely high-end custom balls." She then frowns and pulls out some gloves to snap on before picking up the two halves of the sphere. "You know, I think this might be one of theirs." And then after inspecting it, "Wow, would you look at that. Small world." She says, walking back over to point at a line on the inside rim.
It says, 'Holt Custom Arts – V – Water – James Vance'.
"Huh," I say, agreeing with the sentiment. "How could you tell?" And then after a bit more thought, " And Is that the trainer's name?"
"The resonator's offset and unshielded." The woman says, pointing at a bundle of looped wire and glass around a small, glossy ring set into one half of the matrix. "It means adding more counterweights, but most trainers like the custom ones to be heavier anyway. And it's easier to hand-build them that way in any case, since-" She cuts herself off, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Sorry, I'm getting off track. And the name is indeed the trainer's, or at least the buyer's," Holt says, tapping at the line and nodding. "So we should be able to get them back together much faster with this. I might even be able to just call my parents and get some half-decent contact information."
I open my mouth to question if that's entirely legal, then just shrug off the thought. Looking at Samurott, she's obviously been following everything we've been saying and is in higher spirits now. That's not the reaction of someone dreading an unpleasant reunion, at least.
I frown. That makes me a bit more worried about Espeon since I'm assuming something similar happened to him, but I haven't wanted to push him about it. His reaction to my asking if he wanted to go back wasn't bad necessarily, but needing to think about it doesn't paint the best picture.
I shake the thoughts away, I've got other things to do and to worry about right now. "Am I part of a new mission right now, or can I get back to the survey I was doing?" I ask the Union ranger.
She thinks about that for a bit, eyes roaming over the whole scene a few times. "You're free to get back to your survey. I'm going to get Samurott back to town after I take a better look around here." She dismisses me.
As I start heading back to the trail, I bring my radio up again, "Katie, I'm off standby. Anything new?"
"Well," Comes a thoroughly fed-up voice, "There's a massive swarm of beedrill in the central forest, the train going from Vientown to Pueltown was delayed because a salamance decided to sleep on the tracks, there have been reports of joltik sightings, and the misdreavus is seemingly very angry right now."
Oh yeah, it's one of those weeks, how could I forget?
I know which one of those is closest, though. "How angry?" I ask.
"Um, I think she said, 'I'm just glad no one tried getting closer.'"
Leaf bolted right before the group came into sight. Not that I blame him, he clearly has anxiety and the way people act is a complete crap-shoot.
However, I had been enjoying not being alone with my thoughts.
At least they all left quickly after the first few ghost-orb-things, only taking a few pictures. And none of them tried to push their luck, either. I'm glad I have something that looks like an attack, even if it does nothing. It made me feel better about throwing so many at them.
I still feel like I'm missing something with the orbs. They feel empty, but I have no idea what to do with that. Because I know I can do something more with it, but I have no fucking idea how!
Calm down, don't start screaming again, and I should maybe try practicing what Marshal told me about. I told her I would, after all. And it's not putting things off so much as centering myself, right?
The trees and tall bushes rustle, the thin clouds rolling along slowly in the wind. The vague, floral scent of grass-types is stronger today than yesterday, now slightly overpowering the fresh, earthy smell of the forest. My home, a dilapidated structure in the middle of a magical forest, doesn't seem so out of place right now, it's just there, along an old path through the woods. And now a few roserade and cherrim have started dancing on the north edge of the clearing again, soaking up the sunlight.
…
It's peaceful, and Marshal was right, this does help put things in perspective. I'm not on a clock or in a rush or anything like that, I have time. Maybe I'll figure it out tomorrow, maybe in a week or a month, I just need to keep trying and remember to stay grounded.
"You don't look all that angry," Weaver says from beside my house. I'd seen her vault the cliff, being so focused on everything around me.
"Why did you think I would be?" I ask, as I had been riding out an anger flash earlier.
"Ryu sent me ahead because one of the trail guides said you were mad. And I mean truly angry." She informs me, bouncing merrily closer. "But instead you looked the happiest I've ever seen you. You okay?"
I do need to think about that for a moment. "Yeah," I finally reply. "I told you my emotions have been all over the place, and I was working myself from anger to rage a bit ago, but I'm not anymore."
"Yeah, I can tell," Weaver says, leaning around to very conspicuously inspect me. "You seem… less twitchy. How did you manage that?" She asks the question teasingly.
"Marshal told me about something she does, 'taking the time to be' as she put it," I inform my friend. "I told her I'd do it every day, but only just got around to it when I realized how angry I was getting."
"So, I can go back to Ryuko and let her know everything's fine, right?" Weaver asks me, stepping back from how close she'd gotten.
I shrug, "Sure. Though I need to ask, Why'd you climb the cliff? Isn't the city that way?" I ask, gesturing vaguely eastwards.
"Yeah, but we were out by the shore when she got the update," Weaver says, flicking her ears a few times. "Maybe I'll tell you about it later-" She snaps her claws, then grins wide as she looks at the hand she did it with, "Right, Ryu pulled the reading tapes out of storage this morning, so I can help you with that now." Her ears flick a few more times, "Yeah, okay, I can hear Ryuko jogging up the lower trail, so I'm going to go join back up." She waves, making her way to the cliff, "See you, Smokey." And with that, she jumps.
Huh. I guess a twenty-foot drop isn't much to any pokemon is it, when you think about it.
I still don't want to be alone at the moment, and Leaf is long gone into the trees by now. But… I do know someone who said she wouldn't mind if I visit whenever. Even if I'm pretty sure she'll start teaching me to fight again.
Even with this week being one of those weeks, the rest of my day has been entirely fine. After Weaver dropped down from the ghost's cabin and let me know that they weren't about to start hunting tourists down, I managed to finish most of the southern forest's pop-survey in relative peace.
There's an alarming lack of apex insectivores, the flying-type populations being a bit smaller than last year—and I only saw a single ariados, though plenty of spinarak, yet I also haven't seen a large increase in bug-type numbers overall. Well, Katie said Maya had to order the whole central forest off-limits, and Prime and her hives have obviously grown, but there's no lack of grass-types for them to sustain themselves on.
Combee and vespiquen are good at restraining their own populations, to the point some hives will have up to five queens in a state of semi-stasis during periods of famine, and the vespiquen themselves are good at rationing. Plus, they're nectarivorous and fungivorous, and tend to have a very symbiotic relationship with grass-types, so it shouldn't become a problem.
Beedrill, on the other hand, will spread until a lack of food causes a major die-off. Interestingly, beedrill are themselves apex insectivores, as well as carnivorous scavengers and palynivores. The population increase we're seeing likely means the true increase happened two years ago, and we're noticing it now because all the kakuna are evolving. It is spring, after all.
I don't want to think of it this way, but most of the new beedrill probably won't make it to the end of the year, and that's not a bad thing.
My thoughts on food webs, the issues of predation rates, and if there is even a solution come to an end as I reach the doors of the pokemon clinic where I'd dropped Espeon off earlier.
Approaching the desk, I wait for one of the bored-looking receptionists to notice me, and then for them to finish taking in the fact that, yes, I am in uniform. "Ah, can I help you ranger-" One of them, a man, says, glancing down a moment, "-Onaga? I hope there isn't a problem."
I wave his concerns off, "I'm here to pick up an espeon I dropped off this morning." I inform him, ignoring Weaver's snickering at the man's obvious relief.
"Right, yes. Let me just check our current patient-" He's cut off when the sound of scrabbling claws gives way to a swinging door being flung open with the telltale light of telekinesis.
Ex*aus*ion. G*atitude. Harmony,–I feel, as Espeon practically buries himself in my leg.
"Um, right. Let me finish checking and I'll get the doctor's notes for you." The receptionist stands, moving back through a different door than the one Espeon burst through.
I nod after the man, but my attention is more focused on Espeon. He looks tired, more so than earlier today. "Did you get any sun today?" I ask him.
Af*irmatio*,–He nods.
Weaver steps up next to us as well, inspecting Espeon. She says nothing, but her expression tells me that she's becoming concerned about him. Which is good, in a way, but it's also clear that Espeon isn't healthy.
It takes a bare few minutes for the receptionist to return, and I step up to the desk as he sits behind it again. "Right then, please sign here and I'll have everything Doctor Bernard noted down for you." He says, handing me a single piece of paper on a clipboard.
After I sign and he hands me a stack of papers, I hoist Espeon onto my shoulder and step out, making my way back to base as I read what condition Espeon is in.
As far as Doctor Bernard was concerned? Underweight, under-muscled, and tired, but nothing else. No broken bones, no infections, no odd lumps, and bloodwork will take a few more days, but the doctor noted he didn't expect anything. Espeon was apparently alert the whole time and, obviously for a psychic-type, completed the cognitive tests with near boredom.
The doctor recommends only light physical activity until he reaches a better weight, and a diet rich in proteins, fats, and a series of low-dose vitamin supplements, alongside as much sunlight as possible. So, almost exactly what I was going to do, although given this morning, I'll have to come up with an easy way for him to exercise on his own.
Maybe I am just reading too far into things, Espeon is very underweight, so it might just be as simple as him needing food and rest for a while.
"You've got a lot of recovery ahead of you," I tell my passenger, handing the papers off to Weaver's grabby claws. "I hope you understand what that means."
Con*usion,–I feel. Then a moment later,–U**erstandi*g. Re*uctance.
"You'll still be able to roam around the base, and outside it," I say, fairly certain he took a peek at my thoughts. "But you're not ready to join me in the field. And you won't be for at least a few months." I start scratching him between the ears, "I need you to accept that, okay?"
He huffs, "Eeon,"–Acce*tance.
"Good," I say, picking up the pace. "For now, I'm going to introduce you to Emil's cooking."
Of all the things I thought Marshal might do, giving me homework wasn't one of them.
Well, 'homework', In so far as a bunch of new power exercises can be called that. Marshal said I don't need to worry about how strong I am, but more about how controlled I am. And my ability to take a hit, but I didn't feel like being 'disabled' again, not today.
I also hadn't realized that she has a… Boyfriend? Mate? Casual suitor? In any case, she never really said anything about him, but he's supposedly Buizel's father, and he's a luxray. That is, to put it another way, a really, really goddamned big cat. And somehow Marshal is still bigger, Jesus.
I'd floated over at around the time Luxray was leaving, and when I asked Marshal what was going on she said he'd been seeing his son and had been wondering if she wanted to make more. Sometimes it does just smack me in the face that, yeah, these intelligent, talking beings don't think about things the same way I do. Or did? I don't know anymore. It was just a little weird to me how casual she was about it.
But we quickly moved on to other things, like how I was feeling since some humans came through and she wanted to know if I had anything to do with how frightened some of them looked. We had a good chuckle about it before I moved on to my issues with my powers.
She even said I've been doing what I should be, feeling my power and trying to move it in different ways. Which… I don't know how to feel about that, personally. I mean, it makes sense, sort of. If you want better control, practice by controlling.
She gave me a long look when I admitted it felt like I was doing the simplest possible things I could, and then told me, 'If it feels like you can do more, then you can.'
I wish her saying that hadn't made me feel so much better about it. Or, well, not really, I guess it just proves I'm still a normal person. Sure, I was already pretty certain I could do it, but hearing someone else say it makes it feel more real. Still doesn't help me figure out how, though. But that's why I intend to keep trying and experimenting.
Not tonight, however. Tonight I just want to sit on the roof and watch the world go by for a while. Maybe fidget with psychic-stuff a bit. Who knows, maybe I'll even have a breakthrough?
AN: I dislike the idea that pokeballs achieve certain effects digitally, as we know they existed long before digital technology. And pokemon being able to interact with their balls(giggity) at range led me to the idea of the devices simply using the mechanics of their universe. And thus, 'resonators' and 'capture-matrices/tumbling-cells,' I hope that makes sense.
Edit: I apparently spelled 'joltik' wrong, oops
Edit 2: every instance of vespiqueen has been corrected to vespiquen, my brain is hurty
Also there are wasps in my kitchen. Yes, I'm being serious. No, I won't elaborate.
Enjoy.
The Ranger Academy drills many things into the heads of prospective rangers. And much, much more once you're selected to continue on the ranger track. One of those many things sounds simple enough in theory: Pokemon aren't merely animals.
Simple, many might even say obvious. The way most people act says otherwise.
A week into selection, Principal Lamont brought several different animals from the Pueltown Conservatory, along with some local pokemon, into the study hall. A serpent, a fox, a raptor, a very fluffy canine, a charmander, a tailow, and a pikachu. He then asked us to tell him what differences we could see.
Only a few of us noted the leashes, or the glove Principal Lamont was wearing. And That was just the start of them drilling one simple, obvious fact into our heads until we understood not just the difference, but why we'd thought that way.
Some might learn at different speeds, some might seem dim-witted or dull, and some might never have the chance to understand certain things, but pokemon are smart. Yet, to put it simply, we can't understand them well enough to easily notice, and we're not all that prone to questioning that, as a species.
The myth that pokemon can't understand us is also unfortunately still common around the world. Not to say there aren't some clear exceptions, but those are always the people who spend more time with pokemon than they do other humans. Such as rangers or trainers.
And then some pokemon make it obvious by being terrifyingly capable and intelligent. Such as, to give a completely random example, most samurott.
The former occupants of this boat clearly didn't understand any of that. Sure, many acclimated pokemon will be happy enough to follow you around if you simply offer them food and shelter, others might even do so just because of a good friendship or out of loyalty. But…
They tried to make a samurott, one they undoubtedly didn't care for, follow orders.
My oma's lectures about her team are coming back a bit clearer now. Samurott are proud, and not the arrogant pride of dragons, but a quiet sort of pride. They know what they are and what they can do, what they want, and what they're worth.
You don't make a samurott do anything. If they like or respect you, you can ask—or even order them to do something and they'll likely do it. If they don't respect you and you still try, they'll ignore you, and if they don't like you they'll likely make a point of dismissing you. But if they hate you, or if you treat them like animals?
You end up feeding the residents of a tidal zone.
I can see the ball they kept Samurott in, too, a customized one that I can't see criminals investing the kind of money it would take to buy. It's sea-blue with an ocean pattern, dotted with tactile shell engravings, and sporting a magnetic belt holder. It's also been bisected, likely at the exact moment Samurott escaped, which was almost certainly as soon as whoever was on the boat unlocked it.
That's another thing about samurott, they're deceptively fast, moving in waves of explosive violence and dead calm. Fergal was like that, the few times I saw him battle. I wonder where the members of Oma's team went?
I shake my head. I can ask her later, I need to figure this mess out first. Looking back to the beach, Samurott is watching me, seemingly having had her fill of the wailmer. "How long have you been here?" I ask as I fully turn to face her.
She continues staring, cocking her head in consideration. "Saa." She says, drawing three lines in the sand. There's no possible way that's anything but days.
I should have known from the moment I saw those crates of pokeballs that things were going to get complicated. "How many were there?" I ask, turning back to keep investigating the boat.
It's not large, big enough for six if they all squeezed together, the type you'd use to ferry between a larger vessel and the shore. The outboard motor is pulled up, with a rope tying the boat to a rock. So whoever had been on it was ready to or already disembarking.
"Rott." Comes a bark from behind me. I turn back to see the pokemon gesturing to two more lines in the sand.
Two teams of two. I wonder, "And you were the only pokemon they had with them?" A slow blink, then an incline of the head. Hmm, was this the pick-up or the drop-off team, then? Probably pick-up, given that Samurott said there were only two.
Time to report everything. "Katie," I glance at the sky, "Or Barry, whoever's listening right now, I found what's left of more smugglers."
I hear the line engage before, "What?!" Hey, it's still Katie.
"I told you there was a samurott, I'll give you one guess how it got here."
"Right, give me a sec," Katie says, before I hear static.
Then, "Ranger Holt, responding to a routing request for Ranger Onaga. Confirm?"
"Confirmed," I say. "I have a situation at Nabiki Beach, it seems to be related to the smugglers found yesterday in Vientown. Culprits likely deceased with a samurott present and calm."
There's a few seconds of silence, "Acknowledged. ETA seven minutes, standby."
"Acknowledged. Confirm?"
"Confirmed."
I sigh. Might as well plan my new route for surveying while I wait. Finding a spot against the low cliffs along the beach, I sit, watching Samurott dig an indent in the sand to lie down for a post-meal nap.
Weaver trots up next to me, leaning her shoulder against me in a sign of closeness that's always meant something to me. "This is going to become a huge mess soon, isn't it?" I ask her.
"Vile," She nods, slumping down next to me.
Samurott chuffs, opening one eye to look at me again before going back to her nap.
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The orbs don't fucking do anything, that's the only thing I can take away from all this. Against the ground? Nothing. Against a log? Nothing. Against Leaf when he came to see what all the flashing lights were about? Nothing.
Well, Leaf said it tingled, so it didn't do much.
"I stand by my previous statements. You're weird," Leaf says, as I charge the implosion-explosion thing again.
No matter how much I pour into it or try to maintain it until it bursts, it never increases in size or power, only volume. I've managed to take it from a 'thup' to a 'crack.'
Also, it doesn't hurt me if I'm already in the middle of it, but it stings if I'm not?
I'm starting to think I have no idea what I'm doing, Ha! Ah… I have no idea what I'm doing.
This is literally the most basic use of power I can think of, and it's all I can manage. Everything I can do feels like that. I mean, yeah I can control psychic-stuff with a thought, but that doesn't mean I know how I need to think to use it properly. And ghost-stuff is just… It's like painting or drawing? But without brushes. And if I stop applying the 'paint' it vanishes, so the only two things I've been able to do so far are to keep pouring or to pour just enough.
But then, my voice is extremely simple in comparison, literally only taking focus to, well, focus it, or even slightly direct it. It's frustrating-
Ah, today's going to be like that is it? Well, fuck you world! I'm just going to deal with it, how do you like that?
What was I- right, psychic-stuff, ghost-stuff, voice-stuff, and not knowing how to actually use them.
The whole thing with pokemon trainers is starting to make more sense now, especially after what Weaver said about Moves just being names for common powers. And if that's the case, what's the deal with things sticking themselves into my memory?
The first one that did was how to call up psychic power, so I thought that was a Move. And the second was how to put power into my voice, which just supported the assumption. But then, the third was just how I changed the focus of my voice, and it's a bit different than the other two.
Wait, the other two? My- My ghost stuff didn't do the same thing. Although I did start getting a feel for it after I discovered how to 'stick' things myself. So, Maybe I should do that?
Well, it's there now, but I need to figure out why I can do that. Part of me wants to put it down to an adaption for some reason, but then again, ghost. So anything goes, I guess.
"…And you're not listening again." Leaf grumbles, smacking me with his tail.
There's a 'pop' as I lose focus on maintaining the power. I sigh, pushing some of my anger down. "Sorry. I'm trying, but I'm also trying to focus on a few other things, too."
"Why? No one's going to even try attacking you. You're a bit creepy sometimes, yeah, but you mostly just stay here and keep to yourself. And you've made it pretty clear you won't start anything." Leaf says, looking confused. He's not, he's happy. And slightly anxious, but I think he's just that kind of person.
I almost tell him it's because I'm bored out of my goddamned mind. Almost. It's true, but it also misses the point. "I need something to do. Not talking or eating or- whatever. Something to work towards," I admit.
I think today marks two weeks of me being maybe-dead, now? I'm really starting to miss my phone.
"Okay? I guess I can understand that." Leaf nods, looking at the chewed earth. "So you're trying to get stronger?"
"I don't know," I tell him. "But It's something to do, at least. I want to fix my home up, except I don't know where to even start on getting what I need."
"The city?" Leaf hedges. "From what everybody who's been there has told me, you can find all kinds of-" He stops talking as both his ears go all the way up. It looks adorable and ridiculous at the same time.
I'm about to ask what's up before I start hearing something too, like rumbling wind and whipping cloth. Leaf and I both look up as something whips by a bit to the south, skimming just above the trees. A black blur with something red on top, trailing a bright, hazard-yellow line.
"What do you think that was?" Leaf asks after a moment.
I nearly tell him I don't know, but I have an idea. While my memory isn't what I'd call 'photographic' now, it might as well be for anything I genuinely pay attention to. So it only takes a few seconds and a little effort to review it.
"A ranger on a staraptor," I inform him. "I wonder where they're going?"
Leaf makes a few lines in the dirt before frowning, "The coast? I know humans like heading out there, but the rangers usually don't go that fast if they can help it." He says, pawing at the dirt a bit more.
She was going fast, I mostly saw a red, black, and yellow smear in real-time. "Is there anything special over there?" I ask the ambulatory fern. Who is now pawing harder at the soil.
"Hmm?" He says, looking back up at me. "Uh, I don't know. I haven't been there myself." Then he looks back at the ground, "Are you doing something to the earth around here?"
I look at him, then the dirt, and then back to him, "No? Aside from all the 'mixing' I've done while practicing. Why?"
"Well, it's perfectly fertile," He says, like it explains everything. He also must see the look of confusion I'm giving him, because he continues, "Nothing's growing in it."
That- Wait, he's right, it was all dirt even before I tore it up. "Yeah, that's… odd. But it's not something I've done, since it was like that when I woke up here." Granted, the place has that 'definitely haunted' feeling about it-
Oh my fucking god.
"Leaf?" I ask, getting the attention of the plant in question, "Marshal said she's seen several ghosts before, do you know if they were all around here?"
"No…" He answers, now looking around more anxiously. "You'd have to ask her." Then he blinks, "I can't believe I just said that. I mean, she really does just let you ask her-" He stops, ears twitching and eyes turning to face east.
Well, that can't be good. Following his gaze, I can't see anything through the trees, but those stopped mattering a while ago. I shift places and everything becomes much more colorful and a lot clearer in at least two ways.
Great, it just had to be when I know my temper is going to be short. Fucking perfect. Let's hope they don't try anything.
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I'm glad I didn't need to be so worried about Samurott, but it's always better to be careful when anyone, human or pokemon, looks like she does. And I think we're both hoping her next shedding heals most of the surface-level damage.
The sound of beating wings draws my, Weaver's, and Samurott's eyes from where I'm inspecting the large pokemon's wounds on the beach. That's Holt and Blake alright. It took them nine minutes to get here, which is still a great time, overall.
They don't land close, opting to do so as far as possible from where the three of us are either standing or lying near the water. As Holt dismounts and takes her goggles off, she inspects Samurott herself.
"Do you mind if I get closer?" She asks the frayed-looking pokemon. Who glances at me, then shrugs her shoulders as she stands.
"Rotter." She barks, moving to square herself up with Holt, before stumbling and huffing. She then nods, downcast.
"Mind filling me in?" Holt asks me as she approaches, still eyeing off the wounded warrior.
"She's a trained battler," I explain. "It took a bit to go through the standard yes-or-nos, but what I managed to get was, in short, her pokeball was stolen from her trainer while he was in Kanto, she evolved as soon as she was let out by the smugglers here, and she wants to get back as soon as possible." I then glance at Samurott before continuing, "She's fought off a lot of challengers in the last three days and has so many wounds that I'm- well, not surprised, I've seen samurott before, but she's definitely a good example of the species."
"Did you find the pokeball?" Holt asks. "As wrong as it feels to say, using it to let us get her back to town so we can get her to a clinic and start looking for her trainer would be very helpful."
Holt notices the pseudo-dragon slump her shoulders a bit before I answer, "I did, but it won't help us. She destroyed it the first chance she got, from what I can tell. Which," I say, turning to reassure Samurott, "Was probably the best move you could have made at the time."
"And the criminals? Have you seen any sign of them?" Holt asks, turning her attention from where we're standing to sweep the beach.
"Dead, Samurott confirmed that she killed them before tossing them into the high tide."
Holt nods at that, unfazed, as she starts moving to where the dinghy is still tied up. "A shame, would have been nice to throw them in with the other two, maybe get them to start talking. At least we have confirmation that whoever this group is, they are operating in Kanto as well."
Holt pauses as she reaches the boat, inspecting the scene before whistling, "Her trainer must be doing pretty well to afford something like that. I think that's a typed matrix. And the resonator is still intact too, so they should just be able to do a swap instead of waiting months for it to wear off."
I blink, as do Weaver and Samurott. "I take it you've studied pokeballs?" I half ask.
"I'm from Sinnoh, my parents still make their living making extremely high-end custom balls." She then frowns and pulls out some gloves to snap on before picking up the two halves of the sphere. "You know, I think this might be one of theirs." And then after inspecting it, "Wow, would you look at that. Small world." She says, walking back over to point at a line on the inside rim.
It says, 'Holt Custom Arts – V – Water – James Vance'.
"Huh," I say, agreeing with the sentiment. "How could you tell?" And then after a bit more thought, " And Is that the trainer's name?"
"The resonator's offset and unshielded." The woman says, pointing at a bundle of looped wire and glass around a small, glossy ring set into one half of the matrix. "It means adding more counterweights, but most trainers like the custom ones to be heavier anyway. And it's easier to hand-build them that way in any case, since-" She cuts herself off, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Sorry, I'm getting off track. And the name is indeed the trainer's, or at least the buyer's," Holt says, tapping at the line and nodding. "So we should be able to get them back together much faster with this. I might even be able to just call my parents and get some half-decent contact information."
I open my mouth to question if that's entirely legal, then just shrug off the thought. Looking at Samurott, she's obviously been following everything we've been saying and is in higher spirits now. That's not the reaction of someone dreading an unpleasant reunion, at least.
I frown. That makes me a bit more worried about Espeon since I'm assuming something similar happened to him, but I haven't wanted to push him about it. His reaction to my asking if he wanted to go back wasn't bad necessarily, but needing to think about it doesn't paint the best picture.
I shake the thoughts away, I've got other things to do and to worry about right now. "Am I part of a new mission right now, or can I get back to the survey I was doing?" I ask the Union ranger.
She thinks about that for a bit, eyes roaming over the whole scene a few times. "You're free to get back to your survey. I'm going to get Samurott back to town after I take a better look around here." She dismisses me.
As I start heading back to the trail, I bring my radio up again, "Katie, I'm off standby. Anything new?"
"Well," Comes a thoroughly fed-up voice, "There's a massive swarm of beedrill in the central forest, the train going from Vientown to Pueltown was delayed because a salamance decided to sleep on the tracks, there have been reports of joltik sightings, and the misdreavus is seemingly very angry right now."
Oh yeah, it's one of those weeks, how could I forget?
I know which one of those is closest, though. "How angry?" I ask.
"Um, I think she said, 'I'm just glad no one tried getting closer.'"
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Leaf bolted right before the group came into sight. Not that I blame him, he clearly has anxiety and the way people act is a complete crap-shoot.
However, I had been enjoying not being alone with my thoughts.
At least they all left quickly after the first few ghost-orb-things, only taking a few pictures. And none of them tried to push their luck, either. I'm glad I have something that looks like an attack, even if it does nothing. It made me feel better about throwing so many at them.
I still feel like I'm missing something with the orbs. They feel empty, but I have no idea what to do with that. Because I know I can do something more with it, but I have no fucking idea how!
Calm down, don't start screaming again, and I should maybe try practicing what Marshal told me about. I told her I would, after all. And it's not putting things off so much as centering myself, right?
The trees and tall bushes rustle, the thin clouds rolling along slowly in the wind. The vague, floral scent of grass-types is stronger today than yesterday, now slightly overpowering the fresh, earthy smell of the forest. My home, a dilapidated structure in the middle of a magical forest, doesn't seem so out of place right now, it's just there, along an old path through the woods. And now a few roserade and cherrim have started dancing on the north edge of the clearing again, soaking up the sunlight.
…
It's peaceful, and Marshal was right, this does help put things in perspective. I'm not on a clock or in a rush or anything like that, I have time. Maybe I'll figure it out tomorrow, maybe in a week or a month, I just need to keep trying and remember to stay grounded.
"You don't look all that angry," Weaver says from beside my house. I'd seen her vault the cliff, being so focused on everything around me.
"Why did you think I would be?" I ask, as I had been riding out an anger flash earlier.
"Ryu sent me ahead because one of the trail guides said you were mad. And I mean truly angry." She informs me, bouncing merrily closer. "But instead you looked the happiest I've ever seen you. You okay?"
I do need to think about that for a moment. "Yeah," I finally reply. "I told you my emotions have been all over the place, and I was working myself from anger to rage a bit ago, but I'm not anymore."
"Yeah, I can tell," Weaver says, leaning around to very conspicuously inspect me. "You seem… less twitchy. How did you manage that?" She asks the question teasingly.
"Marshal told me about something she does, 'taking the time to be' as she put it," I inform my friend. "I told her I'd do it every day, but only just got around to it when I realized how angry I was getting."
"So, I can go back to Ryuko and let her know everything's fine, right?" Weaver asks me, stepping back from how close she'd gotten.
I shrug, "Sure. Though I need to ask, Why'd you climb the cliff? Isn't the city that way?" I ask, gesturing vaguely eastwards.
"Yeah, but we were out by the shore when she got the update," Weaver says, flicking her ears a few times. "Maybe I'll tell you about it later-" She snaps her claws, then grins wide as she looks at the hand she did it with, "Right, Ryu pulled the reading tapes out of storage this morning, so I can help you with that now." Her ears flick a few more times, "Yeah, okay, I can hear Ryuko jogging up the lower trail, so I'm going to go join back up." She waves, making her way to the cliff, "See you, Smokey." And with that, she jumps.
Huh. I guess a twenty-foot drop isn't much to any pokemon is it, when you think about it.
I still don't want to be alone at the moment, and Leaf is long gone into the trees by now. But… I do know someone who said she wouldn't mind if I visit whenever. Even if I'm pretty sure she'll start teaching me to fight again.
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Even with this week being one of those weeks, the rest of my day has been entirely fine. After Weaver dropped down from the ghost's cabin and let me know that they weren't about to start hunting tourists down, I managed to finish most of the southern forest's pop-survey in relative peace.
There's an alarming lack of apex insectivores, the flying-type populations being a bit smaller than last year—and I only saw a single ariados, though plenty of spinarak, yet I also haven't seen a large increase in bug-type numbers overall. Well, Katie said Maya had to order the whole central forest off-limits, and Prime and her hives have obviously grown, but there's no lack of grass-types for them to sustain themselves on.
Combee and vespiquen are good at restraining their own populations, to the point some hives will have up to five queens in a state of semi-stasis during periods of famine, and the vespiquen themselves are good at rationing. Plus, they're nectarivorous and fungivorous, and tend to have a very symbiotic relationship with grass-types, so it shouldn't become a problem.
Beedrill, on the other hand, will spread until a lack of food causes a major die-off. Interestingly, beedrill are themselves apex insectivores, as well as carnivorous scavengers and palynivores. The population increase we're seeing likely means the true increase happened two years ago, and we're noticing it now because all the kakuna are evolving. It is spring, after all.
I don't want to think of it this way, but most of the new beedrill probably won't make it to the end of the year, and that's not a bad thing.
My thoughts on food webs, the issues of predation rates, and if there is even a solution come to an end as I reach the doors of the pokemon clinic where I'd dropped Espeon off earlier.
Approaching the desk, I wait for one of the bored-looking receptionists to notice me, and then for them to finish taking in the fact that, yes, I am in uniform. "Ah, can I help you ranger-" One of them, a man, says, glancing down a moment, "-Onaga? I hope there isn't a problem."
I wave his concerns off, "I'm here to pick up an espeon I dropped off this morning." I inform him, ignoring Weaver's snickering at the man's obvious relief.
"Right, yes. Let me just check our current patient-" He's cut off when the sound of scrabbling claws gives way to a swinging door being flung open with the telltale light of telekinesis.
Ex*aus*ion. G*atitude. Harmony,–I feel, as Espeon practically buries himself in my leg.
"Um, right. Let me finish checking and I'll get the doctor's notes for you." The receptionist stands, moving back through a different door than the one Espeon burst through.
I nod after the man, but my attention is more focused on Espeon. He looks tired, more so than earlier today. "Did you get any sun today?" I ask him.
Af*irmatio*,–He nods.
Weaver steps up next to us as well, inspecting Espeon. She says nothing, but her expression tells me that she's becoming concerned about him. Which is good, in a way, but it's also clear that Espeon isn't healthy.
It takes a bare few minutes for the receptionist to return, and I step up to the desk as he sits behind it again. "Right then, please sign here and I'll have everything Doctor Bernard noted down for you." He says, handing me a single piece of paper on a clipboard.
After I sign and he hands me a stack of papers, I hoist Espeon onto my shoulder and step out, making my way back to base as I read what condition Espeon is in.
As far as Doctor Bernard was concerned? Underweight, under-muscled, and tired, but nothing else. No broken bones, no infections, no odd lumps, and bloodwork will take a few more days, but the doctor noted he didn't expect anything. Espeon was apparently alert the whole time and, obviously for a psychic-type, completed the cognitive tests with near boredom.
The doctor recommends only light physical activity until he reaches a better weight, and a diet rich in proteins, fats, and a series of low-dose vitamin supplements, alongside as much sunlight as possible. So, almost exactly what I was going to do, although given this morning, I'll have to come up with an easy way for him to exercise on his own.
Maybe I am just reading too far into things, Espeon is very underweight, so it might just be as simple as him needing food and rest for a while.
"You've got a lot of recovery ahead of you," I tell my passenger, handing the papers off to Weaver's grabby claws. "I hope you understand what that means."
Con*usion,–I feel. Then a moment later,–U**erstandi*g. Re*uctance.
"You'll still be able to roam around the base, and outside it," I say, fairly certain he took a peek at my thoughts. "But you're not ready to join me in the field. And you won't be for at least a few months." I start scratching him between the ears, "I need you to accept that, okay?"
He huffs, "Eeon,"–Acce*tance.
"Good," I say, picking up the pace. "For now, I'm going to introduce you to Emil's cooking."
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Of all the things I thought Marshal might do, giving me homework wasn't one of them.
Well, 'homework', In so far as a bunch of new power exercises can be called that. Marshal said I don't need to worry about how strong I am, but more about how controlled I am. And my ability to take a hit, but I didn't feel like being 'disabled' again, not today.
I also hadn't realized that she has a… Boyfriend? Mate? Casual suitor? In any case, she never really said anything about him, but he's supposedly Buizel's father, and he's a luxray. That is, to put it another way, a really, really goddamned big cat. And somehow Marshal is still bigger, Jesus.
I'd floated over at around the time Luxray was leaving, and when I asked Marshal what was going on she said he'd been seeing his son and had been wondering if she wanted to make more. Sometimes it does just smack me in the face that, yeah, these intelligent, talking beings don't think about things the same way I do. Or did? I don't know anymore. It was just a little weird to me how casual she was about it.
But we quickly moved on to other things, like how I was feeling since some humans came through and she wanted to know if I had anything to do with how frightened some of them looked. We had a good chuckle about it before I moved on to my issues with my powers.
She even said I've been doing what I should be, feeling my power and trying to move it in different ways. Which… I don't know how to feel about that, personally. I mean, it makes sense, sort of. If you want better control, practice by controlling.
She gave me a long look when I admitted it felt like I was doing the simplest possible things I could, and then told me, 'If it feels like you can do more, then you can.'
I wish her saying that hadn't made me feel so much better about it. Or, well, not really, I guess it just proves I'm still a normal person. Sure, I was already pretty certain I could do it, but hearing someone else say it makes it feel more real. Still doesn't help me figure out how, though. But that's why I intend to keep trying and experimenting.
Not tonight, however. Tonight I just want to sit on the roof and watch the world go by for a while. Maybe fidget with psychic-stuff a bit. Who knows, maybe I'll even have a breakthrough?
AN: I dislike the idea that pokeballs achieve certain effects digitally, as we know they existed long before digital technology. And pokemon being able to interact with their balls(giggity) at range led me to the idea of the devices simply using the mechanics of their universe. And thus, 'resonators' and 'capture-matrices/tumbling-cells,' I hope that makes sense.
Edit: I apparently spelled 'joltik' wrong, oops
Edit 2: every instance of vespiqueen has been corrected to vespiquen, my brain is hurty
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- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
I can't believe I missed reading this, but yeah, that's kind of what made me start rethinking the whole of the Pokemon world because the entire point of writing things like this is to find those pieces of the original that the author finds interesting, and see if there's more to it.
Basically, at some point when I was writing this I went, 'Wait, if that's magic, and this is magic, and there are literal Gods running around, then it's not sci-fi, no matter what the creators want to say it is.'
- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
I tend to write to much when I get an interesting idea, and there may or may not be more chapters of that sitting on my hard-drive. I don't know if I;d ever turn it into a full journey-fic, but the premise is there. Not sure how I'd handle a full-scale prequel though.
Bonny Fox - II – Dark Thoughts
- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
AN: Have another sidestory. And for those who didn't get my note on the last one, yes, these are Maeve and Liam, now with a third party-member.
Zorua gazed at the sleeping form of his new companion, the warnings of his elders swirling through his mind.
'Never be seen, boy. The humans cannot be allowed to know of us.' 'Don't listen to any promises of friendship. They are lies, meant to lure us into captivity.' 'Do not, under any circumstance, allow yourself a life debt to an outsider. Our nature will compel us to repay it.'
Despite the numerous times he had heard the warnings repeated—and the various forms they had taken—he had done all three, in the span of a few hours no less.
His tribe wasn't here, however. His former friends had left him for dead and before long he had stumbled into the human hunter's trap. Then the human girl had come. She had seen him, and in her eyes had been pity, then curiosity and wonder. Then she had saved him, and he immediately knew why the elders had warned him.
He would protect the human with his life, he knew it. It felt… meaningful, and warm in a way only his parents had made him feel before.
Then had come the most shocking part to Zorua, she had heard him.
Humans were deaf. This was the truth, indisputable, undeniable, immutable fact. The girl didn't seem to care, she had spoken to him as if it were natural, normal even, and Zorua had been unable to contain his excitement.
This simple act from the girl had thrown much of what Zorua had been told into question. Had the elders lied? Or were they simply ignorant? And if they were so wrong about this, what else might they not know?
He was going to lead the girl to her fellow humans, regardless. However, he was now faced with a problem: The need to be seen.
He would need to disguise himself, but as what? He wasn't skilled enough to manage a façade larger or smaller than himself yet. Perhaps a blitzle or small herdier? He would need to be silent either way, as he hadn't yet learned to alter sound.
A blitzle, he decided, and took on the seeming of one, size unchanged.
The vulpine pokemon inspected his human again. She was shivering slightly, the cold of the early Autumn night evidently affecting her.
He frowned and stepped over to curl his body as far around her as possible, thoughts drifting back over the last two hours. She had showered him in affection, carried him until he had lied to her that he could stand without pain, and seemed genuine in how lost she was.
He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't feeling a level of connection with the girl.
Zorua's musings were stalled as the girl began shivering again, worse than before. That wasn't good, Zorua himself was starting to feel the cold and the human didn't have a fur coat to help keep her warm.
He considered the problem. He didn't have the hands or the knowledge many zoroark possessed to be able to start a fire with nothing save dried plants and time. He also lacked the uncommon ability to create and control fire-wisps some of his former tribe crowed about.
As a cold wind blew over them, Zorua realized he had to do something. How far was it to the human town? Perhaps back to the human farm? They had walked for quite some time, so Zorua felt it more likely he would be able to reach the human town first.
However, if he did so, he would need to leave Maeve behind. Unacceptable, he was the only thing keeping her warm and protected at the moment. What else could he do, though? It would be hours until the sun rose and brought warmth to the world again, and although he would be able to last, she wouldn't.
He felt then, that it was fortune, or perhaps misfortune, then, when the voice of another breached his increasing uncertainty, "Dying, she is? Waiting, you are? Dark thinking, failure is. When gone she is, take her I will?"
Zorua turned his eyes and thoughts to the intruder, a pokemon he didn't recognize. A green ovaloid within a sphere of deeper green gel, unblinking black eyes observing both him and his human.
"I don't know what to do," Zorua growled, rising to his paws. "But I won't let you near her. So if you don't want to help, leave."
"A challenge, you broach? Aid for victory, I offer. Wounded you are, acceptable this is." The intruder spoke, glowing as she prepared to strike.
Zorua was fast, however, despite being wounded. The moment his now opponent began to glow, he allowed his doubt, fear, pain, and once impotent anger at himself to flow freely.
He burned them all as fuel.
His claws lengthened, digging into the dirt as they grew sharper, the very air becoming heavy with his dark thoughts as he launched himself at the other pokemon.
The intruder's attack, a wave of violet and indigo force, landed while Zorua was in mid-air, breaking upon the fox's equine façade and doing nothing save stirring the air.
The spheroid pokemon was surprised, though she had little time to show this as Zorua landed upon her, raking his claws through her outer layer again and again. His fury at the seemingly inevitable death of the human he owed his life was made manifest in his strikes.
His opponent attempted to disengage with another colorful wave of force at first, but it seemed the energy wouldn't obey. Zorua kept scratching and swiping, becoming less enraged and more desperate as his thoughts were now focused on Maeve and the burning in his leg.
How could he save her? This other pokemon said they would offer aid when he won, but how could he trust that?
He was pushed back suddenly, as a shield of teal light expanded around the, now very wounded, spherical pokemon.
"…Win I cannot, clear to me it becomes." She said, wounds beginning to heal as the shield faltered. "No ability to harm you I have."
"Why did you challenge me like that!?" Zorua demanded, snarling in frustration.
"Thrill and strength I seek. …Though hungry, I am." The other pokemon spoke. "Found both, I have. Solosis I am, and follow you I shall."
"W- Why were y- you two fighting?" Zorua heard Maeve speak through chattering teeth. "Where i- is Zorua?"
The fox in question gave one last glare at the now-named Solosis, before he turned and let his guise dissolve, moving towards his human. "I thought I should conceal myself." He answered her last question first. "And I was trying to protect you from her."
"Succeed, you did." Comments Solosis behind him.
"I- I s- see…" Maeve spoke uncertainly, continuing to shiver as she glanced between the two pokemon. "C- Can either of y- you use your m- magic to warm me u- up?"
"Magic, the human asks?" queried Solosis, moving next to Zorua.
"It's n- not magic?" His human asked, now confused as well as freezing.
"…Listens, she does."
"You said you would help," Zorua stated, still watching the human. "She needs heat, and the only thing I can think of is other humans."
"And leave you cannot." Observed Solosis. "Attention I shall bring. A little time will I need." She stated, before glowing and floating farther along the way Zorua had been leading Maeve.
Zorua watched her go, stepping over to wrap himself around Maeve again. He could feel the world growing colder.
"What d- did she mean b- by 'l- listens'?" Maeve asked the fox, uncertainty in her tone.
"From what my elders told me, humans can't understand us. You're supposed to think us animals." He murmured, thinking on what Solosis was doing.
She had said she would bring the human's attention, though that could be a ruse. Merely leave sight and wait for Maeve to freeze, a simple plan. If that did happen, Zorua would hunt Solosis down and ensure the pokemon would gain nothing from it.
…Except those with her power were meant to be intelligent, so she should know it would end in her death.
"You're s- so s- soft and warm," Maeve said sleepily, picking Zorua up and hugging him to her chest.
A moment of silence passed, only the increasing howl of wind their companion. "I'm g- going to die here, a- aren't I?" The question was hardly a question. Despite the sleepy tone, she asked it with such certainty that it frightened Zorua.
"I- I don't know," Zorua admitted, desperately wishing he was a pansear, a tepig, or even a larvesta. Anything that could warm the girl up. "Solosis said she was trying to alert the humans, I hope she is…"
"Humans…?" Maeve said, voice drifting, "I wonder how they'll get here…"
It took Zorua longer than he'd like to admit to realize the girl had fallen asleep.
AN: At some point I decided to use this as a challenge for myself, to write 1.5K-ish chapters without scene-changes or perspective swaps. Writing sure feels different when you have a self-imposed limitation like that.
Zorua gazed at the sleeping form of his new companion, the warnings of his elders swirling through his mind.
'Never be seen, boy. The humans cannot be allowed to know of us.' 'Don't listen to any promises of friendship. They are lies, meant to lure us into captivity.' 'Do not, under any circumstance, allow yourself a life debt to an outsider. Our nature will compel us to repay it.'
Despite the numerous times he had heard the warnings repeated—and the various forms they had taken—he had done all three, in the span of a few hours no less.
His tribe wasn't here, however. His former friends had left him for dead and before long he had stumbled into the human hunter's trap. Then the human girl had come. She had seen him, and in her eyes had been pity, then curiosity and wonder. Then she had saved him, and he immediately knew why the elders had warned him.
He would protect the human with his life, he knew it. It felt… meaningful, and warm in a way only his parents had made him feel before.
Then had come the most shocking part to Zorua, she had heard him.
Humans were deaf. This was the truth, indisputable, undeniable, immutable fact. The girl didn't seem to care, she had spoken to him as if it were natural, normal even, and Zorua had been unable to contain his excitement.
This simple act from the girl had thrown much of what Zorua had been told into question. Had the elders lied? Or were they simply ignorant? And if they were so wrong about this, what else might they not know?
He was going to lead the girl to her fellow humans, regardless. However, he was now faced with a problem: The need to be seen.
He would need to disguise himself, but as what? He wasn't skilled enough to manage a façade larger or smaller than himself yet. Perhaps a blitzle or small herdier? He would need to be silent either way, as he hadn't yet learned to alter sound.
A blitzle, he decided, and took on the seeming of one, size unchanged.
The vulpine pokemon inspected his human again. She was shivering slightly, the cold of the early Autumn night evidently affecting her.
He frowned and stepped over to curl his body as far around her as possible, thoughts drifting back over the last two hours. She had showered him in affection, carried him until he had lied to her that he could stand without pain, and seemed genuine in how lost she was.
He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't feeling a level of connection with the girl.
Zorua's musings were stalled as the girl began shivering again, worse than before. That wasn't good, Zorua himself was starting to feel the cold and the human didn't have a fur coat to help keep her warm.
He considered the problem. He didn't have the hands or the knowledge many zoroark possessed to be able to start a fire with nothing save dried plants and time. He also lacked the uncommon ability to create and control fire-wisps some of his former tribe crowed about.
As a cold wind blew over them, Zorua realized he had to do something. How far was it to the human town? Perhaps back to the human farm? They had walked for quite some time, so Zorua felt it more likely he would be able to reach the human town first.
However, if he did so, he would need to leave Maeve behind. Unacceptable, he was the only thing keeping her warm and protected at the moment. What else could he do, though? It would be hours until the sun rose and brought warmth to the world again, and although he would be able to last, she wouldn't.
He felt then, that it was fortune, or perhaps misfortune, then, when the voice of another breached his increasing uncertainty, "Dying, she is? Waiting, you are? Dark thinking, failure is. When gone she is, take her I will?"
Zorua turned his eyes and thoughts to the intruder, a pokemon he didn't recognize. A green ovaloid within a sphere of deeper green gel, unblinking black eyes observing both him and his human.
"I don't know what to do," Zorua growled, rising to his paws. "But I won't let you near her. So if you don't want to help, leave."
"A challenge, you broach? Aid for victory, I offer. Wounded you are, acceptable this is." The intruder spoke, glowing as she prepared to strike.
Zorua was fast, however, despite being wounded. The moment his now opponent began to glow, he allowed his doubt, fear, pain, and once impotent anger at himself to flow freely.
He burned them all as fuel.
His claws lengthened, digging into the dirt as they grew sharper, the very air becoming heavy with his dark thoughts as he launched himself at the other pokemon.
The intruder's attack, a wave of violet and indigo force, landed while Zorua was in mid-air, breaking upon the fox's equine façade and doing nothing save stirring the air.
The spheroid pokemon was surprised, though she had little time to show this as Zorua landed upon her, raking his claws through her outer layer again and again. His fury at the seemingly inevitable death of the human he owed his life was made manifest in his strikes.
His opponent attempted to disengage with another colorful wave of force at first, but it seemed the energy wouldn't obey. Zorua kept scratching and swiping, becoming less enraged and more desperate as his thoughts were now focused on Maeve and the burning in his leg.
How could he save her? This other pokemon said they would offer aid when he won, but how could he trust that?
He was pushed back suddenly, as a shield of teal light expanded around the, now very wounded, spherical pokemon.
"…Win I cannot, clear to me it becomes." She said, wounds beginning to heal as the shield faltered. "No ability to harm you I have."
"Why did you challenge me like that!?" Zorua demanded, snarling in frustration.
"Thrill and strength I seek. …Though hungry, I am." The other pokemon spoke. "Found both, I have. Solosis I am, and follow you I shall."
"W- Why were y- you two fighting?" Zorua heard Maeve speak through chattering teeth. "Where i- is Zorua?"
The fox in question gave one last glare at the now-named Solosis, before he turned and let his guise dissolve, moving towards his human. "I thought I should conceal myself." He answered her last question first. "And I was trying to protect you from her."
"Succeed, you did." Comments Solosis behind him.
"I- I s- see…" Maeve spoke uncertainly, continuing to shiver as she glanced between the two pokemon. "C- Can either of y- you use your m- magic to warm me u- up?"
"Magic, the human asks?" queried Solosis, moving next to Zorua.
"It's n- not magic?" His human asked, now confused as well as freezing.
"…Listens, she does."
"You said you would help," Zorua stated, still watching the human. "She needs heat, and the only thing I can think of is other humans."
"And leave you cannot." Observed Solosis. "Attention I shall bring. A little time will I need." She stated, before glowing and floating farther along the way Zorua had been leading Maeve.
Zorua watched her go, stepping over to wrap himself around Maeve again. He could feel the world growing colder.
"What d- did she mean b- by 'l- listens'?" Maeve asked the fox, uncertainty in her tone.
"From what my elders told me, humans can't understand us. You're supposed to think us animals." He murmured, thinking on what Solosis was doing.
She had said she would bring the human's attention, though that could be a ruse. Merely leave sight and wait for Maeve to freeze, a simple plan. If that did happen, Zorua would hunt Solosis down and ensure the pokemon would gain nothing from it.
…Except those with her power were meant to be intelligent, so she should know it would end in her death.
"You're s- so s- soft and warm," Maeve said sleepily, picking Zorua up and hugging him to her chest.
A moment of silence passed, only the increasing howl of wind their companion. "I'm g- going to die here, a- aren't I?" The question was hardly a question. Despite the sleepy tone, she asked it with such certainty that it frightened Zorua.
"I- I don't know," Zorua admitted, desperately wishing he was a pansear, a tepig, or even a larvesta. Anything that could warm the girl up. "Solosis said she was trying to alert the humans, I hope she is…"
"Humans…?" Maeve said, voice drifting, "I wonder how they'll get here…"
It took Zorua longer than he'd like to admit to realize the girl had fallen asleep.
AN: At some point I decided to use this as a challenge for myself, to write 1.5K-ish chapters without scene-changes or perspective swaps. Writing sure feels different when you have a self-imposed limitation like that.
- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
Funnily enough it is coincidence. I started the beedrill thing in chapter 3, it's just that wasps being in my kitchen isn't unusual. Please help, they're getting bigger.Beedrill start causing trouble after wasps invade your kitchen if I didn't know better I would think they were related
LunaMoth
Wings of Kynareth is my comfort song...
- Pronouns
- He/They
I'm so sorry this was a great chapter honest, really cute.
But uh....
Yoda jump-scare this is, had me laughing it did.
But uh....
Yoda jump-scare this is, had me laughing it did.
- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
I found it both funny and something to set Kiera apart, though now it's my headcannon(So, cannon for this story) that all of the reniclus line talk like that.
JBcristal
Bring Me All The Puppies!
- Location
- Somewhere that doesn't have enough puppies.
Well, they are little green gremlins with telekinetic powers...!
Chapter 17
- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
AN: A huge thank you to Ott043 for beta-ing, he helped me reduce the time for checking and corrections from a week or two to two days.
It feels as though I'm running through molasses, but I push on, muscles burning as I ascend. The horrible sound, like the grinding of a giant's nails across a chalkboard, continues without mercy as I keep sprinting up the stairs, knowing that if I don't reach-
Something freezing presses against my face, and everything shifts. The world spins for an eternity as I work to recognize the feeling. It has to be one of Weaver's-
I bolt awake, batting at the claw, "Weaver?" I groan, trying to blink the sleep from my eyes.
"Weav, weav!" My partner gesticulates wildly, obviously worried about something, though she keeps her voice low.
"What is it? And what time is it?" I ask her, looking at the wall clock. it shows oh-two-twenty.
"Vile!" Weaver slaps my arm before pointing at the floor by the foot of my bunk. What has her so…
Espeon is sitting there, shaking and hyperventilating. His gem is flickering wildly, ears pulled back, and eyes unfocused. He's in another feedback loop.
"Hells," I swear, disentangling myself from the bed and marching for the door, Weaver one step behind me. "Weaver." I stop at the entrance, "I need you to stay by him and keep him from hurting himself-" I tell her, cutting myself off for a moment before I finish the order, "And if he starts using telekinesis, you need to knock him out, understood?"
"Weav," My partner says with a salute, smacking her joints together as she straightens her legs. I know she's playing it up to reassure both of us, but it still works.
I give Weaver a nod before turning and heading for the office. Reaching it, I quickly dial the combination into the locked steel cabinet we keep the dangerous equipment in. Because yes, REDs are dangerous, even if most people won't understand how until they're on the floor and struggling to breathe.
I grab my empathy device, check its tag to make sure, and march back to the barracks. Weaver isn't standing next to Espeon, thankfully, as she knows better than to get that close. She's watching the psychic-type intensely from a few meters away, the only acknowledgment I get being a flick of the ears.
I move to within two meters of Espeon before I calm myself, focus on wanting Espeon to be okay, and pull the trigger. It takes entirely too long before his gem stops flickering, and he tiredly blinks at me a few times before he stops, eyes closed and unconscious in a sitting position.
There's a bit of shuffling as the once-sleeping pokemon in the room try to figure out what just woke them up until they realize I have it handled and go back to sleep.
Sighing quietly, I lift Espeon and make my way out and into the kitchen. I'm not getting back to sleep today, not after that, so I place the unconscious pokemon on the table and just… stare, deep in thought.
I've thought something was up since Weaver kept giving him looks, but I don't know what it is. He went into another feedback loop, but why? And it was more dangerous this time since he had energy. Except, he passed out once he was out of the loop, didn't he?
"Weaver?" I ask to the air, and my partner silently appears. "Has he slept at all?"
She considers the question, lacking her usual theatrics, then shakes her head, "Vile," She says, looking thoughtfully at Espeon. "Weavile, weave," She continues, pointing at the sleeping pokemon.
I follow her finger and see Espeon twitching and thrashing slightly, a feline grimace on his face. So, nightmares, oh how I wish I could say I don't understand that particular problem.
"I don't know what to do for him," I admit, leaning my head into one hand to massage it. "I can't keep the RED going, even in bursts, for all that long," I say, glancing at Weaver.
She has a look of concern on her face, then she blinks, looking as though she's realized something, before holding up a claw for me to wait and blurring out of the kitchen. Well, I hope she has a good idea because I certainly don't know how to help a traumatized empath.
I don't know if I can thank Marshal enough for teaching me this. I also don't know how to feel about what it's helped me notice.
Up, shrink, slow.
It took me a few hours to figure out what I was feeling, and now I'm… genuinely starting to question my ability to take care of myself. I'm feeling content, and it's strangely alien. And I've realized that the last time I felt like this was years ago, back when I landed my first stable job. It felt like everything would work out, and I could just be satisfied with my life.
down, loop, invert.
But feeling that way shouldn't be an event, right? And yet, here I am. And sure, I know I'll be feeling bored again soon enough, but I'm pretty sure I can get back to this feeling relatively easily. Not like before I died, but then, almost anything would be better than that.
And… launch.
The ball of psychic energy I've been fiddling with these last few minutes accelerates out of my control range, passing over countless trees before it fades away.
I think one of the problems I'm having with accepting being happy is that I'm kind of… I'm expecting things to go wrong at some point, I think. But that thinking feels as if it was learned. Like it's leftover pessimism or lingering unhappiness, but I don't have a lot of reasons to feel that way anymore, not really.
I look up at the moon, not quite sure if it's finished waxing or not yet. I still feel it's light filtering into me, comforting me. I don't know what changes when it reflects off, but I'm glad I can expand my cloud in its light.
Speaking of, I reel it in for a snack. Hmm, not a lot in there, but that's why it's a snack. Some sorrow, some trepidation, a little fear, and someone is a bit nervous. There isn't a lot of quantity to any of it though, it's just the normal background.
Deciding to spin up ghost-stuff this time, I keep idly practicing control. Simply painting power in random swoops and swirls, trying to do better than simply pouring it out.
Hmm… Oh, sure, why not try that? Thanks, ghost-instincts. Following my burst of desire, I start trying to, for lack of a better descriptor, 'imbue' something on the power. It doesn't seem to do anything, but if my instincts say it should work then I'm going to trust them.
What is it that I'm trying to push into the power? Maybe that's the problem, that I don't have a good idea of what I want to happen. Should I try something that I've done to myself? What about gravity, how does that work?
I make another line of power, focusing on how I make gravity affect me while I do so. That works!? The curving line I made falls through the air, fading before it hits the ground.
Wait! The orbs felt empty, is this why? Let's see, pour it out in a sphere, not too much at once, just enough to sustain it. There we go. Or… should I have tried to fill it as I was making it? No, that doesn't feel right, it feels like I should do that part now. So, what do I fill it with? I guess I should go with gravity again.
Nothing about the sphere seems to change, but it doesn't feel empty anymore, so I think that worked. I… don't have a target right now, great. Launching it at the ground! And it does nothing, okay, I suppose it needs a different target.
Hmm…
This is a bad idea, but I'm probably immortal, so the worst that will happen is some pain, right? Sure, whatever makes me feel better about this. And launch!
Oh, ooh, ho'kay. Uh, I don't know what this is. It feels like I'm being dragged down, but I'm still floating. This is an extremely fucking strange feeling. At least I now understand what the orbs do. They force a… whatever it is that I shoved into it onto the target.
Um, is there a way to stop the- Huh, I guess I was the one controlling it. That's nice.
Wait, Weaver? What's she doing here this early?
Espeon still hasn't woken up, despite the obvious bad dreams that are making him twitch and mewl. I'm becoming uncomfortable because I tried waking him up, and he won't. I want to believe I can take care of him, but if he has major psychic issues we might need to find a better place for him.
Except I've already sent his paperwork in, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling attached to the frail cat. He needed help, and he still needs it, just in a different way now.
I'm waiting for either Espeon to wake up or Weaver to get back with whatever her idea was. I can only hope she knows something I don't, and that she'll have a good solution. It's been nearly ten minutes, though, and I'm starting to worry. Weaver is fast, which is typical for a weavile, and she should be able to reach the other end of the city in three minutes if she pushes it.
"Weav," And there she is.
"Seasons, how far did you-" I stop, looking at the entrance to the room.
The misdreavus is floating behind my partner, looking nervous. Why would she bring… Right, they're an affectivore. That's a genuinely great idea, as Espeon can't go into a feedback loop if something eats all the emotions first. And glancing at Espeon, he's not moving as much anymore, so the ghost is already helping.
"Weav weavile, weave?" The sharp-clawed pokemon asks, also looking at Espeon.
"Mis…" The ghost-type replies, voice trailing off cautiously. "Misser, mis, dreav, mismis." They pause, looking concerned. "Midreavus mis misser."
"I wish I'd thought of that. Good job, Weaver." I tell my partner, relaxing as Espeon seems to calm in his sleep. "What made you think of them?" Aside from their obviously budding friendship.
"Weavile," She says, darting away back down the hall. Leaving Misdreavus looking suddenly more nervous.
"You're not afraid of chasing groups of people off, but I make you nervous?" I chuckle at the affronted look on their face, "We've got a record of you scaring at least twelve people yesterday alone."
They blink at that, opening their mouth to respond before closing it and blinking again. "Misser," They seem to state, more to themselves than to me.
"Weav vile!" Weaver declares, bouncing into the kitchen with a book- No, with the book, the one I bought to teach her how to read, 'Tales of Yester Years: A Compendium of Myths and Legends.'
Weaver has it turned to a specific page, 'The Nightmare and the Witch Who Devoured It.' It's one of the stories with an original photo on the opposite page, fancy calligraphy, and over-done artwork depicting an indistinct figure with a pointy hat consuming a sleeping man's dream. Interesting, but why did this make her get the misdreavus?
I quickly skim the text, searching for anything that could be related. …and the witch did curse the nightmare… …The man, thankful for the aid of the traveling witch, offered her of his home, and his food… …And as the sun rose on the seventh day, the witch vanished, little more than a ghost on the wind.
That- The last line is the only time the word ghost is mentioned. "Weaver?" I query my partner.
"Vile Weavile," She gestures to Misdreavus.
I can't deny that they seem to be helping, but I still don't understand her thought process, "I know they're helping, I'm just confused about how this made you think of them."
Weaver seems at a loss, looking between the book and me a few times before turning to Misdreavus, "Vile, weavile vile. Weave?" She asks them.
"Dreavus?" The floating pokemon asks in return, drifting closer to me and eyeing the book. They tilt in the air, eyes glossing over the words to land on the illustration. "Mis… misser mis." They say, nodding.
Weaver gestures between the picture and Misdreavus, clearly seeing something I'm not. I look at the picture again, trying to see what she means. Pointy hat, draped robe, indistinct face. It looks like a witch. "I still don't see what you mean," I inform my partner.
Weaver sighs, rubbing her chin as she thinks about what to try next.
"Dreave mis, misdreavus?" The ghost seems to ask, pointing one of their tendrils at the page.
Weaver blinks, then her eyes light up in joy. She motions to me for the book, so I give it to her. "Weave weavile, weave. Vile weavile," She says to Misdreavus, hopping into a chair and beckoning them closer.
She's… She's reading the story to them. Well, there goes my chance at an answer. Honestly, she seems to have become attached to the misdreavus after they let me stay in their den. They seemed to have a rather long conversation there, too. Although Weaver had seemed a bit hostile at the start.
I sigh, finally deciding to take a seat after all the stress of Espeon breaking down in the middle of the night. Conscripting the help of a wild pokemon isn't unusual, it's normally the ranger doing it, but at least Espeon is sleeping peacefully for the moment. I'm going to need to ask all those questions I was hesitant to before, about his past and what the smugglers did to him.
Though the misdreavus will likely need to be present to smooth that over if I'm right about what Espeon's been through.
Hmm, I'm going to need coffee today. Maybe I should see if Holt will tell me where I can find a really good drink, she seems the type to learn where to find them. Regardless, I should probably start the coffee maker soon.
"-little more than a ghost on the wind," Weaver says with finality, closing the storybook. "I knew I recognized that description from somewhere, and I'm pretty sure there's another story in here that mentions a 'Miss Magius,'" She tells me, caressing the cover of what is, apparently, her favorite book. Then she frowns, "You know, I don't think I've opened this in two years."
Weaver's face twists into a complicated expression, and I feel compelled to ask, "Hey, you okay?"
"I- Yeah. You ever have a moment when you realize you've grown up?" She asks, glancing at me.
I can't help laughing for a moment before it peters out as I taste another wave of pain and terror. "Yeah, several. I guess it happens to pokemon, too."
We fall into silence, Weaver leafing through her book while my eyes start roaming around, trying to ignore the tastes of fear, panic, and hatred. This- I can see why Espeon was trying not to feel all this, and I feel a bit bad that to me it's all just… food. Terror seems to be another taste that I find particularly appetizing as well, and I still don't know how to feel about finding those flavors so delicious. At least there's a lot less of them coming off him now.
Movement, catches the corner of my eye, and I swivel to see Onaga prepping a- Wow, I mean, there are only so many ways to do certain things, but that is just a countertop coffee maker. …I shouldn't be surprised by that, so many other things are similar, if not the same.
Hmm, I wonder if she'd let me have some. I'm not—or possibly wasn't, still not sure—one of those people who are so dependent on coffee that I had some every day, but I enjoyed it on occasion. And I do want to enjoy things again.
"Hey, Misdreavus?" Onaga says, pulling my attention back to her. I know she's addressing me, but it feels weird how she uses 'Misdreavus' as my name.
"Yes…?" I reply, more tentative than I'd like. I can hear Weaver snicker beside me.
Onaga glances at me, and, seeing that I'm looking at her, continues, "I'd like to ask if you can help me question Espeon later today since you can help keep him out of a feedback loop. Normally we're allowed to offer things like food and basic aid for stuff like this, but I'm fairly certain it will be its own reward," She doesn't quite ask me, filling the reservoir on the coffee maker.
Yeah, I'm not sure if there's a limit to how much I can eat, but this is definitely testing that. And 'feedback loop'? Is that why he's giving off less now?
Should I stay? "Weaver?" I ask the weavile, turning so I can see her again. "What do you think?"
She glances at me, then at Espeon, "I-" She frowns, closing her book again. "I don't want to tell you to help, but… I would appreciate it. Espeon's not- Well, you told me what he's feeling, so you already know," She says, shrugging. "I haven't been able to get to know him yet, but Ryu's already treating him as part of the team, and he wants to be on it."
I sigh, then wince as Onaga puts a hand to her ear and shakes her head a bit at the sound. I have been having trouble finding things to do, so why not? "Sure, I can do that," I say, nodding at the ranger.
"Right," Onaga nods. Turning back to the counter, she continues, "We were going to collect that old piece of furniture from your den today, just so you're aware."
That's… not the first time I've heard someone call my cabin a den. And I can understand it, sort of, but it's a house. A small one, sure, but 'den' feels like where you'd find some kind of dangerous- Oh, yeah, I guess I am, aren't I?
Another burst of emotions, this time fear, terror, and surprisingly, a small bit of defiance has my focus moving back to Espeon. He's still asleep, but I'm hoping his obvious nightmare is ending. The way emotions have been rolling off him in waves is interesting, but I'm willing to put it down to psychic-type strangeness.
"Is he getting any better?" Weaver asks, noticing where I'm looking.
"Maybe, I think I just tasted the first positive emotion from him," I tell her, backing off from the unconscious pokemon slightly. "I don't know if it's a good thing that I ate it." Weaver hums at that, returning to flipping through her book.
"Did something change?" Onaga asks, glancing over her shoulder with one hand in a cabinet.
I- Hmm, "Maybe?" I say, equivocating with two arms. What happened to him to make him so afraid of whatever he's dreaming of? …I guess I'll find out, won't I?
I smell coffee. Glancing over, I see the ranger measuring a scoop of coffee grounds into the filter. Never mind not being one of those people who lived for the stuff, that small bit of familiarity has me wanting a cup, just to feel normal again. These last two weeks have been a mixed bag of strangeness, friendly faces, revelations—good and bad, and a growing sense that normal doesn't exist and is just a word.
"Could I have some?" I ask Onaga, pointing to the coffee maker.
Weaver makes a choking noise, "A- U- Uh, Smokey?" She says, seeming a bit off balance. "You know how bitter that stuff is, right?"
"Hmm?" Onaga glances at me again, at what I'm pointing at, then back to me with an odd half-smirk on her face, "You want to try some of this when it's done?" She asks. I nod, which seems to reinforce her smirk, "Okay."
I don't miss the anticipation and small bit of mirth I start tasting after a moment before it's washed away by defiance and fear. Ah, Espeon is clearly starting to feel better, that wasn't a lot of fear.
"Smokey?" Weaver waves a hand in my face, "You know what you're in for, right?"
"I've had coffee before," I tell her, lightly pushing her hand away. "I just… I want things to feel normal, at least for a little bit."
"And that involves drinking, that stuff?" She asks with a concerned look.
"Kind of, yeah," I say, half shrugging. "It was fairly normal to drink at the beginning of the day where I worked. When I was human. And you know you can mix milk and sugar into it to make it more palatable, right?"
Weaver pauses, thinking about it, then, "Oh, okay. Yeah, I was just thinking about how Piplup reacted when he tried some. It makes sense you'd know what it's like." She grins slightly, "You're going to surprise Ryuko when you don't spit it out."
We both share a small chuckle. Then the next wave of emotions hit me, it's a mix of sorrow and a kind of pleased happiness. "Espeon isn't having a nightmare anymore," I tell Weaver.
"Yeah?"
"I'm pretty sure, at least. He's a bit sad and happy at the same time, so I think he's just dreaming now," I tell my friend.
"That's good," She says, seeming to lose a bit of tension. "I hope I won't need to come grab you again later."
"I don't mind," I say, smiling. "I'm so bored half the time that having anything to do is good. Hey, you want to help me test something later?"
Weaver gives me an obviously faked suspicious look, then grins, "Sure, we might have some time before the day starts, depending on when he wakes up," She says, pointing at Espeon. Then her eyes trace back to where Onaga is, "Looks like your drink is ready."
And, indeed, the ranger is pouring out three steaming cups of coffee. "It's hot," She says, carrying one over to the table. "I'm not sure how much heat you can take, so maybe let it cool off for a few minutes."
I'm not totally sure how much I can take, either. My body's so different from before that I don't know what 'too much heat' could be. Although, if most pokemon can take hits from fire-types like I assume…
It takes me a moment to decide between physically gripping the cup and a psychic hold, but I decide to pick it up with an arm, wrapping the appendage around it. It's hot, and I can tell it's hot, but it's not burning, so I'm assuming that regular heat isn't a big problem for me. Onaga's lips quirk up as I lift the drink to my face and blow-
How the hell? I move the drink away and blow out a puff of air. I'm still not inhaling, and I don't know if this counts as exhaling because I don't feel any air moving inside me.
"You okay?" Onaga asks, glancing between my face and the cup.
I nod, still distracted by how I'm moving air. I think I'll put it down as another ghost thing for now, as that makes at least some sense. In the same way that I can make noise by wanting to sigh. Or make noise in general, I guess.
I decide to focus on my drink again. Bringing it to my mouth, I take a tentative sip to test the temperature, then down a mouthful. It's honestly much better than the cheap stuff I've had before at work, and the simple action does make me feel more grounded.
Onaga blinks, she's smiling, but her eyes are a bit concerned and I can taste the confusion. After a moment where she seems to be waiting for me to do something, I take another drink. "Okay, I wasn't expecting that," She chuckles, joining Weaver in the action. "Are you enjoying it, or just messing with me?"
I consider that, then decide to shrug and take another sip before setting the now half-full cup down.
Onaga rolls her eyes, "Yeah, definitely friends with Weaver," She mutters. "I'm going to take Katie her cup now, be right back." She grabs one of the remaining two cups, stops to look at me one more time, and then leaves the room.
"Were you messing with her?" Weaver asks, still chuckling slightly.
"Only after she asked," I reply, drifting over one of the chairs by the rectangular table. "Like I said, it was normal for me to have a cup some days."
"If you say so," The weasel-cat shrugs. "So, what have you been doing?"
She's starting the small talk now? …Things did happen rather fast. "Practicing, some control exercises Marshal told me about, and this," I say, summoning an orb.
Weaver stiffens slightly, "Please tell me that's not destructive."
"It's not," I say, flicking it at myself and once more feeling something like gravity. "I'm not sure what it is, really, but it doesn't explode."
Weaver looks at me a moment longer, and then her eyes narrow, "Was that what you were throwing around yesterday?"
I… When did she see me doing that? "Yeah, I was. How did you know that?" I ask.
"Ryu and I saw you while we were headed for Nabiki. It was hard not to, with how many flashes there were," Weaver tells me, resting her head on the back of one hand. "You then proceeded to throw a lot of them at one of the guided groups, remember? And we got to hear all about that."
"…I wasn't in the mood to deal with them at the time," I admit, deciding to take another sip of my drink.
"I gathered, yeah," Weaver laughs, shaking her head. "Should make them leave you alone though."
"I hope it does," I say as Onaga reenters the room.
The woman looks at Espeon, then at me before glancing at Weaver and sighing as she moves to pick up her coffee. "My routine is shot for the day, Weaver, so we won't be going for a run," She says, sipping at her drink. "I'm tempted to try using a chesto to wake Espeon up, but I think he needs the sleep." She pauses for several moments, slowly sipping her coffee. "How is he doing, anyway?" She asks me.
The waves of flavor the psychic cat has been giving off are mostly minor, indistinct flashes of random emotion now. "You're better at this than me Weaver," I say, looking at the other feline in the room, "Can you let her know he's sleeping peacefully?"
"Sure," She says, giving me a wry sort of smile. "There isn't much to it, though. Watch." Having said that, she clasps her hands together, places the side of her head on them, closes her eyes, and ever so slightly smiles.
Deciding to play it up, I sweep my arms as if to present the scene to Onaga. "Like that," I say, tasting relief and amusement.
"I can see why you two get along," She smiles. "And thank you for helping Espeon."
I did almost nothing but show up and eat, but I'm glad to have helped. I give the woman a nod before downing the last of my beverage, sighing contentedly. Still feels odd, but it's the good kind of odd feeling, like you could bask in it all day and not be tired of it.
My mind wanders in peace as we all remain silent, Onaga slowly sipping from her cup with her eyes closed. And Weaver occasionally flipping a page in her book, a small, genuine smile on her face.
A thought from from about twenty-eight hours ago resurfaces, "Hey, Weaver?" I say, grabbing both my target's and Onaga's attention before the latter realizes I'm talking to the weavile. "Where exactly is Almia? Or, scratch that, where is everything?"
Weaver lets out a raspberry at that, "That's a big question. Let me think…" She trails off, searching the ceiling. "I'm pretty sure we have some maps of Almia and Sinnoh, but I don't know about a world map. Maybe at the library?" She answers, eyes landing on me.
I nod, "Okay then. And you're still going to teach me to read?"
"Yeah, I said I would, so I will," She confirms, nodding back. "We could probably start today…" She trails off, eyes shifting to the passed-out pokemon, still on the table for some reason. "Or maybe not, I think it depends on how things go with him."
"I'm… not sure what's going to happen there," I say. "What do I do if he starts messing with his emotions again?"
"You tell me, and I stop him," Weaver shrugs. "It's pretty simple. I'm Ryu's second, and he's still young."
That makes another thought from around twenty-nine hours ago strike me, "How… How old is he?"
"I'm not sure, but he shouldn't be an espeon yet," Weaver tells me, frowning. "I'm hoping we can find out what happened, soon."
The silence feels a bit heavier after that.
"Sorry, Boss, but since the Rangers got involved there's been too many eyes for us to try and get them out," The grunt's voice rattles down the line.
I withhold a sigh, "And the extraction team?"
"We haven't heard from them, but the Rangers haven't said anything to the police about something out there, so we should be good."
"What of the capture teams and the freight?"
"The capture teams are almost ready, they should be able to start tonight. And the freight… Sorry, Boss, but we can't get to it anymore, the Rangers were the ones who dealt with it."
Unfortunate, those shipments constituted the majority of the profit from this venture. Hmm, Perhaps… "You had told me that someone approached you with an offer of aid to extract our people from custody, take it. A connection may be the most valuable return we can gain now."
"Got it, Boss. Anything else?"
"No," I say curtly, hanging up the phone.
Only now, without anyone to witness, do I allow myself a sigh.
It feels as though I'm running through molasses, but I push on, muscles burning as I ascend. The horrible sound, like the grinding of a giant's nails across a chalkboard, continues without mercy as I keep sprinting up the stairs, knowing that if I don't reach-
Something freezing presses against my face, and everything shifts. The world spins for an eternity as I work to recognize the feeling. It has to be one of Weaver's-
I bolt awake, batting at the claw, "Weaver?" I groan, trying to blink the sleep from my eyes.
"Weav, weav!" My partner gesticulates wildly, obviously worried about something, though she keeps her voice low.
"What is it? And what time is it?" I ask her, looking at the wall clock. it shows oh-two-twenty.
"Vile!" Weaver slaps my arm before pointing at the floor by the foot of my bunk. What has her so…
Espeon is sitting there, shaking and hyperventilating. His gem is flickering wildly, ears pulled back, and eyes unfocused. He's in another feedback loop.
"Hells," I swear, disentangling myself from the bed and marching for the door, Weaver one step behind me. "Weaver." I stop at the entrance, "I need you to stay by him and keep him from hurting himself-" I tell her, cutting myself off for a moment before I finish the order, "And if he starts using telekinesis, you need to knock him out, understood?"
"Weav," My partner says with a salute, smacking her joints together as she straightens her legs. I know she's playing it up to reassure both of us, but it still works.
I give Weaver a nod before turning and heading for the office. Reaching it, I quickly dial the combination into the locked steel cabinet we keep the dangerous equipment in. Because yes, REDs are dangerous, even if most people won't understand how until they're on the floor and struggling to breathe.
I grab my empathy device, check its tag to make sure, and march back to the barracks. Weaver isn't standing next to Espeon, thankfully, as she knows better than to get that close. She's watching the psychic-type intensely from a few meters away, the only acknowledgment I get being a flick of the ears.
I move to within two meters of Espeon before I calm myself, focus on wanting Espeon to be okay, and pull the trigger. It takes entirely too long before his gem stops flickering, and he tiredly blinks at me a few times before he stops, eyes closed and unconscious in a sitting position.
There's a bit of shuffling as the once-sleeping pokemon in the room try to figure out what just woke them up until they realize I have it handled and go back to sleep.
Sighing quietly, I lift Espeon and make my way out and into the kitchen. I'm not getting back to sleep today, not after that, so I place the unconscious pokemon on the table and just… stare, deep in thought.
I've thought something was up since Weaver kept giving him looks, but I don't know what it is. He went into another feedback loop, but why? And it was more dangerous this time since he had energy. Except, he passed out once he was out of the loop, didn't he?
"Weaver?" I ask to the air, and my partner silently appears. "Has he slept at all?"
She considers the question, lacking her usual theatrics, then shakes her head, "Vile," She says, looking thoughtfully at Espeon. "Weavile, weave," She continues, pointing at the sleeping pokemon.
I follow her finger and see Espeon twitching and thrashing slightly, a feline grimace on his face. So, nightmares, oh how I wish I could say I don't understand that particular problem.
"I don't know what to do for him," I admit, leaning my head into one hand to massage it. "I can't keep the RED going, even in bursts, for all that long," I say, glancing at Weaver.
She has a look of concern on her face, then she blinks, looking as though she's realized something, before holding up a claw for me to wait and blurring out of the kitchen. Well, I hope she has a good idea because I certainly don't know how to help a traumatized empath.
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I don't know if I can thank Marshal enough for teaching me this. I also don't know how to feel about what it's helped me notice.
Up, shrink, slow.
It took me a few hours to figure out what I was feeling, and now I'm… genuinely starting to question my ability to take care of myself. I'm feeling content, and it's strangely alien. And I've realized that the last time I felt like this was years ago, back when I landed my first stable job. It felt like everything would work out, and I could just be satisfied with my life.
down, loop, invert.
But feeling that way shouldn't be an event, right? And yet, here I am. And sure, I know I'll be feeling bored again soon enough, but I'm pretty sure I can get back to this feeling relatively easily. Not like before I died, but then, almost anything would be better than that.
And… launch.
The ball of psychic energy I've been fiddling with these last few minutes accelerates out of my control range, passing over countless trees before it fades away.
I think one of the problems I'm having with accepting being happy is that I'm kind of… I'm expecting things to go wrong at some point, I think. But that thinking feels as if it was learned. Like it's leftover pessimism or lingering unhappiness, but I don't have a lot of reasons to feel that way anymore, not really.
I look up at the moon, not quite sure if it's finished waxing or not yet. I still feel it's light filtering into me, comforting me. I don't know what changes when it reflects off, but I'm glad I can expand my cloud in its light.
Speaking of, I reel it in for a snack. Hmm, not a lot in there, but that's why it's a snack. Some sorrow, some trepidation, a little fear, and someone is a bit nervous. There isn't a lot of quantity to any of it though, it's just the normal background.
Deciding to spin up ghost-stuff this time, I keep idly practicing control. Simply painting power in random swoops and swirls, trying to do better than simply pouring it out.
Hmm… Oh, sure, why not try that? Thanks, ghost-instincts. Following my burst of desire, I start trying to, for lack of a better descriptor, 'imbue' something on the power. It doesn't seem to do anything, but if my instincts say it should work then I'm going to trust them.
What is it that I'm trying to push into the power? Maybe that's the problem, that I don't have a good idea of what I want to happen. Should I try something that I've done to myself? What about gravity, how does that work?
I make another line of power, focusing on how I make gravity affect me while I do so. That works!? The curving line I made falls through the air, fading before it hits the ground.
Wait! The orbs felt empty, is this why? Let's see, pour it out in a sphere, not too much at once, just enough to sustain it. There we go. Or… should I have tried to fill it as I was making it? No, that doesn't feel right, it feels like I should do that part now. So, what do I fill it with? I guess I should go with gravity again.
Nothing about the sphere seems to change, but it doesn't feel empty anymore, so I think that worked. I… don't have a target right now, great. Launching it at the ground! And it does nothing, okay, I suppose it needs a different target.
Hmm…
This is a bad idea, but I'm probably immortal, so the worst that will happen is some pain, right? Sure, whatever makes me feel better about this. And launch!
Oh, ooh, ho'kay. Uh, I don't know what this is. It feels like I'm being dragged down, but I'm still floating. This is an extremely fucking strange feeling. At least I now understand what the orbs do. They force a… whatever it is that I shoved into it onto the target.
Um, is there a way to stop the- Huh, I guess I was the one controlling it. That's nice.
Wait, Weaver? What's she doing here this early?
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Espeon still hasn't woken up, despite the obvious bad dreams that are making him twitch and mewl. I'm becoming uncomfortable because I tried waking him up, and he won't. I want to believe I can take care of him, but if he has major psychic issues we might need to find a better place for him.
Except I've already sent his paperwork in, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling attached to the frail cat. He needed help, and he still needs it, just in a different way now.
I'm waiting for either Espeon to wake up or Weaver to get back with whatever her idea was. I can only hope she knows something I don't, and that she'll have a good solution. It's been nearly ten minutes, though, and I'm starting to worry. Weaver is fast, which is typical for a weavile, and she should be able to reach the other end of the city in three minutes if she pushes it.
"Weav," And there she is.
"Seasons, how far did you-" I stop, looking at the entrance to the room.
The misdreavus is floating behind my partner, looking nervous. Why would she bring… Right, they're an affectivore. That's a genuinely great idea, as Espeon can't go into a feedback loop if something eats all the emotions first. And glancing at Espeon, he's not moving as much anymore, so the ghost is already helping.
"Weav weavile, weave?" The sharp-clawed pokemon asks, also looking at Espeon.
"Mis…" The ghost-type replies, voice trailing off cautiously. "Misser, mis, dreav, mismis." They pause, looking concerned. "Midreavus mis misser."
"I wish I'd thought of that. Good job, Weaver." I tell my partner, relaxing as Espeon seems to calm in his sleep. "What made you think of them?" Aside from their obviously budding friendship.
"Weavile," She says, darting away back down the hall. Leaving Misdreavus looking suddenly more nervous.
"You're not afraid of chasing groups of people off, but I make you nervous?" I chuckle at the affronted look on their face, "We've got a record of you scaring at least twelve people yesterday alone."
They blink at that, opening their mouth to respond before closing it and blinking again. "Misser," They seem to state, more to themselves than to me.
"Weav vile!" Weaver declares, bouncing into the kitchen with a book- No, with the book, the one I bought to teach her how to read, 'Tales of Yester Years: A Compendium of Myths and Legends.'
Weaver has it turned to a specific page, 'The Nightmare and the Witch Who Devoured It.' It's one of the stories with an original photo on the opposite page, fancy calligraphy, and over-done artwork depicting an indistinct figure with a pointy hat consuming a sleeping man's dream. Interesting, but why did this make her get the misdreavus?
I quickly skim the text, searching for anything that could be related. …and the witch did curse the nightmare… …The man, thankful for the aid of the traveling witch, offered her of his home, and his food… …And as the sun rose on the seventh day, the witch vanished, little more than a ghost on the wind.
That- The last line is the only time the word ghost is mentioned. "Weaver?" I query my partner.
"Vile Weavile," She gestures to Misdreavus.
I can't deny that they seem to be helping, but I still don't understand her thought process, "I know they're helping, I'm just confused about how this made you think of them."
Weaver seems at a loss, looking between the book and me a few times before turning to Misdreavus, "Vile, weavile vile. Weave?" She asks them.
"Dreavus?" The floating pokemon asks in return, drifting closer to me and eyeing the book. They tilt in the air, eyes glossing over the words to land on the illustration. "Mis… misser mis." They say, nodding.
Weaver gestures between the picture and Misdreavus, clearly seeing something I'm not. I look at the picture again, trying to see what she means. Pointy hat, draped robe, indistinct face. It looks like a witch. "I still don't see what you mean," I inform my partner.
Weaver sighs, rubbing her chin as she thinks about what to try next.
"Dreave mis, misdreavus?" The ghost seems to ask, pointing one of their tendrils at the page.
Weaver blinks, then her eyes light up in joy. She motions to me for the book, so I give it to her. "Weave weavile, weave. Vile weavile," She says to Misdreavus, hopping into a chair and beckoning them closer.
She's… She's reading the story to them. Well, there goes my chance at an answer. Honestly, she seems to have become attached to the misdreavus after they let me stay in their den. They seemed to have a rather long conversation there, too. Although Weaver had seemed a bit hostile at the start.
I sigh, finally deciding to take a seat after all the stress of Espeon breaking down in the middle of the night. Conscripting the help of a wild pokemon isn't unusual, it's normally the ranger doing it, but at least Espeon is sleeping peacefully for the moment. I'm going to need to ask all those questions I was hesitant to before, about his past and what the smugglers did to him.
Though the misdreavus will likely need to be present to smooth that over if I'm right about what Espeon's been through.
Hmm, I'm going to need coffee today. Maybe I should see if Holt will tell me where I can find a really good drink, she seems the type to learn where to find them. Regardless, I should probably start the coffee maker soon.
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"-little more than a ghost on the wind," Weaver says with finality, closing the storybook. "I knew I recognized that description from somewhere, and I'm pretty sure there's another story in here that mentions a 'Miss Magius,'" She tells me, caressing the cover of what is, apparently, her favorite book. Then she frowns, "You know, I don't think I've opened this in two years."
Weaver's face twists into a complicated expression, and I feel compelled to ask, "Hey, you okay?"
"I- Yeah. You ever have a moment when you realize you've grown up?" She asks, glancing at me.
I can't help laughing for a moment before it peters out as I taste another wave of pain and terror. "Yeah, several. I guess it happens to pokemon, too."
We fall into silence, Weaver leafing through her book while my eyes start roaming around, trying to ignore the tastes of fear, panic, and hatred. This- I can see why Espeon was trying not to feel all this, and I feel a bit bad that to me it's all just… food. Terror seems to be another taste that I find particularly appetizing as well, and I still don't know how to feel about finding those flavors so delicious. At least there's a lot less of them coming off him now.
Movement, catches the corner of my eye, and I swivel to see Onaga prepping a- Wow, I mean, there are only so many ways to do certain things, but that is just a countertop coffee maker. …I shouldn't be surprised by that, so many other things are similar, if not the same.
Hmm, I wonder if she'd let me have some. I'm not—or possibly wasn't, still not sure—one of those people who are so dependent on coffee that I had some every day, but I enjoyed it on occasion. And I do want to enjoy things again.
"Hey, Misdreavus?" Onaga says, pulling my attention back to her. I know she's addressing me, but it feels weird how she uses 'Misdreavus' as my name.
"Yes…?" I reply, more tentative than I'd like. I can hear Weaver snicker beside me.
Onaga glances at me, and, seeing that I'm looking at her, continues, "I'd like to ask if you can help me question Espeon later today since you can help keep him out of a feedback loop. Normally we're allowed to offer things like food and basic aid for stuff like this, but I'm fairly certain it will be its own reward," She doesn't quite ask me, filling the reservoir on the coffee maker.
Yeah, I'm not sure if there's a limit to how much I can eat, but this is definitely testing that. And 'feedback loop'? Is that why he's giving off less now?
Should I stay? "Weaver?" I ask the weavile, turning so I can see her again. "What do you think?"
She glances at me, then at Espeon, "I-" She frowns, closing her book again. "I don't want to tell you to help, but… I would appreciate it. Espeon's not- Well, you told me what he's feeling, so you already know," She says, shrugging. "I haven't been able to get to know him yet, but Ryu's already treating him as part of the team, and he wants to be on it."
I sigh, then wince as Onaga puts a hand to her ear and shakes her head a bit at the sound. I have been having trouble finding things to do, so why not? "Sure, I can do that," I say, nodding at the ranger.
"Right," Onaga nods. Turning back to the counter, she continues, "We were going to collect that old piece of furniture from your den today, just so you're aware."
That's… not the first time I've heard someone call my cabin a den. And I can understand it, sort of, but it's a house. A small one, sure, but 'den' feels like where you'd find some kind of dangerous- Oh, yeah, I guess I am, aren't I?
Another burst of emotions, this time fear, terror, and surprisingly, a small bit of defiance has my focus moving back to Espeon. He's still asleep, but I'm hoping his obvious nightmare is ending. The way emotions have been rolling off him in waves is interesting, but I'm willing to put it down to psychic-type strangeness.
"Is he getting any better?" Weaver asks, noticing where I'm looking.
"Maybe, I think I just tasted the first positive emotion from him," I tell her, backing off from the unconscious pokemon slightly. "I don't know if it's a good thing that I ate it." Weaver hums at that, returning to flipping through her book.
"Did something change?" Onaga asks, glancing over her shoulder with one hand in a cabinet.
I- Hmm, "Maybe?" I say, equivocating with two arms. What happened to him to make him so afraid of whatever he's dreaming of? …I guess I'll find out, won't I?
I smell coffee. Glancing over, I see the ranger measuring a scoop of coffee grounds into the filter. Never mind not being one of those people who lived for the stuff, that small bit of familiarity has me wanting a cup, just to feel normal again. These last two weeks have been a mixed bag of strangeness, friendly faces, revelations—good and bad, and a growing sense that normal doesn't exist and is just a word.
"Could I have some?" I ask Onaga, pointing to the coffee maker.
Weaver makes a choking noise, "A- U- Uh, Smokey?" She says, seeming a bit off balance. "You know how bitter that stuff is, right?"
"Hmm?" Onaga glances at me again, at what I'm pointing at, then back to me with an odd half-smirk on her face, "You want to try some of this when it's done?" She asks. I nod, which seems to reinforce her smirk, "Okay."
I don't miss the anticipation and small bit of mirth I start tasting after a moment before it's washed away by defiance and fear. Ah, Espeon is clearly starting to feel better, that wasn't a lot of fear.
"Smokey?" Weaver waves a hand in my face, "You know what you're in for, right?"
"I've had coffee before," I tell her, lightly pushing her hand away. "I just… I want things to feel normal, at least for a little bit."
"And that involves drinking, that stuff?" She asks with a concerned look.
"Kind of, yeah," I say, half shrugging. "It was fairly normal to drink at the beginning of the day where I worked. When I was human. And you know you can mix milk and sugar into it to make it more palatable, right?"
Weaver pauses, thinking about it, then, "Oh, okay. Yeah, I was just thinking about how Piplup reacted when he tried some. It makes sense you'd know what it's like." She grins slightly, "You're going to surprise Ryuko when you don't spit it out."
We both share a small chuckle. Then the next wave of emotions hit me, it's a mix of sorrow and a kind of pleased happiness. "Espeon isn't having a nightmare anymore," I tell Weaver.
"Yeah?"
"I'm pretty sure, at least. He's a bit sad and happy at the same time, so I think he's just dreaming now," I tell my friend.
"That's good," She says, seeming to lose a bit of tension. "I hope I won't need to come grab you again later."
"I don't mind," I say, smiling. "I'm so bored half the time that having anything to do is good. Hey, you want to help me test something later?"
Weaver gives me an obviously faked suspicious look, then grins, "Sure, we might have some time before the day starts, depending on when he wakes up," She says, pointing at Espeon. Then her eyes trace back to where Onaga is, "Looks like your drink is ready."
And, indeed, the ranger is pouring out three steaming cups of coffee. "It's hot," She says, carrying one over to the table. "I'm not sure how much heat you can take, so maybe let it cool off for a few minutes."
I'm not totally sure how much I can take, either. My body's so different from before that I don't know what 'too much heat' could be. Although, if most pokemon can take hits from fire-types like I assume…
It takes me a moment to decide between physically gripping the cup and a psychic hold, but I decide to pick it up with an arm, wrapping the appendage around it. It's hot, and I can tell it's hot, but it's not burning, so I'm assuming that regular heat isn't a big problem for me. Onaga's lips quirk up as I lift the drink to my face and blow-
How the hell? I move the drink away and blow out a puff of air. I'm still not inhaling, and I don't know if this counts as exhaling because I don't feel any air moving inside me.
"You okay?" Onaga asks, glancing between my face and the cup.
I nod, still distracted by how I'm moving air. I think I'll put it down as another ghost thing for now, as that makes at least some sense. In the same way that I can make noise by wanting to sigh. Or make noise in general, I guess.
I decide to focus on my drink again. Bringing it to my mouth, I take a tentative sip to test the temperature, then down a mouthful. It's honestly much better than the cheap stuff I've had before at work, and the simple action does make me feel more grounded.
Onaga blinks, she's smiling, but her eyes are a bit concerned and I can taste the confusion. After a moment where she seems to be waiting for me to do something, I take another drink. "Okay, I wasn't expecting that," She chuckles, joining Weaver in the action. "Are you enjoying it, or just messing with me?"
I consider that, then decide to shrug and take another sip before setting the now half-full cup down.
Onaga rolls her eyes, "Yeah, definitely friends with Weaver," She mutters. "I'm going to take Katie her cup now, be right back." She grabs one of the remaining two cups, stops to look at me one more time, and then leaves the room.
"Were you messing with her?" Weaver asks, still chuckling slightly.
"Only after she asked," I reply, drifting over one of the chairs by the rectangular table. "Like I said, it was normal for me to have a cup some days."
"If you say so," The weasel-cat shrugs. "So, what have you been doing?"
She's starting the small talk now? …Things did happen rather fast. "Practicing, some control exercises Marshal told me about, and this," I say, summoning an orb.
Weaver stiffens slightly, "Please tell me that's not destructive."
"It's not," I say, flicking it at myself and once more feeling something like gravity. "I'm not sure what it is, really, but it doesn't explode."
Weaver looks at me a moment longer, and then her eyes narrow, "Was that what you were throwing around yesterday?"
I… When did she see me doing that? "Yeah, I was. How did you know that?" I ask.
"Ryu and I saw you while we were headed for Nabiki. It was hard not to, with how many flashes there were," Weaver tells me, resting her head on the back of one hand. "You then proceeded to throw a lot of them at one of the guided groups, remember? And we got to hear all about that."
"…I wasn't in the mood to deal with them at the time," I admit, deciding to take another sip of my drink.
"I gathered, yeah," Weaver laughs, shaking her head. "Should make them leave you alone though."
"I hope it does," I say as Onaga reenters the room.
The woman looks at Espeon, then at me before glancing at Weaver and sighing as she moves to pick up her coffee. "My routine is shot for the day, Weaver, so we won't be going for a run," She says, sipping at her drink. "I'm tempted to try using a chesto to wake Espeon up, but I think he needs the sleep." She pauses for several moments, slowly sipping her coffee. "How is he doing, anyway?" She asks me.
The waves of flavor the psychic cat has been giving off are mostly minor, indistinct flashes of random emotion now. "You're better at this than me Weaver," I say, looking at the other feline in the room, "Can you let her know he's sleeping peacefully?"
"Sure," She says, giving me a wry sort of smile. "There isn't much to it, though. Watch." Having said that, she clasps her hands together, places the side of her head on them, closes her eyes, and ever so slightly smiles.
Deciding to play it up, I sweep my arms as if to present the scene to Onaga. "Like that," I say, tasting relief and amusement.
"I can see why you two get along," She smiles. "And thank you for helping Espeon."
I did almost nothing but show up and eat, but I'm glad to have helped. I give the woman a nod before downing the last of my beverage, sighing contentedly. Still feels odd, but it's the good kind of odd feeling, like you could bask in it all day and not be tired of it.
My mind wanders in peace as we all remain silent, Onaga slowly sipping from her cup with her eyes closed. And Weaver occasionally flipping a page in her book, a small, genuine smile on her face.
A thought from from about twenty-eight hours ago resurfaces, "Hey, Weaver?" I say, grabbing both my target's and Onaga's attention before the latter realizes I'm talking to the weavile. "Where exactly is Almia? Or, scratch that, where is everything?"
Weaver lets out a raspberry at that, "That's a big question. Let me think…" She trails off, searching the ceiling. "I'm pretty sure we have some maps of Almia and Sinnoh, but I don't know about a world map. Maybe at the library?" She answers, eyes landing on me.
I nod, "Okay then. And you're still going to teach me to read?"
"Yeah, I said I would, so I will," She confirms, nodding back. "We could probably start today…" She trails off, eyes shifting to the passed-out pokemon, still on the table for some reason. "Or maybe not, I think it depends on how things go with him."
"I'm… not sure what's going to happen there," I say. "What do I do if he starts messing with his emotions again?"
"You tell me, and I stop him," Weaver shrugs. "It's pretty simple. I'm Ryu's second, and he's still young."
That makes another thought from around twenty-nine hours ago strike me, "How… How old is he?"
"I'm not sure, but he shouldn't be an espeon yet," Weaver tells me, frowning. "I'm hoping we can find out what happened, soon."
The silence feels a bit heavier after that.
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"Sorry, Boss, but since the Rangers got involved there's been too many eyes for us to try and get them out," The grunt's voice rattles down the line.
I withhold a sigh, "And the extraction team?"
"We haven't heard from them, but the Rangers haven't said anything to the police about something out there, so we should be good."
"What of the capture teams and the freight?"
"The capture teams are almost ready, they should be able to start tonight. And the freight… Sorry, Boss, but we can't get to it anymore, the Rangers were the ones who dealt with it."
Unfortunate, those shipments constituted the majority of the profit from this venture. Hmm, Perhaps… "You had told me that someone approached you with an offer of aid to extract our people from custody, take it. A connection may be the most valuable return we can gain now."
"Got it, Boss. Anything else?"
"No," I say curtly, hanging up the phone.
Only now, without anyone to witness, do I allow myself a sigh.
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- Location
- Earth-Sol lagrange point 4
I have put some thought into this, so
No, it's not dream eater in this instance. Espeon is an empath whose own emotions are overwhelming him, Charlie is simply acting as an overflow valve.